SURREAL ADVENTURES

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ELYSIUM'S PASSAGE: SURREAL ADVENTURES is the fourth novel in the ELYSIUM'S PASSAGE series, the sequel to ELYSIUM'S PASSAGE: QUANTUM LEAPS. The projected release date is in the fall of 2025.

The plot of SURREAL ADVENTURES continues where QUANTUM LEAPS leaves off. The narrative becomes even more intriguing with its interwoven themes and complexities. The pace picks up momentum as James, the narrator and central character, continues along this surreal adventure towards some unknown destiny. The promise of romance is not far away, as some very peculiar events and encounters continue to occur in his alternate dimension of reality, while his physical body remains in a coma in London

As a preview of the novel, I've included below the first few chapters of the novel

S U R R E A L   A D V E N T U R E S

 

A Philosopher’s Surreal Voyage into the Mysterium of the Unknown Universe

CONTENTS

                                                                                                  

CHAPTER 1      MY ISLAND PARADISE

CHAPTER 2        A SPECTOR IN THE STORM                                                      

CHAPTER 3      VOYAGE TO THE VIRTUAL ISLANDS   

CHAPTER ONE

 

MY ISLAND PARADISE

 

A man can be himself only so long as he is alone, and if he does not love
solitude, he will not love freedom, for it is only when he is alone that he is free.
                                                         Arthur Schopenhauer

 

We stood outside our lodge as a late autumn storm swept over the Summit, creating fresh drifts of snow. I was prepared now; it felt like a good time to take my leave and withdraw to sunnier climes. We had spent the past couple of days discussing various saints and mystics who entered solitude to attain new heights of spiritual awareness. Mo was particularly conversant about these legends of faith and how their lives had been affected after retreating for extended periods.

‘Not such a bad day for a tropical holiday getaway,’ Eli said. ‘Great timing for a bit of sun, surf and solitude.’

‘At least I don’t have to be concerned about food and shelter, being the ultimate survivor.’  

‘Well, I think you’ll enjoy this little holiday paradise we carefully selected for you,’ Eli said. ‘It’s serene, with beautiful coral reefs and a long sandy beach.’

‘So exactly where did you say this island is?’

It’s a small Polynesian island in the South Pacific, roughly three or four thousand miles northwest of Santiago. As far as we know, it has never been visited by humans, except possibly by a pirate ship or two that might have strayed by several centuries ago.

‘So, if you’re ready… let’s be off.’

‘Sure… why not, since you and Mo have gone through all the trouble of planning this? I haven’t been to the ocean in a while, so it’ll be jolly to feel the surf again. See if you can find a nice shady palm tree for me to sit under, preferably with a view.’

‘I think we have just the place for you,’ Mo said.

The next moment, we found ourselves on the beach’s white sand, with the tide drifting near our feet and the sun shining brightly in a clear blue sky. The familiar scent of the ocean and the breeze took me back years to my seafaring days in the Mediterranean.

‘This is quite the contrast to the snowstorms we’ve recently been experiencing on the Summit,’ I said.

 ‘I’m sure you will take quickly to your island paradise,’ Eli said,’ so let’s get your hut built.

I surveyed the area and found the ideal spot on a grassy patch where a giant palm tree stood a few yards back from the beach’s white sand.

‘This tree,’ I declared, ‘shall hereafter be known far and wide on this island as James’s Bodhi tree. Let’s build my grass hut underneath it so I might attain enlightenment like that other chap. What was his name?’

‘You mean Crusoe?’ Eli asked.

‘No… not him.’

‘Ah, then you must mean Gilligan,’[1] he said with a straight face.

‘I think Siddhārtha[2] would be closer unless Gilligan had some epiphany or another that I wasn’t aware of.’

With their help and wizardry, it didn’t take long for us to erect a Polynesian grass hut much as I had envisioned it, befitting my little island paradise in the South Pacific. Yes, I thought, this is perfect… my new Bodhi abode. It would be my place of peace, relaxation, and, hopefully, some illumination.

‘I wonder, do you think it will take me forty-nine days to achieve whatever Buddha achieved? That’s a long time.’

‘Then why not try for forty days like Yeshua; it would be quicker.’

‘Still, that’s a tall order,’ I said, ‘even in this dimension where the same physical limitations do not bind me.’

After staying with me that first night to ensure I was properly settled, we took a walk around the island, observing the many exotic plants and birds across this tiny tropical island of probably no more than a hundred acres.

After we returned to my hut, Mo handed me a list of questions he wanted me to consider and respond to in my journal with whatever came to mind. I suspected he wanted me to short-circuit the preconceived beliefs of my analytical mind. Listening to the inner voice is never easy… at least for me.

Much like grappling with a Zen kōan, Mo’s questions demanded disciplined inward focus. Some appeared straightforward, such as explaining the meaning of intuition, love, and innate intelligence. Yet these simple queries often left me baffled whenever I attempted to offer a coherent answer. It seemed these concepts required the kind of spiritual vocabulary my linear mind hadn’t yet developed into a corresponding state of conscious awareness.

His questions differed from the typical topics we examine in philosophy, which might explain why he posed those and other seemingly puzzling riddles. Later, I realised he was preparing me for what was to come in my upcoming MMT practicum.

Of course, I didn’t need to do any of this since I could do whatever I pleased, especially in this dimension where I had no obligations to anyone... no employer, no wife, no family… not even a mortal body to feed and manage. Never before had I experienced more freedom, though I felt a responsibility towards my companions, having accepted their mentorship on this plane of reality.

Mo suggested I continue with my spiritual exercises until I achieved a breakthrough that would release me from whatever lingering fears remained from my distant past. I wasn’t sure how this epiphany might occur; perhaps it would be some form of nirvana, even if I wasn’t sure what that might be. My perspective was Western, not Eastern.[3] 

Before departing, Mo said to me, ‘Understand, James, we brought you here not just for a holiday but so that you might discover the depths of your being, the very essence of your divine soul.’

‘I’ll give it a shot; if I pass, I might include this in my CV’s post-doctorate accreditation, even if no one would have heard of Summit U.’

‘Do as you wish, but let’s first see how well you do with the dragons that lurk under the floorboards of your mind.’

‘Dragons?’

‘Of course, the one that keeps tormenting you.’

‘I’m not being tormented by any dragons.’

‘Then how about fears of rejection?’

‘Ah, yes… I know that feeling well; these can be rather overwhelming when I’m losing another relationship.’

‘Maybe, if you need to imagine your fears as dragons. In particular, there is one dragon that might be your most formidable foe, because it will be the hardest for you to draw out of its cave! Nevertheless, it's essential that you confront this monster that has breathed its fire at you from your earliest years. It may sleep at times, yet it has never left you and won’t until, like Saint George,[4] you slay it.

‘This is the dragon you must slay before it consumes you. It will require every fibre of your courage; it’s more important than ever that you unite your heart and mind before engaging it in combat. If you don’t, you will fail. In fact, going against it with just your mind will only make its flames worse since rejection is essentially an affair of the heart.

My years of education hadn’t prepared me for anything like this. There were no classes on slaying dragons, especially imaginary ones I harboured inside. As for schooling, I was never taught about the sentiments of the heart, only the cold, objective reasoning of the mind.

    Mo and Eli, however, insisted that until I could think and act from within the union of heart and mind, I would never have satisfactory relations with women or anyone else, for that matter. The separated mind, they said, is impervious to what can only be spiritually discerned, meaning it’s only when the heart joins with the mind that we can ever hope to know our Selves. True rationality must engage the heart; otherwise, the mind will remain lost and confused in itself. In other words, I could only assimilate truth while maintaining a wholehearted union within.

I remember Mo once quoted Yeshua saying: A seed will not grow if cast upon the rocks, but requires fertile soil to germinate.[5] Mo and Eli had thrown bushels of seeds my way, yet how many would germinate to take root if my heart remained parched?

I understand what this meant, but only within the confines of my mind rather than the intuitive wisdom of my heart. As much as I tried to grasp some of their more interior teachings, my mind often got muddled with linear constructs and rationalisations, and so much of my life was only about the external fringes of life rather than the inward concerns of my soul. I suppose that’s typically what the mind focuses on when it doesn’t wish to understand the inward wisdom of the heart.

It became clear to me why I couldn’t properly connect with women. Apparently, throughout much of my adult life, I had been unable to unify the soul essence of my heart with my mind, having little interest in being informed by anything outside intellectual understanding.

Since I believed romance was primarily based on sensuality, I remained abysmally ignorant of its true essence. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with sensuality; it’s necessary, yet not sufficient unto itself. I hated to admit it, but that’s probably what caused me to be a bit narcissistic among certain women… the ones I really liked.

Most likely, this was how I hid my fears of rejection since I didn’t understand the reciprocal nature of love. I didn’t understand love at all, except perhaps that brief time with Máire, the young nun in my class. Even then, in the end, she rejected me for Rome, causing me to resent religion even more, creating a new layer of insecurities towards women.

With patience, Mo and Eli helped me understand that we can only receive what we first give. A cause cannot be a cause without an effect, just as an effect cannot exist without a cause, since cause and effect are one, which is why giving and receiving are essential to having a functional relationship. At first, based on my experiences, I wasn’t sure about this; nevertheless, I chose not to challenge their perspective. It wasn’t worth the effort because something told me they were right.

So, now, they said, while alone on this island, it was my opportunity to reflect on my life and finally conquer the fears of my ego-self by merging my mind and heart. Only through this could I discover my authentic Self, the wholehearted being within my soul.

Finally, after circumventing the island, we returned to my hut, where they bade me adieu, then parted ways to wherever they might be headed… likely to their non-local dimension we agreed to call Elysium.

[1] Gilligan was the main character in Gilligan’s Island, an American sitcom series running from 1964-to 1967 in which a motley group became shipwrecked on an isolated tropical island much like mine. 
[2] Siddhartha Gautama, or Buddha.
[3] Nirvana has several meanings in the East's religions. What he meant here was probably the Bhagavad Gita interpretation, meaning liberation from the false self by experiencing peace in divine (Brahman) consciousness.
[4] The story of Saint George and the Dragon is a European legend believed to have originated in the middle ages of the 11th century.
[5] From the parable of the sower and the seed. (Matthew 13:1-23)

CHAPTER TWO

A SPECTOR IN THE STORM

 

But for this, it would have been difficult to detach its figure from the night and separate it from the darkness by which it was surrounded.[9]

Where wilt thou lead me? Speak, I’ll go no further.[10]    

At first, things felt lonely, with only the sounds of the waves, wind and birds to keep me company. For the first few days, I relaxed by the surf. While exploring the island and organising my Bodhi hut, I imagined how Gauguin[3] would have fashioned his abode in Tahiti.

After settling in, I began working on some of Mo’s meditation exercises that encouraged me to juxtapose my life with what I learned at the summit. That might sound simple, but it wasn’t since there was much I needed to re-contextualise, contemplate and reconcile before recording my thoughts in my journal.

Nothing from my past aligned with the introspection I was undertaking now. Most of all, many memories were tinged with repressed fears, making it more difficult to confront what I hadn’t been prepared to acknowledge. Nevertheless, after grappling with this for a few days, all sense of time seemed to disappear, as a new clarity emerged in my mind while hundreds of pages of writing stacked higher.

During this time, it seldom occurred to me to eat, as it was now more about socialising than a necessity. When I took a break from my thoughts and writing, I would often walk the circumference of my island, enjoying the ocean, plants, and birds, entirely forgetting my life and worries in London.

The island was probably only a few miles in circumference, which was the perfect distance to walk to break up my day. Interestingly, I had some of my greatest epiphanies strolling along the surf, feeling relaxed and receptive to whatever might flow into my mind. Then, I would return to my hut to journal more of these thoughts.

Since most of my previous beliefs no longer served me, my challenge was now to align more with the broader perspectives of my heart’s understanding rather than just that of my mind. This adjustment required me to abandon the narrow judgments of my past so that I might open my heart to its higher wisdom while shutting out everything else, listening only to the rhythm of the surf and feeling at one with the majesty and beauty of nature.

Initially, none of this came easily as my ego-monkey mind continued to conjure whatever fears it could impose upon me. Eventually, after several days, the rogue thoughts began to relinquish control over me. When I engaged in the higher intentions of my will, a surge of rapture embraced me. How this happened, I didn’t know; it just seemed to arise from the inner recesses of my heart.

