"You remind me of a Man..."

Old Hollywood film buffs will recognise the title of this post as a line from The Thin Man books and films. It really was meant as comic relief for the subject of this post.

Out on an errand today, we fell into talking about 'the War' - that is to say, World War Two. And it occurred to me that the young lady 'a part of "me"' was then had almost no experience of non-military life, being first a sort of Girl Guide involved in the war effort, then a secretary to a military official, then the wife of a young officer. How strange to come into civilian life after the war!

At any rate, I was curious enough to look up the man for whom she worked until 1944... and was stunned to realise that he looked exactly like the new CFO of the Archdiocese where I worked for over 8 years. The old CFO had retired, and on the very first day of the new man's tenure (which wasn't even a full day) I went home with the worst migraine of my life. I was always wary of him, until the day I left due to increasingly poor health.

I am not saying that I think that he WAS the same man - I think it unlikely - merely that he looked and acted like him, and I, having an instant aversion I could not explain, manifested this as stress which affected my adrenal condition. I don't blame the CFO, who was hardly the sort to be aware of ordinary undertones let alone the au dela. It was my reaction.

But it does tell me a lot on very subtle levels about the young woman's actual inner life and real feelings, which were mostly opaque even to her.

The world is a very funny place.

Reprogramming

As part of my Work on Self today, I did a reprogramming of a very nice and once-useful cyberbot (nanobot, if you prefer) which has now gone off to a well-earned holiday, and very happy he was to do so.

I queried the mechanics of the forever coming to the edge of disaster, oblivion, financial ruin,  health crisis, suicidal ideation in this life, and being half-rescued (enough to sustain life but not actually thriving, thus making it difficult for me to do what I came here to do.)

The feeling associated with this was of 'playing chicken', when I want smooth sailing, an outwardly calm waters- life (ha, pardon the pun from this Watters daughter), with an inward 'rich and strange' existence.

This bot was set into motion in coming back into the body from my last infant NDE at 4 months [which is the actual origin of my life circumstances always going south in July], being resuscitated (rescued) into a body that was always going to be 'delicate' due to prematurity [lung problems, asthma, bronchitis, pneumonia, chemical sensitivity, adrenal disorder, etc.]The conclusion made, by the infant consciousness was that 'life must always be a series of spectacular ups and downs' (because for the first year, it was.) The bot took it as its job to 'keep [me] alert for danger' and to 'alert the adults that attention was needed to this body and psyche'. This worked well enough as an infant and child. It wasn't the bot's fault that the adults appeared to have forgotten that this body had problems that would never go away and needed medical attention.

I thanked the bot for its long good work, and let it know that I am a capable adult now and no longer required six-alarm fires every several months, no longer needed my health, psyche, or material well-being sent into crisis mode to get the attention of rescuers. I let him know that until further notice I only needed him to remind me to take my adrenal supplements and extra salt (not to miss a day) and meditate. I explained that the crashes are actually creating what he is trying to help me  avoid.

He was very cute. In a C3PO, flustered sort of way, he was appalled and astonished, then overjoyed that he 'could now take a holiday?!' I had to repeat this several times. Yes, you can relax. The poor little dude was practically turning handsprings. So he joyfully agreed to sent me updates (like email, texts or tweets) if I appeared to have missed one or the other of these necessary therapies, otherwise he was free to be on holiday for the rest of his (our) life.

All's well that ends well.
We'll see the effect of this.

Control Panel

In doing an exercise mentioned by Ingo Swann and my publisher, using one's 'Control Panel' to change aspects of one's life experience, I was appalled to see how low most of the mundane levels were set - with the exception of Intellect, which was at about 50%.

The control panel is a visualisation of the filters or lack thereof we set prior to the present life to certain experiences. Mine looks something like the cockpit of a Viper because I have a lot of resonance with the life/lives in that last cycle (which ended here, but began 'long ago in a galaxy far far away', as a woman named Ata Bijani, who isn't terribly dissimilar to Starbuck - and boy do I get ribbing about that from people who were there, even now.) But I digress.

The levers were much higher when I began this life, and it is safe to say that my experiences have caused this down turning. Whatever. Time for change! I ratcheted everything up to 100%, pulling out all the stops: Health, Happiness, Connectivity (to There and others here, ESP empathy) was already at 100%, always has been, Creativity, Wellbeing, Finances, Intellect, Curiosity, Fame, 'Past'lives was also always at 100%.

All systems go!

