The Writings of Gordon Phinn
Journey To Knowing
The Deity Is Not Up For Discussion
We have been exploring, this past year or so, the various conditions and challenges that appear to the aspirant on the journey to knowing, the hurdles and portals that manifest to irritate, undermine and provoke us into confronting the shadows of their mystery and lighting them up with our own illumination.
In Leo Galland’s 2018 memoir, Already Here, we read of the challenging life of his brain damaged and developmentally challenged son, Christopher, and his subsequent shocking death from drowning while out hiking in his teen years. He tells of his son’s spontaneous visitations after passing, where he revealed himself as something of an older soul who chose a life with many limitations, to learn and teach by.
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.
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?
As we move through this journey towards knowing, assuming it is a progress towards greater understanding, there are these illuminated moments where knowing and understanding become so obvious we laugh at our previous efforts to attain that previously out-of-reach plateau they seem to exist on. Suddenly we seem to know it all and know it was there all along, should we have taken a moment to pause in our exertions.
I remembered the other day the oft-repeated remark, at least in my adult years, and the number of occasions when someone of my acquaintance would comment wryly on “getting all your questions answered”. Often reflecting on a sudden passing of a relative, acquaintance, some stranger or celebrity in the news…
Anyone on the inner journey can understand that our perceptions of ourselves vary from circumstance to circumstance. Once you begin to observe yourself in the throes of the actions and reactions and see, without the comforting blinkers that ego provides, the many faces we present to the world, there’s no turning back to the simplified notion of a single identity.
If undisturbed by the irritation of externals, you can move that psyche on a voyage of astral projection, passing through the levels that consciousness has created to inhabit and explore. You are not troubled by anything resembling fear, you know your home base will be there when you return.
“You’re dreaming George. You’re dreaming and you’re not quite used to it. But don’t worry you’re in good hands now.” This was not quite as helpful as I’d hoped. It was the kind of definition that left you on the outside looking in. “Well that’s good to know Mavis. I never would have guessed that being a lost soul would be so much fun.” ~ Gordon Phinn
The Deity Is Not Up For Discussion – Chapter Three: Monday, by Gordon Phinn
“Apparently your soul, well not exactly your soul, for it seems like there’s this other character they call the higher self, who, as he gets more adept at this incarnation thing (Eric’s term) can project more than one beam of life energy onto the planet at once. And why would he do that, you ask. Well, apparently just for the experience. Or, in mountain climbing terms, because it’s there.”
The Deity Is Not Up For Discussion continues with chapter seven
“I wondered where on earth I was. Not on earth was the answer. Galactic Federation Central was the reply to my where then? Sounded terribly sci-fi somehow. I found myself in a gallery overlooking a rectangular space engaged in a very civilized debate. There was no shouting or waving of hands, and truth be told, not much moving of lips either. I did not have headphones on, but it felt as though I did, as the comments of various delegates were, well, in my head, sort of…”