The Hologram of Us

     Holograms are different from ordinary pictures in that if a hologram is broken into pieces each fragment contains the whole image. If a picture is torn to pieces each piece only offers a part of the original image. According to some scholars, humans are the sum total of all experience on many different levels. This may be an explanation for the phenomenon called deja vu. The feeling of being somewhere before or having done something before is actually a memory from another dimension of existence. Every piece of us contains the whole of us, just like a hologram. When the body sleeps on one level, what is called 'dreaming' is in actuality continuing consciousness on another level. The mind carries the experience from one level to another. The awareness of that knowledge is often labeled as precognition or psychic ability, or most commonly deja vu.

     Within the Universe exists all possible choices and all possible outcomes. Each of these is representative of the multitude of planes on which a person exists. People become aware of these one at a time, in the moment we call now. However, sometimes as we make a decision to go one way, we hear an inner voice or have  an impulse to go the other. This is experience from some other level of existence breaking through our consciousness. Very often, other choice is the right choice. The experience of choosing alternatives accumulates until all the pieces come together and the perfect life is lived.
     To learn more about this theory, read the work of Anthony Peake. He will also lead you to other minds contemplating the dimensions of human existence and experience.
     

The Altered Boys Club, Chapter One, Opening Scene

Judica me Deus, et discerne causam meam de gente non sancta: ab homine iniquo et doloso erue me. Quia tu es Deus fortitudo mea: quare me repulisti, et quare tristis incedo, dum affligit me inimicus? Emitte lucem tuam, et veritatem tuam: ipsa me deduxerunt, et adduxerunt in montem sanctum tuum, et in tabernacula tua. Et introibo ad altare Dei: ad Deum qui laetificat juventutem meam.

Judge me, O God, and distinguish my cause from the nation which is not holy: deliver me from the unjust and deceitful man. For Thou, O God, art my strength: why hast Thou cast me off? and why go I sorrowful whilst the enemy afflicteth me?  Send forth Thy light and Thy truth: they have conducted me and brought me unto Thy holy mount, and into Thy tabernacles. And I will go into the altar of God: to God who giveth joy to my youth.

CHAPTER 1

     Like a spring rain, dreams come unexpected, out of nowhere, and end almost as surreptitiously as they begin. By some ancient slight-of-hand, a sudden shower can cleanse everything without destroying anything, leaving everything fresh and new and ―reflective. Sometimes the damp streets appear to be magically paved with rainbows afterward. The glassine colors give way under foot and the person, like Alice going into the rabbit hole, tumbles into the other side consciousness where scenarios await of being chased by an unidentified assailant, of drowning, and falling out of an airplane or off a cliff and never hitting the ground. Children tell each other if the dream ends with being caught or drowning or hitting the ground the person will die in their sleep. Of course, no one has ever been known to die in their sleep because of a dream ―one of those things people choose to believe to be true without the slightest proof. The mind always stirs itself awake just before impact.

     Sebastian Stephens passed through the rainbow the moment his head touched the pillow. His dream this particular night didn’t run in continuous sequence like a movie. This one played more like a movie trailer, jump-cutting scenes, changing points of view. Both observer and young American Indian boy shirtless and wearing deerskin breeches, long black hair blowing almost straight out, Sebastian raced through the shadowy woods. A hand print of white paint over his heart marked the boy’s chest. More than just running; he fled something or someone. He would have yelled, but he had to save his breath to maintain his pace. A voice-over of Gregorian chant Dies Irae fueled the rhythm of his strides as he fled his pursuer as though his life depended on speed alone. The scene dissolved into an image of a house with a disconsolate family dressed for church. Jump-cut now to a procession of men in black robes taking up the deliberate pounding bass of the Gregorian chant, quan-tus tre-mor est fu-tu-rus, quan-do-iu-dex-est-ven-tu-rus, cu-nc-ta stric-te dis-cus-su-rus with a descant of Native American voices in their quicker paced mourning chant. Hai! Hai! Hai! Hai! Ji-yu-thon-de-yanka-ha. Hai! Hai! Ja-tag-wen-i-o-ton. Hai! Hai! Men in the black robes walking ponderously as their counterpoint to the native voices continued. Oh, what fear man’s bosom rendeth, when from heaven the Judge descendeth, on whose sentence all dependeth. The Indian women wept and cried out loud; some howling, shrilling in their grief. Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail! Continue thou to listen! Hail! Hail! Thou wert ruler. Hail! Hail! Sebastian as the Indian boy kept running in spite of increasing fatigue. Like the fox he doubled back a couple of times in a figure eight before he finally dodged behind a boulder to try to catch his breath.  He peeked around the edge of the giant rock to try to gage his distance from his attacker just as someone grabbed him from behind. A pair of very strong arms reached around him, pinning the boy’s arms down to his side. Sebastian as the boy felt the man’s hot breath on his neck mixing with his own sweat and producing a chill now while he as the spectator could only standby. The boy turned to get a glimpse of the man’s face and yelled out in recognition.       

     Sebastian yelled himself awake as he sat straight up in bed. Profuse perspiration stuck the sheet to his body and plastered his hair to his forehead and around his face. Still panting from his dream running, the sight of the empty side of the bed brought him back to reality. Fortunately his lover absent lover, Sean, was spared being awakened by this nightmare. He swung his legs around to plant his feet on the floor before reaching for the eau de nuit he kept on his nightstand.