Interconnection

Convo with Claire:
K: When Patricia and the I/There fragments live together There,  will there be an effect here, and if so, what?
C: There is always an effect of one's interaction, here and there, as you know.  We in no way operate in a vacuum, but are constantly responding to the changes you make by making choices - on your own or prompted by some of us. The fluidity of this changing scenery is known to you here (in terms of changes in job, living spaces.)
   In answer to your second question - in specific, you you - there will be a greater sense of ease and wholeness, because the 'missing part' of yourself (as a twin-consciousness) will be restored. You have 'missed your sister' for 50-odd years, and told everyone so. The connection (to  my sister-fragment, and not just  Amy)will be restored and very fruitful. She has felt separated from you as well. The effect here will be a lessening of attention on that fragment for Amy, an increase in the intermingling of Amy and myself [Claire], Amy and her other earth-bound fragments, and Amy and Arthur (the fellow she lives with in the Eco Village).
K: Speaking of that, how will this affect my I/There living in the Eco Village/Villa?
C: You will still have those residences. But you will also have access to the cottage/village life [of us sisters].
K: to they are adjacent to the Town?
C: Yes.
K: I see. So, Patricia loves English country life as well?
C: We should have thought that would be obvious.

Broken Faith

Retrieval II, Parts of Self

I am again in the common area of the EcoVillage, by the covered barbeque platform. Is is a brilliant day. Now, I barely have time to think of asking for fellow-travellers and Joe and Maggie show up.
K: Don't you guys have something more important to be doing?
Joe is grinning.
J: This won't take long. It's a nice break for us. And besides, you kind of matter to us.
M: So, come on, kid. Let's get this done!
She takes my hand and we are in the Midlands in no time, turning to the right over toward the Belief Systems Territories. I know where this is going, and I feel sick.

Sure enough, we go into a Roman Catholic Cathedral there. I have visited the Catholic section before with a visitor who was once Agnese of Assisi, who wanted to meet Jesus, and I know the by-ways and tiny alleys of this Umbrian style town. Umbria, where Assisi is. Assisi, where Clare and Francis grew up. I am shaking and feel very sick now.

The Cathedral is modeled on the Church of San Giorgio, which is where Clare and her sister Catherine (later Agnese) first heard Francis preach, next to which she lived, and at which she was first interred after making her transition. The inside of this church is in the High Gothic style, with pale beige-grey pillars, stained glass, and wooden chairs. The typical side altars are present, full of brass and gold illumination and candles. Such a far cry from its Romanesque origins. I know that Santa Chiara doesn't care anymore, but I feel the residual echoes of an 800 year old distress.

We walk in and there on 'Mary's side' [left] where I sat as a three-year-old child with neighbours, is a little child, in a Sunday frock, gloves, and small chaplet pinned to long hair. If I had dressed my daughter so, it would be her. But I know it is myself. and I know to whence this meeting is 'ever tending'. She is just sitting, quietly, as instructed, not fidgeting. I feel the power of the place, even as I do in 3D churches, the power of ritual, and faith, and the equally powerful peaceful quiet. If I were orthodox, I would spend a few aeons here too, as the inhabitants of this Belief System do.

Joe and Maggie have stayed a little behind, sitting a few rows behind. They think I can handle this.
I walk up to the row, and address the child by name in quiet tones, but she looks up and hushes me, whispering.
D: we are sposed to wait qui-et-ly.
K: I will be quiet.
I promise.
K: Where are the others you came with?
D: They went out. They will come back.
K: did they tell you to wait?
She looks doubtful.
D: no. but Jesus is still there so I can't leave him alone. Somebody has to be here if he's out.
She points to the monstrance on the altar. Shades of St. Clare are a tolling bell in my mind, remaining at vigil all night, lying on the cold stone floor. Making herself ill with fasting and mortification. So ill that she remained in bed half her life. Thinking quickly, I realise that I need someone to stay here in her stead so I can take her to the Children's Centre.

I look up, towards the vestibule, and  - I am in tears - striding in from the brilliant sunlight is Claire, my HS, dressed in the white and beige clothes of St. Clare's first days as a nun, her hair all covered. She reaches us and gives me a sparkling glance, before coming to sit in the chair before the child.
C: hello little one! What a nice girl to sit with Jesus for me! I was busy, but now I am back and you can go home with your neighbours here.
She gestures to Joe and Maggie, who don't look in the least like my childhood neighbours.
The child looks up at Claire in awe.
D: you are a sister!
Claire nods.
C: I am an enclosed nun, that means I don't leave my church and have bare feet. See?
She lifts the hem of her gown and shows a slender, aristocratic foot. The child giggles, as was her plan.
D: We play nuns. My friend and me.
C: That's very good.

