Notes From the Universe

Let’s talk some basics here.

Life can be broken down into two elemental states — the time you’re awake, and the time you’re asleep.

If sleep time only comprised an hour or two of our daily Earth cycle, I could understand why it would seem rather insignificant in relation to the waking phase.

But it’s not an hour or two. On average, sleep consumes one third of our existence. That’s nothin’ to sneeze at. If that balance shifted only 4 hours, we would be talking about a condition consuming half our lives.

For all the crazy new advancements we’ve seen in this generation alone, it stuns me to consider how fundamentally ignorant we still remain about our “unconscious” periods, despite them being an undeniable part of living, which not a single one of us can ignore without breaking down physically or mentally.

What stuns me even more is the lack of interest we have in our “awareness” during this rest phase. Though that may seem like a contradictory word to use when describing sleep, it’s quite fitting to describe dreaming. And there’s not a human to be found who’s unfamiliar with the strange experience of rising from nocturnal slumber with memories of activity and adventure, joys and terror.

Doesn’t it seem slightly odd to acquire conscious memories while being unconscious?

No matter how bizarre our nighttime sojourns may sometimes be, they’re absolutely real. We can remember them, we can talk about them, we can be thrilled by them, we can be scared by them, we can even orgasm to them. How is it that mainstream science has convinced us dreaming is an irrelevant fiction of an overworked brain?

Yup, makes no fucking sense.

So let’s look at dreaming from a slightly different viewpoint, one that doesn’t involve the inputs of Jungs, Freuds, or Kruegers (that Freddy guy).

What if you knew that when you put your body to rest — to convert fuels into energy, or detoxify the shit you’ve inundated it with over the course of your waking day — there was no break in consciousness, only a break down of ability to properly store the memories?

What if you knew that when you put your body to rest, consciousness didn’t fade into a void, but shifted to a less dense arena of reality, one not bound by the physical limitations you hold so dear — one more fluid, intentionally malleable, and informative on a level surpassing the use of pre-defined words, terms, or concepts?

What if a language beyond verbal communication was always at your disposal, but only a matter of learning to “speak” it properly?

What if you knew grand mal seizures, schizophrenia, autism, hallucinations, psychedelic experiences, or whatever host of other psychological conditions that experts label as “deranged,” were merely slight mistunings from the Earth frequency, to a different signal of information?

Sure, a lot of “what if’s,” but did you choose to shut down consideration after your beliefs cried out, “Bullshit, Mike! None of that’s real!” or did your mind stay open to contemplate the wondrous implications — to ponder the kind of ideas that won’t get printed in peer-reviewed journals published by an old-boys’ club, who care only about income and reputation?

There’s no way I’ll profess to you I know a repeatable, scientific method to verify consciousness remains unbroken 24/7, but I can tell you that on at least one occasion, I’ve directly experienced this to be true.

REM cycles had nothing to do with it. Drugs had nothing to do with it. Delusion had nothing to do with it. As I lay my body to rest for the evening, I induced an OBE, and stayed in a lucid “dream” the entirety of the night. If you don’t know what those terms are, do yourself a favour and look ’em up. There were moments where the quality of my lucidity wavered, but I kept managing to pull back to full conscious awareness, while my body laid “passed out.”

Cool shit.

Not only did I spend essentially a full day aware, I still “woke” refreshed, recharged, and more excited than ever to do it again.

Spending time lucid dreaming has taught me an important truth about so-called reality — it’s whatever we make it to be. Our hopes, our fears, and our obsessions dominate our surroundings, whether awake or asleep.

If you want to know the real secret of The Secret, I’ll share it with you right now. Every idea, every decision, every action you’ve made while walking the physical plane has put you in the exact place you find yourself this very second. You have indeed manifested all your thoughts, dreams, and fears, just not in the manner a well-marketed, “immediate gratification” piece of drivel would have you believe.

Earth is not an instant manifestation playground. It’s more like being in a house of mirrors — one with a heavy lag in reflection time, but nonetheless sending back to us all the energetic output we’ve ever provided, no matter how large, small, intentional, or mistaken.

This piece has really just been a contrived backdrop to share a story with you that happened to me today. Yeah, I’m longwinded and full of shit, quel surprise…

Ready?

With the weather finally warming, I decided to do a 5 K run this morning — my first one of the year. I felt sluggish to start, but before long, I found my stride, and felt like I hadn’t missed a day in 6 months.

The route I chose was completely random, picking a left or right whenever the decision felt appropriate — no fixed circuit in mind. Halfway through the run, I found myself in a small, soggy parkette, and decided to sit briefly on a picnic table in the middle of the grass, to appreciate a few extended moments of sunrise.

My mind was still absorbed in the last dream I had before waking — analyzing the symbolism, and feeling frustrated not having a straightforward answer to the questions I sought, thinking the Earth reality was a screwy mess of confusion.

I got up to continue, and took about ten strides into the next run, when I spotted a note lying on the grass. It looked like a piece of paper from a fortune cookie. This is what is said:

The weaving irregularities and shade variations are characteristics of the fabric, and in no way to be taken as defects.

Wow — the ultimate poetic description of life on Earth! And one that moved my mind from a state of agitated judgment, to calm acceptance.

Perhaps that rectangular square was nothing more than an old tag attached to organic lama wool, or some shit like that, I dunno. But on the back of the paper, it had more writing — a single word, in silver, scripted font:

Creation

I share this not because I have any desire to convince the world our conscious awareness and sustained thoughts are far more powerful than anything we’ve been led to believe, but for a far simpler reason…

I fucking love messages from the Universe.