Markdown lines 845–1092 · Part 4 of 4
who is studying with native shamans from North and
South America. But now he declares with great
enthusiasm that he left his body during the exercise and
visited the same spirit Grandfathers that he has
encountered in his shamanic journeying. “The
Grandfathers wanted me to reassure the group that
everyone is getting it,” Robert emphasizes in his
trademark growl. “We're all There.”
But where exactly is There? I wonder.
At lunch, I corral Lee, the assistant trainer who did
my intake interview. “Lee, I believe Robert when he
says that his Grandfathers want us to know that we're all
getting it,” I say with intensity. “But if we were indeed
all 'there,' then why is my experience of 21 so different
from his? Why don't I see the Grandfathers?” Lee
responds with equal intensity that while my head is
seeking objective proof, my heart is looking for
something else. “You have to know that you can
experience your emotions and survive,” he tells me
pointedly. “I suspect that when you were a child, you
experienced real magic,” he adds knowingly. Those
evidently were the two dots. The question would be:
Could I connect them?
Later that afternoon, in another Free Flow exercise in
Focus 21, I feel as if a bolt of energy has been fired into
the back of my neck. I hear a “cracking” sound. I'm not
sure, but I think my physical neck may have moved in
response. Or was it my energy body? I can't be certain.
Afterwards, I am puzzled about the experience. What
does it mean? A number of voyagers report that they are
being “worked on” at “energetic levels” by their
“nonphysical friends.” Like a car being brought in for a
tune-up, I suppose. Hanh overhears me ask Shaaron, the
Yoga instructor, a question about the esoteric
significance of the back of the neck. He tells me that the
back of the neck May represent a supporting aspect of
the throat chakra, which has to do with such things as
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communication and career. “If you have the will to make
changes,” Hanh advises, “you can.” I hope he is right.
Maybe with a little help from my friends!
THURSDAY MORNING
This is really the last day of the program; Friday
morning is departure time. I wake up feeling a bit out of
sorts. I'm not sure why, though it could be the aftereffect
of a strange dream in which | glimpse a dead or dying
German Shepherd dog. I'm also feeling sore and tense in
the back of my neck. I wonder if this has anything to do
with yesterday's “treatment.”
The first tape is a Focus /0 Free Flow. Once again I
have the sense that I have two distinct sets of arms, and
that I can move one set around inside the other. Nothing
much happens during the tape, but when I come out of it
I feel restored, peaceful. I get what | needed. Then, all
heaven breaks loose: the Super Flow.
During our pre-tape briefing, the trainers announce
that the next exercise is a culmination of sorts, putting
together all that we have learned in the various exercises
up to now. The tape is called Super Flow, and it will take
us through all the various focus states we have
experienced. We are all anxious to “graduate.” So
everyone heads off to the bathrooms for a quick pit stop
and hurries back to their individual CHEC units.
As soon as I have drawn the curtain of my CHEC unit
and turned off the lights, I click on my ready light and
put on my headphones with a heady feeling of
expectancy. Instead of the usual musical intro
(meditational or New Age type music), however, | am
greeted with the bouncy strains of an overly familiar
dance tune from weddings and Bar Mitzvahs past: the
Macarena! What a riot! My sides begin to ache from
laughing so hard. But as the silly dance music fades and
Bob's soothing voice comes over the headphones, |
surprise myself by quickly going into a deep state of
relaxation. What follows is hard to put into words.
It feels as if I am riding on top of a great wave of
energy, like a huge thrilling surge of water. I have a
persistent sense of just about being able to lift out of my
body. I sense starburst-like pulsations of energy around
my hands and feet. Again I have two sets of arms, one
inside the other. And the images zip by fast and furious,
one after the other, almost too quickly for me to absorb.
I have to remember all this, I tell myself.
I behold the image of feet, and I know instantly that it
means gaining a foothold in this new territory. I see a
silver chalice and feel as though someone is putting it to
my lips so that 1 might drink from the cup. Then I have
the impression that ] am being fed the bunch of grapes I
see hanging before me. Next I glimpse an artist's case
filled with paints. Then the action shifts, and instead of a
solitary image I see an entire scene. A dark-haired
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woman of middle age sits on a park bench, with her head
in her hands, in obvious emotional distress. Two other
individuals in human form appear to be standing beside
her, looking on in sympathy, while to her left hovers a
kind of shadowy “presence” that looks like a cloud or a
distortion in the air. One of the humans (a male, |
believe) tells the other, “Bob has explained it all to her.”
I know that the “it” is death, and that the “Bob” is Bob
Monroe, who is the amorphous “cloud” hovering to the
side. Then fade-out again, as I am welcomed into a cabin
in the woods by a man and woman. I can't see inside the
cabin—it's too dark—but as I walk towards the open
door, a German Shepherd dog (the same type of dog I
had glimpsed in my dream of the previous night) runs
out.
