Back into Time
By Rev. David Strickler, Ph.D
Yes, I hear what you are saying, “Where the hell has been my monthly edition of Spiritual Climate Newsletter,” to which a reply of sitting amidst a plethora and plexus of complicated jury-rigging and unstable events preventing the publication of the newsletter to go out for a January and February edition.
Ever had your computer just go up in a puff of smoke? I unwittingly spent literally tons of hours moving what I could salvage from my old hard drive. Enormous numbers of research links and backups from my old computer have completely been rendered useless. This is not Katrina by any stretch of the imagination, but for those who have had the great pleasure of having to reload everything from their computer and then have to reformat again only to find the formatting wasn’t accurate and produced glitches in windows operation, thus having to reformat and reload all the programs again . . . surely a few of you can relate to such profound joy and fun: almost as erotic as watching paint dry.
For people reading this that are not technically inclined, try this: go to the dentist and find time for all the repairs your teeth may need and do yoga in the dentist chair while he is drilling in your mouth. This new computer is nice, but boy it was a bastard to get up and running, it took over 8 reformats to get to the point where I could get into Administrator settings in safe mode. Technology is wonderful, when it works, but it is still the biggest unpaid second job that I have that I agreed to participate with Microsoft to inflict upon me—this modern milieu ushering a new age and form of masochism invented with a tenacious, irreverent ego designed and conferred by ourselves.
Additionally, Spiritual Climate was not published due to my state of confusion derived from my new found ability to perceive time, a feature emerging as a surprise through the texture of my outward and inward senses; creating a course of perplexations and newness in a narrow corridor with top notes of contortions in a sensory maze not unlike a fun-house at an amusement park. What an uncanny awareness and discovery, time and some of the crap that the senses produce and distort: I have been without a sense of time.
Put simply, I haven’t been able to negotiate the keyboard or write up until this last week of March. People who have stroke related disabilities and challenges will recognize and relate with what I am stating. I proffer my most sincere apologies for the empty space in your usual (hopefully rabid) consumption of this delectable spiritual morsel that we publish. So, while I have the capability to type and write reasonably cogently, let me welcome you with the first edition in the year 2006 edition of the Spiritual Climate Newsletter. Wendy, Christine and Adam have two editions worth of articles, so the possibility exists that you may get one or two more additional editions this year.
Somewhere, somehow during the course of the holidays I entered back into time and that is a fair way to describe what has occurred within the awareness of this physical recovery process my body suffered from the assault of the stroke. One description to convey this experience would be to picture oneself after having arrived at a party, there comes a moment when you look at a clock and recoil from the stunning feeling that 6 hours have gone by and it is 1 am in the morning and the chains of your job start to clang shrill sounds and demands as a reminder of your responsibilities to an employer that morning in about five hours.
The winter season has somehow mysteriously vaporized in the light of the spring equinox so has my inability to perceive time. It’s about ‘time’ the centers of the brain that provide the illusion of time by the utilization of discerning movement, a contrast to the luxury that space provides. This perception apparently requires an enormous amount of energy to ignite the measuring faculty that enables time perception. This puts an intriguing light on upcoming events for met at least, since I have been known to play in parallel and multiple states of time in existence and continue to this day. Now some of you are probably saying, this confirms it, he really is bonkers.
Perhaps an example can help to allude to what I mean: picture your hands playing a piano, each finger striking a key at a different moment in time. Now visualize a violin player sounding notes alongside with your playing of the piano. Stop and observe what is happening, all of the notes are struck in different times of the space they are vibrating in all creating the illusion of being ‘sounded’ in the now but at different moments in time and even perhaps different types of space, multiple and parallel time experiences, all appearing to sound like ‘now’ due to how the senses perceive themselves in relation to the surrounding world. This in part comes about from the peculiar training of linearity that our senses establish largely from their inaccuracy to produce what is really going on, creating instead, a sense of relation and representation of what is transpiring in the world about us.
Much of our linearity is borne out of the incomplete and erroneous view that our linear mathematics ability of measurement, the form of mathematics that our civilization uses. Our civilization has made great strides on the ‘straight line’ type measurements produced out the flaws of Newtonian calculus (e.g., entropy), but strides are not evolutionary. The next great evolution to occur within humanity will come about when our mathematics has the precise ability to speak and measure in spiral language.
That being said I will digress here into the past and ‘resurrect’ (no pun intended) a commentary that I had started some time ago and splice it into this period of time passage since it has been sitting on the new hard drive on this computer. Ready or not here I go…its March, 2006 and already we have passed Valentine’s Day and rapidly transiting toward the awesome ambience of Easter! It seems that only three months ago I was wrapped up in the spirit of the Christmas holiday as Adam chauffeured me through the side streets of the Northern Phoenix area we reside in to take in the display of the holiday lights and decorations people shared and showed off on their homes in the community. What a spectacular display of ingenuity and colorful Christmas spirit that playfully danced as syncopated lights resembling twinkling snowflakes cascading to the surface of Earth.
