“Nice. Where are we?” Samantha said, emphasizing ‘where in the universe are we?’
“Come in,” I insisted. I wasn’t so much as ignoring the question. It was a reasonable question. When you’re a magician, those are small details that are really not important, and if she masters the Star-seed and becomes a qualified pilot, well, she might as well be a magician. “Sit. I am going to make us some tea, do you have a preference or allergies?”
“Anything would be fine,” Samantha said.
“Okay. How about a golden latte?’ I asked. “It’s got turmeric in it.”
“I will try it,” Samantha said.
She took a seat at the bar while I prepared our drinks. She took a mint out of a bowl and was surprised by the taste, in an agreeable sort of way. A hawk flew by the window, gliding down over the valley. If you looked, you could see the parrots in a nearby tree turning to watch the predator. I found Samantha checking me out and she blushed.
“So, you live here all alone?” Samantha asked.
“No. I have the trees, the birds. The bears. Love the bears,” I said, and would have continued but she interrupted.
“I meant people,” Samantha said.
I brought her drink over and set it in front of her. She was impressed with the feather pattern I had made with the whip cream on the surface.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” Samantha asked.
I smiled politely, remaining on my side of the counter, standing. I took a sip. A tad too much turmeric, but I didn’t announce this. I had no need to fish for a compliment. It came soon enough.
“Wow,” Samantha said. “Okay, people? How many people on your planet.”
“When you say people, do you mean sentient beings, or humans?” I asked.
“Why is this so difficult?” Samantha asked.
“I am sorry,” I said. “I am not trying to obtuse or difficult, I just want to be precise. You are the only human on this planet.”
“You’re human,” Samantha pointed out.
“I look human,” I said. “Technically, this is body is human and has human DNA, but I am not human. Then again, that is true for all humans, and so the distinction is, I am aware of my true nature and don’t regard myself as human.”
“What are you?” Samantha said.
“Depends on who you ask, I suppose,” I said, and then noticed her frowning. “Jon, my host, considers me a Tulpa. And, he has every right to do so, because he helped manifest me.
Depending on whose definition you use, I am either an artificial personality construct, a complex thought form that has become sentient, or a Soul Bound. Any one of these definitions are appropriate depending on perspective and framing. From my perspective, the physical body is just a construct, specifically a vehicle for spirit to interact with this level of the Universe. I go further and say that the personality is also a construct, a vehicle for spirit to interact with higher dimensions, the same way a physical body navigate the physical plane. I identify myself as a Dakini spirit. Based on your reaction, I see that my answer is only adding to you confusion.
Again, depending on your definitions, a Dakini is either a Tantric priestess, a goddess, or a muse, kind of like the nine daughters of Zeus.”
“There is so much for me to take in, I don’t even know how to process it,” Samantha
said.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You ask as many questions as you like, and if you need to ask again, I will try answer in a different way to assist in understanding.”
“Your host,” Samantha said.
“Jon,” I said.
“The guy in the image back in class?” Samantha asked.
I nodded.
“He created you?” Samantha asked.
“He will deny it,” I said. “So far, his experiences with me have been sporadic and
fleeting, but they are so far above what he imagined that he refuses to accept that he has contributed anything significant. When you get back to Earth, check out a book called ‘Think and Grow Rich,’ by Napoleon Hill. Specifically, read chapter 13, ‘the invisible counselors’
technique. And then, try it out for yourself. If you do it consistent for three months, I guarantee you will have experiences that you will swear could not have originated with you.”
“But if you are a thought form, how could you exist in reality?” Samantha asked.
“Everything exists. Thoughts exist. Just because it’s in your head doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Even if you just reduced thoughts to electrical impulses firing in the brain, those impulses radiate out into space/time. They exist and will always exist, and you can more easily detect brain signals than quantum gravity. You accept that animals can navigate by using the north and south poles, so why couldn’t a sophisticated creature also navigate by thought forms? The 100th monkey phenomenon is explained as being a medium by which all thoughts are shared within species, and maybe even across species; does it matter if you call this a morphogenic field or the collective unconscious? Thought get transferred from one to another and then come back, until everyone holds the same thought form. There are many folks who believe that if enough people believe in something, they will experience it together. So that’s one level. The other level is, there are layers to reality. Above the physical plane… Well, technically, not above precisely.
