Session 733

Unknown Reality, Session 733

When you are in an airplane looking down upon the planet, then you see the mountain ranges and the valleys, the rivers, plateaus, cities, fields and villages.  To some extent you realize that the world has physical contents, existing at one time yet varying in their characteristics.  In those terms, the world is composed of its physical ingredients.  That “package” is the only part of the picture that you see, however.

Psychically, your world is composed of the contents of its consciousness.  You have maps of continents and oceans, and in the entire view each portion is like a piece of jigsaw puzzle, all fitting together perfectly, smoothly flowing into the natural structure of the world.  So at any given time there is a world consciousness, a perfect jigsaw of awareness in which each identity, however large or small, has its part.

There are earthquakes that erupt physically, and tracings are made of them.  There are also inner earthquakes of consciousness from which the physical ones emerge – storms of mind or being, eruptions in which one segment of the world consciousness, repressed in one area, explodes in another.

If you could orbit your planet in a different kind of craft, you could view the psychic contents of the world, seeing the world consciousness shining far more brilliantly than any lighted city.  You could spot the point of intense activity, see the birth of new myths and the death of old ones as certainly as you might be able to see a mountain slide or a tidal wave.  The physical portions of earth are all related.  So does consciousness form its own kind of inner structures from which, again, the physical ones emerge.  You are indeed counterparts, then, each of the other.  Yet as there is great variety to physical form, so counterparts follow a still more expansive inner freedom that finds an even greater diversity of characteristics.

As I have certainly hinted, the body is a miraculous organism, and you have barely learned the most simple of its structures.  You do not understand the properties of soul or body, yet the body was given to you so that you could learn from it.  The properties of the earth are meant to lead you into the nature of the soul.  You create physical reality, yet without knowing how you do so, so that the wondrous structures of the earth itself is meant to lead you to question your own source.  Nature as you understand it is meant to be your teacher.  You are not its master.

The creator is not the master of his creations.  He is simply their creator, and he creates because he does not attempt to control.

When you try to control power or people, you always copy.  To some extent the world copies itself, in that there are patterns.  But those patterns are always changed to one extent or another, so that no object is ever a copy of another – though it may appear to be the same.

In your terms, the world is intensely different from one moment to another, with each smallest portion of consciousness choosing its reality from a field of infinite probabilities.  Immense calculations, far beyond your conscious decisions as you think of them, are possible only because of the unutterable freedom that resides within minute worlds inside your skull – patterns of interrelationships, counterparts so cunningly woven that each is unique, freewheeling, and involved in an infinite cooperative venture so powerful that the atoms stay in certain forms, and the same stars shine in the sky.

The familiar and strange are intimately connected in your most obvious, your simplest utterance.  You are surrounded by miracles.  Why, then, does the world so often seem dour and cruel?  Why do your fellow beings sometimes seem like unfeeling monsters – Frankensteins not of body but of mind, spiritual idiots, ignorant of any heritage of love or truth or even graceful beasthood?  Why does it seem to many of you that the race, the species, is doomed?  Why do some of you feel, in your quiet moments, such a sentence just?

You make your own reality.

Generally speaking, most of you live in your own world, with others of your kind.  Those of you who do not believe in war have not experienced it.  It may have surrounded you, but you did not experience it.  Those of you who do not believe in greed have not suffered its “consequences”.  If you still see it, it is because it is a part of your reality.  If you are honestly not greedy, yet you see greed, then perhaps you are serving as an example to others – but you form your own reality.

There are more worlds than you suppose, and in your own private experience each of you contributes to the world that you know.  You and your counterparts together form it.  Your physical body alone is equipped to perceive far more than you presently allow it to.  Physically you are a part of every other person upon the earth, and you have a connection with each leaf and frog and nail.

You choose the city or state or country in which you live.  No one forces you to stay there unless you are looking for an excuse to remain.  So you choose your psychic land as well.  You can travel from one psychic land to another as you can journey into other parts of the physical world.  Some great travelers never left the country of their birth.

Michelangelo roamed the centuries picking up visions and ideas as others might buy postcards, journeying from one country to a foreign land.  His genius shows you what you are, and yet it is but a hint of the potential with which your species is endowed.

In the light of such ideals, surely you seem wanting – yet your reality is one in which the greatest freedoms have been allowed.  This means that you have given yourselves full range so that all probabilities could be explored, and none left out that were physically feasible.

The species gave itself no “preordained” taboos.

The infinite ranges possible to human capabilities would be explored – and those who chose that route said, quote “We will trust that our creativity will find its own way, and if there are nightmares we will waken from them.  We will even learn from them.  We will dare to push aside the dimensions of being into those realms in which only the gods have gone before – and through our utter vulnerability to experience, discover the divinity that gives our humanity its meaning.  And through the compassion that we have learned, will we be able to understand the divine errors that gave us the gift of our birth.  Souls and molecules each are learning, each are forming realities, each are a part of a divinity in which each counterpart has a part to play.”

I dwell, in a way, in a realm that is more direct than yours.  That is one image.  I allow myself greater acknowledgment of my being.  I speak with the wisdom, for example, that your cells would utter if they had speech.

I am more aware of my reality than you are of yours, but the terms of being are the same in every place and every time.  They bring forth the greater comprehension of each self, of itself.  Ruburt experiences now what he calls a massive quality, a physical and psychic expansion of consciousness in which the dear familiar world seems small – yet twice precious.  So does it appear to my consciousness.

The petty wars, even those still to be fought, are but dim memories, once vital but lost as nightmares in greater awakenings.  So even in this moment Ruburt faintly feels a nostalgic memory for lives come and gone, as you might for fond dreams barely recalled.

They represent a present unique beyond telling, alive in each consciousness, more important than you recognize.  There are no real rules to be followed that will bring you into such an encounter with the present moment of reality – only a trust in the nature of your being.  And that trust is within you whether or not you recognize it, for it gives you your present experience; and no matter how your mind questions, it rides securely in the great creativity of the soul.

That soul constantly creates the body, and each individual on the face of the earth at any given time places his or her trust in that reality.  That feeling of certainty is the same that any plant knows.  Any idea, creative insight, or dream, rides upon the same sure thrust.