This was a quiet Christmas for me spent by myself, well needed and deserved, spending time with the voice of voices and the quiet center that is heard and felt everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I spent time walking around the apartment complex, listening to the sounds of celebrations and the children laughing, playing and just having so much fun, with the holiday. The city streets were quiet, the traffic being almost nonexistent. A smile took to my face while enjoying the emptiness and soundless miles of pavement. Most of “the crew” had traveled to be with their families. Everyone seemed to be worried about me spending Christmas by myself of which I had no concern, for I am familiar with the roaring silence that always appears like the warmth of a long lost friend during the holiday seasons.
Christmas brought for me this year the gift and perception of time along with its cognition. This awareness of time came as an amusing revelation to me, almost like the recognition of a novelty or scene acted out in a small theater production engaged in humor. I had come full circle to realize the assault upon my body and brain with the embolic stroke, which occurred in late August of 2004, had placed me in a suspended form of animation. I don’t know how else to describe this, as I look back I begin to recollect nascent and nebulous spatial quality of the awareness of the events that occupied my body re-coursing itself through life during the storm of that experience. Somewhere during the month of December my brain was finally able to regain a sense, concept and evaluation of time: all of a sudden it seemed as though my days were longer and more activity could be had. Unsettling as this experience was it was further agonized by a joyful question emerging within the cognition of my Christmas present: “Where the hell have I been?”
I still keep rebounding with that question as my day’s progress. This demarcation was a pronounced annunciation of the healing taking place within the body that I use here within the earthly plane, reminding me of the marvelous capacities of the seamless robe of Adonai is able to accomplish. What an awe-inspiring organism to have that one’s disposal, the human body and our ability to use it in exploring the wonders and beauty of creation. What an incredible space suit this bag of blood (Adam, qabalistically) is in it innate configuration to register consciousness by its electric synapses. Have time again Was almost like getting a promotion out of the limbo or wherever I have been over the past year and a half during this course of the healing taking place within my body.
Fast forward to ‘now’ in the midst of a solar eclipse showing fully in Africa I find myself looking at colored grass, no not to smoke, but to put in basket. Those of you who know have found me to lack regard for mowing lawns, so it is not the clippings from the tractor bag either, but this bright colorful shreds of grass used to fill baskets at Easter. We have gone from the winter months transferring the color of the lights onto an Ostarian festival of eggs being hunted in the grass.
Resurrection is not restricted to a physical body. I would say resurrection is a reflection of the inherent dance of consciousness measured by time showing itself through the transformation of life and its apertures blooming into ever increasing cycle of manifestation within the event horizon of our perception. Hopefully we have a cognitional noetic emergence of this dance of life expressed by the interwoven aspects of the Elohim conjugating our increasing expansion into the true spiritual heritage that is our inheritance as we labor within the earthen aspects precipitated by our Souls.
What is that heritage? Part of it is expressed as Freedom from the tyranny of those who seek to dominate our lives with their erroneous interpretations of false humility and egocentricity, those arrogant individuals and groups that claim to know the WILL of the FATHER and blaspheme their imaginations to coerce the world into what they think should be so their insecurities and stupidities can feel safe. Some of them are the greatest liars to ever walk the earth and can be found in ANY religion, political or secular gathering.
Isn’t it time we resurrect integrity, honesty and truths into a healthier regard? I overheard the religious Ronco-ites have a new infomercial: a twin seated bomb with seat belts and speaker system playing the musical theme from Dr. Strangelove for the descent. Let’s hope there is no market, but I wouldn’t take bets on that. Part of the problem in this world is there are too many jackasses bending over to kiss their own Ego’s ass and sometimes in this country appears to pay well.
Why not become the country that leads the way to show other countries how to secure their own nations by our example, at the same time maintain the Freedoms and Bill of Rights that we have, instead of succumbing to fear and selling out to the financiers and corporate feudalists. Maybe this Easter it is time to resurrect. I see many tombs about all in the shape of an ass, with something resembling a head stuck up between their narcissistic cheeks. The great sucking sound may not be the power of spirit, it may be the after effect of in rushing air after the great popping sound from removing the head from one’s ass, that sound Ross Perot once spoke of in his speech.
Maybe its time to take back our time and space by resurrecting who and what we truly are—spiritual beings having a human experience. Maybe its time to resurrect the light of truth and show what true freedom can accomplish.
That would be too simple now, wouldn’t it.
But then again the admonition to Lazarus was simple, John11:43,44 (KJV), “And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth. And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with graveclothes: and his face was bound about with a napkin.”
Sometimes we are called back into time, only to find that we were dead having nightmares and are awakening. It is my hope that we who are dead come forth, before our future generations are lost in the ignorant slogans of globalism being created by the truly satanic mythos of the human ego/personalities of the sophists of our time.
Rise and Awake
Rev. David Strickler, Ph.D.
Qabalistic Teacher & Minister