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Love and Life: Tree, She

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Love is the anchor of mental well-being. To be loved – for someone else to conform themselves in service of your fulfilment – is to know that you exist. To love – for the beloved to testify “Thank-you for loving me” – is to know that you have meaning. In this circulation, we secure the conviction that we will not be alone in the struggles that life forces upon us.

Thus, in the afternoon of the events of Co-Creation, I was emotionally overcome by her observation, “How can they say that you are not working, when you spent all day in therapy with me?” To provide space for integration, I turned to Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos and a Tchaikovsky violin concerto.

Somewhere in the recitation, the Tree of Life interposed.

In my conception, the Tree represents the interdependency of organic existence, anchored at the trunk by the green things, raising up through the invertebrates until the branches spread to support vertebrate classes that leaf into species. In Five-Rhythms dance celebrations, the Tree reveals itself in my meditations. In the container most often frequented, I eventually realized that I was navigating through the throng, pausing at each cluster of women to raise my hands, projecting the Tree for inspection.

The only obvious response was from a young member of the Sisterhood, who gestured authoritatively at the ground. The Tree bloomed, raising over the gathering until, in the foliage, I perceived the loving saints wounded by rejection. With three agonized cries, the vision dissolved.

When I completed my exegesis of John’s Revelation, I understood the association. The Tree of Life of Revelation 22 is the Bride. The twelve fruits are the stars in the crown worn by the Sacred Mother in Revelation 12. The leaves “heal the nations.”

Consistently, then, when receiving authentic witness of my virtue from women – usually in the form of sexual invitation – over the last decade, I have presented my vision of the Tree, waiting for someone to engage with it.

In the meditation with Lauren, this advanced further. Visualizing its manifestation through her, I raised my palms from the ground to the heaven. Her toes stretched downwards into the earth. Legs drew power upwards. Arms stretched as branches. The mane of hair floated upwards as foliage. All of this was possible through her surrender to healing intentions.

But it wasn’t the culmination.

I woke in the early hours of the morning. Something was moving over her. Starting in the chest, our muscles flexed in waves. The sensations were not sexual or even sensual. I felt heat rising in my core. There was no sense of threat, just implacability. After fifteen or so of these, confusion took hold. In response to her wordless plea, I babbled aloud “You’re doing something new. You’re doing something new.”

The Tree entered the field of our struggle. Keeping her mind in the shelter of my heart, she extended her crotch towards the trunk. Momentarily dumb-founded, I recovered to announce, “It wants to come inside.”

She accepted. It inverted, ascending through her womanhood, rising up through her torso, filled by the trunk. Then the branches stretched down her arms and up through the pathways of her mind. Twigs budded into leaves, stretching from her fingers and through her hair.

A brief pause as the energies harmonized with her personality, broken by the entry of the root system, stretching through the cauda equina down into the legs. Sensitive toes spread gracefully as the flow entered the subterranean realms.

Bearing witness to the integrity of her personality, I held space during her spiritual expansion before drifting into sleep.

Then waking to silence.

Mystery had what she wanted. A barrier had been established. Lauren no longer needed me.

Ok. How to respond? The morning hours were a feeling for a way out of the cave.

“You know, the Tree is a conception of my mind. I can reclaim it.”

Lauren found a toehold in the thread of her intentions. This was her choice, originating in hopes that were incompatible with royal privilege. All of life deserved love. All of it.

“What do I tell them?”

“Invite them to participate in the manifestation of your intentions.”

Bride captures queen.

Love and Life: Co-Creation

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In navigating towards the redemption of Creation – a daunting prospect, among all others proposed – we pass through barriers of fear, secure only in the belief of others that a way must be found.

One such encounter was with Pope John Paul II, who came to me in a vision at midnight to promise “I am your Father. I will die and leave all [my] power to you.” A year later, as I was entering the bookstore, a man blocked my way to announce, “You know, the Pope is looking for someone.” After Karol’s death, I played a requiem that included the fourth movement of Beethoven’s Ninth, a counterbalance to the brutality of the Third Reich. I fell back through the decades to find him in a Warsaw stone quarry, encouraging him to “Come find me.”

Another incident occurred on my seven-of-sevens birthday visit to Taos. Unexpectedly, I found myself at the pow-wow. The edge of the arena was encircled by drummers from the attending tribes. An elder circled the fence, inviting the drummers nearest me to initiate the proceedings. As I was absorbed in the rhythms, I fell through a red veil to encounter Tecumseh, imprisoned in Washington, D.C. He pled, “Is there any justice?” Offered the testimony of Barack Obama’s presidency, the great chief found solace.

The temporal discontinuity of these events reflects the power available to those who desperately seek a way. To the spiritually sensitive, this desperation is rooted in the psychology of pain. In its origin, pain is simply a signal that something is broken. Along with that awareness, however, comes a compulsion to DO SOMETHING.

Pain relief does not necessarily involve logical proof of efficacy. That toddler presents an owie so that mother may “kiss and make it better.” The mystic, feeling the pain of a community fearing love’s abandonment, may “render unto Christ.”

