Friends have been coming to me with pieces of a vast, multidimensional jigsaw that's still in the process of being assembled.
Where was I during the five days in December 2009 I spent comatose in the Intensive Care Unit of Sungai Buloh Hospital? (I can't call it the ICU after seeing Avatar without fantasizing about the beautiful blue-skinned Neyteri...)
My beloved friend Selina - whose eyes can penetrate the many veils of reality - said she meditated with the Blue Buddha mantra as soundtrack and found herself looking at my lifeless body all hooked up to life support equipment. There was nobody in. So she searched the astral planes for me... and eventually found me sitting on a rock, looking very relaxed in a sarong, with a cup of tea.
We had a long conversation and I conveyed to her that I was utterly fed up with the entropic, apparently deteriorating conditions in the 3D Matrix. She used the full force of her feminine charms and persuasive powers to convince me that it was worthwhile returning to my physical body. "You don't want to miss the grand celebration when all of us break through to the next level!" she said (or something to the effect) and offered me her hand. My expression softened at that point, she said, and I reached out to touch her.
Well, I was pleased to hear Selina's report - though I can't confirm if this astral encounter really did occur. Another friend - a Puerto Rican shaman named Rafael - later informed me that he, too, had searched for me in the astral and, like Selina, was relieved to find me sitting on a rock by the river. Seeing I was in fine form, he left me alone.
Around the time Selina had this vivid vision, thousands of other people - immediate family, close friends and total strangers from around the world - were praying for me or sending positive vibes. For sure, my soul must have felt the massive force of all this love and was humbled by it. Perhaps falling ill was my soul's way of sulking, but such an outpouring of concern would certainly have convinced me that life on earth wasn't all that terrible and that I really ought to renew my earthly visa and return to physical embodiment.
A couple of friends - a practising shaman and spiritual master from Germany named Rainer and his angel-voiced wife Karin - visited Magick River with six other pilgrims in tow and stayed 13 days, about a week after I was discharged from the hospital. Rainer and Karin came with many messages for me: essentially, they wanted me to be aware that I was embarked on a whole new phase of my earthly mission with dramatically enhanced powers - and that it would require some time for me to fully integrate the new software.
I was grateful for Rainer and Karin's inspired insights and their magnanimous friendship. Seems ironic to me that the people closest to me physically are the most reluctant to acknowledge me for what I am - and that it takes a group of relative strangers coming from halfway round the planet to recognize and appreciate my gifts. In any case, I felt richly rewarded by Rainer, Karin and their friends' wonderful company.
I was required to report back to the hospital on 14 January to get a clean bill of health from the doctor in charge of my case - but when I showed up he was nowhere to be found. The nurses said he was busy on his rounds, so I distributed the thank-you cards and fancy chocolates I had brought (courtesy of my daughter Belle) and checked in with Dr Zulkifli, head of the psychiatric unit, who had said he wanted to see me.
Dr Zul wasn't in a chatty mood. He sat me down in his office and told me I had MDP. "What's that?" I asked. "Manic depressive personality," he said laconically. I wasn't in the mood to argue with Dr Zul who struck me as essentially a decent guy, even if he appeared completely caught up in his role as drug-dispensing psychiatrist and arbiter of sanity. I detected a trace of the Inquisitor in his ego-field and knew at once he wasn't keen to hear my opinion of psychiatry.
Dr Zul's prescription was 2 mg Risperidone to be taken twice daily. I knew from Dr Zul's expression that he was utterly convinced it was his moral and professional duty to slow down my brain functions and return me safely to the 3D Matrix where I could take my place amongst billions of other well-adjusted tax-paying robots.
Now, the question is: I was admitted to the hospital for malaria. So how did the shrinks insert themselves into the story?
As I have already narrated in earlier segments of this report, I emerged from my 5-day coma completely renewed, with gleaming neural circuitry and upgraded software. My brain functions were crystalline and I was able to navigate several dimensions simultaneously (imagine being promoted from driving a 4-wheeled internal combustion earthbound vehicle to piloting a flying saucer).
Naturally I was ecstatic and ebullient. Dr Zul's assistant, Dr Siti, had come around to interview me after the nurses reported on my being awake most nights. She subsequently told my daughter: "Your father is too happy." Belle found that amusing. "Isn't it a good thing that he's happy?" Dr Siti's enigmatic reply was: "Yes, but not too happy."
