Aftermaths

MAJORTRUMPS.XXI.DeathOne of the most painful things about the death of a beloved is not how much difference it makes in one’s days afterwards, but how little. My sweet 14-year-old cat, Urdwill (a.k.a. Burd), was as much part of my day and night as any close family member might have been; but I still have to get up in the morning as usual; shower as usual; make my basic three daily meals as usual; go to my Twelve Step meeting, counseling sessions, and supermarket as usual. I spent part of this week repotting sweet peppers and tomatoes I am raising from seed; shmoozing with my landlord’s sweet American bulldog, Julie; accessing and returning my friend Lee’s car, all as usual. How, I ask myself, could I have gotten over my pet’s demise so quickly? “You never really loved him, that’s how,” the Accuser whispers.

Of course that is not true. The mourning that began with wails of grief has simply shifted, that’s all, downsized itself, gone largely underground. My rented room feels empty, now, without him. When I am out chatting with a friend I think, “Oh, I had better get home now, Burd will need his dinner,” then remember that Burd’s dinner is no longer my concern. When I come back to my landlord’s house and unlock the outer door, I automatically check the area around my feet to see if Urdwill is crouching there, ready to spring past me into the street. At night, whenever I would wake (and I wake up several times a night), Urdwill would be there, ready for affection, action, food; I sometimes nearly tripped over his black-furred body, invisible as it was in the darkened room. The relaxation of my hypervigilance concerning him—the relaxation issuing directly from his death—has been a relief. But it has also been a source of enormous feelings of guilt. How, I ask myself, could I be so heartless as to feel relief over Urdwill’s passing? “You never really loved him, that’s how,” the Accuser whispers again.

Such accusations would have no power to affect me were there not a long, old history behind them. In Ireland, where they had lived for six or seven years, my mother died of alcoholism in 1991, a year after my younger brother Jeffrey, her caretaker, died of AIDS. I hated my mother for having emotionally and sexually abused me, and I felt as liberated by her death as I had felt devastated by my brother’s. It took years before I could acknowledge my love for the part of her that was good and kind, and feel any  grief over her passing. “You could have saved her from drinking herself to death,” the Accusers whispered at the time, but this was a lie easier to shrug off; I knew by this time that alcoholism is a progressive illness, and that she had not been willing to do the 12 Step work that could have helped her find relief from it. The Accuser’s other whisper, “You could have saved Jeffrey from dying of AIDS by insisting he return to the USA for treatment,” was harder to shrug off. At the time in Ireland, so strong were the laws against birth control that one needed a doctor’s prescription even to buy condoms in Ireland; AIDS treatment was even more primitive and limited by public prejudice than it was in the US, where our present cocktail of meds had not yet become available.

In the end I have been forced to the conclusion that my brother, my mother, and my beloved cat Urdwill had their own paths to follow, their own stories, and their own Higher Powers. I have been asked by Spirit to accept that I, like they, am a student of Love rather than a master; and that no matter what the Accuser says, I could no more have rescued my little brother from AIDS than I could have cured my cat’s cancer. The only power I have is in the here and now: the power to choose Love right now, today. •

Why Do We Suffer?

eyeless_girlVarious explanations have been offered down through the ages to explain the suffering experienced by so many in physical reality. In some traditions, there are good gods and evil gods, constantly vying for supremacy over their Creation. In Fundamentalist Christian tradition, it’s humans’ fault that pain and hardship exists in the world, which was cursed because of Adam and Eve’s disobedience at the dawn of time; catastrophe is frequently seen in this tradition as God’s punishment for unrepentant human sin. In traditions where reincarnation is espoused, pain and suffering is often explained as the logical outcome of misdeeds done by the sufferer in past lives.

In atheist materialist tradition, physical reality is a mindless mechanism unaware of and unconcerned with the suffering of its creatures. Stephen Fry, noted British actor, writer, and outspoken atheist, recently said in an interview that in light of all the horrors that exist in this world (such as certain insects that can burrow into childrens’ eyes), a compassionate loving God could not possibly exist. The argument is simple and compelling: as God, the deity is presumably omnipotent and omnipresent; as a loving God, the deity is presumably concerned with the suffering of others. Logically, then, if God created insects that burrow into children’s eyes, God is either not loving, or It does not exist.

