The Art of Dreaming

For a while this morning I was researching Carlos Castenada. I had read his first four or five books as a teen and was thinking perhaps it was time to refresh my memory as regards their content. Pretty soon, I was reading about the man and how most likely, he was a fraud who rather than sitting in a small room with Don Juan was reading books about the subject at the University Library. I felt a rising sense of disappointment too as I read how he had retreated to a mansion with three female followers who gave up everything to live with and follow him and how he treated his family. All the classic symptoms of ego, sex and cult. Very disappointing.

I read too a summary of the content of the books. Even though Castenada himself may have been suspect, mysterious and perhaps a fraud, for me anyhow the books do contain a synthesis of real wisdom and knowledge. Who knows how he really came by that knowledge and who knows what the truth about him really is perhaps instead what matters is what we make of his books. Castenada himself talked about how reality is described to us and we eventually accept reality as described. From the moment we are born, we are described things and eventually we take on this view of reality. He said that to begin to see one had to stop the world. When you stopped the world or as I understood it, questioned what really was around you, you would begin to learn to see another reality or realities. Though he may use terminology that is different to the words I may use, he is saying what I am coming to accept as well. Any form of occult training essentially has the same objective and that is to break down the reality you were taught and help you to observe your own version of it.

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This in turn naturally leads me to the conclusion that in a way, we all create our own realities. It explains why for example, some people live conspiracy theories or see roadblocks and objections everywhere. They choose to. On the other hand, it can explain why people who can truly visualize success become successful. They create their reality. But before you can do that, you have to know yourself and be aware of what filters you have been given – how the world has been described to you. Hatred, racism, homophobia for examples, are all inherited filters – they are all a description of acceptable reality for a consensus or majority.

So while, Castenada may be a disappointment to me I feel his works are valid. They originated somewhere in his reality and they describe an alternate reality as well as providing a map for getting there. I shall re-read his books…….

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So You Want to Kill Me?

I am surrounded by friends and people I hold dear both physically and also via social media. Like most other people, I feel quite secure in my imaginary cocoon that is my life. I never really give much thought to the fact that a large number of people want to kill me. Why these people would want to kill me is a puzzle. They don’t know me, they don’t interact with me, they don’t know my name or what I do with my life. They don’t know about the things I am good at, they don’t know if I am a good person or a bad person. They don’t care about my hopes, my fears, my loves or my passions. Rather, I am somehow a subject of hatred for them and if they could, they would kill me and seek reward for it in heaven.

Who on Earth is he talking about? I can hear you say.

I am talking about people like Abu-Salha. An American who recently blew himself up in order to kill for God. People like this man who have been somehow subverted in to believing that hatred is love, that death is life and that a paradise of beautiful women – and I suppose ostensibly great sex for eternity – awaits them. People like this want to kill me and you because we are free to believe what we want as opposed to believe in what they want us to believe in. Yes, its a bit more complex than that I suppose but at the end of the day, when a religion or a system demands that you kill in order to go to paradise and asks you to kill then you know that somewhere a man has taken over that religion or system. The God of love would never ask anyone to kill. Only a man of hate would ask this.

The world has a growing and large population most of whom live in poverty and ignorance. They are easy prey for men whose hearts are filled with hatred. Those of us that sit comfortably in our homes with full bellies, a roof over our heads surrounded by luxury are a minority that gets smaller every day. The spread of such hate is like a plague – I have often thought the fascination with zombies rather silly but it is a very appropriate analogy if you think about it. This spread of this insidious religious fanaticism is like a zombie-plague. Once infected, people lose their sanity and reason and become killers of light and love without remorse.

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What to do? I only know of one thing to do and that is to pray for these people in any way you can.

Paradise or Prison?