There is a pause. The child is frowning. Claire is very good with children, I begin to see. Like Sister Luke in The Nun's Story, like Maria von Trapp...
C: is something wrong, little one?
D: The mass was very wrong today.
C: What do you mean, wrong?
D: The old priest was facing the wrong way, and speaking English, and there were guitars instead of the organ, and they stood instead of kneeling, up there -
She points to the altar rail.
Claire glances at me. I'm feeling it too, confusion, outrage, grief. This isn't what I came here [to the Roman Church] for. I came because it reminded me of Assisi... and now it's ruined. A thousand years of tradition, ruined for lucre. Claire thinks at me: 'It was no different in Assisi. That's what we were about, protesting.' To the child she says, sweetly,
C: that was just a special Mass. They will go back to the right way next time.
She pats her hand.
C: But YOU have been here such a good girl for a very long time, and you should go home and have your lunch. Maybe even some ice-cream -
She looks up at me, and I nod.
C: You can go with my sister Catherine here and she will make sure that you get home safely.
I nod, smiling at the subterfuge.
K: Yes, Mother.
D: Okay.
The child speaks with determination.
D: But they better not ever do that again, 'cause it was wrong. It wasn't special or holy, and everybody was talking like a picnic.
Out of the mouths of babes. She gets down from her chair and I take her hand.
K: Let's go have some nice ice-cream now. Thank you, Mother Clare.
Her eyes are laughing.
C: don't be too long, my extern sister, or Agnese will lock the door.

We go out with Joe and Maggie into the brilliant sunshine, and quickly over to the Children's Center, where we deposit the child with the Matron. She is soon sitting in the refectory with some others newly arrived, and eating the promised ice-cream. I ask the Matron,
K: What will happen when the infant gets to her age?
Mn: Oh they will be merged. All the fragment-selves are merged until there is wholeness. You needn't worry.

***
I come from a very Catholic family on my Dad's side. That imprinting, along with my experiences as a religious (nun, priest) in former lives, was strong enough to draw me toward the Church as a tiny child, even though my adoptive family were non-religious Lutherans. I was so drawn that I announced my desire to become a Poor Clare at the age of 15. Because living barefoot and silent, getting up at 2 AM and working at a labourer's tasks is what every teenage girl thinks is bliss....

My sense of 'wrongness' on that fated day when Vatican II came to the parish was enough to cause a break in my psyche, and it has been a battle ever since with the Church, at least in my mind. I agree with Joseph Campbell, who said in his interview with Bill Moyers in The Power of Myth:

There’s been a reduction, a reduction, a reduction of ritual. Even in the Roman Catholic Church. My God, they’ve translated the Mass out of the ritual language into a language that has a lot of domestic associations. Every time…that I read the Latin of the Mass, I get that pitch again that it’s supposed to give, a language that throws you out of the field of your domesticity. The altar is turned so that the priest’s back is to you, and with him you address yourself outward [gestures upward with his hands] like that.

Now they’ve turned the altar around; [it] looks like Julia Child giving a demonstration—all homey and cozy. They’ve forgotten what the function of a ritual is: it’s to pitch you out, not to wrap you back in where you have been all the time.

I have been mistaken for a Fundamentalist Catholic because of this preference for the old ways. But it really goes back to immersing oneself in sacred space, back to Francis and Clare, and my Ancel in the Scriptorium at Salisbury (also in the Middle Ages.)

That fateful day in 1966 brought me into as much conflict with the Church as Francis and Clare ever were, or even Ancel in his small, local way. And into conflict within myself, because I felt that I had to Stand Vigilant against the incursions of the profane into the sacred. So much that I have been stuck there for almost 50 years, even though I do not believe in the dogma of the Catholic Church as promulgated. Passionate rants against the wrong turning of Vatican II - its good intentions, but bad application - clearly gave people the impression that I was a card-carrying member of the Society of St. Pius X. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Now, I can let St. Clare sit vigil. I no longer have that burden, taking me away from my tasks now. Clare can do it. I, this self, does not have to.