The visions I experienced in the fall of 2013 showed me unmistakably that a multiversal Consciousness (which many call “God”) does exist, and that Its nature is love and light. These visionary experiences I have since learned resemble those of many religious and non-religious individuals down through history and across all cultures. The symbols vary from person to person and culture to culture, but the gist is the same: that we are each of us known, accepted, and supported by a universal consciousness that is personal without being individual, and that is utterly familiar without being comprehensible. [For a compelling examination of mystical experience from the viewpoint of a nonmaterialist neuroscientist, see The Spiritual Brain by Mario Beauregard and Denyse O’Leary (New York: HarperOne, ISBN 978-0-06-162598-5, paperback $14.99), available through Amazon.com.]

My visions have given me hope that ultimately, whatever happens to my body, the core of me is eternally loved and safe. But my visions did not give me any theology with which to understand why life in physical reality involves so much suffering, or why “God” appears to do nothing about this.

The Kinds of Suffering

Not all my suffering arises from the same vectors or conditions. I’ve broken down the stuff that causes me the most pain into several categories, organized according to the forces and actions involved in the suffering I experience.

Suffering That Results Partially or Primarily from the Actions of Natural Forces: My severe juniper pollen allergy, worse this winter than ever before in living memory; my genetic predispositions towards osteoarthritis, depression, heart disease, obesity, and diabetes; the aches and pains that come from the natural aging of my body; my spinal damage due to a mild case of polio as a child in the Fifties; the physical distances between things and people; the deaths of loved ones from AIDS, alcoholism, and heart attack.

Suffering That Results Partially or Primarily from the Actions of Others: My ongoing PTSD, the result of my upbringing in a dysfunctional family with an alcoholic pedophile mother, an angry chronically depressed father, and a sadistic, mentally ill older brother; the economic and sociopolitical forces operative nationally and in New Mexico that make access to employment and medical care difficult for low-income people like me; my struggle for self-acceptance as a gay man in a homophobic culture; Santa Fe’s socioeconomic stratification; the high cost of education; the suicide of my lover Stuart.

Suffering That Results Partially or Primarily from My Own Actions or Inactions: My years of resistance to acknowledging, and seeking help for, my incest background and eating disorder; my poverty, which partially results from my having made unwise education choices as a young man; my loneliness, the result of self-imposed social isolation; my perfectionism; my attempts at controlling a physical reality that is naturally in a constant state of change; my lifelong tendency to resist exercise;  my lifelong practice of eating foods that harm me; the harms I have done to others; the depression that comes from my insistence upon listening to radio news and reading newspaper accounts of the world’s pain; my resistance to acknowledging the good things in my life because I’m so pissed off by the bad things; my resistance to asking for help from God and others.

I recognize that I have not experienced horrors and brutalities that so many of the world’s peoples experience on a daily basis. Nonetheless, suffering is suffering. What kind of help can I expect the “God” of my visions to give me in dealing with the sufferings of everyday life? To what extent can the “God” of my visions directly affect or mitigate the hardships spacetime affords me? And how can I best access this help? We’ll look at this issue in the next blog.

Next: Accessing Divine Help In Spacetime.

 

 

 

 

 

The Emperor’s New Clothes: A Message from “The Family”

The Emperor Essence, the Manifesting Doer.

The Emperor Essence, the Manifesting Doer.

In physical reality, things change. This is both the gift of physical reality and its curse. Only in physical reality (and its immediate support structure, thought reality) can sadness, grief, pain, fear, hatred, anger, and envy be experienced, for only in these realities is the consciousness so frameworked that it can only with difficulty maintain awareness of its immortality and abundant nature.

Such awareness limiting frameworks are necessary in order to keep the self focused in space-time. For spacetime is the most highly energetic of all realities, and thus takes the greatest concentration to focus upon. The plane of the One, on the other hand, where there is no differentiation and no change, is utter stillness and calm. The only effort required to focus upon the plane of the One is to simply let go completely.

Wandering through space-time, the self encounters many individuals who enrich and challenge its assumptions about reality. Such a person was karl Deke Von Uhl, a gentleman of Mr. Rand’s acquaintance who last night began his transition from identification with his physical self: that is, he died. The vectors that helped him die were AIDS and cancer, and he was attended by his longtime partner, Todd Parker.

