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. •

Breathe and Release

I don’t know about you, but I find the holiday season pretty stressful. I have to remind myself all the time these days that I don’t need to be perfect in order to be acceptable to Spirit or myself. I can’t please all the people all of the time; and 5 minutes taken out of every hour to stretch and take some deep breaths can help me soften around my tension and make me 10 times more productive than if I just gritted my teeth and barreled through my days.
My brother Jeff, 1954-1990

My brother Jeff, 1954-1990

Another thing that comes up for me at the holidays is sadness over loved ones who have died or moved far away. I particularly miss my brother Jeff, who died of AIDS at age 35 in 1990. In the past I used to try to stuff such feelings with food, overspending, or overwork. Now I ask Spirit to help me relax around my grief, and let myself feel it, offering it to the Heart of Love as I weep.

And I let myself remember Jeff in the good times, when we laughed and sang Gilbert & Sullivan songs together. Remembering the good times I had with one I have lost can be very painful, too, because such memories seem to make my grief worse for a while. But this I think is an illusion. What good memories do is reconnect me with Love, which makes my heart feel safe enough to show me what it has already been feeling underneath my consciousness. Bumper Sticker Of the Day: “There is no healing without feeling.” The best is yet to come!
-Dec. 15, 2014
P.S. Looking for the perfect stocking stuffer? Click on the image below to order via PayPal a 20-minute psychic reading with Rand! Or give him a call to place your order at 505-469-9782, including the name and email or snailmail address(es) of your chosen recipient(s). When payment is received, Rand will send each recipient a gift card bearing the message of your choice. Good for New Year’s, too!

Rand_in_your_stocking_flyer

A Message from “The Family”: On Those Who Have Gone Before

Jeffrey Robert Lee (L); Rand Benjamin Lee (R)

Jeffrey Robert Lee (L); Rand Benjamin Lee (R)

On those who have gone before there is much to say and little: much, because, from our viewpoint in the plane of light and sound, the joyous celebration of complexity and union that is physical and nonphysical reality proliferates endlessly in a dance rich with meaning and worthiness; little, because all this, at core, is known to all and each of you and us both. For this is the way of things.

Mister Rand grieves for those who have left the body before him. Grief is a hard, cold thing, or can be, when it sits in the throat like a stone unexpelled. Or it can be a hot rushing thing when first felt in its entirety of passion, welling up and spilling over in a hot rush of tears and wailing. Your society permits little of this grief-show, and that is a limitation of your society; public demonstrations of grief serve a grieving one and the society both, as demonstrations of how personal loss is also public loss: the loss of a brother, sister, father, mother, wife, husband, child, animal friend marking both a personal intimate change and a change in the composition of the group.

When what is felt by each is felt by all, grief is easier to bear. But in your culture, grief is hidden or expected to be quickly moved on.

Nevertheless, the grief that Mister Rand feels, say, over the unbodiment of his friend and once-brother Jeffrey Robert, is largely a grief of the body. When two beings have been raised together in close proximity, chemistries mesh; body patterns mirror one another, smells converge, chemistries ape one another, rhythms of sleep and wakefulness converge. Bodies harmonize within close proximity, and when one of two die, the body that remains is torn loose from its patterns and cast adrift, whether the loss has been of spouse or sibling or child or pet: bodies communicate with one another, and grieve for one another. So much of the grief felt by one who has lost a beloved is grief of the body.

And there is grief of the heart. “I only have escaped alone to tell thee,” says the comforter in the Book of Iyyob. Aloneness is the shadow of oneness and its pain is keen. The Divine is One but It is never alone. In truth, neither are you truly alone, and Mister Rand, his perceptions having been keened by his psychic practice, is aware of the presence of his friend whom he knew as his brother Jeffrey, and so is somewhat comforted, when his intellect does not prevent him from accepting and acknowledging that comfort. For the intellect, whose job it is to enable beings to create and thrive in physical reality, has only limited ability to make sense of the vast light reaches.

What is Heaven like? you ask. Heaven, we say, is noisy, joyous, full of argument and banter and explosions of love. Heaven is a carnival, though not a carnivale. Heaven is a peaceful glade with a stream running through it, and rabbit-birds giggling just out of sight. Heaven is your best friend.

— Channeled 19 October 2013, Santa Fe, New Mexico.

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.