Into the Mist

In December 1993, by many standards my life was wonderful. I was in a loving relationship. I had a secure high-tech job of almost limitless advancement potential, with one of the largest international corporations in the world. My wife, of only a few years, and I had just built the house of our dreams, in pricey though desirable countryside surroundings—where we expected to retire in due time, enjoying the fulfillment of our dreams as best we understood them at that time.

Also in December 1993, my life was failing by some standards that I could not escape. All indications of my health were that I could not long survive the ‘costs’ of our achievements. I spent most hours of my day entering into/within/or recovering from a migraine. My blood pressure was sky high (very bad for someone with an aortic valve insufficiency). Virtually every aspect of my health seemed to offer a negative response to my attempts to push myself to achieve more, quicker, or to seek instant comfort from the effects of going ever faster, farther.

To make matters worse, I was in dire confusion about the growing conflict between how I believed I should assess my ‘achievements’ and what I actually felt inside. The more I achieved along that previously defined path of success, the emptier I felt—and the worse my health became. Fortunately, my relationship with my wife was strong. It was, however, being tested by my ravings about pursuing some unorthodox path to shake off the growing sense of meaninglessness. Kathy wanted to help, but had no better tools than I to understand what we would be trying to achieve if we did veer from the only path that we knew.

Soon, I announced to my wife, “I want to move to the mountains!” –a place that I had only visited very few times in my life, and found myself completely incompatible  with due to my severe intolerance of heights (and curvy roads!). Kathy had much more history with the mountains, and loved them dearly, but was most comfortable with them as a cherished vacation destination . . . perhaps even a second-home site.

“How do you know you can live there?” she demanded, truly concerned about my reasoning and logic.

“Some things you just know,” was my spontaneous response—surprising Kathy as well as myself. I did not have any real understanding of the need to move to the mountains, but I did know.

I abruptly quit my job—certain that I could not muster the energy to survive if I went back into the office even one more time. I returned to my writing, long neglected, as an avenue to realize what it was that my spirit could not otherwise convey to my consciousness. I picked up a translation of the Tao Te Ching.

Though it had become lost in the background of my everyday ‘achievements,’ I always had the good fortune of a strong connection to the spirit self. Writing, countryside and nature were forever the best gateway for me to come to my center. The Taoist philosophy of the Tao Te Ching was a perfect reminder. The land surrounding the dream home that I had come to disdain was now a willing aid in my journey back to myself.

Without my drive for an urgent solution, it took my wife another year to let go of the path that she had been well trained to believe in all her life. It was fortunate that a connection of the spirit—a joint interest in the metaphysical—had been one of the strongest common interests between us in the beginning, even at the subdued state of our spiritual focuses at that time. We followed our intuition, even without understanding it. Releasing that familiar life was a painful time in our relationship, but it proved we had a deeper bond that we had not fully realized.

In order to stay within our budget, we purchased a boarded up place in much need of repair, attic full of snakes, in the country. Writing again took a back seat to such things as patching the roof, chopping wood, getting running water into the house. One of many new blessings provided to us was to walk to the ridge of the mountain range near our home—though it is a hard three hour climb. When we arrived in the area, my knees were so bad that I could barely walk stairs. Before long, the mountain had called me to the top.

Once on the top, I visited the mountain frequently, meditated many hours, listened to nature around me, and tried to attune my hearing to my higher self. Kathy and I redefined our priorities, and developed new circles of friends with focuses more compatible with our new understanding. Employment still got in the way of writing, but work chosen was more likely to tax the body than the mind and spirit.

For many years the writing waited while I came back to my center and my health. I was fortunate that the muses were not offended by my long absence. When I was in a position to understand, they renewed our conversation. One of the first things they graced me with was the knowledge that I had come to just the right place at just the right time.

Whether it is the love of your life, the life changing move to a new career/new location or a major shift in your definition of yourself, the greatest knowledge that you will ever exercise is often unjustified by your cultural experiences, your family heritage, your education or even your own logic.  These are the “things that you just know,” from deep within yourself. It is a part of yourself that may seem mostly unfamiliar, but is always there…waiting until you can listen.