Why do we mention these men here in this context? Mr Rand did not, after all, know either of them well. Mr Karl he had known in Santa Fe as a client and then, much later, as a friend; Mr Todd he has not met at all. Yet last night’s transition triggered in Mr Rand a desire to know why, given all Mr Rand’s experiences as a psychic and channeler with worlds of the unseen, he still fears death? And why, when he has sensed Mr Karl’s energies around him, more alive than ever albeit not physical, part of himself is still saddened?

Grieving the death of a loved one is not a betrayal of spiritual insight, but a natural human animal reaction to loss of continued experience of the loved one’s voice, touch, scent, breath, body. Wedded as he is to a noble animal body, Mr Rand is outfitted with an ego whose job it is to keep him in spacetime long enough for the balance of the multiverse to be maintained. One of the tools the ego employs towards this end is sex. Mr Rand thought that Mr Karl was very sexy, and although there was never sexual contact between them, for Mr Karl was partnered and had sexual tastes differing from those of Mr Rand, Mr Karl embodied the Tarot Essence called the Emperor, the most physical of all the faces of the Divine. And Emperor Essence individuals have the root chakra as their central chakra, which means that sex is usually very important to them. More than sex, Mr Karl was passionate about the sensual beauty of life: his lover’s body, the power of music (he was a professional musician), art, literature. The ugliness of life he also found beautiful, and embraced.

Mr Rand admired these powerful life energies in Mr Karl as much as he admired Mr Karl’s physical form. And so, since Mr Rand has always struggled with loathing of sexuality and physicality, the few interactions he had with Mr Karl always imbued him with fresh sense of enthusiasm for spacetime experience.

In the last weeks of Mr Karl’s earthly experience in his body, Mr Rand was privileged to offer Mr Karl spiritual and emotional support through Mr Karl’s transition process. In this Mr Rand was balancing his inability to offer such support to his lover Stuart “Alex” Lucker, who left physical reality by his own hand in 1988. Mr Todd was happy to allow Mr Rand access to Mr Karl and last night thanked Mr Rand for his encouragement.

Where is Karl Deke Von Uhl now? He is in the process of expanding the awareness of himself from physical reality through thought reality and into the causal plane or physical planning state, where he will become aware of his entire life just completed and will review how that life added, or did not add, to the balance of his experience as a whole. When Mr Karl has completed this process, he will choose whether to adopt a new physical persona or to remain in the nonphysical (or both). Should he choose to adopt a new physical persona, Mr Karl, the Emperor, will take on a new set of clothes, whether it be in the physical universe Mr Todd and Mr Rand presently occupy or some other. And so the multiversal balance will continue to be fulfilled.

Yet for Mr Todd, and for Mr Rand to a lesser extent, there is grief; and not only for them, but for hundreds of other individuals whose lives Mr Karl touched and challenged and enriched. So although Mr Karl did not complete the great works of writing he envisioned as his purpose, he left many fine writings behind him; and more than this, he gave a visceral life-affirming love to many who knew him. And so in no sense can Mr Karl’s life just past be considered any kind of a waste.

And so, Mr Karl, warrior and poet, live long and prosper; and in the light reaches thou shalt become music until the Earth summons you back into Her embrace once more. And we thank you for sharing. •

Stuart In the Sky, With Diamonds

NM.Kaz_as_cub.1987-8

The week after my lover Stuart died, I took our wolf-dog, Kaz, out into the wintry New Mexican woods. Snow had softened the ground’s harsh clays. The sun was shining brilliantly off the white-clad junipers and little piñon trees. Kaz led me in a romp-and-tumble over the hills and down some arroyos until we both ended up, limp and panting, in a valley floored by a frozen brook.

I was in that state of heightened awareness that often accompanies deep grief. I’d hardly eaten for a week. For all the two years Stuart and I had spent together as lovers, best friends and channelers, his sudden death had taken me utterly unprepared.

He had developed ARC after having been infected with HIV in an accident at the Key West lab where he’d labored as a medical technologist. We had assumed that either AIDS would kill him some day or old age would. The former had seemed less of a possibility as, one by one, his ARC symptoms had gone into remission. We’d put it down to clean living and the effects of our metaphysical researches. (This was before advances in medical science provided AIDS patients with chemical cocktails designed to bolster immune response.)