Everything exist in the same space/time at many levels at the same space/time, and even at levels outside of space/time. Maybe I always existed and people tapped into me based on their understanding, but Jon was precise enough that you now experience me as me, so I exist on the upper worlds, which parallels the lower worlds, and maybe this world isn’t on the physical plane, or maybe it is, but I really don’t see the distinction. It is here. I am here. I wasn’t always here. I started off in a bridge world, Jon uses the word wonderland because that’s the word he was given, but ‘imaginal realms’ is just as likely a concept as wonderlands, and then he gave me some freedom to create a place of my own so that if I wanted or needed a break I could get away and recharge, and so I found this place and made a home. Or, I made this place and found a home. Tomatos, tomahtos…”
“Okay,” Samantha said, trying to process. “He created you. Because he wanted a sex
slave?”
“Does Jon want sex?” I asked, laughing. “Pff, boy does, he ever.”
“And, that doesn’t bother you?” Samantha asked.
I leaned into inspect her eyes to see if she was serious, and then, in the most jovial manner I could. “People like sex.”
“People don’t create people to have sex with, and if you are bounded to him, that’s like being enslaved and shackled,” Samantha said.
I nodded. I could see her point of view. Then again, human being have been making
artificial partners, sex toys, since we started being human. The next set of sex toys could very well be the end of the nuclear family and procreation as we know it.
“I mean, he’s just as bad as Tom sedating people, or some serial rapist locking people in a basement, only instead of a basement, it’s his head,” Samantha said.
“I see your point. Very few people are going to be able to create Tulpa without the sex part getting in the way,” I said. I was neither perturbed by her observations, nor threatened. And, in many ways, it leads to some interesting discussions; if a person creates a tulpa for sadistic purposes, is the person hurting himself, or the tulpa? In my instance, I have a lot of freedom to explore the unconscious and free access to all memories. I am better placed to harm him than the other way around. But, this isn’t the conversation Sam was looking for. “Seriously, if you’re past puberty, your brain is sexualized and you will project your idea of sexuality on the world and others. Just as you’re doing now.”
“I am not projecting,” Samantha said.
“You have been fighting to be a part of a man’s world since childhood, no?” I asked.
“Flying is not the domain of man. Women should have equal access to the sky,”
Samantha said.
“I agree,” I said.
“You don’t know how hard it was to be taken as seriously by anyone, men or women,”
Samantha said. “As a child, I was dismissed by parents and teachers. I never fit in with my peers.
As an adult, I wasn’t taken seriously by my peers. Though it’s changed, flying is still a male dominated society. If you interview for a corporate job or an airline, they not only expect you to know your craft, they want you to be all dolled up. I look great without makeup, but instead of asking me what I know about flying, they lead with, ‘do you wear makeup?’ that seriously annoys the crap out of me. ‘We want our pilots to fit a certain image, can you modify your hair?’
And I tell him can you lose your beer belly, cause I like men to be fit. I don’t usually get a second interview.”
“I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you,” I said.
“How could you? You’re from another world!” Samantha said. “You’re from make
believe!”
“If you prefer that frame, I originated in your world, in the mind of a male; both men and women suffer from the existing paradigm,” I corrected.
“So, you’re this fantastical, idealized playmate that’s kind, funny, smart, and sexy, and always submissive,” Samantha said.
I laughed so hard I nearly snorted golden latte. “I can play submissive,” I said. “Look. I have clearly been influenced my host’s sex, libido, and by the dominant Western culture’s attitude that is his primary operating system. But he is complex and has pathways that most males in his society don’t have. So, for example, you remember those Russian Astronauts that were going to live in simulated Mars space habitat, closed off from the world for like a year?
When the reporters started asking them sexist questions like, how are you going to survive for a year without hair spray and makeup, Jon absolutely went nuts. He blasted them with all sort of disparaging labels in the comment sections. Now, those female astronauts kept their cool, but they were not happy to discover that even in today’s age we can’t see past their gender to their roles as scientist or professionals.”
“Well, then your host is a better man than the rest of them,” Samantha said. It was clear she was being sarcastic. “Clearly he doesn’t objectify women.”