What was that about? Sebastian rejected his initial thought that watching The Last of the Mohicans starring Daniel Day Lewis prior to bed had anything to do with it. Movies didn’t give him nightmares, well, at least not since watching horror movies as a kid anyway. With the journal and a pen kept on the nightstand he attempted to record the details, but like a spring rain the dream images were all washing away. 

Playing With Synchronicity

     Sometimes I hate crowds. Especially when I am standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change. Often people will stand too close or even step right in front of me. I've learned  a good way to get them to back off using their own perception of synchronicity.

     The traffic lights in New York now flash the number of seconds a pedestrian has left to safely walk the street. I watch the countdown for the cross traffic. When the light is just about to time out, I point indiscreetly discreetly at the signal I am facing and stage whisper, "Change, please." I have a green light almost immediately. The people standing too close to me invariably step away clearing my path. 

     I simply smile and walk forward. 

Synchronicity As Magic

     While living in England my junior year of college, I went to the Mid-Lent Fair in Grantham. An old Gypsy woman was reading palms and telling fortunes inside her van. The young woman I was with had to have her palm read. I poo-pooed the notion, but she insisted and so we went inside to learn about her future.

     Turns out the old woman had over-heard my remarks. She was none to pleased to have to read my girlfriend's palm in my presence, but my girlfriend insisted and her future was revealed. The old woman told her that she would be married, but not to me and she went on from there. When the Gypsy had told her everything she could, my girlfriend paid to have my palm read. Despite my protests and advice to save her money, the money was paid and the old woman frowned and took my hand. 

     "You will not live to see your thirtieth birthday. That is all I see for you. You must leave now." Turns out, she was half right. The young woman did marry someone else. College kids out for a good time are not in any way committed, at least we weren't. The other part, my dying part, obviously did not come true. If I had, anyone who knew of this experience might have rushed out to have their own palms read. The magic of the synchronicity has faded over time.

     Mark Twain wrote about synchronicity as trickery in his book A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's Court. I have never read the book, but I remember seeing the film starring Bing Crosby, Rhonda Fleming, Cecil Hardwicke, and William Bendix. Briefly, Bing Crosby in on a tour of a castle when he is knocked out and dreams of being in King Arthur's court. Since he has 20th century knowledge, he is able to talk himself into the king's court. Jealous enemies finally seem to triumph and Crosby is to be burned at the stake. He pulls a Farmer's Almanac from his pocket and confirms that there is about to be a solar eclipse. He uses the privilege of 'last words' to stall the burning. When the time is right, he announces to the crowd that when he dies he will take the sun with him and they will live in darkness. They laugh and the eclipse begins. As the sun grows darker, the people become truly afraid. The beg the king to cancel Crosby's execution and to free him. The king does so and Crosby returns the sun.

     Knowledge is power. Knowledge combined with wisdom produces magic. The power of magic is synchronicity.

     

     

A Fairytale, Side B

     What if the old woman living in the forest wasn't really a witch? What if she were just a kind lady who wanted to help two children who had run away from home? If Hansel and Gretel were being abused, wouldn't the wisest action be to give them a safe place to stay for a while? Wouldn't it be wise under the circumstances to make sure no one saw them there? By what logic is it assumed the old woman roasted the children and ate them?

     Synchronicity at times creates a cause and effect relationship between two events which doesn't describe the truth of the situation, or the people involved. At the same time, curiosity and vigilance couldn't hurt.

One Never Knows The Day

     Normally he awoke to singing birds. This particular morning there was no singing, no chirping. He rose and looked out the window. All he could see was a brilliant shimmering white light and nothing else. Not the apartment building across the garden, not even the garden. Without trees and grass it was no wonder there also would be no birds to sing him awake. He felt like he was in a movie, a Fellini perhaps. No, this was more on the order of The Incredible Lightness of Being. He didn't especially enjoy that one. He didn't hold much hope for this experience either. Surely, he must be dreaming. Surely, he will wake and hear birds again. Maybe if he resumed his position on the bed and then rolled over he would stir awake. Problem was, he couldn't roll his body over.

Slowly I Turned

     I remember an episode of the Three Stooges television series that featured a phrase that when uttered spurred a violent attack on Curly by Moe and Larry. The phrase was Niagara Falls. Moe and Larry had been accidentally hypnotized and given the suggestion to attack someone whenever they heard that phrase. As they approached their victim they would say in unison, "Slowly I turned, step by step, inch by inch..."

     Silly as their comedy sketch was, the Stooges did hit on something to consider. The way the mind works, even without hypnotism, certain words or phrases and even fragrances can take us through space and time to  a life-changing event. Pleasant ones can bring a sigh and a smile. The deja vu of unpleasant experiences can cause someone to exhibit symptoms of fight or flight, retreating or lashing out without any awareness of the cause. For some people the synchronicity of past and present poses a very real block to new experiences and growth. The embarrassing or awkward moments of childhood through high school haunt us by making us reticent to meet new people or speak in front of groups regardless of familiarity or size. 

     The ghost of humiliation is a powerful prison guard who is given full range over his charge. There are no witnesses to the beatings he metes out, but the bruises are obvious. No one can even see him but his victim. Every victim has the power to cast a spell to disarm him. Slowly I turned...Create a safe phrase. This is a code used by consenting adults when games of any kind are going too far. Slowly I turned... When a person can program such a code into the psyche, shadows will flee. Using such an incantation takes practice and determination, but the personal power will grow into a shield of confidence. Slowly I turned...