But I had found him one morning anyhow, body cold, vacated, and neatly arranged on his bed. The medic who examined Stuart after I had called 9-1-1 later told me that Stuart’s death had been a reaction to a painkiller he had taken for an abscessed tooth due to be extracted the following Monday.

I came to a different conclusion. A month before Stuart had told me he had had a “dream” in which he had gone into a coma and I was sitting by his bed in the hospital. After his death, it struck me that, consciously or not, he had been warning me that he was planning to commit suicide. I still believe this to this day.

That winter afternoon in the valley, I hunkered down and watched Kaz nose cattails. Gradually the sunlight seemed to take on personality. It seemed to shine not on me but for me, and I knew, abruptly and impossibly, that the sunlight was Stuart, somehow. He seemed undismayed that I had been calling him a selfish bastard all week.

You must understand that I am not given to visions. My psychic experiences tend to be quiet, undramatic, noticeable mainly because I have trained myself to recognize them when they occur. Stuart was the visionary. Every time he surfaced from a deep trance channeling session, he said to me, “It’s so beautiful there, where I was; one of these days I’m just going to stay.”

In the valley, dusk fell. I called Kaz, started carward, and in my altered state got lost in the shadowed streamcourse. Nothing looked even remotely familiar to me. The moon came out, and there was Stuart again. Guard-dogs barked at a farm. I felt afraid. I glimpsed mental images of barbed wire, German uniforms, German shepherd dogs pulling at leashes, and myself at a dead run for a clipped fenceline. In my fantasy memory, Stuart was there, saying, “Through here!” He pushed me ahead of him so that it was he, not I, whom the dogs brought down.

As I have said, I am not given to visions. That night I asked the sky, “How do I get out of this arroyo?” A prominent star winked, then burned steady. By its light, I spied a side-track I had not noticed before. Following the track, Kaz and I found ourselves back on the road we had taken from the spot where I’d parked our station wagon.

Stuart again. You’ll have to take my word for it.

Up to that time, Stuart’s death had been the most devastating thing that had ever happened to me. This has changed in the years since. Since that winter I have climbed the years to sixty-two. I have lost Kaz, to a hit and run driver, and three subsequent dogs, one to old age, one to liver failure, and one to cancer. I have lost friends to AIDS, including my beloved little brother; lost my teeth, my health, my career in horticulture, my self-respect, and most of my financial resources. And since Stuart’s death I have never had another lover. I have kept love at arm’s length from fear of having to go through a loss like that again.

Stuart’s death was the most terrible thing that had ever happened to me. But I am certain that it was not the most terrible thing that ever happened to him. The night in the arroyo taught me that. I’m certain that death, for Stuart, had been an explosion of joy.

I drove home that night with Kaz’s paw on my right shoulder. Three months later, on an empty road near our house, some guys broke Kaz’s back with their speeding truck and I had to say goodbye to him, too. I buried his body in my rented garden, between the French tarragon and the double coreopsis. For two weeks I had nightmares that somehow the vet’s needle hadn’t put Kaz out of his misery; that somehow I had buried him alive; that he had awakened, stifling, with dirt in his lungs. Of course it was I who felt buried alive: trapped in the physical plane, unable to get free of the pain and horror of it.

On Oneness and Loss: A Trance-Persona Talk by “The Family”

Mr. Rand has asked us why the Earth kills so many of its creatures on a daily basis. It it because the world is out of balance due to sins of humans and their first parents, Adam and Eve? Is it because the Earth is an accidental, unconscious mechanism that grinds up lesser, weaker beings in its cogs, leaving those best fit to survive long enough to reproduce meaninglessly? Is the anger of the Earth due to a Goddess Who has had enough of Man and his depredations? We do not see it in these ways. This is how we do see it. And as always, take what feels right and leave the rest.

Love & Pain
When Humanity first incarnated in physical reality, it entered the material plane from a level of reality Mr. Rand’s former partner called the plane of light and sound, and which some Buddhists term the heaven of light and sound. In that reality, information is shared via complete joining of the seeker and the sought, without fear of violation thereby.In that reality, there are no edges to confine or bruise, no violation possible, no pain as you may think of it.