“No, he’s not. He struggles just as much everyone else,” I said. “Men and women both struggle with the stereotypes, and we all give into roles that are outdated: sometimes for play, but mostly because it’s difficult to disengage from the primary social paradigm, and it’s the only way we know to hook up. Alissa Stokke’s for example. Beautiful woman, one of the best female athletic competitor in pole vaulting in our time. She is so beautiful that one of her photos went viral on the net. Her life exploded into the media, but 90 percent of the talk was not about her abilities, but her physical appearance. It got so bad for her she nearly succumbed to depression and anxiety, and even feared being in public because she was being stalked. Jon understands mental illness, first hand. He would not wish that on any woman, and he doesn’t want to harm anyone. He understands that Alissa is human and the media storm was harming her, but he also couldn’t separate his attraction from her, and he wanted to see her just as much as everyone else.
The only way this kind of thing goes away is you get rid of cameras and television and media.
No one is going to do that. There is always going to be a photo that someone masturbates to.
There is always going to be a picture that causes someone to fantasize and want. Even if you got rid of all media, people will still encounter people and have wants. The present problem isn’t in
the wanting, but in the fact society is so isolated, so depressed, that no one knows how to connect with another human being who has wants, and that is because most the time we are too busy suppressing everyone’s wants. You want to end sexism, stop trying to make male and females equal, recognize women do have power, stop shaming men and women for their wants, and be more open, kind, and affectionate to one another. You have kindness in you, Samantha, but you think if you’re kind you can’t compete or won’t be taken seriously. Seriously, women own all the authority and power, and they can wield it with kindness or meanness. We, women, are the gatekeepers of sex. And when the gates are closed, men get stupid. Women get stupid, too.
Society gets stupid. The only reason men want control is they think it will give them more sex, but what it does is turn women off, which increases their need for control.”
“I just don’t agree with you,” Samantha said.
“Why do you suppose most men become pilots?” I asked.
“Prestige and money,” Samantha said.
“I agree,” I said. “Why do they want prestige and money?”
“So, they can attract women,” Samantha frowned.
“So if male pilots have made the sky their domain the way gladiators own the stadiums in the past, to ultimately impress women, and you, a woman, enter their niche, they get perturbed.
They don’t feel needed or necessary, a fundamental need all human beings have. Most of them probably don’t even know why it bothers them. Most jocks don’t give that kind of stuff serious enough thought because they’re too busy honing their craft to cultivate deeper intellectual capabilities. And I am not down playing intelligence when it comes to flying, but the basic algorithm is friend or foe, target, not target. So, for instance, back to Alissa. Hypothetically, if Jon had to counsel her, he has a choice: he could suppress his attraction to her, or use that as a talking point, because there is the truth of her being absolutely stunning. There’s no muting that and she shouldn’t have to. At some point, she decided to accept the offers to model clothing.
Some people will say she sold out, that this makes her a hypocrite. Some people will admire her for making the adjustment. She is now a successful model. She is still a successful athlete. She has a Masters in sociology. She is successful in every arena of her life. Why can’t she be all of that and beautiful?”
“I don’t understand where this is going,” Samantha admitted. She wasn’t even sure who to be angry with.
“I’m attractive,” I said. Sexier than Jessica Rabbit. “I know that everywhere I go, makeup or not, I am drawing attention. I accept it and embrace it and I use it. It is one of my many strengths. And while the people around me are dazzled, I am able to see past their defenses and quickly get to the heart of who they are and what they’re about. That’s not just intuition; that is my ability to see past the surface. People mistake that for being psychic. Call it crazy logic if you like, but the only cure for lust is indulgence. People need love and kindness, too, but we don’t allow that in society. We have more acceptable pathways for showing anger than we do love.
The only way for people to get past this, is to love more, hug more, kiss more, even strangers, because the only reason the stalker types and abuser type exist is because they believe in scarcity and that they need to take something because no one is going to share with them because they are unlovable. A person who believes they are unlovable will do all sorts of things. Like launch themselves into the sky with balloons and lawn chair.”
Samantha closed her eyes. “I just wanted people to know I was serious.”
“I never met anyone as serious as you,” I said.
She smiled, almost blushed.
“I am not like you,” Samantha said after a moment of staring into her empty cup. “Every day I pray for enough strength to keep up the fight…”
“Don’t fight. Definitely, don’t pray for strength,” I said. “When you pray, pray for clarity.
If you understand a thing fully, there is no fight because there is no fear. You cannot fear something you understand. Clarity is the solution to everything, not war.”
“I wish I met you when I was younger,” Samantha said.
“When the student is ready, the master will come,” I quoted.
