The Room With No Door

As a child, I knew, what the adults in my life imagined were imaginary friends. As an adult, I have had young children introduce me to their ‘imaginary’ experience. One such event stands out. At the time I was working with a crystal ball. It has been my experience that quartz often collects energy but this piece shed energy. It was very energetic but did not collect energetic imprints. I was visiting family and staying in a home with a toddler who had yet to learn to talk. She enjoyed playing with the ball and we played with it together. While doing this she was able to communicate with me. Completely nonverbal. Very cool. She wanted to know if I could see what she could see and she introduced me to a wild, very active, group of quite small energies. Like a bunch of tiny persons who were non-terrestrial, or at least, had no physical form. She clearly wanted to see if I would acknowledge their existence and I did. I have been unable to reach a determination as to what they were.

The child I mentioned is now a young woman, and while very imaginative, she has no recollection of her ‘imaginary’ childhood acquaintances.

What is it that separates us from this childhood reality that seems so common? Might this childhood experience be spiritual and might these spirits expect us to remember them, for us to invite them to join us as adults? I think they are and they do. It is as if we leave them in another room and then build a new house without that room. There is a casual joyful happiness that children often have that is uncommon in the adult world we make for ourselves. I think there is a relationship between the spiritual experience of young children and their often casual sense of joy and happiness. We are forgetful and we tend to leave both of these dispositions in our early childhood, usually forgetting we ever were this way and unable to remember the way. To replicate it as adults. Why?

I think much of it is cultural. Here in the west we conquered the shamanistic, earth-based, spiritual practices of our ancestors. Often with extreme brutality. We tend not to value personal spiritual experience and instead expect a socially centralized compartment for our spiritual concerns. We expect that our spiritual life is best-managed by others. That some authority, outside of our self, is in charge. We expect that we need the guidance and intervention of others to be spiritually content. We assign our spiritual well-being to false authorities, someone other than our self. I don’t know that if shamanistic sensibilities had won the day, that our spiritual concerns would be less centralized. None-the-less, western culture diminishes the importance of personal spiritual experience and places spiritual authority outside of personal experience. We are expected to rely on an external groupthink authority. We think the truth can be written down and fixed in place. Words, written or otherwise, can only hope to convey a thought or a feeling and are neither. Truth, to be of actionable value, needs to be personally experienced. It is the message that is not spoken or written down. Words allude to it but it makes itself understood.

How do we bring, into our distracted reality, a more comprehensive understanding of reality? As adults, we dismiss what we consider to be imaginary childhood experience. Having long ago dismissed, and forgotten, our own experience, as well as how to recover it, we enforce this norm against our children. It is an obvious act of ignorance, to dismiss such a common experience as being, not only imaginative, but also make-believe. We might first accept that it is an experience that is very common. These are real experiences but what is the cause? Do we generate the experience or is it a straight forward observation of what does exist? It has been my personal observation that it is both. Much of this spiritual realm, we create, by having been imbued with creative authority. The charge we are given, the charge I believe I am given, is to create a state that is suitable for my soul. To create a gravity, of my temporal being, that attracts the spirit that is my soul, a more durable representation of awareness, sentiency, being and existence. A truer me. It is this spiritual expression, my soul, that would have me invite it to be me. It wants to walk as I do in the company of men and women. The temporal person, I have created, to walk in the company of men and women, feels threatened, after all, what is it when flesh blood and bone are returned to dust? This anxiety, generated by our brief appearance as terrestrial lifeforms, is then as an armor that shields us from our soul. We feel threatened.

I am beginning to think that the path to the mountaintop is happiness. To restore the happiness that embraced me as a young child. This happiness resides in the same place that I knew as a child. It is not so much a memory to restore as it is a place to return to. Its residence is not fixed to time and it waits for us to return, or to create, the gravity by which it is known.

Michael, The Mystic Tourist ©2014