But there is also no love as you think of it: no yearning; no sense of loss. For in physical reality the concept of love is inextricably intertwined with the concept of pain … in physical reality love very frequently appears to be (1) a consolation for pains suffered, or (2) a battery of empowerment to strengthen one against the possibility of pains yet to be suffered.

And we speak of pain of loss first and foremost. For it is loss — loss of physical connection; loss of physical health; loss of sense of connection to family; loss of sense of self — that love, in physical reality, is sought after in order to abrogate or mitigate or stave off.

Love in the Nonphysical Realities
In the nonphysical realities, love is a celebration or marveling of unique wholeness seen within a context of continuous interconnection and interdependency. For in the vast light reaches (as Mr. Rand has come to think of the plane of light and sound), beings perceive the oneness of everything and their unshakeable, unlosable place within it.

The Dreaming
When humanity decided to explore love and creativity in the context of material reality, it first expanded to the level of reality called the dreaming or the dreamtime or the dream state, wherein all varieties and possibilities of physical experience can be imagined and tried out in order to determine which experiences will be the most valuable for both the individuals entering physical existence and the group consciousness of humanity as a whole. And in all possible probability lines experimented with, the one that seemed most attractive to you was one in which beings from the plane of light and sound joined their light-bodies with the bodies of animals — the natives of physical reality — the better to experience physical reality directly, as material participants, rather than [as] observers merely.

And not all beings from the plane of light and sound agreed to this. They chose instead to experience physical reality as observers and spiritual guides to their incarnating fellows, as even your scriptures attest when they say, “We are surrounded with clouds of witness,” and, “These things the angels themselves desire to look into.”

The Merging
And so you merged your consciousness with a line of animals descended from four-footed, milk-giving mammals, and became first what your scientists have called Homo neanderthalensis of Neanderthal humans; and then after many millennia experiencing physical reality as Neanderthalers (or, as many such termed themselves, People of the Air or Wind), some of you elected to expand upon the capacities of [what] that life as Neanderthalers afforded you, and incarnated as cousins to the Neanderthals, Homo sapiens or Cro-Magnon humans.

We say “expand upon the capacities of the Neanderthals,” but Mr. Rand points out this suggests that the Neanderthals were in some way limited or inferior to the Cro-Magnons, and this is not the case, any more than an aardvark or a pongid is inferior to a whale or a cormorant. The Neanderthals were equipped with senses not possessed by Cro-Magnons or their modern human descendants, and the Cro-Magnon were equipped with capacities not possessed by the Neanderthalers: to be precise, a capacity to think of themselves as separate from their surroundings rather than part of them; an increased sexual and territorial drive; the ability to stay in sexual rut twelve months out of the year; and an advanced capacity for communicating verbally with one another.

Over time, you discovered that these capacities gave you more creative control over your environment than the capacities you had when you were Neanderthals, and therefore more ability to protect yourselves against the pain of loss (due to illness, death by wild beasts and disease, severed affiliations with communities, and so forth) that physical reality so keenly affords its denizens the possibility of experiencing. And so more and more of you incarnated as Homo sapiens. And so in time H. neanderthalensis died out, for the two species were, with only a few exceptions, incapable of crossbreeding.

Other Experiments
This was not the only experiment tried in physical reality by beings from the plane of light and sound. Many of you incarnated on worlds other than Earth, and on Earths whose histories, though parallel to yours, flowed differently from the history you know.

One of your science fiction writers has written several books in which a reality where Homo neanderthalensis never died out and Homo sapiens never evolved communicates with your universe. And it may be said that this writer is in part “remembering” a reality in which he himself is incarnated (or, as you would put it, has been incarnated or shall be incarnated, for all incarnatings appear simultaneous from the viewpoint of the plane of the broadest self).

And even on your Earth there were those of you who experimented with combining the DNA of Homo sapiens and Homo neanderthalensis with that of sentients not native to your Earth. As your scriptures attest, “The sons of God looked upon the daughters of men, and saw that they were fair.” But the products of such unions proved out of balance with the harmony of your world, as it is written in your scriptures, “And there were giants on the Earth in those days.” And so these attempts at hybridization were by and large failures. These efforts survive to your present age only in certain oddities of DNA that may not be understood for many of your years to come.