CG Walters has written for over twenty years, primarily as a spiritual journey. His works are primarily mystical novels focusing on the multidimensionality of our relationships or love. The first work he has chosen to publish, Sacred Vow,  is a journey toward our one true love . . . and its infinite expressions . . . bringing together two individuals from disparate realities—but of one spirit—to heal the rift in the Collective Consciousness . . . a breach that threatens us all.

     Request a free PDF of the first three chapters by contacting kathmandau at cgwalters.com or read online at http://sacredvow.dragonsbeard.com

This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as it is reprinted in its entirety, along with the by-line.

It seems that a lot of angst would be spared if the spiritual path—and life, in general—had an undeniable standard pattern that could guarantee we were ‘on track’. There would be an invariable voice of the intuitive, heard by everyone—that you could compare with what your friends heard, just to make sure you were tuned into the right channel. Maps could be acquired in advance of any planned spiritual progression, to do away with all the years of meandering through endless forays.

 So much effort is required to first determine if the mounting need within should be responded to as a worthy motivation or merely (as we are often told) a chance to mature—in the real world a word frequently implying a directive to ‘neglect,’ ‘deny,’ or ‘rationalize’. Once certain we have a true calling to this path, we must next determine from just where the voice of one’s guiding intuitive will emanate. What language will we use to communicate with it—service, art, and dance, even words? What environment will most likely evoke its presence? 

For me, one of my most powerful connections to the Absolute—the Tao, or whatever you may call the unified intelligence—has turned out to be through just the right story: something that takes the form of an extended mantra, imbued with a rhythm and symbolism resonating so personally that it seems surely to be a direct manifestation of my intuitive self. Such a ‘chant’ lures me beyond my imagined limitations, to allow me to unreservedly embrace an otherwise untouchable identity.

That being the case, I guess I should not have been surprised when over time, I became aware that whenever my higher self, spirit guides, or other such familiars have been unable to otherwise get a piece of learning across to me, one of their choice tools is to bring it to me in the form of a story—even if I am the writer of that story. No matter what I have in mind, or am working on, I find my writing activities are suddenly hijacked along a previously unanticipated path. If I am in the midst of a neglectful sabbatical from writing, my mind becomes so inflicted with an unfolding tale that I must write it down to free myself from its clamor. 

These playful friends of mine (my muses) are quite talented. For, as soon as they force me back to the keyboard, or by the moment that I realize that we have taken a “wrong” turn (if I was currently in a writing cycle), my conscious mind has already been seduced into gladly following their whimsy. 

As a rule, once their intended lesson is conveyed via the resulting story, I am amazed that I was not already consciously aware of the information they have presented. Quite often I am such a complete convert that I cannot imagine how I could have been unaware of this particular information previously. Sometimes I suspect that I merely want to have as much as my instruction as possible delivered in this, my most favorite way.   I can’t offer any reasonable excuse for why I have periodically withdrawn from writing when I know that is the fount of so much valuable instruction for me. The most likely justification that I can offer is what flows before me is sometimes more than I was prepared to stand up before: sometimes “the truth may be recognized before the peace to live it is realized.” 

The last time I had the good fortune of a being redirected along a path of instruction, I was making my way to rework a long-neglected bit of writing: doing preparatory exercises of short stories. Without warning, one of the stories—that soon became my novel, Sacred Vow—lay hold to my attention, far exceeding my intentions. I pursued, curious about what passed before me. After hour upon hour of following this new lure, I came out of my little 3×5 writing closet in a deep meditative state. Clearly, this story would be no mere preparation for another.

Shortly afterwards, my job was downsized.

I now had no excuse not to follow with abandon. My writing closet—so small that I must turn the chair away from the desk to be able to stand and open the door to leave—may be an appropriate environment for inducing a meditative state—sitting in the dark for long hours, staring at a single light before me (the computer monitor). But I think there was something more going on. For ten to twelve hours a day, over the next several of weeks, I followed where the experience led. I was enjoying the story unfolding before me, but I was ecstatic from the sensation of extended periods of being connected to my higher self. My wife said that I possessed a radiance when I walked into the house during breaks in the writing. True, I typed in the text, but I did not initially imagine their meanings.  

Weeks later, hiking with a friend, I told him of some of the views of reality unfolding in this new book. After listening attentively, he said: “Do you really believe this is the way it works?”  

