I struggled with my weight my entire life. I was fat as a kid; I stayed fat as a teenager. Even in my teen years, my mother explained it away as baby fat. Then I ended up with the most enormous boobs in high school. Later I learned this gift was from an aunt on my dad’s side who passed along this gene…
Everybody has a first time for everything. My first time to the Astral Plane takes place during my initial year and a day training, but in order for you to get the full spectrum of what this story entails, we will have to go back a lot further than my training. Don’t worry; it will be well worth it.
As I detail my discovery and extended exploration of the mysteries surrounding our essential being, demonstrating the various methods of ditching the blinders and limitations of any and all belief systems assumed after birth and often inherited from past lives, I often compare my state of being convinced to those of others equally satisfied. The process of becoming convinced continues to fascinate the ‘me’ who finds himself so.
More Adventures In Eternity covers a year in my life where events, both physical and astral, piled up upon each other until a small mountain of mysteries compelled me to climb it and see how everything looked from the summit. As you may imagine, it was a whole new world. Pre-order the e-book on Amazon right now!
I was unexpectedly overtaken by a white light that seemed to originate from within my body. The light shot up through the center of my body and out the top of my head in a single column, taking my awareness with it. There was a sensation of movement and traveling up and out of the body and even this reality.
It was only a stroke, but it took me away in seconds. Warnings, hints, little blips I should have paid attention to? Nada. I’d been for my morning walk and I felt a strange sensation as I gazed out the window and was wondering if a headache was coming on when suddenly everything was….gone. But I was there, in some dark nothingness. No sound, no smell, no breath…
Everywhere we look, it seems, we are surrounded by stories. There’s the story of the war with its dead and wounded. There’s the story of the economy with its winners and losers, its owners and its exploited. All of this got me to thinking that our lives are indeed stories to be lived, told, and retold until the need for stories withers away. Are all our incarnations some kind of uber-narrative; the story to end all stories?