Hallucinogens and Human Creativity
Now Mr. Rand has recently read a book that suggests that about 35,000 of your years ago, H. sapiens itself underwent a great shift in [creative] ability and awareness as a result of experimentation with commonly available hallucinogenic botanicals or trance-inducing practices such as starvation and repetitive noisemaking and repetitive movements in dance. This books says that prior to about 35,000 years ago, there were no abstract artistic representations made by humans. Then, suddenly, decorative objects and artistic renderings sprang into existence all over the world, as far apart as Europe and Africa, created by groups with no conscious awareness of one another.

These arts consisted of deliberate cross-hatchings on stones or shells; part human, part animal figures on stones and cave walls; pictures of male and female figures pierced with sharp lines like spears; geometric designs; and animals. And the book Mr. Rand read suggested that this creativity explosion, which continues in an accelerating manner to the present day, was inculcated by other-dimensional beings seeking contact and interbreeding with modern humans, even as, many millennia ago, some beings from the plane of light and sound sought hybridization, rather than incarnation, with H. sapiens and the now extinct H. neanderthalensis.

In fact we see this as a slight misunderstanding of a situation not based in linear causality. That is, it is not the aliens, or extra-dimensional figures, that seek to contact and interbreed with humans today. It is humans who seek to connect with and rejoin their essences with the nonphysical realities, while maintaining human form and belief-systems. The projection of human motives onto aspects of the nonphysical can be seen everywhere in religions, from your so-called ancient times to your present day: god who act like jealous wives, husbands, lovers, and heirs or rivals to heavenly thrones; Divine Father figures who command humans to slaughter everyone they encounter who is not of their subgroup; even benevolent Mother-figures who are [depicted as] one moment suckling the Divine Babe at their breasts and the next, brandishing swords of holy conquest as La Conquistadora. For one thing the book Mr. Rand has read does not take into account is the power of human fear to manifest menacing or threatening imagery when encountering those events or experiences that do not match prior mindsets.

The Power of Fear
The threatening probing aliens of the Close Encounter visions, the cackling hags of medieval witch-phobia, the jackal-headed Egyptian death-gods, the threatening therianthropes or black cylinders of DMT visions, all these are projections (as we see it) upon the ineffable of human fear of otherness: in short, xenophobia. And perhaps you have forgotten how strong a part xenophobia has always played in the history of your species.

So we see these visionary experiences of abduction and sexual experimentation and torture and seduction and such as human projections of human fears onto attempts by humans to become conscious of their “families” in the plane of light and sound, which was and is the first human home. For grief at separation is a much-available experience in physical reality.

Mr. Rand has for many years felt great grief at [having been] separated physically from the being he knew as his younger brother, Jeffrey Robert. This being introduced him to the concept of channeling, through Jeffrey’s involvement with, and inspiration by, the Jane Roberts “Seth” materials, which Jeffrey read in the 1980s when he was still incarnated in physical reality as Rand’s younger brother. So when Jeffrey died through the passageway of what is called AIDS, Mr. Rand felt a great separation, not only from his brother, of whom he was jealous and envious and inspired and toward whom he felt great affection, but also from an aspect of his own spirituality that had begun to emerge in his prior years as a fundamentalist Christian, a religion which Mr. Rand had left behind by the time of Mr. Jeffrey’s transition.

Not Lost
For Mr. Jeffrey is not lost, except to physical touch and hearing and smell and taste. He exists still, in a larger form than he possessed in physical reality, and meets with Mr. Rand in the dream state — though too often such meetings cannot be remembered by Mr. Rand upon waking because they would feel too painful for him in his present mindset of attachment to loss.

And that is another experience available in physical reality: the identification of the self not with those persons and opportunities presently available for concourse and intercommunication and mutual creation, but with those persons and opportunities no longer apparently available for such. And such attachments can result in a kind of addiction to waiting for death, which in extreme cases can cause an individual to actively seek physical cessation of life, but more commonly is experienced by individuals as a great difficulty in initiating, or following through on, new relationships and creative projects.