We had selected a place called Kipriotis Village on Kos mainly for its kid’s facilities. It turned out to be very large – too large in retrospect – with 1378 beds or when full, over 3000 people. It had 4 or 5 pools, 4 water slides, 4 or 5 bars, three restaurants, an outdoor theater and, outside of toilets in rooms, I counted just 14 toilets per sex. I would say it was short on toilets and I can only assume that management expected guests to pee in the pools – which I am sure they did given the stink of 14 toilets to serve over 3000 guests. After the first day in which we discovered row upon row of sun beds festooned with towels but no people, we too began the practice of rushing first thing in the morning to claim a sun bed by the pool returning later after a leisurely breakfast, to claim our hard won resource.

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The food, at first, wasn’t bad at all. As its all inclusive and free, the temptation is pile the plate and pile the plate I did – at first. By about day 4, I began to sicken of the food. Whatever it was, it tasted somehow the same. The pizza tasted like the chicken that tasted just like the salad. Strange I know, but true. Furthermore, I spent much of the vacation having to make rather urgent trots to find one of those 14 toilets that was free periodically and I suspect too much olive oil to have been the culprit. Of course, one could try the Greek restaurant or the Italian restaurant by booking the night before but, other than a change of scenery, it was the same food.

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Next time I do this, I will check the meaning of all inclusive carefully. The drinks were also included but it was only a subset of the drinks and they were all made with local produce. I did ask several times if there was actually any alcohol in the cocktails to which the waitress usually smiled and showed me the bottle which, proclaimed 30% alcohol. I suspect this to be a lie as I never experienced the remotest feeling of being giddy, drunk or tipsy the whole time I was there and I drank a lot of these cocktails – until they too began to taste the same.

Another thing about camp life is that you are in close proximity to several thousand other people not all of them the sort of people you would desire to share a vacation – or a toilet – with. The Russians in particular were the most obnoxious people I have ever met outdoing my fellow Brits and the ever present Germans by a long haul. They shoved in, jumped queues, were loud and simply didn’t fit in at all. I know a number of Russians and these tourists must have come from some deprived housing estate outside of Moscow because they were not at all like the people I know. ‘Russia First’ seemed to be the only English words they knew and that should give you all the information you need to back up my assertions….

By then end of week 1, Kipriotis village began to take on the characteristics of a prison camp complete with its guards who in this instance were the so called life guards. The life guards appeared to have been instructed to do their best to stop anyone from having fun. Make so much as a splash in the pool and the whistle blew along with a stern look in your direction. No jumping, no diving, no horseplay, no coming down the slide anyway but alone and on your bum….. The highlight for me was when we notice our daughter on the other side of the pool obviously struggling just below the oblivious guard. My partner leapt immediately executing a near perfect (9.9) dive into the pool, gliding underwater effortlessly towards our daughter to help her to the side only to have the same guard blow the whistle and lecture her on diving. He felt the full wrath of my tongue let me tell you.

So, it was with some glee that on day 8, we made our bid for freedom. A two-day car rental for 50Eur was our opportunity to explore Kos and change diet, location and toilet use. It was heaven. We toured almost the entire island and what an exquisite place it is. The car was however a bit of a disappointment. We asked for a ‘topless’ car – it was on special. We thought it would be fun. Mistake.

The car was the smallest vehicle I have ever driven and that includes a go-cart. It was advertised as seating 4 however. It had been well used just like Kipriotis Village. When the roof was opened it rattled so noisily that you couldn’t hear each other shout. The roof stayed shut and topless was not allowed. The engine warning light was on the entire rental period. I told them too but the rental lady smiled and told is it was an additional feature of the cheap rental. Mustn’t complain too much, despite only managing 3km/hr up the hills and having to stay in 2nd gear most of the time to accelerate, it did its job and was returned after the rental in the condition we found it along with several empty drink bottles, a ton of sand and sweet wrappers.

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We then found ourselves with 4 more days of the prison I mean holiday camp…. That’s when we discovered the bus. Ah, the bus. We managed to escape each day into the lovely town of Kos where we shopped, ate and drank and found toilets quite easily for the remainder of the trip.

