Three years ago yesterday, I caught myself stunted in my kitchen on Bear Mountain. For a brief few moments I felt almost unable to move, as if my feet were somehow magnetized to the floor and the joints connecting my limbs needed oil. I wasn’t in pain, this was just an odd pause.
It happened during a super hectic time. I was preparing to ship all the moving pieces for a virtual summit I’d been producing. I needed brain fuel so peeled myself away from my desk to quickly throw together something to eat.
As I turned back to the counter from closing the refrigerator, a stunning sensation of pause came over my entire being. There was an energetic sense of the words, “You are here to elevate consciousness”. It was notably strange.
In an interview I did with Gino Wickman not that long after, I told him about what had happened. He asked if I had been using drugs when I had the experience. I had not.
I am especially abled in intuition and what some might refer to as a Channeler or Medium, but I didn’t recognize it as that at the time.
While the sensation wasn’t completely unfamiliar to me, the words I translated seemed new. Elevating consciousness wasn’t language that I consciously recognized or resonated with, though my behaviors and presence in supporting others in accessing higher states of their own consciousness without chemicals are already so deeply integrated in me that I’ve rarely noticed.
Elevating consciousness is in my DNA. It’s part of my soul’s mission that I inherited from my father. This is what I know.
During that stunning pause on August 25, 2021 it was as if I was standing in the middle of an invisible vortex, with a flood of energy pouring straight down and around my body from above.
“You are here to elevate consciousness.” I was fairly certain about that being the message.
I leaned forward to grab a pen and a stack of post-it notes to write the statement down — seemingly the only thing I could manage to do with my feet still firmly planted in place on the floor.
I had trouble keeping the pen in my hand steady. My writing was so ferocious that I crumpled up the post-it and started over.
“You are here to elevate consciousness.”
It was as if Parkinson’s took over and the words once again came out too messy to look at.
On my third attempt, something different happened. I steadily and calmly wrote, “I am here to elevate consciousness” and it came out as neatly as if I had been writing on the whiteboard for my students.
“I” was the operative word but I wasn’t ready to understand what it meant yet.
Feeling satisfied with my pause, I stuck the post-it note on the fridge door and went back to preparing my lunch before hopping back into the grind.
Five days later while on another break, I looked at my phone and noticed missed calls from one of my father’s cousins and a nephew. These were not people who generally contacted me. As soon as I read the text to call Jimmy, I knew my father must have passed.
Since coming into his life my father’s second wife did the best she could to alienate him from his natural family, including me. There was no chance for any dignified goodbye.
The last time I’d seen my father alive he was frail from dementia, enabling her to remove me from not just his life but also from his death.
That’s how things go sometimes in the physical world. Life’s not fair. In the spiritual realm though, things work differently.
When a soul transitions out of the physically possessed body it exists through, returning back to into a completely non-physical state, all emotional attachments that had been stored inside of them also get released from the burdens of that person’s physical anchoring.
About a year after my father’s death, I went through a sort of physical death of my own — although I’m sure I still don’t have the words that could make you even consider believing me. That’s okay. I’m in no rush.
It was painful. It was frightening. It was horrific in ways I may never be able to explain. But in the moments of transition it was also somewhat euphoric and freeing.
I felt as though I was floating, blind, and suspended in an odd sense of calm and peace. While physically alone, I didn’t go through the process alone. Technology allowed for an audience. My dear friend Tracy was on the phone, serving as my “death doula” — that’s part of her personal calling.
The phone stopped working while I was trapped in outer space, though the call never dropped. I tried explaining everything I’d experienced to her in double time once back. It was too much for her to receive and comprehend.
Broken relationships have broken my heart. I understand but cannot pretend not to have gone through it.
Everyone picks their own friends and ponies. The gift of not having a family has taught me that I cannot stop loving someone just because they stop loving or liking me. My love is unconditional, regardless of if their’s ever was.
Everything had to go downhill after that. The bottom will forever be moving.
I’ve always had to find new people to play with. It sucks but has been par for the course. We were all once strangers to each other anyhow.
It’s taken me a long time to be willing to reveal myself this much through writing. Since birth I’ve been scolded and scarred for my gifts.
I’ve learned many skills and secrets along the way through lots of different people and countless places. Recalling the lessons through my darkest hours continues to help me survive.
The overarching lesson is in understanding how one can choose an egoic death for freedom from conditions, without actually having to croak. It is our beliefs which keep us captive and captivated.
It is not necessary to wait for your final breath once you know how to die while alive.
A story I once heard my mentor Dr. Wayne Dyer tell illustrates this premise quite well.
The story goes that a man had a beloved pet bird and he took really great care of it. He housed the bird in a beautiful cage with wonderful toys and treats, and he fed it the very best quality of birdseed.
One day the man decided to go on vacation to the bird’s homeland of India. Before leaving the man asked his bird if it wanted him to deliver any messages to his friends back home.
The bird asked the man to tell all the other birds in India how happy he is in his fabulous new home and with his beloved master.
When the man arrived in India he delivered the message to the first group of birds that he saw. Suddenly, one of the birds fell from its perch and appeared to die at the man’s feet. The man was saddened to witness the bird’s death but was able to continue on with his journey.
Upon returning home the man told his bird what had happened in India when conveying the message to the wild birds. Immediately, his bird froze then lifelessly fell to the bottom of the cage.
Thinking the bird must have died of a broken heart, the man opened the cage and took his bird out to bury it. As soon as the door to the man’s house swung open, his bird came back to life and flew away.
The message within this parable is water to the seed of your soul.
Dr. Wayne Dyer was the protégé of Dr. Abraham Maslow, best known for developing his psychological theory into a five-tier model of human needs known as Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.
The base of his pyramid acknowledges our basic physiological needs such as food and water, and progresses upwards through safety, love and belonging, esteem, then finally culminates with self actualization — where individuals strive to realize their fullest potential.
My Transcendence Architecture™ theory considers Dr. Maslow’s model more dynamically, but we can get into that some other time.
When people talk about being street smart, what they’re essentially referring to is a level of emotional intelligence that formally educated people don’t generally regard or respectfully recognize.
The value or quality of intelligence within oppressed people who don’t look, speak, act, or learn the way a mainstream organization does is highly underrated and under appreciated.
That’s unfortunate but it’s also by design. Never forget that the meek are those who inherit the earth, not the mighty. The mighty merely take temporary possession.
Without understanding operations at the bottom, within the underworld, everyone up above becomes vulnerable. Peace at scale requires cooperation and honor among thieves.
That’s just a bit of what I have learned so far on this side of my journey. I look forward to continuing to share more of it gratefully with you.
#GrowthSeekersWelcome
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