Through the film like layers of the different dimensional realities; no force is being exerted on me. It is a pull of the soul. Like so often, I am being taken to where I am needed. But do they need me or do I need them? I find myself in a thought scape. This is the sixth dimension. The pavement of the grocery store parking lot shimmers in a way that tar does not shimmer. There are people walking by us to and from the glass doors dressed in seventies attire. This thought scape is not mine. It belongs to someone else… Someone whose glory days are over; someone who has fallen in love with the simplicity of normalcy. No one notices me. I am a ghost in this time space reality. They are not as dense as me. Like a hologram or like images being projected on a movie screen. They are made more of light than of flesh. And I look ahead of me to see someone in a wheelchair rolling towards me. Like me, he is dense. Like me, the people seem to walk through him unaware of his presence, as if he is not there.
I did not think. I fell to my knees. I started crying and lifted up a note pad from behind me. On it was my own handwriting, a collection of scribbled questions. Through my sobbing, I asked him “Why can’t I reach people... when I look in their past there is always something… always the exact thing that made them the way they are?” He smiled, remaining very non affectionate but with an amused kindness and through the sharp intensity of his eyes he said “They’re damned afraid animals”. “You’re doing what I was doing before I decided that it was damned useless… You’re trying to get them to look directly into the sun.” “They’ll go blind and then blame you for it even though you burned out their eyes so they could finally see beyond their own noses.” I cried for a while. And then an hours worth of conversation was transferred to me with no words passed back and forth between us. Conversation about the world and the state of it. Conversation about where the world is headed and what needs to be done. He believes in the power of the written word. He believes that language is just about the only liberty left. I am in love with his view point. I feel like language fails me when I want to convey multi dimensional concepts. But I love the chess match of it. I love the feeling of playing the game of finding the perfect word to make a person understand. I call it the “check mate”. Only in this game of chess, the loser is the one that wins because in the losing they gain understanding.
I look up into his face from my place on the pavement below him. I tell him “You were looking for an heir and a successor while you were alive and never found one because you hated women so much you were waiting for a male. That was your blindness. But your heir was never meant to be a male. Your successor was always meant to be a female, it was always meant to be me.” He smiled a warm but condescending sly smile that said, “I already know that”. He placed his wrinkled fingers of his left hand on my shoulder and nodded at me. He said, “We have some books to write together”. I suddenly got a sense of what I will soon be doing. With my controversial nature, it only figures. I was still crying. I was crying from the relief of having the power of such a revolutionary behind me. I asked him “will you be my guide?” He said, “Well it looks very much that way doesn’t it?” We both chuckled. I thanked him and despite his unaffectionate nature, I held onto his leg as he placed his hand on top of my head. The emotion of the excitement at having a new mission and purpose transferred between both of us. And I consciously took a deep breath in the thought scape in order to return to my body.
I gained a new spirit guide last night. His name in life was Gore Vidal. The provocative and subversive genius that revolutionized the United States with the postmodernism of his written word. He died to this world two years ago. And we have chosen each other. He has chosen me as his successor. I have chosen him as my guide. Someone to help me navigate the rocky shores of controversy, someone to help me decide what needs to be written.
It is rare to consciously gain guides by seeking them out or by them seeking you out and yet I have done this twice this year. Several months ago, I asked Stuart Wilde, the writer and lecturer who above all taught freedom, to be my guide. He had died last year. He accepted instantly and overnight has become my most active guide. He started teaching the year I was conceived. And despite being British, even lived in Santa Fe, the town I was born in for a time. He often sits in lotus position so I can place my head on his lap and allow him to stroke my forehead. He wears a deep purple satin sash. He comes to me as a man in his fifties. His humor and hope for this world still intact. No more ghouls to fight off, only a mission to complete. He is such a comfort to me, more familiar to me than anyone.
I have an arsenal of guides so large and often shifting so much that I couldn’t list them all here. There are hundreds of them that appear 4th dimensionally and thousands that do not project farther than the 6th and 5th dimension. Human and non-human alike, but I have a core nucleus of guides. I call these principal guides. Usually with all people there is a primary guide of the principal guides. This guide is with you from birth to death regardless of any shifts that may occur.
My principal guides are now as follows:
I also lost a guide this year. I called him my black guide. He was with me since my birth. He was an african man with dreadlocks and a large top hat from New Orleans. He had an ebony black aura and he spoke like a Cajun. He returned to source consciousness the day that my husband and I were married in Santa Barbara. I have not seen him since. He was also a guardian guide. He was not the most “in alignment guide”. Blake even had an unsavory encounter with him when we were in our early twenties. But he made me feel looked out for more than a few times in my childhood.
It has become apparent to me that as I step into my purpose on this planet, and as that purpose takes a more and more public turn, my long term guides are observing and loving and caring from the backseat as new guides who already vibrate with the frequency of revolution and leadership and freedom take the wheel. It feels as if I am being handed off to new teachers, who will buoy me into the position I was meant to fill, as the continuation of their consciousness. I am told by three of my principal guides that at some point in the future, I do not know when yet, Osho will be contacting me to take a place at my non physical table so to speak. I am excited for this but also afraid for the way my own expansion will feel once he does. Osho, has a reputation for his harsh teaching methods and unforgiving truth delivery.
I can feel this purpose before me. I was born and molded from the stone of this universe for this very role. I feel it in every fiber of my being. I have a lot to live up to with an arsenal of consciousness behind me such as this. But I figured today that you might be curious about my non-physical family, my “non physical key players”. It is uncommon for spiritual teachers to talk openly about their own spirit guides. But as you know, I love breaking with tradition.