I reflected on all the philosophers through the ages who sought to find joy within their minds but always returned empty-handed. Philosophical works throughout history are filled with these futile attempts to uncover truth solely through analysis, as if this could be grasped by reason alone. Therein lies madness, pushing the finite mind further into confusion.

Contrary to appearances, nothing remains to be reconciled; there is no dualism of mind and matter, soul and body, or even separation of objects. There is only Spirit from which all emanates, and all remain entangled in this singular divine relationship.

As Mo would sometimes say, we must allow ourselves to be apprehended by the divine instead of attempting to apprehend what remains beyond the soul’s apprehension. I finally grasped that all reality is, in essence, spiritual, not material, and must be discerned accordingly.[4]

Berkeley had it more right than wrong… Descartes had it more wrong than right. And the materialists still have it wrong. The foundation of the universe is not material. That’s something I would never have admitted to or even dared to consider before falling into the abyss of this domain. Now, my very existence in spirit form proved how wrong I had been.

I came to accept the truth of what should have been obvious all along; although I might have a few unresolved personal issues to deal with, I assumed it wouldn’t take long to sort them out now. After all, I had come to understand the nature of spiritual reality. So, before returning to my mountain lodge, this beachside retreat would remain my peaceful ashram as I continued to journal whatever inspired me, possibly much like Hemingway on the beaches of Cuba.

At least, that was what I hoped. Nonetheless, things were about to unfold quite differently. Something more was required than writing an enlightened book in the sunshine. Instead, I was the book that needed to be written. This peaceful interlude was merely a resting station along my journey’s path.

Though it was a splendid respite after my long ascent to the summit, it seemed I had a much higher Summit to ascend towards, even as I dwelt at sea level. As it turned out, the next pinnacle on my ascent would have little to do with intellectual musings while swaying in an oceanside hammock. In fact, my life was about to become a battlefield… yet not just any battlefield; it would be the most brutal fight of my life, the battle for my soul, more formidable than with the meanest scalawags prowling the docks of Crete. That was easy; you could see them; still, how do you strike out at a phantom?

At first, all was quiet, but by the second week of brutally honest introspection, I felt something unpleasant oozing up from within that felt nauseating, seemingly from the lower depths of my soul. That’s when it first became clear to me what this little tropical escape was about. Not that I hadn’t been warned. Mo’s poignant questions seemed to have stirred something in me that demanded a response; something being dislodged, now seeking release.

I was tempted to go somewhere, such as a diversion to London, to keep an eye on Julianne. I could do that since I had done it a couple of times before. Escape, however, would not only be cowardly; it would defeat my purpose for being here.

Besides that, my companions would eventually call me out on it. That might be even worse. How could I look them in the eye, knowing I had turned tail the moment before battle? I might as well slither back to the Lowlands than face them.

No, this time wasn’t about intellectual repose, reflecting on what I had learned and how much more brilliant I had become on this side of the divide. No one else could do this for me; the inner battles were mine to fight. I remember Mo saying I could never proceed further in and further up Elysium’s Passage until I dealt with what was holding me to my past. Neither could I graduate from Summit U.

I realised that intellectualising wouldn’t take me much further; I now need to deal with my demons, if that’s what they were. So, was I ready for the slings and arrows[5] about to be hurled at me in one form or another, as suggested by Mo?  Considering all my extraordinary experiences, I wondered what else might await me once I got past this marker.  For now, I was here to take back my territory and to become whole. I knew I had to... it was time.

Mo’s list of provocations seemed designed to evoke fierce emotions within me, and so they did, most certainly. It wasn’t long before my tropical paradise became a virtual battlefield each night. I don’t know where these projects came from, but anger began to simmer within me from every slight, provocation and resentment I had ever felt. I hardly knew why, except, I wanted to lash out at whatever and whoever I imagined was responsible for my past miseries.

Finally, after two nights of this, while struggling to control my inner rage, the gates of hell broke loose as my inner demons attacked me in the dead of night. I rose to my feet, and with my head held high, I walked towards the shore and shouted, VINI, VIDI, VICI! [6] Projected before me were the hideous faces of unresolved fears, envy, jealousy, vengeance and other forms of suppressed anger, often forgotten yet never forgiven. I then declared I would vanquish every wretched demon of hell that has ever plagued me on Earth. It seemed I was losing my mind, and in my frenzy, perhaps I had.

I could no longer pretend these demons didn’t exist as I had in the past. I knew I had to defeat them since there was nowhere I could retreat when they lunged at me. Whether imagined or real, these foes manifested in some form what had been festering within me for years.

I was viscerally aware of my hatred and all the enemies I wished to destroy at one time or another. That shocked me; could I be that depraved? Or, was there something deeper within that possessed me that I didn’t know about?

With trepidation, I called these demons out, exorcising them from their inner havens. They seemed to taunt and mock me, but at least they were now out where I could slay them, or so I wished to believe.

Over the next few days and nights, I wrestled with whatever surfaced before me, even what I didn’t wish to acknowledge.[7] At times, when in a frenzy, I would cut off their heads with the flaming sword of my shillelagh as this hellish reality played out before me. Whether these monsters, snakes and beasts were projectiles from my mind, I wasn’t sure; nevertheless, the terror felt as if they were real.

Even while resting my mind, they seemed to be lying in wait outside my hut with their haunting yelps, growls and hisses. One night, when I could take it no more, I sprang up and ran along the beach in the illumination of the full moon, and plunged into the ocean, wishing to escape them, be they real or imaginary.

Finally, at dawn, I returned to my hut to restore my sanity as I lay inside. However, it was only a brief respite before my inner darkness returned. I wondered if this might be the dark night of the soul that Saint John of the Cross spoke of, or perhaps the dark forces of unconscious repression that Freud described. Perhaps it was both.

With my Jungian biases, I wasn’t prepared to give Sigmund any credit by accepting this darkness as a normal flaw of my human psyche. I knew there must be more to what was happening out there, even if I couldn’t quite grasp what. As I continued with my extraordinary battle to recapture my soul, I recalled what Mo had written to me: What you seek to expel through fear will only create more ominous and powerful fears.

It seems he knew what I would be encountering here; fears are mercilessly torment once stoked. I guess I had to find this out for myself after what was being dredged up the last few days.

By now, it was the end of the second week, and I had finally come to recognise I couldn’t exorcise these shadowy forces by attacking them in fear, anger or hate. They always re-emerged, even when I thought I had slain them.

That’s when I realised what Mo and Eli had been saying: Darkness only knows darkness and cannot exist in the light. We discussed this several times at the Summit, so I now understood that the only way to transform my inner darkness was to allow my light to shine, first inwardly, then outwards towards everything and everyone I had all too willingly harboured vengeance and toxic grudges against.

By the end of the fourth week, as recorded in my journal, I had made significant progress in releasing the last fiends and ogres shrouded in the dark recesses of my soul. Still, it felt there was something more lurking deep within me that had remained hidden for a very long time. Perhaps I was afraid to confront what dragon remained hidden, and so it continued to fester within my soul.

On the thirty-fourth night of my stay on the island, which I later reckoned to have been my thirty-fourth birthday, something extraordinary occurred that walloped me in the middle of that night. It would alter my life forever.

It all began as a disturbing nightmare where I was trapped between a dragon and the ocean, breathing its fiery flames towards me, such that I feared it might devour me. I awoke with a series of deafening thunder cracks amid a tropical storm, echoed by roaring crashes of colossal breakers slamming onto the beach.

I wasn’t sure my little Polynesian hut could withstand the lashing torrential winds, the likes of which I had rarely encountered as a sailor on the raging seas. The pelting rain and fierce squalls left me feeling shaken in the darkness. Whatever monster had crept into my dreams wasn’t about to leave me in the storm, even though I was now fully awake.

I wondered if a lightning strike in the sky might illuminate this dragon I had been suppressing all my life. Was I a child then? I must have been. Then why did I continue to feed and nourish it all through my adult years? I had no answer. I now recalled how, with little provocation, it would spew out its flames, yet I could never understand why.

Yes, it was the dragon I had harboured within my soul as it continued to exhale its simmering flames at whatever might threaten me. In turn, every seaport brawl, every angry dispute with authorities, every argument with a girlfriend, and every temper flare would create another storm in me. But what could I do; it controlled me.

As I lay there, gazing up at the hut’s battered canopy, I became disurbed by how powerless I felt in the face of the storm inside and out. Finally, I got up, staggering across the beach while the rain and ocean spray streamed down my face as I braced the winds. I felt weak, as though dwelling in my frail human body again.

Although I realised the elements should not be affecting my etheric body, my spirit felt laden with heaviness as I defiantly stumbled into the furious storm. Then suddenly, I ran aimlessly down the beach towards the reefs as the thunder roared. I had a forboding that my encounter with destiny was about to happen under the flourishes of lightning.

Then, far down the shore, I saw it… not as a dragon, but even more frightening. In a series of brilliant flashes, I finally saw what remained hidden all these years... what I loved most but had lost. Before me loomed an ominous spectre high on a reef. While the surf crashed about, her hair streamed in the wind as her long garment flailed out.

It was her! A phantom staring eerily toward me, yet exquisitely beautiful, just as I remembered her thirty years ago. For a few fleeting moments, she glimmered, disappeared; now appearing on that protruding reef in the distance, illuminated by more lightning strikes. In the storm, I may not have recognised her, but I knew when she spoke to my spirit, telling me she was the storm. I instantly understood; the storm was the turbulence of my unresolved grief; it had always been about my mother. Yes, she was the storm... the unremitted storm in my soul. Then her apparition vanished in the darkness as quickly as she had appeared.

In that early hour before dawn, I cried out to her as I ran mindlessly towards the breakers, faltering and falling before their mighty onslaught. Rising to my knees, I wept, purged in the realisation that the fury of the dragon’s fire within was my anger towards her. She had abandoned me… the one I loved most.

Yet, in all my years, I never loved her less. In my years of loneliness, I might have loved her more. Still, her absence left me confused and angry, so I took it out on the world and the women in my dysfunctional life. It was bad enough that my father abandoned me; it was even more unconscionable that she would, too. There was no one left; I was an orphan…  and an orphan I remained. Of course, I knew it was irrational to blame her for dying, but there’s nothing rational about fear, pain and anger.

I now realised without any doubt that my deep festering wounds were the result of my lifelong struggle to reconcile these angry hostilities with a deep yearning to be embraced by her love. That night, on the beach, I wept. Overwhelmed by the memory of her love, I released my hidden resentment towards her, feeling only gratitude for the loving mother she was those few short years we remained together.

No longer did I feel abandoned; she had come to me, as when I sensed her presence at night while a young lad. I heard her voice speaking tenderly within, saying she had always remained close to me, helping me get by every day of my troubled life.

Seeing her, even as a shimmer of silver light, I knew with certainty that I would meet her one day after my years of loneliness and hurt. More than ever, I longed to be with her, to feel her warmth and all the love I had missed. I had never experienced this with other women, so I despised them for not providing me with what they couldn’t give. And now I understood; it had all come to this.

I don’t know how long I remained sprawled out on the beach, but finally, as the storm passed and the sun began to rise, I dragged myself back into my battered hut, exhausted by the catharsis I had undergone last night.

As I collapsed there, I realised how much, throughout my life, I had reacted to anyone I believed might reject me. I understood why I feared women; as with my mother, they had it within their power to abandon me. It’s what I expected - and so it was.

Although the winds may have continued, I heard nothing as I slept peacefully until the sun was high, feeling fully refreshed in mind and spirit. I rose and sat beneath the bright sky, smiling at the soothing ocean. Everything was well, and at last, I found peace.

After that, and for the rest of my time on the island, I felt an inward lightness I had never known before. The night’s heavy burden and fears were gone; the hidden wound in my heart was healed. At last, I was free from the fearful phantoms that had gripped me as tightly as I had clung to them.

Over the next few days, I spent my time walking along the beach, circling the island several times in deep contemplation as I processed the series of strange events that had occurred. That dazzling refraction of my mother, caught in the brilliant flashes of lightning, loomed just as brilliantly in my mind. So eerie was this phantasm, yet so entrancing. Though shaken by the trauma, curiously, my soul felt at peace knowing I would at last be able to accept myself for who I was, no longer an abandoned orphan but a man who had never been rejected, but loved.

It was a lengthy process of honest introspection, coming to terms with all the relationships that had gone wrong. As I reconciled my life, I realised I would need a lot more wisdom and much less cleverness when I returned home, now painfully aware of the subtle narcissism that had spawned in my mind.