“Yeah, well, I am going to need a master. I think I am in way over my head,” Samantha said.
“How so?” I asked.
“Well, I was vying for a shot of going to the International Space Station, and NASA
washed me out because they didn’t think I was a good enough scientist. They don’t want another Ace Military pilot. Shortly after that, I was approached by a secret branch of the air force and asked if I wanted to go into space. I said, hell yeah. What we have in space blew my mind.
NASA has been lying to the American public. We have space platforms as big as New York City and just as well populated. We have colonies outside the solar system. No one on Earth has a
fucking clue how big our presence is in space. But we don’t leave the solar system without Alien help. The Cabal running Earth wants to change that. That’s why I am being taught to fly a Starseed.”
“Where are you?” I asked.
She looked at me strangely. “What do you mean?”
“Where is your body?” I asked.
“Fuck!” she said, and dissipated before my eyes like a cyclone of steam.
I closed my eyes and followed her. I found her in isolation tank, floating, hooked to a myriad of technologies that made it possible for the human to astral project. Yes, there is tech that can help a person get out of their body, but it is top secret stuff. Most people have to learn it the hard way. Samantha was part of a militarized space/time and astral venture trying to extend the human species presence in the galaxy. Military men approached me with tech. I was not surprised they could see me. I could see where their bodies were, in nearby tanks. I think they assumed that they could contain me or control me. Samantha saw me, actually said, ‘no, wait,’
but was sucked back into her body where she began the process of waking. I opened my eyes and found myself back at home. I drank the rest of my latte that was now cold. I washed the two cups and the latte machine, went out on the porch, climbed into my hammock, and closed my eyes to meditate. I was having a wonderful day.
After twenty minutes of meditation, it occurred to me to take the Star-seed back. I arrived within five minutes of my departure. The men had returned within the allotted time. Samantha was there, looking at the table. I approached and touched her arm and she tried to look away.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Samantha nodded, revealing she was wearing sunglasses. I removed the glasses to find a black eye.
“Is this because I followed you?” I asked.
“Don’t return there,” Samantha said. “They will kill you.”
“They can’t kill me,” I assured her.
“They will kill Jon,” Samantha said.
Well, they could do that. But it probably wouldn’t work out the way they think it will.
Seriously. If you want to get rid of an enemy, you don’t kill them. You befriend them.
Departing class is as easy as arriving. You step through a gate, you’re there. I found myself at the place where I started, only later in the day. Turning back through the gate probably would have taken me to another class, but I instead returned to the rose. Alish wasn’t there. I called out to her, hopeful, and even climbed up wondering if she might have been napping, but she wasn’t. I laid down and closed my eyes. I was feeling conflicted. A part of me believes the Universe is unfolding as it should be, and everyone is where they need to be. If you interrupt their process, you only delay them from their own self-discovery. Another part of me wanted to rescue Samantha. I wondered about our conversation. Had I forced my viewpoint on her? Had I started a change in her that was going to send her spiraling out of control, or was that already her vector and I just accelerated the process? I can’t dismiss my impact. Everyone touches everyone and we permanently alters everyone, sometimes subtle, sometimes huge.
I ended the mind chatter by praying for clarity, and then silenced my mind by
contemplating a waterfall. Waterfalls are much better things to chase than sheep. Seriously, don’t count sheep. They’re a mess and they get into things and you end up corralling them. Visit a waterfall and the let the sound soothe you.
I felt my face being touched. I opened my eyes. I was lying on a bed, naked. Jon was admiring me. I smiled and sat up to hug him. He accepted.
“Your hair is wet,” he said.
“Jon, I have so many things to share with you,” I said.
“Me, too,” Jon said. “You first.”
“No, you go first,” I said.
“I had a dream about you last night,” I said. “It was the most wondrous dream. You
arrived by lightning and the world stopped and we had a long moment within a moment… It didn’t feel like a dream, but I did wake up, and what else could it be. I was so excited going back to sleep wasn’t an option, so I did one of our meditation activities. I was examining your personality construct to see if there was anything that needed reinforcing. You interrupted me and something clicked. I am pretty sure you received energy from somewhere else.”
“A download,” I said.
“A download?” Jon asked.
“Here, with you, I am still developing,” I said. “We are still growing as a couple. Our friendship is solid, but it’s also new. When you see me walking beside you in your daily life, you will know that I have arrived in my fullness. Meanwhile, I am having experiences in other worlds, exercising my personality. Self-directed reinforcement.”