So, because I was too happy, I needed to be tranquilized, sedated and occasionally strapped to my bed whenever I did anything to upset the normal routine (for example, on two occasions, I tested the staff's response time by pulling on the emergency cord in the shower. Both times they took nearly five minutes to arrive on the scene and were chided by me. They must have taken offence when I suggested that the only acceptable response time was one minute. That would make the difference between life and death for whoever needed help.)
I must confess that I've always considered myself a top-level Quality Control Inspector whose job is to ensure that all systems are running perfectly. Hence the terrible frustration I have felt most of my life on this planet where dimwitted mediocrity still rules in so many areas - especially the country I chose as my operating base.
Why was I so over-the-top happy?
Simply because I had glimpsed the inevitable outcome of all evolutionary threads - and it was an extremely happy one. Our destiny is to be fully conscious in the body and free of all robotic indoctrination. We are not fated to remain semi-conscious, semi-intelligent slaves to any system. Indeed, we are baby gods who will someday take over the management of the entire universe - when we have become totally compassionate and infinitely patient.
Of course, the fast-crumbling and benighted power structure would like us humans to remain sheep-like and half-asleep forever. After all, it depends entirely on us for "manpower." The so-called ruling elite have for countless generations fattened themselves off the blood, sweat and tears of so many species. To them we are merely farm animals, their property. That's what feudalism is all about: a gross misunderstanding of the nature and ultimate purpose of existence.
However, there is absolutely no call to hate or resent the ruling elite - because they are only maintaining a misguided tradition inherited from their distant ancestors, the not-so-noble Creator Gods who established the early civilizations on this planet. And these were indeed great civilizations with astonishingly advanced architecture and a complex bureaucracy. Without their tutelage, we would be without written language, mathematics and technology. Not such a bad thing, actually, since the introduction of alphanumeric symbols eventually led to a left-brain-dominant culture at the expense of our animal instincts and intuition.
Those who believe they wield ultimate power on earth are, in truth, terrified of their own shadows - which explains why they allocate almost two-thirds of their time and resources to defence systems and live in a perpetual Green Zone behind barricades and barbed wire. They are trapped in their own compulsive, paranoid need for secrecy, gathering data through covert agencies and 24/7 electronic surveillance of the population at large. Take away their protective armor and sophisticated killing machines - and what you get is an increasingly desperate and bewildered bunch of overaged delinquents, totally panicked by the prospect of losing control over what is essentially uncontrollable. It is beginning to dawn on some of the brighter ones that money, power and prestige will not get them through the frequency gates. The qualities that will - compassion, empathy, integrity, and the capacity for love - cannot be acquired through reptilian cunning and public relations.
But there's no way back - only the way forward.
From simplicity we became enmeshed in complexity; and now it's time for us to evolve to another level of simplicity - the Zen state of Buddhic consciousness so lucidly described by modern mystics like Eckhart Tolle.
pic courtesy of dpchallenge
In my beatific state of fully expanded awareness, I could see all humanity finally released from drudgery and meaningless toil; from cruelty, injustice and oppression. Freed from mechanical routine, we would swiftly blossom into cosmically conscious beings and take our place in ever larger constellations of sentient beings as galactic citizens.
It would be the end of disease, debt, decay and death. Physical immortality (or at least indefinite life extension) would become an option. We would regain our childlike curiosity and sense of wonder and many of us would choose to become adventurers and explorers (but not colonizers, that's a big no-no), beyond the confines of our native planet. Yes, the promise and prophecy of Star Trek would be fulfilled!
From my expanded perspective, the political shenanigans taking up so much bandwidth were nothing more than a ruckus in the schoolyard. Even the most villainous players became mere manga characters in an X-rated cartoon universe.
PlayStation wasn't invented when I was a kid - but I now found myself in a 4D virtual reality game in which I could gleefully immerse myself with absolutely no fear of getting hurt. Within the confines of the 4D Matrix, all objects and characters appear 3D. Humans are programmed to behave in specific ways and whatever they say is scripted. And because the fictitious deity they invented happens to be a punitive and vengeful one, they have become compulsive liars in order to avoid - or at least postpone - punishment.
If you're a truth-speaking entity in virtual world populated by congenital liars, you'll definitely be viewed as a serious MDP case. MDP is what Dr Zulkifli chose to call my "condition." Other shrinks might have labeled it dementia praecox, schizophrenia or bi-polar disorder.
Truth is, my clinical death and resurrection experience had cleared my cache and made room for a massive file some might call the God Program. I wouldn't call it that for the simple reason that every time anyone installs that particular software and attempts to run it in public, they either get crucified for blasphemy or incarcerated in a madhouse.
[First published 7 February 2010]