I also realised how I used pride to compensate for my insecurities, thereby sabotaging meaningful relationships with those I most desired. In the past, when they were upset with me, I told myself it was because they felt inadequate in my presence, although I suspected this wasn’t the case. Now, for the first time, I realised it was about me hiding my fears of abandonment.

The women in my life probably didn’t understand, any more than I did, that my conceit was an attempt to offset the insecurity that became rooted in me after my mother died. I wished to appear as strong when, in actuality, I was weak, requiring their approval since I didn’t have any of my own.

As if yesterday, I could still remember how I felt when my friend’s sister shunned me. That set the stage, making it more difficult to trust anyone whose affection I sought.

I smiled when this realisation struck me, understanding how I had longed for deference but rarely received it, perhaps because I wanted it more than I truly deserved. Had I been wealthy, or at least had more, I might have been able to support my bluster like some men use their wealth to cover for what inward qualities they might lack.

As I sat peacefully under my tree that morning, I reflected on how I might now use some of my painful lessons to win Julianne over. If I no longer conjured the dragons of fear, my chances with her would be considerably better. By becoming aware of my past insecurities, I could now relate to her from a position of strength and understanding and no longer need to be rescued as a frightened orphan.

Now I would be able to desire her without needing her to serve the demands of my frightened ego. From what my friends said, Julianne had little tolerance for narcissistic fools who came on to her, for which she had no patience. Fortunately, I laughed to myself, she knew me as little more than a lump of biomass on a bed in her ward.

If nothing else, this island stay would have been worth more than the ticket if I could return to London as the secure and composed specimen every woman wishes to have by her side.

That, however, was the kicker: how would I make this stick so I would remember my new resolve so I wouldn’t revert to my past behaviour? Would it be possible to remain transformed without remembering my transformation? I hoped so, but who knows what might happen next?

Still, that could wait; I wanted nothing more to do with worry. As with all expressions of fear, I now understood fear was not to be the essence of who I was, only the ego imposter within. But now I would be my own man, born anew in the storm.

If there were a moment I could speak of being born, not of the flesh, but of the divine spirit, last night’s encounter on the beach would have been my born-again experience.[8] In the midst of the storm, it had been a painful birthing process. But I suppose that’s how it often is when transforming into a new Self; the old self must first die.[9]

After reviewing my recent journal entries, I now understood how the fierce warfare helped me emerge out of the trenches of battle onto higher grounds, recognising that the fate of my soul was determined by what I allowed into my life.

I finally realised what Mo and Eli were attempting to explain to me. Before, I would often get agitated listening to their spiritual abstractions about the soul. But now I understood that what they were teaching could only be discerned with my heart rather than the conceits of my foolish ego-mind.[10]

I wish I could say all the dragons had been slain, but they weren’t – not entirely. After all, the ego’s recalcitrance is a function of one’s conscious dissonance. At least I was aware that from now on, I would have to remain vigilant to squelch the flames before they could get to me, breathing its vitriol.

During much of the next day, I continued to sit beneath my adopted Bodhi tree, writing in my journal as the breakers crashed onto the beach while listening to the chirping of the multi-fluorescent birds perched in the trees. Yes, I thought, finally, I am at peace with my life and the world. I felt my heart was in charge now, redirecting my mind from fear to love, from reason to wisdom, and most importantly, to new life.

Yet, I realised that after I returned home, it could take a while for me to reach this state of self-realisation. I thought of how Mo suggested I imagine myself as a fly on the wall observing my responses whenever my ego tried to get the better of me. If I could remember to do this, it might help me become aware of what it was trying to do by what it said and did.

By being conscious of it, I would have the choice to refuse to identify with it, giving me power over it. Then the real I, the pure I of my divine essence, sans ego, could transcend the petulant illusions that preempted my true identity. I might then become free of it so that it could no longer dictate what I thought and felt. Of course, learning to detach from the ego would require practice and discipline since its illusions, left unchecked, will thrive endlessly.[11]

Furthermore, I realised I would be severely tested and tempered in the crucible of life, both within and without. Yet, isn’t that what the grit and grind of our world are about? However, I wanted to believe that whatever happened, the fall guy would one day rediscover the silent tranquillity I was now experiencing. Otherwise, what would the point have been for this out-of-the-body exercise?

I remembered something Eli quoted from a renowned Jewish mystic and philosopher: Solitude is the place of purification. Truly, that had been my experience here, only more like a purging enema. In the future, however, I hoped to sustain this peace of mind that I had sought all my life. I wasn’t sure how I would unless an angel appeared to guide me. Perhaps, Julianne would be my angel – a most pleasant thought, indeed.

As I strolled along the beach later in the day, I contemplated how I had forgiven my mother last night during that extraordinary spectacle. And with this, I had forgiven myself and everyone I thought had wronged me in the past. Being the most important lesson I learned on this island, it was probably the most difficult. Forgiveness was my big issue, something I wasn’t often willingly to do.

I realised that if my old feelings resurface, I could never be free, and that’s why I could not allow myself to be trapped by old grievances that would likely ruin a lasting relationship with Julianne or anyone else who might come along. I would have to find a way to release my old judgments if I wished to be free and happy, the person she deserved in her life.

I also reflected on how Mo kept talking about how the world’s worst enemy was its collective ego, which is responsible for endless wars and suffering. He often emphasised how the ego-mind has no interest in forgiveness, caring only to aggrandise itself with hate and vengeance while wallowingin its cherished beliefs of entitlement and victimhood. These delusions give the ego an illusory reality it would not have otherwise by indulging in the same pain it causes.

When I first arrived on the island, my friends suggested there was a significant reason I was to be here, though they didn’t specify what it might be, other than to prepare myself for my big MMT. I now realise it was to learn how to forgive. Everything I fought against on the beach was a hideous phantom my mind had conjured by refusing to release whatever pain it represented, such as my mother’s abandonment. That was quite the revelation. I would now determine to identify with my divine Self rather than the old resentful ego-self. Not that I was a Buddha, but at least I wasn’t Gilligan either.

After returning to my hut that evening, I sat down with my journal, pondering what might happen next while remaining in this surreal realm. Regardless of what might yet come, at least move forward with confidence, knowing that whatever fears once held me back in the past could only return if I let them. After examining my life as few men ever have, I felt I had, at least for now, discovered my authentic Self. I recalled how frustrated I was when Mo asked me to look within during those early days at the Summit. I now understood his relentlessness; it was so I might one day find myself.

However, first, I had to decide who and what I wasn’t, as I recalled what Socrates said: The unexamined life is not worth living.[12] I thought about this, then turned it around, writing in my journal: Forthwith, this examined life shall be worth living… hereinafter, shall I so live!’ That sounded good; now all I needed to do was… so live.

I then saw a caterpillar crawling up my tree. Yes, I had been a caterpillar that remained in a cocoon for far too long, waiting for my metamorphosis into a free-flying butterfly. I have now become what was always enfolded within me. One day, I might return to the cocoon in my fall guy. Through him, I would complete my transition while integrating whatever spiritual gains I have made here in preparation for my ultimate metamorphosis into Elysium’s rarefied realm of existence.

Who else gets to do that? And of all people… why me?  

 

[1] Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol.
[2] Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 5
[3] Paul Gauguin (1848-1903), a French Post-Impressionist artist who travelled and lived in Tahiti while painting several of his famous masterpieces there. 
[4] While writing this portion of the narrative, I coincidentally found a supportive statement made by Werner Heisenberg (Nobel Prize in Physics 1932): I assert the nature of all reality is spiritual, not material or a dualism of matter and spirit. The hypothesis that its nature can be, to any degree, material does not enter into my reckoning, because we understand now that matter, the putting together of the adjective material and the noun nature, does not make any sense.
[5] I was thinking of a line from Hamlet in Shakespeare (paraphrased): To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles.\
[6] I came, I saw, I conquered. An ancient Latin saying attributed to Julius Caesar going into battle, likely declared by many warriors since then.
[7] I came across a statement purportedly made by Jesus in the Gnostic Gospel of Thomas:  If you don't bring forth what is inside you, what you don't bring forth will destroy you. I think I implicitly understood this at the time. 
[8] As it is often quoted: Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. John 3:3 (KJV)
[9] Except a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it abides alone: but if it dies, it brings forth much fruit. John 12:24 (KJV). Or as previously quoted by G.I. Gurdjieff: A man may be born, but in order to be born, he must first die, and in order to die, he must first awake.
[10] That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. John 3:6 (KJV). Flesh in the Greek, (σάρξ), carries the meaning of a world that has separated itself from divine grace.
[11] This sums up one of G.I. Gurdjieff’s primary teachings.  He often uses the word it when speaking of the ego-self because it is not you, but a distortion of your divine Self.
[12] Allegedly, Socrates (470-399 BC) made this statement at his trial before being sentenced to death, as stated in Plato’s Apology.

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

VOYAGE TO THE VIRTUAL ISLANDS

 

‘O Captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done;
the ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won.[25]

 

By now, the third day after my calamitous night of my beach epiphany, I felt rested and composed. After my forty days and nights of anguish and elation, it was finally time to leave my Bodhi tree and quaint Polynesian hut and return to the summit lodge. I was especially eager to tell Mo and Eli about my encounter with my mother’s spectre and how it had transformed my life.

Yesterday, I completed my most recent journal musings about what this all might mean for me, should the fall guy survive. If necessary, I could return to this island later should my mentors recommend I spend more time to complete my practicum. As it turned out, I would return one day, but not alone.

I felt completely at one with my island paradise, unconcerned about what might happen next. After some reflection and final journaling, I decided it was time to return to the Andes. For whatever reason, I assumed there would be a time for debriefing with my mentor companions, and if I made the grade to proceed further to the next phase of my journey in the virtual islands.

After spending the last evening on my island paradiseclarifying my recent collection of philosophical and spiritual musings, I prepared to take my leave. So, early the next morning, I placed my journal into my backpack and stepped out of my Bodhi hut. It was still dawn, shortly before sunrise, with the sky reflecting a brilliant hue of yellow and orange wisps in the east.

Then, just as I was about to take my final stroll around the island to say farewell to my exotic and often noisy, feathered friends, something curious caught my eye, emerging from the ocean’s horizon in the distance. Most peculiarly, it seemed like a far-off pole sticking out of the water several knots away that I had never noticed before. But as it drew closer, a ship’s hull appeared to rise higher and higher from the skyline.

Eli and Mo said ships didn’t pass this way because it wasn’t near a trade route to any apparent destination where ships would have a reason to sail. I wasn’t sure what it might be, unless it was a naval surveillance ship patrolling the waters. However, as it grew larger, I could see that this was no ordinary boat; it was an ancient ship, complete with billowing sails!

As it sailed closer, I wondered… what’s this… has Magellan lost his way? Indeed, the approaching vessel appeared to be sixteenth-century vintage, perhaps similar to Columbus’s Santa Maria. So, what was going on here, some crazy time-warp? I knew my friends had sent me to a distant island, though I didn’t remember them saying anything about being thrown into a remote era of history, too.

The giant hull continued to loom directly towards me as if I were its target. What was I to do? As a spirit, I could have easily picked up and zapped myself into the safety of the mountain lodge since I was going there anyway.

Yet, that would be poor form; Eli would never let me live it down if he found out I didn’t stand up to whatever was approaching me. After all, I had recently confronted my demons, so how could this be worse?

I didn’t move but remained steadfast beside my hut, amazed as the bizarre scene unfolded before me. I must admit feeling intimidated as it lunged towards me, not slowing down or anchoring, but ploughing onto the beach about fifty yards directly in front of where I stood my ground.

Now what? Would I soon have company from someone on this old, beached ghost ship? Fine; if they must, they can have the hut. I’m done with it anyway... and the island too, if they like. It seemed whoever was on board would likely be here long since there was no way of getting this marooned ship off the beach, even with a fleet of tugboats pulling from behind at high tide.

I waited patiently. Still, there was no sign of life on board. Perhaps it was some ancient ghost ship, even if I didn’t believe in that sort of thing, although I’m not sure why not, given my current state of existence. Nevertheless, things seemed disquietingly spooky; the massive hulk and masts loomed before me, sails flapping in the breeze. There was an insignia on one sail, although I wasn’t sure what it represented. For some reason, it occurred to me that it might be from medieval Portugal.