We continued deeper into the woods, as I gave his question thought. I was a little amused at the answer I finally had to admit. I said, “Until I saw this information in the story, I can’t say that I had any such ideas. But now, yes, I think this is a truth.”   

“You know how tarot cards unveils truth depending on the way the cards fall?” he asked. “Perhaps just such an auspicious falling of words on your screen is unfolding the same way.”  

For just such moments of clear connection with my higher self as the writing of Sacred Vow, I gladly pay the cost of the once seemingly endless attempts to connect with my unique path and intuitive voice.

 Copyright 2007 CG Walters  

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the mystical, metaphysical, and mythical insight that we all possess.  He see fiction not as something less than truth, but something akin to a mantra…a means to induce the reader into comfortably ‘allowing’ their personal truth—a living, ever progressing truth, fit to their need at any given time. His current novel, Sacred Vow is first and foremost a metaphysical love story, a tale of soul mates—twin  flames—a journey toward our one true love…in its infinite expressions…bringing together two individuals from disparate realities—but one spirit—to heal the rift in the Collective Consciousness.    

Request a full length FREE PDF of Sacred Vow by going to www.cgwalters.com/spirit_story.htm   and clicking on the link in the page to send an email request. Purchase a signed paperback copy from http://sacredvow.dragonsbeard.com – or buy from your favorite brick and mortar, or online, store.    

For a recent interview with CG, listen to the KarmaCaffe Spiritual Hour archive at

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/karmacaffe/2007/10/18/Karma-Caffe-Spiritual-Hour   This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as the entire article and complete by line is included.

In December 1993, by many standards my life was wonderful. I was in a loving relationship. I had a secure high-tech job of almost limitless advancement potential, with one of the largest international corporations in the world. My wife, of only a few years, and I had just built the house of our dreams, in pricey though desirable countryside surroundings—where we expected to retire in due time, enjoying the fulfillment of our dreams as best we understood them at that time.

Also in December 1993, my life was failing by some standards that I could not escape. All indications of my health were that I could not long survive the ‘costs’ of our achievements. I spent most hours of my day entering into/within/or recovering from a migraine. My blood pressure was sky high (very bad for someone with an aortic valve insufficiency). Virtually every aspect of my health seemed to offer a negative response to my attempts to push myself to achieve more, quicker, or to seek instant comfort from the effects of going ever faster, farther.

To make matters worse, I was in dire confusion about the growing conflict between how I believed I should assess my ‘achievements’ and what I actually felt inside. The more I achieved along that previously defined path of success, the emptier I felt—and the worse my health became. Fortunately, my relationship with my wife was strong. It was, however, being tested by my ravings about pursuing some unorthodox path to shake off the growing sense of meaninglessness. Kathy wanted to help, but had no better tools than I to understand what we would be trying to achieve if we did veer from the only path that we knew.

Soon, I announced to my wife, “I want to move to the mountains!” –a place that I had only visited very few times in my life, and found myself completely incompatible  with due to my severe intolerance of heights (and curvy roads!). Kathy had much more history with the mountains, and loved them dearly, but was most comfortable with them as a cherished vacation destination . . . perhaps even a second-home site.

“How do you know you can live there?” she demanded, truly concerned about my reasoning and logic.

“Some things you just know,” was my spontaneous response—surprising Kathy as well as myself. I did not have any real understanding of the need to move to the mountains, but I did know.

I abruptly quit my job—certain that I could not muster the energy to survive if I went back into the office even one more time. I returned to my writing, long neglected, as an avenue to realize what it was that my spirit could not otherwise convey to my consciousness. I picked up a translation of the Tao Te Ching.

Though it had become lost in the background of my everyday ‘achievements,’ I always had the good fortune of a strong connection to the spirit self. Writing, countryside and nature were forever the best gateway for me to come to my center. The Taoist philosophy of the Tao Te Ching was a perfect reminder. The land surrounding the dream home that I had come to disdain was now a willing aid in my journey back to myself.