Two Weeks of Silence

After today, I can promise you almost two weeks of silence from G Michael Vasey. While I am gone, I will imagine you all running out to buy my books and reading my archive of delicious articles on this blog and on Asteroth’s Domain Me? well, I will be laying in the sun, swimming and drinking cold beers to cool off in Kos. I can’t wait.

I have been neglecting Asteroth’s Domain which I reserve for more esoteric articles mainly. I guess, I simply haven’t had much to say esoterically recently. Instead, I have been focused on building a business (Commodity Technology Advisory LLC) and trying to build a platform for my writing. Both are non-stop activities and can slowly eat away every minute of the day one way or another. After a while, you look up and kick yourself because you realize that yet again, you have slowly losing sight of what is really real and important. Meditation has gone from 30 minutes plus daily to once in a while again. I think at such times, my subconscious self gets truly pissed off with the other me. That’s when I get bad and weird dreams like the one I described the other day. I have had weird dreams all of this week to be honest and so as I lay in the sun and in between frolicking in the pool or ocean with my daughter, I shall try to refocus again……

I often think that in fact, this is the dream and the false illusion that we get sucked into and allow it to become our only reality. The truth is that there are almost certainly many realities created by the many me’s that exist. Some of you may take that as the statement of a crazy man but think about it. We are all fractured characters playing roles and being different people for different purposes aren’t we? Mum, daughter, friend, enemy, clown, and so on…. as we play out our roles, we are creating a reality for them too. Each character that we play has an audience and an energy and they create the daily dramas that occupy our lives.

The trick, I think, is to wake up and recognize this. To start to try to bring all these separate bits of ourselves and all of those different reality streams under control… the control of our true will. Some people will call this God, some Goddess and yet others Divine Providence or simply the Perfected Self. Whatever you name it, it is the same thing. In order to listen and take guidance from this presence, we have to be quiet and listen. We have to talk to it via prayer – creative visualization. We have to allow It to guide us and in doing so, hopefully, we bring together the fractured aspects of ourselves into the Divine whole we were always meant to be.

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energy-in-motion by michael-massurin

Science is Never Proven

If I had a quid for every time some punter on TV or in the media or even a politician has said “The science is proven” when referring to global warming, I’d be a very wealthy man indeed. I have to tell you, as a Ph.D. scientist myself, every time I hear this I literally cringe. The person saying it or writing it cannot then understand the philosophy of science as no scientist who does would ever utter such a stupidity. Yes – stupidity.

Today, I read an article by a scientist on CNN about the big bang. Please read with me the following excerpts…

“Everyone wants to be right. Most of us sure hate being wrong. But scientists know that new discoveries often change or even invalidate earlier ideas. Being wrong can mean we have learned something new.”

and…

“It’s the way science progresses. You put an idea out there and your colleagues — many of them good friends and scientific collaborators — try to shoot it down.

A scientist’s first reaction to a new idea is often: “That’s wrong because….” To which the proponent replies, “No, you are wrong because…” And so the debate begins.

No matter how much a scientist might hope to be right, nature holds the answer. One theory may be more beautiful than another, or more complicated, or more elegant, but nature doesn’t know or care. The job of a scientist is to find out what the real answer is, not to advocate for any one point of view.

We do that by making careful measurements and assessing the accuracy of the result.”

Later..

“That’s one reason the debates will continue until one side convinces the other. But most scientists really don’t care about the “win” — we care about understanding nature.”

And finally..

“Controversy and debate may be messy but that’s how we make progress in science.”

Excerpts from an article by Meg Urry – the Israel Munson professor of physics and astronomy at Yale University and director of the Yale Center for Astronomy and Astrophysics.
You can read her article here.

Yes. That’s how science works – should work anyway and there can never ever be a 100% definitive right position… just a working hypothesis. So please, next time you hear someone tell you that there should be no FURTHER debate on global warming because THE SCIENCE is PROVEN.

Please educate them.

1. Science cannot ever be said to be proven
2. Without debate, there is no science.

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A Childlike Reality

Children often bring a smile to our lips. Their worldview unfettered by outside influence and devoid of any political pressure often provides us with laughter and sometimes remarkably powerful but simple insights into our complex world.

