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EHE News
Volume 7, Number 2
September 2000
WMiy Gateway Yoyazge:
An Experiential Account
[Project of Transcendence 1]
©2000 by Joseph M. Felser
From August 26" through September 1," 2000. I
participated in the six-day intensive Gateway Voyage
residential program run by The Monroe Institute (TMI),
the non-profit consciousness research center located in
the breathtakingly beautiful surroundings of rural Nelson
County, Virginia. To call it an extraordinary experience
is a vast, but perhaps necessary, understatement. This is
a clear case in which words do pale when it comes to
capturing the essence of the experience.
My nominal reason for doing the Gateway at this
time was the receipt of a modest research grant from the
university in support of my current project, an
exploration of whether and how nonrational states of
consciousness can initiate and guide rational
philosophical inquiry. Many great philosophers,
including, for example, Socrates and Descartes, claimed
that certain exceptional experiences had influenced or
inspired their thinking. By and large, however,
mainstream modern (and even postmodern) philosophy
has paid scant attention, let alone respect, to such
holistic claims. Since TMI maintains that its patented
Hemi-Sync sound technology harmonizes the functions
of the left and right cerebral hemispheres of the brain (or
the intuitive and rational aspects of mind), the program
seemed an ideal testing ground for my hypothesis that
philosophy is a whole-self activity. As Nietzsche
declared, we must be our own guinea pigs.
In truth, however, I had wanted to do the Gateway
ever since learning about the existence of TMI, when I
read Robert Monroe's second book, Far Journeys
(Doubleday, 1985), back in the early 1990s. I confess
that I have had spontaneous psychic and mystical-type
experiences ever since I can remember, but I have
always wanted to be able to go into these areas
consciously and intentionally. When I read what Monroe
was doing at TMI, it struck me that this was the method
for me. I appreciated his ideological independence, his
iconoclasm, and his insistence, as he would later write in
Ultimate Journey (Doubleday, 1994), that no dogma or
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prejudice should stand in the way of a full-fledged
inquiry into the nature of reality. Although much of Far
Journeys was incomprehensible to me except as
allegory, it nevertheless struck a deeper chord. I was left
with the strong impression that Bob Monroe was one of
the great visionaries of the twentieth century.
Yet, I hesitated. Indeed, it took me more than eight
years to get to TMI. (In the interim, Bob Monroe made
his own final passage out of the physical.) Perhaps it was
fear (of myself, the unknown) that held me back. But
when I arrived at the Nancy Penn Monroe Center and
began chatting with my fellow voyagers (there were 25
of us plus three trainers), I soon discovered, to my
surprise, that this was not an unusual delay. Some had
planned on doing the Gateway for five, ten, and even, in
one case, twenty years! The view of the trainers was that
this is absolutely as it should be. Things unfold as they
do for a reason. We had assembled collectively at this
particular time for reasons unknown, though perhaps not
ultimately unknowable, to us. And whatever experience
we would get would be the one that we need. Rigid
expectations (such as, “I must have an out-of-body
Contents
My Gateway Voyage: An Experiential Account
[Project of Transcendence J].......Joseph M. Felser_ = 17
The Exceptional Human Experience Anomaly as Catalyst
to Expanded Self-Awareness: An Account of a
Workshop
[includes EHE Account 42]..........Judith G. Pillsbury 26
Introduction to Margaret A. Harrell and Her
Epiphany.. Rhea A, White 29
Sinatra, St. Paul, and Beyond: An Epiphany
[EHE Account 43]... .... Margaret A. Harrell 30
New Horizons Unfolding
EHE Network News .....
.... Margaret A. Harrell 32
...Rhea A. White 34
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experience!”) would only get in the way. These
reassurances had their intended effect of relaxing my
own expectations—at least somewhat. What would be,
would be, | told myself, trying to short-circuit my usual
self-consciousness.
Here I should interject that | am not normally what I
would call a “group” person. I prefer a quiet stroll along
a deserted beach to a boisterous cocktail party. However,
by the end of the program, I was sharing in an esprit de
corps that had the power of rocket fuel. I know my
fellow voyagers felt the same.
With the notable exceptions of race (almost all
Caucasian) and gender, we were a fairly diverse group.
Only 8 of the 25 were women, however, which the
trainers said was unusual. (In most cases, the ratio is
closer to fifty-fifty, with a slight preponderance of
males.) Age-wise, we ranged from 70-something to 20-
something, though by and large we were boomerish 40-
somethings. Many occupations were represented,
including doctors, lawyers, corporate executives,
computer engineers, paralegals, telephone operators, and
happy retirees. Participants came from as far away as
Sweden and as close as Richmond, with a good
sprinkling from California and a smattering from the
Midwest. While some of the voyagers (like myself) were
either familiar with the Monroe methods from home use
of the Hemi-Sync tapes or had some other form of
meditational or spiritual practice (martial arts, Zen,
Siddha yoga), a good number were neophytes and had
not even read any of Monroe's books. Many admitted to
having had a variety of psychic and other exceptional
experiences, even as children.