Alone

For no creature born of the plane of light and sound is meant to be alone, to which even your scriptures attest when they say, “And the LORD saw that it was not good for the man to be alone, and so He created a helper suitable for him.” And though your religions have called that suitable helper “the woman,” or havvah, which being translated into English means “living” and transliterated into English is pronounced “Eve,” [that suitable helper] was never intended to refer to a physical female at all, any more than “Adam” — which in Hebrew is “adamah” or “of the red earth” — was intended to refer to a physical male. For Adam and Eve were meant to refer to both aspects of the human nature in physical reality: the Namer and the Nurturer. And if one of these aspects is not recognized, fed, or given opportunities for self-expression, a human being incarnated in physical reality will feel incomplete, unsatisfied, and half-alive.

The Namer and the Nurturer

The naming and nurturing aspects of the human being are important to understand, for in a way the equivalents of such aspects are also experienced by you on the plane of light and sound, and are an intrinsic aspect of your nature as sovereign creative entities.

As we have said, and many have pointed out in religious, ethical, and psychotherapeutic writings over the centuries, physical reality is a place where many different kinds of pain may be experienced on a daily basis. When we began this discourse it was in response to Mr. Rand’s question, “Why does physical reality slay its inhabitants on a daily basis?”, which put another way can be understood to mean, “Why is there so much pain in physical reality?”

And it is our observation and our theory, which any are free to abandon or ignore as they see fit, that the potential for pain, which comes from overload of certain intense physical and psychological experiences, is at root the potential for separation or a sense of separation. And though much of the time it appears to the sufferer in physical reality that such separation is separation from loved ones who have died, or physical nurturance such as food and water and positive touch, at root such separation is from the naming and nurturing aspects of the … Self: the Higher Self, Broadest Self, Higher Power, God-Self, Christ-consciousness, light body, or whatever you may choose to call it … [which can give] the [incarnated] self opportunities for unfettered experience of oneness in physical reality.

Adam the Chooser, Eve the CreatorIMG_1711
For the naming or Adamic aspect of the self, which term is taken from your scriptures’ injunction to the mythic first man to name all the animals in Eden, is the aspect of the self that experiments with different possibilities for creativity and self-expression. [It is the aspect of the self] which looks at one probability-line or experience in the dream state and says, “This is what I want to experience. This is [whom] I would like to experience myself as being. This, too, is an expression of I AM-ness.” For all the names we give to others are names we give ourselves.

And the nurturing aspect of the self, which term is taken from your scriptures’ description of the mythic first woman as the “suitable helper” for Adam, refers to the aspect of the self which has the power to actualize in physical reality the creative choices of the naming aspect of the self — to actually do, in space-time terms, the will of the Greater or Higher or Broadest Self in physical reality during a given incarnation of that Self. And clearly for complete creativity in physical reality, both the Namer and the Nurturer must work together inside the self: the first, to identify opportunities for the self’s expression and creativity; and the second, to lay hold of tools available in physical reality to … give those opportunities flesh and blood expression.

Now we reiterate that the Namer, or Adamic aspect of the Self, and the Nurturer, or Evenic aspect of the Self, have nothing to do with maleness in a sexual sense and femaleness in a sexual sense, in that human men are not more intrinsically namers than human women are intrinsically nurturers. For the be happy, human men and women must express and satisfy both their Namer aspects and their Nurturer aspects. And that is what is experienced as “lost” when Physical Reality appears to separate a being from happiness and joy.

Mr. Rand’s “loss” of his brother Jeffrey is real in the sense that he and Jeffrey can no longer physically embrace. But the true loss is the apparent separation between Mr. Rand and his Namer and Nurturer aspects. For when Jeffrey was alive, Mr. Rand could look at him and himself and say, “This one and I are one. We mirror ourselves back to ourselves. We bear the same Name.” That is, “We share a purpose and a path. And we support one another in that path” — a reference to the Self’s Nurturer aspect. For when a person says, “He supports my path,” what she really at root is saying is, “He supports me in supporting myself on my path.” For support, though it may take the form of paying rent for someone, or handing them food or medicine, can have no nurturing effect unless the individual takes the support inside him or herself and uses it to strengthen him or herself sufficiently to begin providing support for self and others on one’s own.

And we thank you for sharing.