I have played more than my part in terms of aiding this phenomenom having fathered four children to date and each and everyone of them has taught me something valuable or brought a smile to my face in terms of what they did or said. All kids are different too right from the very beginning. Having watched my twin boys grow up I can say that… different from the very first second of life outside the womb. Obviously, it is my youngest child that now alone has this childlike ability to point out glitches in the matrix as my three sons are now all grown and have lost their childlike innocence.

Just the day before yesterday, as we drove to the store, I was moaning about the lack of sales for my books and explaining that I would really like to have one of my books (if not all) sell in the thousands or tens of thousands and not just the hundreds. Deni told me that I should write about something different like Lions or Tigers and if not that then about my life. I explained that my life really isn’t of much interest to other people and that I doubted that book would sell. Deni’s response – “it will if you put pictures of me in it!”

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This childlike confidence might not seem like very much but if you think about it, if thoughts have the power to create reality, then why do we not get what we want? The answer to that question is because no matter how much we try to convince ourselves that we are thinking positively and believing completely, we also know that we are not. As adults, we have been told so many times that we can’t or we shouldn’t that it has become an inbuilt mechanism to ensure our failure and the failure of the becoming reality of our thoughts. I start out all positive and confident that my thoughts are of best selling books or a vacation in Mexico. I am sure that this will happen if I just keep picturing it, believing in it and seeing it. a couple of hours later though, it starts. “Don’t be bloody daft,” says that initial passing doubting thought. To be followed by internal bickering no doubt and ultimately failure. The child though has yet to be programed for failure. The child still knows how to believe without self-doubt. The child ought to be able to really create their own reality. It’s a shame Deni can’t help me create mine.

I hear resonance of this when I think of the words by Jesus about entering heaven. He says that whoever wants to enter heaven must first convert and then become as little children. I would see heaven as the state that Humans should aspire to and conversion would be to understand this. To become as little children would restore our inner confidence and ability to believe.

To become childlike has a meaning to me that involves cutting away the baggage that has been placed upon me and being truly what I was meant to be. A similar analogy is the Fool and to be foolish. In essence being childlike and being foolish share some key characteristics in that our ego is as yet under developed and our outlook unfettered by the jaundiced views of life’s experience. To the point where, many years ago, one of my sons walked out of the bathroom and across the house past numerous assembled visitors with his trousers round his ankles to ask Dad “Can you wipe my bum please?”

Try Looking Up!

If reality is so massive that our brain has to continually decide what parts of that reality to present to our consciousness (and it does!), then what are we missing? A lot it would seem. For a start, we look for what we recognize and have an interest in and we ignore what we do not recognize nor have an interest in. We walk our way through life barely seeing a thing apparently. We sleep.

Most of us commute to work each day and we settle into our routines. Perhaps we catch the train and armed with our favorite newspaper we seek out our usual seat and then relax reading the paper. Perhaps we walk to work staring at the pavement ahead of us while all of the time thinking of the day ahead. Perhaps we drive to work and therefore spend our time observing the road ahead, listening to the nonsense on the radio and thinking about the night before?

The fact of the matter is we simply are not living!

I once wrote an article about living in Prague and going to work – I would link to it but I can’t find it! I recounted how each morning, I watched the pavement ahead of me while deep in thought. Then, one morning, for some reason, I looked up. I stopped walking in total amazement to take in the architecture, the blue sky, the beauty of a city in central Europe. In that moment, it hit me how lucky I was to live in such a place and I wondered to myself how was it possible that every day I did not notice nor even see this beauty? I realized that I slept to work.

So people. Look up. Look around you and open your eyes and heart to the beauty of the world around you. See, look, observe. Give thanks.

Start looking no… start searching in life for the reality you want and deserve. It is there but you must actually look for it.

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Take a look at how I see reality through my new collection of poetry – Moon Whispers – or through my exciting action-packed novel – The Last Observer.