SATURDAY AFTERNOON
The first afternoon was taken up with arrivals, check-
ins, and a brief tour of the Center. With its knotty pine
paneling and informal atmosphere, the Center reminded
me of a cabin in the Maine woods. After my brief intake
interview with Lee, the Assistant Trainer (who described
TMI as “the only true western mystery school”), I
checked out my CHEC (Controlled Holistic
Environment Chamber) unit, which has been accurately
described as a Pullman berth or the closest thing to a
sensory deprivation tank. This is where we would be
listening to the Hemi-Sync tapes (on headphones or
through speakers) and sleeping each night. My
roommate's bags were already stashed in his corner of
the cozy, den-like room. | wondered who he was.
(Coincidentally, it turned out that Ken, an affable fiftyish
semi-retired computer technician from California, was
born and raised in the same eastern Pennsylvania coal
town where I was born, and also that he had lived for a
time in New Jersey, not far from my present residence.) I
stashed my own stuff in the empty closet and went
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downstairs to the social area, where I nibbled on the
snacks and sandwiches that had been set out for us new
arrivals. Voyagers were trickling in and getting
acquainted. It had the anticipatory feel of being in an
airport lounge prior to departure. By five o'clock, when
we had all assembled in the dining room for our first
dinner together, I was eager to begin the voyage.
After a hearty repast, we convened in David Francis
Hall for the organized opening of the program. Instead
of introducing ourselves, our trainers asked us to pair up
with a fellow voyager and get to know him or her a bit,
Then we would introduce our new friend to the group by
telling something about them that was not obvious, but
nevertheless revelatory about some important aspect of
their nature or character, I paired with Hanh, a
Vietnamese-born computer engineer with whom I had
enjoyably chatted earlier that afternoon. This provided
me with my first inkling that the week would be full of
surprises.
Hanh and | talked again of why we had come to
Gateway. Both of us wanted clarity about our respective
lives and a deeper, richer connection to Source. Hanh
mentioned that he had recently become a student of Zen
Buddhism. Then he stunned me by telling me about an
epiphany he had while filling out the Gateway
application.
“The question asked why I want to come to
Gateway,” Hanh remembered, his eyes lighting up. “All
of a sudden, I realized why. I want to be the Sun that
brings energy to Life. I want to be the rain that makes
plants grow and brings freshness to the Earth.”
My own heart danced as I listened to Hanh's words.
Later, when I stood up to introduce him, I described
Hanh as a poet and a mystic. As I read my account of
Hanh's epiphany to the group, I found myself choking
with emotion, barely able to finish. Part of me, at least,
knew why: I also wanted to come alive, and give life to
others. Something inside had grown cold and dark. I was
haunted by a secret grief.
After the introductions, the trainers ceremoniously
collected our wristwatches in a strongbox that resembled
a treasure chest. From now on, bells would be rung to
indicate times for assembling in the white-carpeted room
where we would be debriefing tapes or other activities,
such as meals or morning exercise. We were to enter into
the right-brain zone of No Time as far as possible.
Linear, left-brain anxieties were to be minimized as
much as possible.
It worked. Although I kept track of the days in my
journal, the week was punctuated by the natural, if
sometimes dramatic, ebb and flow of inner experience,
rather than the artificial external markers of hours,
minutes, and seconds. For this reason, the rest of my
account will be in the form of an impressionistic sketch
of key inner experiences and realizations as opposed to a
rigorously complete and chronologically accurate record
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of events. The latter would not be possible in any case,
and the mere attempt would be untrue to the spirit of the
entire voyage. Here, then, is my recollection, based on
my journal notes made immediately following each
experience:
SATURDAY EVENING
This is our first tape exercise. We are practicing what
Monroe called “resonant tuning,” a yogic-like breathing
and vocalizing technique designed to facilitate the level
of consciousness Monroe referred to as “Focus 10” (the
state of body asleep, mind awake and alert). Sensations
of pressure in my big toes are accompanied by a
tingling, pulsating sensation that spreads out on the
bottoms of my feet and on my hands. I now have the
clear and unmistakable impression that 1 have two
distinct sets of hands and feet, and that they are not quite
in “sync” with each other. It is as if the second set of
appendages (the nonphysical energy body?) is not in the
same position as my physical hands and feet. | also feel a
tight band of pressure around my head, as if | am
wearing a cap that is at least one size too tight. This
sensation persists even after Bob's voice on the tape
brings me gently back to C1 (the state of normal waking
consciousness).
SUNDAY MORNING
During the night I dream that I catch a big fish. Since
my astrological sign is Pisces, I interpret this as a
reference to the larger self for which I search. After
breakfast, we practice entering the state of Focus 10. I
think I hear the blood rushing in my own head. I am
deeply relaxed, but not asleep. Suddenly, in my mind's
eye, I see an image. It's Bob Monroe, in full angelic
regalia, white robe, wings and all! | sense amusement on
his part, as if he's chortling, “Well, I'm no angel, but if
you need to see me this way, that's fine by me.” Am I
imagining this, | wonder —is “Bob” just my symbolic
shorthand for guidance, or the archetype of the Wise,
Old Man—or am | really in contact with him? I ask
Bob's image, “Is there anything you can say to me,
anything evidential, that would enable me to verify
whether I'm making this up or not?” “It's too soon; it
would be distracting,” he replies. “Trust the process,” he
reassures me, “you're doing fine.” Then, suddenly, he's
gone.
After the exercise, I am reminded of a vivid dream I
had of Bob Monroe months ago, in February, well
before I was certain that | would be attending the
Gateway. I dreamt that | was walking by a lecture hall