Retrieval: Preemie Self

I am in the EcoVillage, preparing to go retrieve some fragmented parts of the present consciousness. In the common area, I put out the intention and ask that any of our community who is willing and experienced who wish to come with me show up. To my surprise, Franz and Madame show up their Joe and Maggie guise, complete with hippie-ish clothes and jewellery. They are, in a manner, my 'parents' There, and better than anybody I suppose to come with me.

We travel down to the Recreation area, with its park like broad lawns and sunny vistas then down towards the Midlands. At the border Joe asks me in which order [of age] I wish to do this. I signal that I should like to do it in chronological age, and we progress over to the Rest Centre.

There in the quiet, calm sanitoria-like setting, we go to a plastic crib where a tiny infant is crying. It is very small – no longer than my hand – and a maroon colour. It is extremely premature, and looks almost like an alien. It is very upset, but its noises are gurgling and squeaking, rather than the squall of a full-born infant. This is my infant self, I recognise, frozen in time on the day of my sister's death, 19 March, 1963.

I feel VERY emotional, feeling all its grief and abandonment, as the only person it knew in this world is gone. I find my hand over my heart – a very frequent gesture of mine when distressed. ['why does the Minister hold his hand over his heart?' - Pearl Prynne, The Scarlet Letter]

M: you can pick her up.

Joe smiles encouragingly. I feel an intense longing for my sister. I can't do this alone.

K:I want Amy!

Amy appears, in bohemian attire, with her dark blonde hair unbound in fuzzy spirals. She puts her hand on my shoulder and nods. Carefully, I pick up the tiny baby, poor little baby self! And bring it near. I pick up the little blanket – the size of a dinner napkin – and put over it. I have always hated hearing little babies cry. I talk to it, and so does Amy, and sway in the way every mother does with babies.

K/A: hush little baby! There's no need to cry! See, sissy is here with you! You are not alone! You will never be alone any more! You will be taken care of and Sissy and I will visit you often!

Joe and Maggie are looking on with loving expressions, and though I am pouring tears, I feel the attention of the tiny baby shift, and I look at her.

She is looking at me with very dark, indigo eyes with silver streaks. She has no lashes or brow yet, nor fingernails. But she is aware, and gazes at me intently. I know that she has understood me.

K: What do we do now?

I don't know if I am supposed to take her to my parents, the staff here, or what.

J: Everything is ready to go, all her little things. You can bring her to the Children's Centre right now.

The Children's Centre is where those who have died as infants or children go to 'grow up' and continue on their lives here. They are cared for by older people, and are largely removed from the Education centres, but are sometimes seen in packs on the lawn of the recreation area, like an eternal manifestation of Neverland (except they do grow up). I am overcome again with emotion. I have always loved 'Peter and Wendy'... Another resonance! Leading back to that day of death, when I had to soldier on alone here.

But she is alone no more. And never will be again.

Joe leads us over to the attendant's area, where there is indeed a little case and an old fashioned little blue dress (very like to one I dressed my own daughter in at her first visit from her godmother.)

Amy and I dress her and wrap her.

A: like playing dolls

She is smiling.

I thank the attendant for caring for her and we go out the side door near into the brilliant sunshine. In a moment we all four of us are at the Children's Centre, where the gate attendant is waiting, smiling.

CCA: we were told to expect you!

They look at our 'little dolly' [Claire's phrase for ME to George!] with a smile.

CCA: such a pretty girl! Oh don't you worry, she'll be fine! Patricia was here too when she came, isn't that right, Amy?

I turn, and Amy is beaming, nodding and smiling and teary with happiness.

A: Oh yes! They took such good care of her, Claire! You'll see! She'll be so happy!

She hugs me, and shows me that Patricia is waiting in a little English Cotswolds cottage in the residential area in 5 [the 5^th Dimension, F32]

A: when she is grown she and Patricia can live together, just like it was planned there!

She hugs me again because I am crying.

CCA: You can bring her in and see that's she's settled.

I look at Joe and Maggie.

Joe: We'll be right here.

Amy, the attendant and I go into the main building, which isn't at all like the horrible school that swallowed up Sarah Crewe in A Little Princess, which is what I was slightly afraid of [another resonance!] but is cheerful and full of light and flowers, with children running up and down the halls and stairs. I look in one of the rooms and the children are all happily working on projects, like a Montessori school.

The Matron comes out from her office. She is young and pretty, with dark hair and a flowing white dress and jangling bracelets.

Mn: Hello, Claire! Hello Amy I'm so glad you came! And this is the little one!