With trepidation, I was about to cross the beach and investigate when I suddenly noticed a tall, lean pirate approaching me from behind the ship’s hull, waist-deep in the surf! Maybe he wasn’t a pirate, although it sure appeared that way, attired in unkempt captain attire, seemingly from centuries ago.

Nothing was remotely contemporary about him unless unbeknownst to me; I was now living circa AD 1500. By now, I knew that anything was possible. Despite having docked at various ports in Spain and Portugal, I knew little of these languages, so I wasn’t sure how much I could communicate with someone from a past era.

After walking unabated through the surf, the man reached shore and kept walking towards me without pausing. I thought this was another advantage to being in spirit form; no one can harm you, be it with guns, spears or arrows… with the possible except of women; they can hurt your feelings no matter where you are,  although that’s another story… this was no woman.

Then it occurred to me… wait a minute, how can he see me? I’m not supposed to be visible to mortal eyes. Yet he looked directly at me as he continued his brisk pace, ever closer. Would that mean he was a spirit, too? Until now, I hadn’t seen anyone in this realm other than Mo and Eli, so this was a bit unnerving. I hoped he wasn’t from the dark side, should such places exist in the cosmos.

About ten yards away, I could tell he looked like a captain befitting an antiquated pirate ship. He appeared middle-aged, unshaven, with long, slightly grey hair. I resolutely stood my ground without flinching, expecting almost anything to happen... except for what happened! 

‘As you were, mate,’ he said.

Then he laughed a big belly laugh.

‘Who and what are you?’ I asked incredulously. ‘And that ship there?’

‘What’s the matter, Sebastian, you don’t recognise your old ship and captain?’

‘Excuse me?’ I asked.

With that, he pulled out what appeared to be a rum canister from his long coat, motioning it towards me to have a swig. I declined, whereupon he took a big guzzle and smiled in satisfaction.

‘You gone dry, matey… what kind of sailor are you?’

Then, for an uncomfortable moment, he stepped closer, looking deeply into my eyes with a penetrating gaze as if searching my soul. Then, laughing heartily, he asked, ‘What do you have to eat, mate?’

‘Some fish I caught and fruit hanging off the trees. By the way, you seem a bit short on crew; are you running a recruitment drive?

He grinned and said, ‘If I were, you’d be the first one I’d hire, First Mate Sebastian de Cartagena. You were one bloody scallywag of a sailor, even before I commissioned you my successor,’ he chuckled. ‘I’m not presently accepting applications; I only appoint. Do you remember when you took over my ship several centuries ago when I decided to take my leave mid-way across the Atlantic?’ 

‘Oh, yes, I remember it well,’ I said sarcastically. ‘It was on one of those cruise packages through the Caribbean islands – wasn’t it?’

I wouldn’t take him seriously until I knew for sure this wasn’t a ruse.

‘Good memory, Sebastian, indeed, we sailed out of Jamaica, Guadalupe, St Martin and a few other islands before they were known as such. However, there were never tourists since there were none. Our lading load consisted only of spices destined for Europe.’

I looked at him incredulously; I had never visited any Caribbean islands, although I had considered a winter holiday in Jamaica.

‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ he said, ‘since your memory seems to have lapsed since you sailed with me as a swashbuckler. You knew me as your friend and Captain, Miguel de Santandrés of Portugal. That might seem a while since we sailed between Europe and the Caribbean islands, trading in exotic cargo.’

‘Then tell me, Captain, why are you here if you’re not trading spices?’

‘Get me a beachside table, preferably with a view, and I’ll explain why I sailed all this way to meet you for breakfast in the South Pacific. And, oh yes, in case you were wondering, I’m able to accommodate you in your density, including several other strata, as need be.

‘As you’ve probably discovered by now, being interdimensional has its benefits, so I’m sure we’ll get along splendidly in whatever zone we happen to meet. Good sailors always find their way, at least when they’re not brawling or mutinying,’ he guffawed.

After frying the fish on my grill, we dined on some fresh, exotic fruits I had picked. Our meal was nothing fancy, though he didn’t seem to care or notice. I hadn’t eaten much during the last several weeks since I was preoccupied with my internal battles.

‘Tell me, Captain, apart from what you claim to be a chapter from my past, what do you know about me, and how did you find me here?’ 

‘Currently, in this incarnation, you are known as Dr James Phillips, formerly enrolled as an undergraduate at Reading, and recently employed as a sessional professor at King’s in London. I also understand you were a sailor for a short time before enrolling to study philosophy, completing your formal education at Edinburgh, where you received your doctorate a few years ago. You now reside in London, or at least your battered body does.’ 

It was evident that this Captain possessed some remarkably impressive psychic talents, having somehow accessed information about me from the field or perhaps from Mo and Eli. Yes, that likely was it; they must have told him. Yet, as he continued, I was surprised by how much detail he claimed to know about my sailing itinerary, mentioning several ports where I was docked—things that no one should have known, not even Mo or Eli.

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, ‘everything you said is correct… most impressive. So, why are you here if you’re not looking for shipmates to sail this impressive sailboat of yours? But how did you know I was here?’

‘Your companions, the ones on the mountain… remember them?’

‘Ah, so you do know them.’

‘Most certainly; they requested I accompany you to visit a couple of islands that might seem several hundred leagues away but exist far beyond in an interdimensional zone outside this continuum. Since I was visiting your galaxy anyway, I told them I would be pleased to set sail again with my former First Mate. Apparently, there are a few islands they wish me to take you to that are off this grid.’

‘By the way, the name on my intergalactic passport differs from what you once knew. However, you may call me Rhom unless you prefer Captain, as you did before. Names and titles come and go; nonetheless, this one I’ve had for a while. Of course, it didn’t sound very Portuguese in those days, any more than it does now, so I decided to go with a pseudonym you recognised when I was a Captain on one of Magellan’s ill-fated ships.’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I understand that things didn’t go well on that voyage; in fact, very few survived.’[1]

‘No, they certainly didn’t, although I was mainly along for the ride. As I’m sure you might have heard, everything went downhill after the Philippians, even before Magellan was killed by the natives there. By then, I had been exposed to enough human folly, so I didn’t bother returning to earth until the Caribbean spice trade opened. That was when we met most fortuitously.

‘At the time, you were a young man on the lam,  so as Captain of a Spanish merchant ship, I took you on and trained you in astronomy so that you might become my First Mate. That’s how you eventually got to be a Captain of this beached ship.’

‘If true, that would be extraordinary, but since you’re not native to this planet, how did you become a human here; did you incarnate?’

‘No, not me. Not on earth or anywhere else that I recall… too messy. I prefer to come and go as I please by manifesting a form whenever I wish to engage with a species.

‘I don’t know if you realise it, but this earth has quite the reputation in the universe! Though I don’t wish to insult your world, it’s known to possess a relatively primitive state of consciousness. Or, I should say… semblance of consciousness. Yet, with its quirky charm, it shows promise.

‘Quirky charm; is that how you would describe us?’

‘Having visited this planet several times over the centuries, I find it interesting how things get so easily confused, although I admit to sometimes finding it more amusing than interesting.’

‘If this is true, I’m curious: how were you able to manifest a body each time you visit, and how do you determine how you wish to appear?’

‘There’s not much to the process once you decide how you wish to manifest on earth, much like putting on a suit, except I decided to go casual this time,’ he chuckled.

‘When I first came, I did some browsing in Europe before deciding to adopt the ethnicity of a Portuguese man since I thought I’d do a little sailing on your ocean waters just as things were getting underway there, thanks to their royalty.  

‘While this body exists in higher vibratory octaves such as the astral plane, it can transduce down to earth’s lower plane such that I can lower my bodily frequency to walk down any street in town and be seen. You may have even seen me. When it suits me, no pun intended, I can assume another, slightly altered appearance. Most impressive, wouldn’t you say?’ 

All this was new to me; imagine that, a shape-shifting alien invading the planet as a pirate on an ancient sailing vessel. That would make one hell of a sci-fi story.

Of course, Mo and Eli, being from Elysium, were off-worlders too, only for different reasons, although the lines of demarcation were blurring in these alternative realities. Was Earth any more real just because it was the densest? I wasn’t sure; perhaps, with its lower state of consciousness, it was the least real. Being fascinated with his storyline, I questioned him about other off-worlders and how many like him have sailed the seas and walked the earth over the centuries.

To which he replied, ‘Plenty, someone has to keep your earth intact... at least, until your species can survive on its own cognisance.’

‘But aren’t there also less benevolent entities where you come from who infiltrate important positions of leadership so they may take earthlings down?’

‘Do you actually think humans need any help with that?’

‘Probably not, yet it seems this world has to endure an inordinate amount of evil that appears to come from somewhere else.’

While it’s true that dark operatives from other galactic domains are present in your world, they can only inflict harm by collaborating with those who share a mutual obsession for greed, power, and exploitation. By being a vibratory match with their earthly proxies, they can vicariously meddle in the world’s affairs.

‘Without leeching onto willing human surrogates who calibrate on the lowest spectrums of consciousness, nefarious cosmic forces would never be able to anchor here. Fortunately, benevolent beings serve as a countervailing force if some of these bad actors try to get through. Some refer to these as angels, but that’s just a religious term for highly ascended extra-terrestrial masters.’

‘So, is that how you would describe yourself?’

‘I’ve never been accused of being anything such… perhaps for good reasons,’ he chuckled. ‘Still, you might be surprised how many of us visit your planet from various galactic domains to provide some guidance to your world’s more dystopic regions. However, we can only intervene when the collective consciousness of the masses becomes receptive to what is in their best interests. Left to your species’ devices, humans would have destroyed themselves long ago, as was attempted last century with their heinous genocides and more recently with nuclear proliferation.’

‘Okay, good to know some backup is available when we need it most, but why are these pesky humans allowed to reincarnate to cause us more trouble?’

‘It might not always appear the most efficient way; nevertheless, humanity can only awaken to the light of higher consciousness by experiencing the contrast of darkness. All inhabited planets in the multiverse also have their own growth processes, but most are rather benighted compared to Earth. So, if you wonder why there are so many wars, homicides and genocides here, well, now you know… you’ve chosen the hard way because it’s faster.

‘When these compromised spirits reincarnate, many hope to make amends for past iniquities, not that this always works in past amnesia. Many continue ensconced in their twisted state, refusing to see the light, and so return to where they came from – it’s a hell of a way to live. Still, that’s their choice.’

‘If I may ask, why did you first come to earth, other than to save us from ourselves?’

‘As tough as things might get here, your world offers unique insights into how unsophisticated embryonic beings manage to evolve while undergoing severe adversities. I especially witnessed this on my Magellan voyage.’

‘I suppose if it can be done on earth, it can be done anywhere,’ I remarked wistfully.

‘That’s true, although there are also other reasons I return here.’

‘Such as what? I asked.

‘Well, you know, it might sound trite, but there are some things you can’t find elsewhere. Caribbean rum, for instance… one of my favourites and a good reason to keep coming back,’ he chortled while taking another swig. ‘I always keep a bottle in my pocket since it possesses a unique Caribbean ocean atmosphere saveur I can’t get back home.’

‘So, where exactly is your home away from home?’ I asked.

‘Mostly, I enjoy your country and Montego Bay while visiting your planet. As for my origins, it's difficult to explain the galactic coordinates when there is no point of reference for what exists in higher constellations in the Pleiadian galaxy. Nor does it show up in your Hubble lens since it lies outside Earth’s spectrum.’

‘So, that must be quite the distance.’

‘Distance in the universe is not what most of your scientists assume since they remain too fixated on linear time and space to understand multidimensional realms.’

‘Then how long does it take to arrive here on your spacecraft?’

‘Sebastian, you’ve learned a thing or two about teleporting, so why even ask? There might be an appearance of distance, although it has nothing to do with spatial measurement. You, more than anyone, should know that.’

‘Why then have spacecraft?’

‘Primarily, they serve as stations outside their galaxies. Get ready, soon there will be significant disclosures on your Earth. I bet you didn’t know there’s a whole armada out there numbering over one million spacecraft protecting Earth from hostile galactic forces as your planet transitions to a higher frequency. No one can see them positioned about the globe since they remain cloaked in undetectable dimensions.’

‘You mean there will be more sightings for the entertainment of sky-gazers?’ 