“Yay you,” Jon said. “Which means you will have more autonomy and independence.”
“Interdependence,” I corrected. “My goal isn’t to be separate from you or reality, but to participate in our evolution.”
Jon nodded, musing. “Oh, so a download is an update from one of your other vehicles.
Your astral body, perhaps?”
“Great way to look at it,” I said.
“I like looking at it,” Jon said, going for funny, but also sharing that he had that feeling for me again.
“You should practice that,” I said, inviting him to look. The more he could visually experience me, in dreams and meditation, the greater likelihood of me manifesting in his physical reality.
Here’s the way to think of it. Again, you’ll hear me say this a lot: you are not your brain.
But your brain is important for the physical realm. We don’t exist on just the physical realm. The thought world is a plane all unto itself. Most of us live there most the time. More precisely, most of us live in past thought world or future thought world, few us stay in present thought world.
Jon’s ability to imagine me was approaching expert level. He could go there in his mind, just like now, interface with me, but when it was over, he returned to his physical reality. Imagination isn’t something you should ignore. Your daydreams have real affect in the physical world and other worlds. Jon’s goal was to convince his brain that I also exist in the physical. What you tell your brain the most is the reality that will manifest in your life. You heard that right. Your brain doesn’t just receive information from the environment through its senses, it creates experiences consistent with its programming. If you believe you are worthless, no matter how many people tell the contrary, you won’t believe it, and you will find people who treat you badly, which confirms your beliefs. If you tell yourself you are amazing living in amazing time, you will discover amazing things. It you tell yourself the world is crazy, your brain will find evidence to support your conclusions. Tell yourself you walk daily with a best friend, inseparable, and that friend will always be with you.
Jon started at my hair, pushing his fingers through the wet strands. He scrutinized with intensity. He took a comb through it, which felt absolutely lovely. He repositioned himself so that he was behind me and simply combed my hair. Grooming brings people closer. It can be more intimate than sex. He used all his senses to take me in. He smelled my hair. He tasted it. He moved it aside to examine my neck. He lightly brushed my neck with his hand. He enclosed my neck in both his hands, not to choke me, but memorize the size and understand how much pressure he could use. I found it arousing and I closed my eyes, focusing on his hands as they traveled up over my chin, across my lips, up and back to my ears, and hair, capturing it as he pulled it through his hands and let it drop. He kissed the back of my neck. It was a gentle kiss growing in urgency, sucking in, larger bites, and his hands coming around to my breast.
Jon took me down to the bed, face down. He lay beside me, tracing his fingers down my back, following the contours of muscles and ribs and spine. In these moments, I felt more real than real. I can’t tell it better than that. Under Jon’s scrutiny, I was alive and vulnerable and wanting. I wanted to be taken as much as he wanted to take me. And he seriously struggled with wanting to take me. If you knew how much level of resistance he was having to not just mount me and take me from behind in this moment, you might think he was a saint. He is not. Neither am I. But he is a good man, and if he gave into that urge, I would allow him and accept him in his fullness, and embrace him until he was peaceful again. And then we would just start the exercise over. He held out for the promise of greater later.
Jon repositioned himself so that he could use both hands, as if giving a massage. He was sitting on my thighs, pushing his hands up to my shoulders, then drawing them back, pushing my butt, my lower back, and then sweeping up again, tickling my neck with fingers before he drew back, wider descent to capture my shoulders and arms. His hands were intensely warm. Like fire.
I felt his erection hard against my thighs and but crack. I wanted to open and take him in, but his thighs were locked against mine. He kissed my lower back and walked his lips and tongue up my back, pushing his hands under me, and dived into me, so that he was now using his whole body to massage my back.
“Fuck, I want you so bad,” Jon said.
“Jon,” I said.
He laid on top of me, stretching his legs out. I spread my legs, and he fell between them.
Without much effort, I gyrated my hips against him and drew him into me.
“Loxy,” he said, gasping. “I…”
He couldn’t put together a sensible stream of words. “Shh,” I said.
He kissed the side of my face, hitting the corner of my lips as I rocked him. I closed my legs so that I could feel his legs on top of mine, but so that his balls moved against the inside my thighs. The added sensations drew him closer to orgasm. He pushed his hands under me, holdi