She comes and looks, smiling, then says to the attendant,

Mn: Thank you Jezriel! You can go along now. We'll be fine.

She looks at me.

Mn: You understand that we don't isolate the babies here? Come I'll show you our nursery!

We follow her to a back room on the ground floor, which is very sunny. The babies indeed sleep all together in large cribs on the floor, like playpens, full of soft blankets and toys. The very little ones are kept in smaller beds, also on the floor, by twos and threes.

A: so you see, she shall indeed never be alone or lonely.

The Matron explains the daily routine, which includes music and colours and interaction with animals once the babies are old enough. There is exercise, and walks in prams in the sunshine, and continual loving interaction by the attendants, some of whom are young, some of whom are soft doughy grandmotherly types.

Down the hall, I see the dormitory for the slightly older children. Again, it is on the model of group beds. Matron says,

Mn: because our experience shows that is what the children want, until they are well into their teens.

After viewing the classrooms and other dormitories, the petting zoo and garden, I am satisfied that my little baby self will be well-nurtured. But the time has come to leave her here and I am finding it very difficult, despite the assurances.

My mother appears, in her beautiful Kim Novakesque guise.

K: I know how hard it was, Mutti!

She smiles and embraces me.

N: I know, sweetie. [That is what I call my own children...]

She is teary too, looking at the little baby as she last saw her.

N: but she will be all right here, and you and I and Patty will visit.

At her voice, the little baby looks up, transfixed.

N: See, she knows me.

She touches the little head, then kisses it, gesturing that I and Amy should do the same.

We do and Mutti says to the Matron,

N: There you are now, Marisa. I think we are ready.

We all look at each other, Mutti Amy and I, three grown women, and I realise that we haven't done this before, haven't been together since those long ago days. Many embraces and loving tears later, Amy and I hand over Baby Self to Marisa the Matron, who treats her very gently and lovingly, and we turn to go.

At the gates, Joe and Maggie are right there, as promised.

They greet my mother warmly

J/M: hello dear Natalie, you look so well. It's so nice to see you again!

They all exchange embraces, chatting happily.

Then Joe turns to me.

Joe: So, little one, are you ready to go back now?

He looks across the fields towards the Eco Village.

Joe: the gathering will be going on when we get back, and you and Amy can share your success with everyone.

He is smiling broadly, encouragingly.

Maggie takes up my hand

M: You did splendidly!

She squeezes my hand hard.

I bid farewell to my mother and the four of us move quickly over the landscape towards home.

Confirm

This from over on Bruce Moen's forum:
"Hey folks. This sorta fits in with the theme of the thread. I only found this website through lurking on other forums. GMan

"Montalk Website, article written by Tom the Admin-Owner

"Beyond the material world, beyond the common rules, limitations, and assumptions we take upon ourselves, resides a greater spiritual reality operating under a set of higher principles that can help us transcend foolishness, strife, and drudgery. Knowledge limited to the physical world and bounded by the shortcomings of our five senses is not enough to attain freedom. Metaphysics is the study of higher knowledge, the deeper truths of life. We only have to recognize these higher truths and live by them to rise beyond old behavioral patterns and access a new vista of inconceivably wonderful possibilities.

All is Mind:

    Everything is consciousness, and all consciousness shares a common source. It is the ultimate center, the initiator of all causes, the core perceiver, the chooser.

    Consciousness is the dreamer (Creator), the dreamed (individualized consciousness), and the dreamscape (matter, space, energy, and time). There is no difference between reality and dreams except that reality involves mass consciousness holding the rules of reality rigid, whereas in dreams usually only the personal subconscious does so. Just as thought underlies objects in dreams, so does thought form the basis of matter in waking reality.

    Creation is infinite, composed of a unified infinite being (the Creator) and its expression as an infinite variety of finite beings. Stated another way, the Creator is an infinite being exploring its infinite potential through an infinite number of finite avenues. While individual evolutionary paths begin and end – beginning as the first stirring of awareness among primal matter and ending in unified congruency with the Creator – the grand experiment itself is without beginning or end because there are an infinite number of these paths.

    Because all life shares a common source, all life is interrelated and of equal worth. Only the expression of the underlying source differs from one lifeform to another. To differing degrees, each lifeform is endowed with freewill, the potential ability to choose independently of another being’s choice. Freewill adds a wildcard factor that makes the grand experiment interesting instead of boringly deterministic.