Without my drive for an urgent solution, it took my wife another year to let go of the path that she had been well trained to believe in all her life. It was fortunate that a connection of the spirit—a joint interest in the metaphysical—had been one of the strongest common interests between us in the beginning, even at the subdued state of our spiritual focuses at that time. We followed our intuition, even without understanding it. Releasing that familiar life was a painful time in our relationship, but it proved we had a deeper bond that we had not fully realized.

In order to stay within our budget, we purchased a boarded up place in much need of repair, attic full of snakes, in the country. Writing again took a back seat to such things as patching the roof, chopping wood, getting running water into the house. One of many new blessings provided to us was to walk to the ridge of the mountain range near our home—though it is a hard three hour climb. When we arrived in the area, my knees were so bad that I could barely walk stairs. Before long, the mountain had called me to the top.

Once on the top, I visited the mountain frequently, meditated many hours, listened to nature around me, and tried to attune my hearing to my higher self. Kathy and I redefined our priorities, and developed new circles of friends with focuses more compatible with our new understanding. Employment still got in the way of writing, but work chosen was more likely to tax the body than the mind and spirit.

For many years the writing waited while I came back to my center and my health. I was fortunate that the muses were not offended by my long absence. When I was in a position to understand, they renewed our conversation. One of the first things they graced me with was the knowledge that I had come to just the right place at just the right time.

Whether it is the love of your life, the life changing move to a new career/new location or a major shift in your definition of yourself, the greatest knowledge that you will ever exercise is often unjustified by your cultural experiences, your family heritage, your education or even your own logic.  These are the “things that you just know,” from deep within yourself. It is a part of yourself that may seem mostly unfamiliar, but is always there…waiting until you can listen.

CG Walters has written for over twenty years, primarily as a spiritual journey. His works are primarily mystical novels focusing on the multidimensionality of our relationships or love. The first work he has chosen to publish, Sacred Vow,  is a journey toward our one true love . . . and its infinite expressions . . . bringing together two individuals from disparate realities—but of one spirit—to heal the rift in the Collective Consciousness . . . a breach that threatens us all.

     Request a free PDF of the first three chapters by contacting kathmandau at cgwalters.com or read online at http://sacredvow.dragonsbeard.com

This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as it is reprinted in its entirety, along with the by-line.

This excerpted article is from the novel, Sacred Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical). There is a rift in the Collective Consciousness because people are not bonding one to another. The Sisterhood of Crones (a description of the order, not their name–as their name is without word) is about to perform a ritual to receive a message from the Collective Consciousness….

Prologue

Choice of the ritual location was dictated by nature just days before. Hundreds of people had roamed hill and field, dowsing for the place possessing the energy necessary for their purpose. The intended process could not take place on one of their customary ceremonial sites, but only the spot identified as radiating the strongest flow of earth energy at the anticipated time of the rite.        Three ley lines, channels of the land’s energy, crossed a wooded hillside in a small patch of flat ground. Two ancient hardwood trees, one standing on either side of the rear of the opening, leaned forward before the rocky slope that bordered the backside of the level area. Their leaves filtered what little light could make its way from above.        Between the trees, at the base of the slope, there was a large greenish-gray stone. Its jagged face rose some twenty feet in the air. Three small streams, swollen with recent rains, flowed down the slope, marking the perimeter of the flat plot of land in front of the stone, before converging and flowing downward over a small waterfall. The stream-encircled ground was carpeted with a thick, soft moss.        Once the location had been identified and verified, the holy women who would use that place and its energy consecrated it. On the appointed evening, shortly after midnight, a ceremonial procession of The Nine—which consisted of the Crone Mother, leader of their mystic order, and eight more of the wisest women of their society—Katerina, understudy to the Crone Mother, and their considerable entourage made their way to the location. For several hours, from their village to the south, those who remained behind could see the winding line of torches, and hear the repetitive chants as the group made their way to the anointed site.        Once the group arrived, still in the dark of the night, attendants placed torches around the perimeter of the chosen site. Then they spread seating mats in a large circle on the ground for those who would perform the ritual, with the Crone Mother’s back to the large boulder at the head of the flat ground. Katerina took her position, in the center of the circle, facing the Crone Mother. Once the members of the ceremony were seated, their retinue withdrew some distance from the site, in order not to disrupt the proceedings.

This copyrighted article may be freely reprinted as long as it is reprinted in its entirety, along with the by-line.