‘That may be for the more discerning humans who have eyes to see, although we’re mainly here to help ensure that Earth doesn’t fall further into a lower spectrum of consciousness by averting disaster due to the collective ignorance of the intelligentsia. Though we may not be able to make the changes, we can guide humans on what to do if they so choose. Meanwhile, if any unauthorised to penetrate Earth’s atmosphere, they will be escorted out or worse.

This is sounding a lot like the Star Wars movies.

‘I could tell you stories you wouldn’t believe, dating back tens of millions of years. But we can speak more of that later and the role you may be asked to assume in the foreseeable future, Special Earth Command Xavier.’

‘Now I know for sure you’re joking.’

‘Am I? Regardless, we are encouraged to observe many of your physicists beginning to twig onto new paradigms of quantum mechanics and how they may lead to new perceptions of reality that advance humanity, not just intellectually, but in spiritual wisdom.

‘Unfortunately, most astronomers gaze through their telescopes and assume the material universe is all there is. Few have any idea of the variegations of energetic streams that have crystallised into an appearance of physical densities paralleling your known universe. What is perceived as being out there reveals more about the limitations of human perception.’

‘Thanks to Berkley, I have a philosophical appreciation for what you’re saying; still, that doesn’t tell me much about your universe. I’m relatively certain your old boat wouldn’t get you very far when heading back into the stars.’

‘Ah, yes… our boat. So how do you like it, First Mate? I decided to sail it again for old time’s sake, both yours and mine, since I’m aware of your interest in these old vessels and sailing history.’

‘That may be, but how would you know about this? Even if what you said is true about my supposed past sailing exploits through the Caribbean, it doesn’t necessarily follow that I would continue to have an interest now.’

‘No, it doesn’t,’ he said, ‘not necessarily, just probably. From what I understand, you once discussed these historical events with an eccentric astrophysicist during your first year at university. You know, the one you went to pubs with while listening to endless tales of sailing.’

‘And you know about that, too.’  

‘Of course I do! There’s much I know about you, Sebastian; how else do you think I got this job?’ he laughed.

‘So, can you explain to me how my physicist friend seemed to know so much about sailing back then? He spoke of what even historians have no record of.’

‘You probably should have asked him, although, had he told you, you probably wouldn’t have believed him.’

‘You’re right, I probably wouldn’t have; however, I think I’m beginning to now. Yes, Miguel, my Portuguese professor, used to call me Sebastian, unlike anyone else before or since. The one who drank too much dark rum while speaking endlessly about the high seas. And, the one who one day suddenly vanished from the face of the earth.’

‘Is that so? So, where do you think he went?’

‘Probably to Montego Bay, or possibly he headed back to the stars. Might this not be the same Portuguese Captain as you that happens to do all the same things?’

‘It really makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’ he said with a straight face as if he was genuinely perplexed.

I laughed aloud at his ingenious ruse. There was no doubt in my mind that I was once again with Miguel, the professor friend I hung out with at the pub as a first-year student, the one who guided me to pursue philosophy. After all, Mo earlier mentioned I would know my captain, and so it seems I do.

‘When you walk up its plank of this old ship, he said, ‘you might wonder where I found it.’

‘Dare I ask?’ I laughed.

‘I brought it here through an orphic wormhole where it remained docked, suspended in time, much as when you decommissioned it in Portugal on the 12th of October 1563, at the Port of Póvoa de Varzim.’

 ‘I decommissioned this ship?’  

‘Of course, Sebastian, you were its captain, and so it was yours, even if I had to do a few repairs to the hull and patch some of the sails you neglected. Nonetheless, I’m sure you’ll find it much as you left it, even if you don’t remember. But in reality, you do, since nothing is ever lost; it only seems that way… until it’s not.’

‘I’ll admit, there are some things you say about sailing in the medieval era that resonate in my mind. Ever since I was a lad, I dreamt of sailing on a magnificent old vessel like this. Then, later, while navigating through the Aegean Sea, I became enthralled by ancient times on the sea as I repeatedly read my father’s copy of the Iliad. I often imagined I was sailing to Troy in those ancient times.’ 

‘So, possibly, you sailed these seas, too, in the time of Homer. Why not?’

‘I suppose in this universe, anything is possible, as I’ve been learning. Yet I have no idea how you managed to dredge this old boat from a dock in Portugal’s past. Regardless, I’d love to sail on it again.’

‘Whenever you’re ready, we can set sail.’

‘To where?’

‘The islands.’ 

‘Which Islands?’

‘Didn’t your friends tell you about sailing off to the Flatlands and the Hill Country?’

‘Oh, that; yes, I guess they did, although I didn’t think it would be this soon. Besides, it still seems too fantastic to believe.’

‘Well, believe it, Sebastian. I didn’t come all this way for breakfast. Wasn’t this what you might have expected when they told you I’d be your assigned guide?’

‘Yes, of course, but with everything that has been going on with me on this island, I hadn’t given much thought to sailing off right away into some unknown world. I guess I assumed I was to spend some time back at the lodge to debrief my mentors about my experiences here.’

‘And what makes you think they’re sitting for you to show up as if they didn’t have better things to do?’  

He was right; still, I wasn’t prepared for anything quite like this. Although I didn’t say anything, I would have expected to see someone better groomed, appearing less like a pirate and more like a guide sailing in something more elegant than what seemed a dilapidated piece of antiquity.

‘Before I get on board, what more can you tell me about this voyage? Eli and Mo described it as a Magical Mystery Tour to some far-off islands that don’t actually exist except as viral projections of parallel realities, whatever that is.’

‘You will find out soon enough, but likely won’t even be aware of how it seems to manifest. Where we’re sailing, all you require is a brave soul, which, I’m sure you have; otherwise, you wouldn’t have come this far.’

‘Mo and Eli tried to describe the process to me, but it seemed a bit too far out for me to understand much.’

‘It’s not that complicated; it will be condensations of impressions from an accumulation of experiences in this and other lives.’

‘So what can you tell me about those who might be participating in our MMT?’

‘Higher realms of conscious entities will undergird the projected images, integrating them into a field of virtual experiences that might appear a bit illustrious since that’s how these dimensions perceive life. In fact, this voyage might seem a little surreal at first, as if you are sailing on a sea of luminescence. But don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll get used to it.’

‘That’s lovely, but how realistic is that? Such projection might reflect their perceptions, but not mine.’

‘After we arrive on the islands, you will also witness many manifestations of low consciousness, whether in the people, places, objects or events, graphically exposed in glaring detail. Truth is truth, so, for illustration purposes, all perceptions in the Flatlands and Hillcountry will be accentuated to appear all the more of what they are, glorious and inglorious. Rather than perceiving as you did in the past, your eyes will be illuminated to see what you couldn’t when you lacked insight and understanding. Every blade of grass, if you focus, will glisten in the rays of your mind’s light as you will experience the essence of everything. However, what deviates from the light of creation will be seen in the shadows of its falsity.

‘Your lifetime of subliminal memories will provide a feedstock of information that will comingle in a holographic projection, pulled together to teach whatever lessons you are meant to learn. Within this collage of familiar and unfamiliar structures and objects, you will be able to interpret what is represented with enhanced meaning. Some may even seem humorous in their depictions to help you get the point.’

‘Okay, just so I understand, these holograms are supposed to extract, interpret and then project my subliminal impressions to a template where they can be perceived, much like life on earth. Is that right?’

‘Yes, these impressions will be downloaded as multisensory experiences even more perceptible than anything you could experience on earth. Regardless, you and I will be the only nonrepresentational realities there, whereas all other MMT experiences will represent thought forms drawn from parallel realities.

‘You may wish to consider this similar to a movie representing the images of actors rather than the physical manifestation of the actors themselves.  It’s even possible some of these projections may even include those you have interacted with in your dream states, or you in theirs.’

‘I wonder if I could meet Julianne on one of these islands; that would be a dream come true.’

‘Good luck, though possible, romantic interludes aren’t the purpose of this voyage; that would only serve to confuse you. Take whatever comes as a lesson you needed to learn, and leave the rest. Outwardly, you might not even be able to distinguish what you consider real from what’s virtually real. Once we arrive, you will witness representations of places and events that contributed to your intellectual development, for better or worse.

Again, it’s about what’s within that is seen for what it is when outwardly projected. It really is like a movie you get to jump into from a front row seat. However, you don’t need to reconcile what you observe with how you once perceived it, since you will see your world as it truly exists in its unfiltered essence.

‘To me, this all sounds like one big simulation.’

‘Indeed, but then isn’t all of life, simultaneous operating in untold densities and dimensions?

 

‘I think you just opened a can of worms I’d rather not look into.’

‘Not worms,’ he smiled, ‘wormholes… of infinite possibilities. Pick a timeline of your choice. Isn’t it grand?’ But we can discuss later, after we return from the islands, when you’ve experienced what is now difficult to understand.

‘For now, there’s too much for you to assimilate, yet one day, I’m sure you will, as you reflect on what you are about to experience.’

‘Fine by me,’ I said. ‘Mo and Eli already explained this to me, but I still find it confusing how I could possibly be participating in what isn’t even real while, all the time, I was. From what you’re saying, I think you're saying that, in essence, the virtual world is a composition of latent thought patterns of unmanifested reality.’

‘Yes, in a sense, that’s what they are… holographic thought patterns. Nevertheless, appearances are fleeting, as in the quantum field of subatomic physics, where cause and effect manifest as one. Again, I’m sure this will be easier for you to understand once we become immersed in these alternate dimensions.

‘So then, First Mate Sebastian… shall we now cast off onto the glittering seas of our brave new world? The skies are clear, so it should be smooth sailing, at least for a while. Are you ready?’

‘I think so, but let me first check my social calendar to see what else I might have on the go… any idea how long you think this voyage might take?’

‘Maybe a day; maybe an eternity,’ he said, ‘after all, what’s time but a perception in the meadows of dancing stars?

‘Well then, if that’s all there is to it,’ I chuckled, ‘I’ll batten down the hatches, pack my bags and grab my journal. I don’t suppose Mo and Eli are expecting me any time soon since they’re the ones who booked me on this voyage as part of my practicum at Summit U.’

‘We never stop learning, do we, First Mate? How often do you get to charter a ship from the ancient past to visit your present future?’

‘Not since ingesting a variety of substances while a student.’

‘So, Captain, before we embark, I’d like to know more about how you plan for us to navigate time and space on this excursion … if we do? I think I’d like to know.’

‘You might as well ask me how to square infinity. Now, there’s a wonderful koan for you to consider.’

‘Funny thing, my professor friend once asked me that.’

‘Indeed, a most clever question; I don’t suppose you’ve found an answer yet?’

‘No, not really, I’m still waiting for him to tell me. Who knows, maybe I’ll find the answer on one of these virtual islands; it would be the perfect venue.’

He didn’t respond, although I thought I detected a smirk on his face. That’s one of the things I liked about Rhom… always enigmatic, as was my professor friend over a dozen years ago. He never would admit that it was him, not entirely, since it seemed he preferred to amuse himself, keeping me in suspense about this and many other things.

Besides that, at least from what he said, he might indeed have also been my Captain from a bygone era almost a half-millennium ago. That’s a long time, yet how would I know for sure? In any case, Rhom was a most impressive man: tall, slender, yet muscular sailor, as he claimed to be in the days of Magellan.

Interestingly, Rhom continued to possess his sailor swagger, a quality that might have amused others back in his galactic realm. I suspected, however, that he probably had accumulated an inventory of personas cultivated on various sojourns on Earth, along with other intergalactic forays through time and space.

I was curious to know how old he was but then realised that was a ridiculous question... as if our earthly solar years have anything to do with what’s outside sidereal time.

Not every day do you get to meet such a character, at least that you’re aware of. I suspected there was much more to him than I would ever know or could know. His depth of understanding was evident, just as when we met at various pubs near the university. I remembered how approachable he was back then, even as an ivory tower professor. Nothing was ever an issue with him. It was now apparent why he remained unflappable. 

As a professor, he appeared to be in his early forties, always looking dapper in expensive Italian designer suites. I noticed, a bit enviously, how women would eye him at the pub, and not always discretely.

When I asked him about women in his life, he would say they weren’t his kind, which to me didn’t make any sense since they most certainly were my kind. Once, when I inquired if he was gay, he said not in the modern sense of the term; he was just happy.

He must have been an ancient soul from somewhere deep in the universe’s underbelly rather than a shabby sea Captain from the past, as he now appeared. I could go on describing his compelling qualities… take my word for it; he always was a cool guy, whatever the earthly guise he assumed. Once again, Mo and Eli were right; he seemed the perfect guide for my island tours.

