“I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times...
In life after life, in age after age, forever.” (Unending Love)
- Rabindranath Tagore, Bengali polymath, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature
(Edited February 1, 2019)
I have been walking the wilderness since I was six. For most of my adult life I did it alone, and it looks like I am predisposed to that. Being alone in the woods allows you to freely obey your instinct when you choose your path or how far you want to go. It is also an excellent ambiance for meditating, for connecting to your Higher Self and to at times unusual sources of knowledge and wisdom.
It was during these walk-alone trips that I would find answers to many of the questions I had at that moment in my life about the nature of our existence and of our relation to the universe, when I would come up with new and amazing questions, open doors to dimensions I did not know existed. While taking those long, aimless strolls I would often experience something so amazing that I could not share it even with the closest of my friends. Later on, when I would finally realize what was the meaning of what happened, the experience would mark my being profoundly, a delayed action with significant consequences. Most of that if not all of it became the solid foundation for this once in a lifetime book project.
Everything happens for a reason. Everything happens actually for a good reason. More than once my presence at a certain location and moment in time while wandering alone the mountains proved crucial for people whose life was in danger. There are no such things as coincidences and the amazing synchronicity in every one of those instances had all the markings of a karmic affair. As Carl Jung, the founder of analytical psychology once said, “Synchronicity is an ever present reality for those who have eyes to see it.”
We are here to experience growth in consciousness awareness by helping others do the same. We are destined to be part of our fellow man’s awakening process, and what a wonderful assignment that is.
It is early 1990s, middle of the night. I am driving south on Interstate 87, just about to cross the border between New York State and New Jersey and only a few miles away from home. The traffic comes to a standstill and we are all suddenly stranded on the highway. There is not much one can do other than embrace the here and now moment and decipher its message. Minutes ago we were racing each other passing everyone we could pass in a desperate effort to reach our destinations an irrelevant couple of seconds earlier. We are now trapped, together, corralled by our common destiny into an unforeseen time location. We are once again proven wrong about our obsession with the illusion of time.
Speaking of time today is my day of birth, whatever that means. I am sitting in the car contemplating a barely distinguishable pattern in my life. There have been very few moments of smooth sailing but I sense this must be the case for everyone. Things do not just happen though. They happen for a reason and they always happen for a good reason.
It looks like astral supervisors remind me all the time I have not earned the right to enjoy a prolonged moment of comfort. Comfort is actually extremely unproductive. That said I have no idea why I am here or where I am going. I don’t have a clue what my life’s mission is. I figure this is precisely why smooth sailing is never a good thing for you. The discomfort keeps us going all the time, in search of that paradise-like port of call.
I have repeatedly rebelled against my guides and what a useless thing to do that is. Nevertheless, until I learn not to, chances are I will do it again. I am impulsively letting the universe and my guides know how I feel, and as long as you do not direct it at someone else anger is an okay feeling. Everything is between you and the universe, and life is a logical sequence of choices we and nobody else makes.
I step outside, standing on the dark surface of the road. It looks like I am walking on water. Hundreds of cars and the people inside them are floating on darkness. Indeed, everything is an illusion the brain was programmed to perceive as reality. The enlightened spirit knows to make the distinction between the illusion of reality and the real reality of the inner world. To be able to do that one must know his self, become aware of the spirit within the body, and the awareness of what we actually are will set him free from the trap of a false perception of reality.
The night is eerily quiet and much cooler than expected, with a light breeze chasing over the grass and over the top of the trees the remnants of the day’s torrid anguish. Somewhere ahead of us, however, is a totally different kind of world. Flashes stab the humid ebony air with their arrows of screaming red light. This part of night oozes panic. Ambulances, police cruisers and fire engines block the road. I sense pain. I know I am here for a reason but this time I will not be saving lives.
I am back to my old Pontiac Bonneville with a new perspective on the reality of that moment and I hear the voice of a woman calling in my general direction. It comes from the car next to mine. Early thirties. Her face is luminously beautiful. She is beautiful and luminous and I am instantly in love. Next to her is an older woman, her mother.
What happened? I explain and they are genuinely concerned. A few moments of silence, then we start conversing. It may look like that but we are not really making small talk. We are both acknowledging how good it feels to be together again. I do not doubt it for a moment, I am in the company of an old friend I have not seen in a very long time, and I feel she too has sensed that.
The mother asks about my accent and for some reason she is delighted to know I am from Romania. What about yours? Jewish. I make a remark about the fact that almost everybody in America has some kind of accent. That is supposed to make me feel like I belong. Then, out of nowhere, we begin sharing thoughts on Many Lives, Many Masters, a fascinating book by doctor Brian Weiss I finished reading a few days ago. It was published five years earlier but, as it turns out, all three of us just finished reading it a few days ago.
How appropriate to discuss a study on past life experiences with someone you sense you met in another life. We are enthusiastically praising it. We have proof provided by an American psychiatrist with impressive credentials and by other bona fide scientists reincarnation is fact. That completely changes our understanding of what we are, of what life is, of why we are here.
Indeed, what are the odds of being stranded on the highway in the middle of the night next to a human who is as aware as you of what a certain uncommon reality really means to humankind? Everyone we meet we meet for a reason. We are all both students and teachers and everyone we run into is an old student of ours who is also our mentor.
The night is suddenly glorious on this side of the universe. Waves of intensely vibrating energies revive in us a lost sense of oneness, and I am elated I am the one I am. The highway reopens, we have to part, and one could never be sure if we meet again during this life cycle. I see though a huge sign displayed within me saying, “You are guided and protected. Trust the universe.”
This was the confirmation I was looking for. I am definitely on my way home.
(A Time of Change - Volume 1, Chapter 10. One of the few instances in the book when I am recalling a personal life experience.)