    Existence is both holographic and fractal in nature. It is holographic in the sense that all possibilities exist simultaneously and timelessly, while our individual consciousness interfering with this static pattern is what generates the illusion of dynamic experience. In other words, it is we who move through the static pattern, the dreamscape projected by the Creator. Existence is fractal in the sense that freewill requires discontinuities and inconceivable complexities in this static web of possibilities. A fractal exists as a static pattern created from a deterministic equation, but due to the infinite complexity of a fractal, its exploration by a conscious perceiver becomes an nondeterministic affair. And thus the game of life can be characterized by freewill even though the gameboard itself is static and deterministic.

    Progress arises when freewill moderates the interaction between two opposite forces. This forms a trinity generically composed of an active force, passive force, and neutralizing or balancing force. This trinity can be found everywhere that progress is to be found. For example, the tension of a string comprises the active force, inertia of the string creates the passive force, and the musician is the balancing force. From this is born music. Within individuals, the lower impulses form the passive force, higher spiritual callings of the heart form the active force, and you – the incarnated consciousness – form the balancing force by choosing between these two opposite polarities. From this is born the progress of your personal evolution. Even the fractal boundary of the Mandelbrot set acquires its infinite complexity by being the balancing point beyond two opposing mathematical values, the finite and the infinite – which ties back into reality being a fractal hologram.

Good and Evil:

    Choice allows one to serve the Creator within oneself by exploiting others or by serving the Creator within others. The first path is identifed as evil/darkness/negativity while the second path one associates with good/light/positivity. This sets up two branches of evolution – one that works against the laws of Creation and one that works with and for it. Both ultimately serve the Creator’s exploration of self, but only the positive path does so in a balanced manner. The tension between these two evolutionary paths enriches the grand experiment and provides the impetus for evolution by both sides.

    As Goethe wrote, the dark force “wills forever evil yet does forever good.” The self-serving path, despite giving the individual personal power, also puts him in unwitting subservience to higher powers. The highest power of all is the Creator, which those of the dark hierarchy unwittingly serve by providing the grand experiment with the passive force necessary for evolution. They provide the darkness against which the light stands out. Lucifer is referred to as the “lightbringer” because through self-serving actions, manipulation, and infliction of pain, self-serving individuals unwittingly give others the opportunity to see the light.

Cosmology:

    Finite consciousness can be classified into an octave scale of conscious development. This octave arises naturally because consciousness is vibration, and vibration strung between a beginning point (as matter) and ending point (as unity with the Creator) sets up a scale. This scale consists of eight notes: do re mi fa so la si do. The first note signifies sleeping consciousness and the last note represents active consciousness – and notice that these notes have the same name, illustrating how sleeping and active consciousness are just two expressions of the same infinite consciousness. The space between two notes on this evolutionary scale is called a “density” and there are seven total densities, each encompassing a particular class of conscious development. The higher densities have higher vibrations of consciousness and are more evolved.

    Whereas densities categorize different evolutionary levels of the dreamed, the terms “spacetime” and “timespace” classify different aspects of the dreamscape. Spacetime is the arena of causal interaction better known as physicality, where two or more beings interact while bound by a common set of physical laws. Spacetime is where experiences occur and lessons are learned – the ground, the battlefield, the classroom. By contrast, timespace is the sky, the command center, the teacher’s office. It is where individual beings have a bird’s eye view of what occurs in spacetime, providing a still point of contemplation, reflection, and planning of further spacetime experiences. This is the state one enters in between physical incarnations. The lower densities exist primarily in spacetime while the higher densities choose to exist almost exclusively in timespace.

Personal Spiritual Evolution:

    Upon incarnating into a physical body, we experience an occultation of awareness and forget who we are. Then social conditioning and biological impulses graft a false identity upon us that is in total discord with our true spiritual nature. Most people wear this false identity for life and fail to recognize and fulfill their true reasons for incarnating. But for others, intuition and experiences help them realize that there is more to life than the material world (matrix) admits. Throughout life these individuals experience higher impulses guiding them toward becoming lucid in this dream, while simultaneously lower impulses beckon them toward sleep. For those who consistently listen to their higher impulses, inner and outer life transforms and begins to operate under divine instead of material laws, removing limitations of the latter and opening up new possibilities. This is the process of transcending the matrix, using higher laws to override lower ones by developing and purifying one’s internal nature to resonate with higher realms of existence. This is a prerequisite for fulfilling one’s potential.""