After grabbing my backpack and slinging it on my back, we waded through the surf until we reached the ship, then climbed up the gangplank. By now, the tide was high, which might have lifted the stern slightly, although I doubt that would have made much difference to our beached boat, any more than raising the sails. In any case, Rhom somehow managed to dislodge our vessel from the beach. It was clear neither this ship nor Rhom was subject to anyone’s laws, including that of gravity.

I couldn’t be sure of what was real or unreal; all I knew was that our ship was sailing off towards some magical mystery where anything and everything might be possible. I soon realised that most of my concerns were meaningless, as reality is relative to the plane we're on, but I had no idea which one we were navigating. I chuckled to myself when I considered how this would give pause to some of the angst-ridden existential philosophers who could barely figure out how things worked on just the earth plane, let alone any others.

As my paradise isle sank below the horizon, Rhom said, ‘Be sure to keep your mind open at all times on this excursion. Just because an experience occurs outside what you consider possible doesn’t invalidate it, particularly when participating in it, as you will soon find.’

There are no acceptable explanations within paradigms that are too narrow to comprehend what lies beyond their usual scope. Even on earth, many events take place to which no one has an answer. 

‘Such as what?’

‘How about something as simple as gravity or the essence of life? These are among the greatest enigmas.’

‘Of course, but how about more exotic phenomena such as crop circles? It seems scientists can’t come up with any credibly explanation. As you might expect, I consider myself a sceptic, although I’ve never understood how these manage to somehow materialise in farmers’ fields at night, often in minutes. What would you say about that?’

‘I trust you have been enjoying our exquisite designs. Although few humans appreciate or understand what they mean, most contain logarithms within the intricate patterns. Unfortunately, most scientists don’t care about the implicit binary codes found in our sacred geometry, even though these can be deciphered if they cared enough to find out.[2]

‘Since they’re too clever to look, does this not reveal more about humans than what it tells humans about us, which appears to be more than they are willing to acknowledge? Consequently, such evidence is often dismissed or mocked, particularly among archaeologists who should be most inquisitive. Instead of investigating the enigmatic crop patterns, they dismiss our revelations with shoddy rationalisations. Unfortunately, few in the scientific community seem to care, so no one is held accountable. That’s a much easier way to deal with what might otherwise threaten one’s career.’

‘What are you suggesting… that off-worlders created them?’

‘How else would these designs appear in the middle of the night of their own accord? I suspect certain nocturnal forays will continue as long as enough inquiring souls are open to whatever might be encrypted in these messages. You know, there is much more subliminal intrigue to them than just creative circles and designs in a crop. Most possess energetic codes that ripply across the  Earth, uplifting human consciousness.’

‘So, are you personally involved in creating any of this cosmic graffiti?’

‘No, not really, although I have gone along for the ride with certain artists. It’s interesting to watch, even though most farmers don’t appreciate their masterpieces. Most of our designs are already programmed into our laser technology, which explains why encryptions occur very quickly at night.’

‘That’s very interesting, Rhom, because I’ve never believed them to be anything more than hoaxes by local pranksters who wish to get people talking. However, if you’ve seen all this firsthand, there’s not much I can say except that it must be fun to watch. Be sure to take me along next time you have an opportunity.’

We’re all for having fun, especially in a world that often takes itself too seriously. But you know, what’s even more amusing to watch is you, Sebastian… a most peculiar specimen of the human race. An overachiever at times, an underachiever in others, yet always fascinating to observe. Now, for the first time during your earthly sojourns, you’re ready for what you’re about to encounter, not just on these islands. I suspect there may be many other possibilities awaiting you, some even pleasurable.

‘From what Mo, Eli and you have said, I expect this voyage could be exceptional, although I suspect I’ll have many questions about what’s going on there.’

‘I would expect no less. Don’t be too concerned about what you don’t understand. If what I say doesn’t always make sense, just wait; eventually, an intuition will resonate within your soul, as does all truth.

‘After all your recent epiphanies on the island, you will recognise things as they are on these islands and discern truth from falsehood; it will seem so obvious you will wonder why you couldn’t do this back home. In particular, you will observe how unsettled so-called settled science has become over the years. Many scientific nuggets no longer remain valid after a generation or two, yet the narratives often persist for years due to vested interests of power and money.

‘In Magellan’s time, I recall how much of humanity believed the earth was flat. Hardly anyone thinks that now, yet your world continues to believe in many other fabrications even more ridiculous.’

‘That’s true,’ I said. ‘Even in England, some claim to walk on hot coals without burning their feet. It’s astonishing what scams people will fall for.’

‘Have you ever tried it? If not, how would you know? Every day in your world, initiates walk across scorching hot coals as part of a spiritual ceremony.’

‘That’s bizarre; humans aren’t born with asbestos on their soles. It’s not realistic.’

‘You are right; it can't be realistic within the confines of traditional science; participants should incinerate their feet. And yet, once they have been mentally prepared, they casually stroll across the coals without a trace of a burn or blister.

‘Since that’s not supposed to be possible, these phenomena are generally ignored, as with any other para-conformity. Yet, nothing should be dismissed or declared impossible simply because it falls outside the parameters of established assumptions.’

‘As you probably know, in the past I have often ridiculed anything that seemed paranormal. After all, I’m trained to be a sceptic, although I must confess, I’ve never seriously investigated what I mocked.’

‘Which is my point,’ Rhom said. ‘Why question what others have already dismissed when it’s much easier to ignore what might otherwise get in the way of what many consider respectable beliefs? When you return home one day, you might have an opportunity to look further into such phenomena.’

‘Knowing the fall guy, as I affectionately call my body, I’m not sure he would be willing to do that.’

‘Well, I understand his nurse, Julianne, is interested in many things your fall guy might consider peculiar. So, what if, after you return, she wants him to come with her to watch a fire-walking ceremony? Would he go? And if he did, might he walk across the hot coals with her, hand in hand?’

‘That’s crazy; he’d never do that.’

‘Perhaps not, you know him better than I do. But what if she did… then how would he feel?’

‘He’d probably feel humiliated for her showing him up being braver than him.  I’m so glad I’m past all that,’ I laughed.

‘I hope so, at least you could tell her you had the courage to board a ghost ship bound for islands that might not even exist. That might impress her,’ he smirked.

‘And I won’t even have to burn my feet,’ I chuckled.

‘Burned feet or not, openness to what lies outside the pail is something many on your planet struggle with. Even though there’s plenty for humanity to experience and celebrate, too many play it safe, willingly giving their power over to tyrants, allowing them to preserve control by force, not power.’

‘Nevertheless, force is power,’ I said. ‘You can’t have force without power, it’s the same thing, only with different words.’

‘Actually, there is a subtle but significant difference. Force used fear to impose itself from without, whereas power attracts from what’s within. Stalin was forceful; Yeshua was powerful.’[3]

‘That might be one way to look at it.’

‘Where would demagogues be if they couldn’t impose their rules and beliefs on others? Tyranny would cease to exist. Although it’s not only tyrants that use force, from what I’ve observed, most of your institutions tend towards authoritarianism, whether political, religious, or scientific, enforcing beliefs that serve their interests. Yet those who possess true power don’t require force or deception, only truth. Yeshua had the greatest impact on humanity because his words and deeds were truthful.’

‘For now, in your world’s planetary history, most tyrants remain safe since consciousness often remains too low for many humans to realise they’ve been duped. We’ll see that illustrated among the Groupthink elites in the Flatlands, who are obsessed with everyone’s thoughts remaining as shallow as theirs. That’s how the collective ego reacts; it’s always an existential threat to the ego when its beliefs are called into question.’

I wouldn’t say Rhom was a cynic, perhaps more of an iconoclast, calling out the intellectual set by seeing through the sophistries of the most revered Flatland institutions.

‘Things in your world can’t be other than they are,’ he said, ‘when so many prefer to slumber rather than awaken. Unfortunately, those with the lowest consciousness are often the most outwardly clever in manipulating the masses to revere them, all the while serving their devious ends.’

‘What you just said reminds me of what Eli once stated while quoting Einstein: No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it.’

‘That’s so demonstratively true; also, tyrants have the most to lose should humanity ever awaken to see through what they are about. Often things don’t end well for them, which is why they fear any possibility of a coup or insurrection.’

‘As an ex-pat of this world, what would you say to its citizens if you could?’

‘There’s not much you can say until they are ready to hear it. If most understood the true nature of power, they would refuse to give it away. Once souls become inwardly enlightened,[4] it’s only a matter of time until they become outwardly liberated, as your history has repeatedly demonstrated.’

By now, we were well on our way, smoothly gliding ever faster, as the sails billowed in the wind, transporting us far beyond my Polynesian paradise. Finally, I retired to my quarters in the hull to lie down and process everything that had happened since Rhom arrived on my shore at dawn.

I looked upward, reflecting on how I had unwittingly ventured into new worlds and dimensions that would have been impossible for me to fathom last year. It reminded me how, in my early student years, hallucinogenic substances had me flying in the skies with iridescent unicorns and shimmering rainbows. At least, that’s the way I remember one such flight into a Neverland island.[5] I wondered if these would be any different.

Who knows, possibly, we had already entered an interdimensional vortex where the impossible might now become possible in my new reality, causing me to recall how the Queen of Hearts once told Alice: Why, sometimes I’ve believed in as many as six impossible things before breakfast. Although I realised my mind had expanded considerably while on the Summit, I wondered if I was prepared for what might come next... before or after breakfast. 

I remembered how sceptical I was when Eli and Mo tried to persuade me to undertake this ocean voyage into what sounded more like the Sea of Oblivion. But now, here I was, sailing into the waters of infinite possibilities where anything might happen, aboard an ancient Portuguese vessel with my off-worlder physicist friend who claimed to have circumnavigated the world with Magellan. How could I ever again say my life was dull?

From what I understood, it still wasn’t clear how my previous thought-forms could be projected onto an etheric template that would mirror a virtual representation of my past. But then perhaps I was mistaken about that. In any case, here I was, sailing off into the waters of infinite possibilities where anything might happen, or at least seem to happen. Magical Mystery Tour, indeed! Can it get any weirder than this? Alice and the Queen of Hearts had nothing on me.

Later that evening, as I stood talking with Rhom on the port side, I witnessed brilliant aqua waves interspersed with currents of glowing turquoise. If that wasn’t enough, the evening skies streamed with wisps of magenta offset by shades of deep indigo. And the wind; there was no other description than to say melodic.

‘You were right; I’ve never experienced anything like this, not even while sailing among the islands of the Aegean Sea. Even the air has mystical intimations; this really is becoming quite the trip!’

‘In more ways than one,’ he replied. ‘If you focus your mind, you might notice even more delightful sights to the stern.’

I thought about that a moment, then scurried back, hoping to see beautiful, full-breasted mermaids swimming towards me in the ship’s wake. There were none, although, in that magical moment, nothing would have surprised me.

I noticed Rhom chuckling to himself as he was untangling ropes. I’m sure he read my mind.

After a deep sleep, I awoke, wondering if any of this was actually happening. I asked myself, what’s the difference between dreams and illusions since both are perceptions? Is our reality a matter of perceiving correctly or being correctly perceived, as Berkeley seemed to suggest? Perhaps it was both… or was it neither?

When I asked Rhom about his perspectives on this a little later, he said, ‘I guess you missed the big event.

‘What event?’

‘While you were sleeping below in your quarters, we spiralled down into the ocean through a very deep interdimensional vortex, then quickly reemerged in this high-frequency reality where everything in the sea and sky seems magical… except for the bare-breasted mermaids,’ he chuckled.

‘So why didn’t you wake me?

‘You’ve already been through enough. It might have been too much. Maybe on our way back, although the transition might seem comparatively serene returning to Earth’s denser frequencies.’

‘Still, I can’t believe I didn’t wake  up for this tumultuous quantum shift or whatever it was.’

‘Must make you wonder what was in that rum,’ he guffawed.

‘Are you sure it wasn’t just a local whirlpool? I’ve seen these off the coast of the Atlantic. They’re caused by opposing currents colliding, drawing the ocean down towards the centre in a swirling vortex. We’re luck to have come out of that; most don’t.’

‘Bloody hell, James, need you overthink everything? I suppose that’s an occupational hazard for philosophers, but does it even matter? Enjoy the ride… you can figure it out later. For now, just hold the field in this similated reality.’