There are other images, but I cannot retain all of them
consciously. Many slip easily through the net of my left-
brain awareness like tiny darting fish. More important is
the pure unadulterated joy, the ecstatic pleasure, the
sheer fun, of riding these enormously powerful surges of
energy, as I can only imagine a surfer rides the ocean
waves. I just can't do justice in describing the
tremendous sense of gratitude I feel for this experience.
At one point, I once again hear the echoing “Olympian
laughter” of many voices that I had experienced in a
previous exercise several days before. Now I feel as
though this “inhuman” laughter is expressing my own
innermost being. It is coming from “out there,” but also
from “in here.” The gods and I are one. Somehow the
two perspectives have come closer together.
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
The Super Flow tape is so lengthy that there is no
scheduled debriefing afterwards. We are to head right to
the dining room for lunch. I stop at my desk to scribble
some notes down in my journal. I manage to chuckle at
my roommate Ken, whose wide eyes and even wider
grin suggest that he is equally blown away by his own
experience. I am absolutely euphoric. I have never
experienced anything like this before. The image that
keeps popping into my mind is the scene from one of my
favorite movies, A Christmas Carol with Alistair Sim as
Scrooge. When Scrooge returns from his out-of-body
adventure with the spirits with a renewed love of life, he
can't stop singing and dancing. That's how I feel, as if
I'm walking on air, or like the cat who has just
swallowed the canary. | have this huge grin plastered
across my face. Somehow, | make it down to the dining
room and find my way to the salad bar. I have not yet
been able to actually look anyone straight in the eye.
Standing in front of me in line is Patricia, a tall, blond,
sixty-something seeker from New Orleans who is
attending the Gateway Voyage with her husband Sam.
Patricia had had some deep experiences that she openly
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shared with the group during our debriefings. Several
times, in listening to her heartfelt accounts, I felt myself
experiencing twinges of wistfulness and even, I confess,
envy. Patricia's experiences (and her poetic way of
expressing them) seemed so much more profound than
mine, and I yearned to get into those same spaces.
Although we were cautioned by the trainers not to
compare our experience with anyone else's, I found
myself unable to refrain from this with Patricia for some
reason. Her accounts never failed to move me.
Now I can sense that Patricia is glowing every bit as
brightly as I am. Very slowly and tentatively she turns
her head in my direction and our twinkling eyes meet.
Unable to contain ourselves, we simultaneously explode
into roaring, guffawing, side-splitting laughter. 1 have
never laughed so largely in my life. Maybe the whole
dining room turns around to look, I don't know. | am too
absorbed by the look in Patricia's eyes to care or notice.
We know. We see it in each other's faces. We had both
been There. Robert's Grandfathers were right after all.
Nothing more needed to be, or could be, said. I had my
confirmation at last. 1 gently place my hand on Patricia's
shoulder, and, with grins larger than the Cheshire Cat's,
we just shake our heads in a silent knowing
acknowledgement of the amazingly joyful, playful,
expansive thing that we had just enjoyed. What a gift!
THURSDAY EVENING
Later that night, we meet as a group in the debriefing
room for the last time. Each of us expresses what the
Gateway has meant to them. “I feel young again,” I
declare, my voice filling with emotion. Maggie, sitting
beside me, gently pats me on the back. There is trust,
openness, humor, and joy. I feel connected to parts of
myself that had gone dark, like abandoned, unused
rooms in a once tony mansion. I feel connected to all the
7B]
seekers in this room. And I know that the connectedness
that I have experienced all of my life to the universe as a
whole is no illusion. Having gone deep inside myself, I
have also met up with something beyond that self.
Reality truly is vaster, and more mysterious, than we can
ever know or even imagine. There's a lot to explore. I am
ready.
POSTSCRIPT: A-MUSING
From my reading of Joseph Campbell, the renowned
mythologist, I know that the hero's return from the dark
forest of adventure is the trickiest part. Gold can easily
turn into ashes. You may get laughed at, or even killed,
for saying the “wrong” things. To be sure, I'm no hero.
But as I prepare to leave TMI for home, I am aware that
it will be a challenge to maintain the connections I have
experienced here so vividly and intensely. I still have
many questions, perhaps more than ever, My worldview
has not been turned upside down as a result of my
experience here, for the simple reason that I was not a
materialist to begin with. Yet quite clearly something
has changed. When | told the group that I felt young
again, I think I may have come closest to expressing my
meaning. To be young is to play, to laugh, to sense that
all is possible, and to be open to wonder. Plato said that
wonder is the basis of all true philosophy. Maybe he was
right. What Gateway provided was a fresh infusion of
wonder, a B-12 shot for a fatigued philosopher.
Now I wonder: Can I take the next step? What is the next
step beyond the Gateway?
Kingsborough Community College/CUNY
2001 Oriental Boulevard
Brooklyn, NY 11235
Email: Jfelser@kbee.cuny.edu