‘Hold the field, what’s that supposed to mean?

‘Sit down, Sebastian, and let me try to explain as best I can within your limited terms of reference,’ he said as he sat on a spool of rope, fetching his battered canister of rum from his inner pocket.

I believe you mentioned that you’re a big fan of George Berkeley, so you should understand that nothing that exists is external to the universal mind we all partake in, where everything is experienced. In your dreams, for instance, you might occasionally perceive amorphous images that shift, fade, disappear, and then reappear to reveal what lies beneath the surface of your waking state.

‘This activity is evidence of your mind interpreting, then projecting its interpretations on the screen of your subconsciousness as you sleep. It might not always make sense, and maybe it’s not supposed to… at least until it does. Remember the dream that drew you up the summit?’

‘Yes, the one Mo and Eli like to talk about so much. Mo even claims he narrated the first part. Likely, they told you all about it.’

‘Actually, I believe you did before we set sail.;

‘Oh, yes, I suppose I did when I told you what happened before I fell into this altered reality.’

‘Or was it more about when you fell out of your world’s altered reality? I guess it's perspective,’ he asked with a wry smile, ‘nevertheless, it’s something to think about. In any case, you might say the compelling images in your dream held the field for what was about to come after you arrived in Chilli.’

‘And now I’m about to enter a new field of reality. Circles within circles of reality. Is it real or virtual; it can’t be both?’

‘Why not, if you’ve already entered an altered field? Does it not feel real? If so, what does altered mean? Altered from what?’

‘I don’t know, ask the quantum physicists; this is all new to me. I’ve never done anything like this before… at least not legally,’ I chuckled.

‘Okay then, Sebastian, let’s go back to the hologram concept to explain what’s going on here. How well do you understand the science?’

‘We discussed some of this at the summit; still, there’s much I don’t understand, as if reality is one giant hologram where the part is in the whole and the whole is in the part.’

‘In a sense, it’s something like that; a universe within a universe, circles within circles, wheels within wheels and so on. In this case, you will experience a holographic projection emanating from your subliminal mind as if electrodes are applied to your brain to resuscitate memories that create images mirrored back to you.

‘Perhaps you could explain that… slowly.’

‘What this means is that your mind, along with some telepathic suggestions from Mo, Eli, and a few other advanced souls, will mingle images to create a template of comprehensive read-outs, forming a field of past perceptions into your present experience. Sound complicated? It’s not. Just like a film projector, these images may include landscapes, buildings, people, and events, all displayed for your viewing pleasure.

‘Still, that sounds rather intrusive. So how are Mo and Eli able to occupy my memory field just like that?’

‘Because you permitted them. By allowing them to be your mentors, you trusted what they had to say, so why not this, too? You can always change your mind if you choose.’

‘I suppose that’s fine,’ I said, ‘as long as they don’t interfere with my life.’

‘Once affinity is established between individuated minds,’ he said, ‘attunement comes naturally. That’s because, when you get right down to it, there is only one Source, and so there’s only one mind, one consciousness from which everything is derived. As your Eastern mystics have always said, all is one.

‘In your Western world, this is often referred to as psychic entwinement, or a half dozen other terms, while in physics, it’s called quantum entanglement. Whatever you wish to call it, nothing remains separate or static since all that is, or can be, emanates from the Source. But while humans insist on believing they are compartmentalised in different brains and bodies, it’s difficult for them to understand that they exist in a unified field of consciousness. No wonder they keep spinning out of control with the unhinged, separate minds they believe in.

‘They must first be in union with what is metaphorically understood as the heart. If the mind isn’t merged with the heart, it remains inept or, worse, destopic. Perhaps you noticed this back home

‘Alternatively, when minds are healthy and whole, it’s possible to influence receptive minds with hope, harmony and goodwill. As I might have already mentioned before, the subatomic universe emanates from pure Source energy, creating thought patterns that crystallise into material substance, regardless of dimension.’ 

‘You sound like Mo when he gets into metaphysics.’

‘That must mean what I have to say is true,’ he chuckled, ‘but don’t expect to understand everything until you live out what we have to say. The most important things in life can’t be learned with just the mind; they must also be discovered with the engagement of the heart. That’s fullheartedness.’

‘And yet, most of what I’ve learned has been the hard way.’

‘Such as knocking your head down a steep chasm wall?’

‘I suppose you might say that; quite literally… the school of hard knocks.’

‘So, Sebastian, did you learn anything in your formal education other than an assortment of facts, data, information and opinions for which they awarded you a certificate to hang on your wall?’

‘I want you to know I worked bloody hard so I could hang that piece of parchment by my bed for overnight guests to see.’

‘Yet, for all its merits, and whomever it might have impressed, was it worth all your trouble in the Flatlands that turned out to be even flatter than your education?’

‘Compared to all  that I’ve experienced here, I have to agree my time there now seems relatively flat.’

‘Which is probably is why you had to move on; how else would you have found your Summit? And now you’re about to ascend even higher. But this time I’ll be your sherpa, helping you interpret what you see, hear and sense on these virtual islands from the collective projections of their thought forms, mingled with yours.’

‘No matter how often you say this, I still find it difficult to imagine and even harder to understand.’ 

‘Yet this is not much different from what happens every moment of every day in your world, he said, ‘only more fluid. Few humans realise that they participate in the world’s collective consciousness, for better or worse. Your world is an amalgam of thoughts that determine, for example, expressions of language and culture.

‘Further to that, it may also be said that one’s environment, in turn, influences what thoughts are expressed and become materialised into form. Over time, this becomes self-evident in any nation of your world, explaining why cultures remain insular and often antagonistic, be it the tribe across the river or the land across the sea.’

‘So is this why extraterrestrials supposedly visit Earth?’

‘We do what we can to counter humanity’s tendency towards devolution. Since we can’t do this by direct interference, we must rely on conscious souls who attune their minds to ours. One encounter, and they’ll never forget it.

‘Especially when appearing as a swashbuckler,’ I laughed.

‘As we discussed earlier, that’s why we see so much crop graffiti cropping up… if you’ll excuse the pun. Souls with higher consciousness are drawn to these geometrical patterns, but these are only one way to revivify cellular memory in humans with implanted light codes.’

‘Did you mean to say implanted? If so, that was clever.  

‘Indeed it was, two puns in a row.

‘So, do you have other, say, less organic, approaches to connecting,’ I smirked, ‘such as in deep meditation?’

‘I’m sure we do, such as falling into a deep abyss. There aren’t many mortals who are prepared to take such a dramatic approach to connecting with us.’

‘Then I should be honoured to be among the few,’ I said.

‘Indeed, it was a most extraordinary leap across the chasm… so to speak, otherwise it would have been impossible to teach you anything on the other side of the great divide. But once across, to your credit, you were willing to unlearn much of what you believed you knew. I’m sure that would have required a great deal of humility at the hands of Mo.’

‘That’s why I bolted, only to be humiliated again after getting trapped on a ledge.’

‘You mean when Eli tricked you into taking the big leap up the ledge? He told me about the look on your face.’

‘Yes, of course, I'm sure that was much fun… for him.’

It was all intended to prepare you to take bigger leaps, not just in teleporting but into higher realms of awareness, such as during your island’s tropical storm. As your frequency rises, it becomes easier to understand what’s not so obvious on Earth’s lower plane. Had you not made these gut-wrenching leaps into higher consciousness, I wouldn’t have bothered to show up, since there would have been no point if you weren’t prepared to take on your next stage of ascension.

‘In which case, I would have, as they say, missed the boat.’

‘More than you know, matey. At least you’re on board now, well on your way to becoming the master of your ship. Did you know it only takes one enlightened soul to offset the consciousness of a thousand who tilt below the fulcrum?’

‘Fulcrum; what’s that?’

‘It’s the tipping point where consciousness either declines or advances. There are various ways of calibrating human consciousness. Using an arbitrary scale of what’s possible on the earth plane of one to a thousand, the pivotal point is two hundred. All that’s below is in the negative territory of shame, fear, anger and vengeance.

‘Consciousness varies considerably, often influenced by what levels reside within families, communities, tribes and nations. These collectives create their perceptions of reality and what conditions they manifest.’

‘Yet who are we to judge what other cultures believe?’ I asked.

‘You’re right, Sebastian; it’s not for us to judge, only to observe, especially ourselves. Yet, never lose sight of the fact that only truth is truth; it is not relative, regardless of what your academic world wishes to believe. Lower calibrations of egoic duality see only separation, not unity, which explains why the world remains so fragmented into tribalism, war, and hate.

‘Everyone contributes to forming holographic fields that are collectively experienced with varying levels of poverty or prosperity. Unfortunately, much of what humanity creates is rooted in the illusions of its collective ego.’

‘Are you suggesting, for example, that if there are mosquitoes on Earth, it’s our own damned fault because we hatched them through our pernicious thoughts? If so, to put it mildly, Rhom, I’m not sure there would be much scientific evidence for such a hypothesis.’

‘It’s interesting that you mention mosquitoes. In the eighteenth century, one of the world’s most eminent scientists, Emmanuel Swedenborg, wrote about how pesky bugs and noxious weeds enter the material world through the deleterious thoughts of humans.’

‘Yes, I’m familiar with some of his writings,’ I said. ‘Mo also seemed very conversant with his teachings.’

Then you might be familiar with what I have to say on this matter. Despite the tenets of Darwin’s mechanistic, bottom-up theory of evolution, essence exists prior to manifesting in material form. It’s not primarily about what occurs through time and chance; rather, it concerns the involution of conscious thought.

‘This idea,’ I said, ‘as I understand it, seems to relate to what Mo suggested was Swedenborg’s doctrine of correspondence, where all affections between the polarities on the spectrum of love and fear, light and darkness, ultimately manifest in accordance with the collective thoughts projected by humanity. From a scientific perspective, however, this would be considered incredulous.’

‘So, what do you think? Would you say Swedenborg was on to something?’

‘According to Mo and Eli, he was spot on, but I’m not sure my colleagues would agree.’

‘Then go with Swedenborg. He was right about most everything, having his roots in the Pleiadian galaxy, to which he returned. Realise that some manifestations are perceived as material, while others are less tangible, as with music, poetry and other artistic expressions. Regardless, once a thought pattern becomes in-formed, it becomes a crystallised thoughtform or, as more exotic traditions call it, an egregore.[6] It may then continue to propagate in some form of material expression.’

‘What you say sounds similar to what Mo described as morphogenetic manifestations of resonating fields.’

‘Yes, it amounts to the same as what Swedenborg was describing, though many of your less open scientists continue to resist what this fledgling science has proposed and arguably, demonstrated. But that’s just how things are in the third dimension and will remain until the light of sub-atomic quantum understanding shines through the old prejudices of dense materialism.

‘Nevertheless, this is indicative of how your cyber technology recently came into existence. Though these latent technologies have always remained enfolded in the universe, they didn’t manifest on Earth until a few decades ago, simply because humans lacked the vision for what was possible. But when there was a sufficient mass of thought, new technology emerged by configuring and reconfiguring mathematical patterns. Technology evolves through the human mind and, by extension, through AI, expressing itself in countless forms.

‘However, before technology or anything else, everything exists on a continuum between the polarities of love or fear, light and darkness, life and death, which is why everything is an expression of thought, regardless of its merits. Once this is understood, it goes a long way to reconciling what philosophers and theologians struggled to understand regarding the existence of evil and the benevolence of God.

‘Had they understood how everyone possesses the ability to manifest thoughts, both good and evil, this realisation may have put them on the right track. It’s not all that difficult to solve this conundrum when you begin to reason from the correct premises.’

‘I’d be pleased to have you present your argument to our esteemed intellectual community. However, I doubt if anyone would take you seriously.’  

‘Not likely. In this inchoate stage of human evolution, ignorance will continue to prevail in many educated minds who seem to mistake intelligence for consciousness. Without divine intervention, it might take centuries, or even millennia, for humanity to embrace the truth. Most planets in the known cosmos went through this confusion long ago.

‘Still, this can only happen when souls discover who they truly are. When there’s a critical mass who do, enlightenment will dawn again on this planet. That’s what we are sailing towards, First Mate Sebastian, a new dawn. Glad to have you aboard.’

 

[1] By 1522, after three years, only 18 men out of 237 were known to have survived. Only one of the five ships returned to Seville after attempting to circumvent the world.
[2] I later saw something like this apparently woven into a field near Stonehenge that had a binary code contained in the circle’s design.
[3] Yeshua was outwardly crucified by force, yet he inspired much of the world with his words, while demonstrating that physical death is but a transition to new life.
[4] This reminded me of a quote by Friedrich Hayek, 1899-1992, the renowned Austrian economist and philosopher: If socialists understood economics, they wouldn’t be socialists.
[5] Neverland is a fictional island found in the writings of J. M. Barrie as an imaginary faraway place where Peter Pan and other imaginary beings exist.
[6] Egregor or égrégore (Fr) may be considered a psychic manifestation which occurs when any group shares a common motivation—being made up of, and influencing, the thoughts of the group. The word also derives from ancient Greek, egrēgoros.

 

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Book One in Elysium's Passage series, THE ASCENT, is available for reading at:
https://digitalbloggers.com/arts-and-entertainment/The-Ascent

Also, the first portion of THE RETURN, the last book in the series, is available to read at:
https://digitalbloggers.com/arts-and-entertainment/THE-RETURN    

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OVERVIEW OF THE ELYSIUM'S PASSAGE SERIES
 

The series involves seven Elysium novel narrations regarding a young British philosopher named James Phillips who finds himself living in an altered state of reality while still remaining on Earth.  

After experiencing a near-fatal fall while climbing to the summit of a remote mountain in the Andes, James awakens in a new dimension. He soon encounters two mysterious beings who provide him with a very different perspective on the nature of his existence. Over the next year, before his body recovers from the coma, he is challenged to re-examine his understanding of life’s meaning and purpose far beyond anything he previously believed or could believe.

An engaging and sometimes surreal adventure with intimations of impending romance, the narrative explores the most important questions about life, death, reality and our ultimate destiny. 

The Plains of Elysium (Champs-Élysées) was described by Homer, Hesiod, Virgil and many other poets as the paradisiac afterlife realm reserved for heroes. As the title suggests, this is about a journey through a passage that leads towards Elysium’s exciting realm of existence.

To read a sample press review, go to:

https://www.prweb.com/releases/2018/05/prweb15515775.htm  

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 ATTEMPTED INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES

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Elysium's Passage Channel https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCXpzFH6VNMQLOtqOK2SrXpg   

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PENDING PUBLICATION OF ELYSIUM’S PASSAGE SERIES

 

THE ASCENT: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

THE SUMMIT: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

QUANTUM LEAPS: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

SURREAL ADVENTURES: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

MYSTICAL ROMANCE: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

THE ELIXIR: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

THE RETURN: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

 

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1. The Ascent is the first novel in the Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage that’s foundational to everything that happens in the following narratives, which embark on an adventure that will surprise and delight the reader like no other book.

It all begins with an extreme adventure of climbing a remote and challenging mountain somewhere in the Andes. Just as James, the protagonist, is about to reach the mountain summit, he falls into an abyss that leaves him in a coma for almost a year.

After being airlifted by a forestry helicopter and flown back to London, where his body remained for almost a year. Eventually, he learns it was not he but his body that was rescued. Several days later, without understanding what happened, he continues to climb to the summit in an alternate dimension of higher consciousness.

Fortuitously, he meets two adventurers on the summit ridge who are no longer of this world. After that, his surreal life leads him to several new adventures in the subsequent chronicles that include a rich mix of adventure, romance, and fantasy, along with profound discussions of philosophy, spirituality and the afterlife. 
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2. The Summit, the second novel in the Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage, continues where James, the narrator and protagonist, is taught more about a multidimensional reality that he finds difficult to comprehend.

Not only does he find he’s not as clever as he imagined, but his off-world companions on the summit demonstrate that much of what he believed about life was not just parochial but wrong. At first, he finds this difficult to comprehend since their teachings are contrary to his limited understanding of non-material reality.

After being tricked into teleporting off a ledge where he was trapped, James becomes aware of a new reality that makes him capable of far more adventures than he could have ever experienced previously in his physical body back home.

Now, if only he would win over the only woman in this life who matters, the nurse on the other side of the veil, who continually demonstrates her unconditional love toward his healing.

Warning: This book may also open the reader’s eyes to a much vaster reality than most might be aware. As with the other Chronicles, there are discussions of philosophy, the spiritual afterlife and what might seem like fantasy.

3. Quantum Leaps is the third novel in Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage, where James, the philosopher-protagonist, teleports back to London to visit his body and make contact with the special nurse taking care of it in his absence. Immediately, he feels an inexplicable spiritual bond with her for reasons he remains unaware of.

Now aroused by a renewed interest in matters of love, the beginnings of a relationship begin to emerge as he attempts to reach across the chasm of their worlds. But it’s not until the fifth novel, Mystical Romance, that he encounters her in a way that he finds difficult to believe.

However, before that can happen, there is much about his failed relationships that must be resolved before he is ready to move forward in his new life in Elysium’s Passage. It is during this time he christens his comatose body as the fall guy since it took the fall for him down the abyss so he could learn the lessons he’s now learning.

That will be the next focus of his life, where in his next Surreal Adventures, he is given virtual lessons to release many of his past beliefs about life. 

4. Surreal Adventures is the fourth novel in the Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage, which finds James, the protagonist and narrator, escorted by his companions to a remote South Pacific Island, where he is left to reflect on what he’s learned.

During the next forty days, he battles the demons of his past as he works through some rather painful issues from his early youth. Here, in a tropical storm, he encounters an eerie, suspended spectre of the one he loved yet still resents for abandoning him as a child.

After this, he achieves peace of mind and is ready to return to his lodge to join his off-world companions on the Andes summit. However, just when it seemed things couldn’t get any stranger, a sixteenth-century sea captain sails his ancient ‘ghost’ ship onto the beach. Together, they sail off on a mystical ocean voyage to a couple of virtual islands supposedly in the South Pacific, where he witnesses and, at times, participates in several important life lessons.

Near the end, these encounters help prepare him for a new challenge within the interior of a mountain, where he falls deep into a dark, tomb-like pit of fear. After being rescued by a mysterious stranger wielding his Excalibur, he continues on to where his life is about to be transformed in the following chronicle, Mystical Romance.

5. Mystical Romance is the fifth chronicle in Elysium’s Passage, which will surprise the reader with a romantic twist of how love is expressed in higher realms. From this lofty perspective, everything about intimacy is understood as within, so without.

After escaping his tomb, James, the narrator and protagonist, makes his way through a maze of tunnels until he arrives at a large oak door, which he opens with the golden key he had been given. There, he steps into Elysium’s Passage’s Great Hall, where his life and recent achievements are celebrated now that his eyes have been opened to perceive a fascinating interior world of wonderment… and romance.

To say more might risk diminishing the multitude of delightful surprises as circumstances begin to open to The Elixir, where James is about to re-enter his earthly body’s existence. 

6. The Elixir is the sixth chronicle of the Elysium’s Passage series that prepares James, the narrator-protagonist, to awaken and return to his body in London. Before that can happen, however, his off-world friend presents a mysterious equation shrouded in a light code frequency that will stimulate the multidimensional DNA strands within him.

Much of this narration is centred in London, where his nurse unknowingly becomes involved in how the Elixir’s equation finds its way from a taxi cab driver to higher echelons of science. There are many twists in how she unwittingly brings the Elixir to the attention of mathematicians and physicists, after which they eventually discover how to code the equation into a laser ray to stimulate his fall-guy body into full consciousness.

Ostensibly a new Adam, he is destined to return humanity to a higher multidimensional existence. The details of how this happens are filled with intrigue, as is his shocking return to his earthly body.­­

7. The Return is the seventh and last chronicle in the series, where James, the narrator and protagonist, has re-emerged from Elysium’s Passage as he readjusts to life in the third dimension. Many of the events experienced in the previous novels are tied together in an exciting, fast-moving, action-packed narrative over several countries.

 At first, it seems all memories have been lost, with his fall guy’s brain not being aware of what happened to him while in his coma. As a consequence, it took a while for him to be convinced he had been out of his earthly body for almost a year.

Through some rather unexpected events and evidence, along with his girlfriend’s urging, he is brought to an awareness of much of what occurred. It takes a while for his mind to catch up with the changes made in his heart during his stay in the alternate realm. But after experiencing several harsh realities, he discovers what he has become while out of his body. Gradually, he comes to understand the many challenges that lie ahead for him in fulfilling his future mission on Earth.

This book is filled with adventure, romance and personal intrigue that ties together all six previous narratives of the Elysium’s Passage series.

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CONTACT AND SOCIAL MEDIA

Neil Meyers: nmeyers@shaw.ca

Blog Post: For more blog postings: https://digitalbloggers.com/arts-and-entertainment/ep-blog-posts 

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/meyersneil/ 

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.ca/neilmeyers/   

  

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READER REVIEWS

 

The following comments are among the first Amazon reviews of Elysium’s Passage: The Summit. All are Five Stars! Other readers' reviews are included below, along with excerpts from two professional reviews. To read full reviews, go to READER REVIEWS on this blog site.

"A delightful mix of fantasy, reality, conjecture and humour; Mr. Meyers draws the reader into the story with a gentle narrative that captures imagination, leaving one anxious to get to the next page drawing you into his exceptional world.”

"Quietly, gently, and without imposition, the Author unfolds the pages, creating an intricate, interlocking bridge spanning the chasm between mind and heart. Renewing, refreshing, restoring. In my bereavement, it was vigil and light…"

“Excellently written with an exceedingly deep understanding of this world and the next. The characters are very well written and engaging that takes the reader on both a philosophical and spiritual journey, a journey that at times is both disquieting and tranquil. James, a British Philosopher can be irreverent and caustic, traits that should have left me cringing, but instead made me laugh out loud. Elysium’s Passage is a fun, enlightening and remarkable book.”

“This is a masterful fantasy, becoming a real possibility, as the reader is drawn into the story. The Summit leaves you anxious for the next book in the series, yet also leaves you totally satisfied with the world you have just visited. Genius! An exciting, yet calming, experience that is not to be missed."

"There was hardly a page on which I did not find at least one sentence worthy of hi-lighting for future reference. In addition, I thoroughly enjoyed the main character, James, whose personality and passionate verbal exchanges with the other characters, kept me coming back for more. I am reading the book for a second time while I wait for the next one in this series to be made available."

 “N.G. Meyers has clearly put a great deal of research and thought into what the afterlife may look like and I like his perspective. It’s an altogether welcoming and exciting vision. The book gives one a great deal to think about and a reassuring confidence that the end of our lives is truly the beginning of life in the next. I highly recommend it."

"I am really enjoying your book, it’s fantastic! It is so incredible and diversified that I can’t really explain it other people, so what I say is just read this book. Thank you so much for the blessings that you’ve given the world!"

“The humour interjected into a serious discussion makes me laugh out loud. Totally unexpected....l may be in the presence of at least a master, if not a genius. A fair ride into reality... seeking that which is unseen, yet absolutely real.”

“An engaging story of adventure embracing man's deepest desire to search for meaning and purpose, N.G. Meyers takes the reader on an adventurous thought-provoking journey. This book has substance. It is a perfect blend of adventure and fantasy combined with spiritual philosophy. It ignited my imagination. The author magically weaves a good story laced with wit and humour together with deep philosophical wisdom. This book has it all!”

“An evolution in thought is triggered by many fresh philosophical themes which could inspire readers to re-think their reality and former ideologies that have dictated their lives… the author fires readers’ imaginations to view what could be possible when spirit vacates the body.”

“This is the book spiritual seekers have been waiting for. For me, it granted a great read as well as increased inspiration to live every day with a heightened sense of purpose. I highly recommend it.

“The Summit is capable of hooking readers and luring them to search for Book 2 to discover more about Dr. Philip’s surreal trek into the mysterious unknown universe. This thick book is well worth the read and to share…”

“The Elysium’s Passage series challenges and excites the reader while taking him into parallel quests for truth with the hero, James. It can be a fast fantasy read or a longer deliberation about what is reality or illusion; veracity or platitude. Take the journey!”

“Mind-blowing statements and speculation (‘…everyone is a non-physical thought form conceived in the Mind of God, preserved for all eternity because God’s thoughts never die…’). Many will find Meyers’ journey up the Mountain intriguing—and possibly even life-changing.” (BLUEINK REVIEW)

“In its effort to grapple with fundamental questions about the meaning of life, it raises questions that have echoed throughout the ages, including about where we come from, where we are going, who we are.”  (CLARION REVIEW)