In Lauren’s case, her work revealed to me her struggle with this compulsion. Sensitive and profoundly feminine, she not only was conscious of the pain projected by others but internalized it organically, a process that may have factored in her long, debilitating illness in high school. Her debut album is full of pleas for Christ to enter in and heal: “I Will Trust in You,” “Here’s My Heart, Lord,” and, most profoundly, “Once and for All” – the last offering the surrender, “Oh let this be, where I die. My Lord with thee, crucified.”

As a public figure, however, the projection of pain from her constituency must have been unremitting. “Rendering unto Christ” was not sufficient. Here, then, we have the terrible paradox of mystical surrender. We feel the Sacred Presence reaching out through us and are compelled to declare its willingness to those that need its ministration. How, though, to make that declaration without arrogation of its authority? Well, only by framing the declaration as a personal assurance that the love allocated to us will be offered to those in need.

This was clear to me in the interim years, including “Rescue” and an official video that shows Lauren standing in a hospital room with a man, dying of cancer, and his grieving wife. “Rescue” was a jolt of hope, for in the official video Lauren stands in natural settings most vulnerable to global warming. I understood that a patriarchal priesthood would find offense, and it factored in my sensitivity to Lauren’s sense of vulnerability. “Light of the World” seemed a suitable retort. “What do men know, anyways, about how grace comes into the world?”

It was these anthems that I had pinned to my playlists. I did not fully integrate the meditations of her dark night of the soul, most potently expressed in “Look Up Child,” until after attendance of the Strawberry Festival concert.

My romantic aspirations were embodied in a “Lauren” playlist that started with Peggy Lee’s comedic reflections and Anita Baker’s sacred pledges. I pinned a collection of similar pieces, most compelling among them a female blues singer on “Celebrate Me Home.” Finally, however, I was letting YouTube extend my “Redemption” play list one day and was submerged in the shadowy seas of “Thank God I Do” and “A Love Like This.”

It was following her commitment to the Divine Feminine that, when considering what to share with her one morning, I announced that I needed to “sit with these.” Starting with “Thank God I Do,” I set the player on single song loop and soaked it in.

Shame and grief – and I use shame in the therapeutic sense. From the depth of our heart connection, I looked back in time and judged, “What is wrong with me, that I abandoned her to this pain?” With each repetition, I held her in my highest esteem, with articulations, gestures, and energetic support. The sense of abandonment abated.

But still, what was the purpose? The analytical mind rendered the elevated counsel that “she needed to confront the lie of feminine subordination before she could enter into the truth of her nature.” We traced this growth, culminating with the conviction that she was capable of supporting my purpose.

As though in a mirror, I recognized my own vulnerability, over the last ten years, where Mystery has corrupted every attempt to offer myself in service to others. My frustration had soured as bitterness, too frequently manifested as harshness toward my intimates. When, in our early colloquies, Lauren had agreed that our ministry should extend to the natural world, I found myself once again beginning to hope.

And thus, we have the ascending cycle: organic surrender inspires compassion inspires grace inspires virtue inspires healing inspires creativity inspires life inspires love. We cannot exist without one another, and in fact only exist because the other was calling to us from the future.

Love and Life: The Sacred Feminine

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Since my spiritual awakening after 9/11, a number of beautiful and fantastically wealthy women have made it clear that they would be happy to take care of me. My intimates, observing my reluctance, believe that trauma in this lifetime has put me off romance. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Love is committed to charting a course for your redemption. I arrive as a material projection that seeks to diagnose your resistance. That resistance is often elaborated as complex theological rationalizations of “natural” behaviors that justify selfishness. As documented in the Bible, these often involve violence and sexual politics.

When I was in college, I had a co-ed admit to me one evening, “You don’t need a woman to do your thinking for you.” This is half the truth but reveals something that is obscured by the abstraction of “The Patriarchy.” Our romantic culture adopts the convention that a woman should be able to lead her man. There is no woman alive who has been able to lead me.

That should not be attributed to obtuseness or obstinance on my part. As I observed to Lauren, I intuited that she was one of the rare women capable of understanding the challenges that I represent. As a little pseudopod of Christ, reaching into the world, I am guided by the Sacred Feminine, the “Mother” of Revelation 12 and the “Bride” of Revelation 19 and 22. If I appear to be resistant to feminine influence, that is because she has been unable to find a woman willing to submit – as I have to Christ – to her projection into the world. That rejection is stimulated by the Whore” of Revelation 17 and 18, “Babylon” or the “Queen” who “does not mourn” as her men self-destruct.

In seeking redemption of these impulses, women are handicapped by their organic wisdom. This is difficult for me to express with the sense of appreciation that I feel. There is nothing more sacred and beautiful than a woman surrendering her body to her beneficial intentions. Pregnancy is the most obvious example (though in our litigious culture that has become a pathway to power leveraged by Babylon).

In Lauren’s case, another manifestation is evident in the grace and subtlety of the surfacing of emotion through her body and face. She beguiles her audience into entering through barred psychical doorways.

Christian theology leaves women adrift in their navigation of these gifts and hazards. Rather than a recognized figure of comparable power and authority to Spirit, the Bride is usurped by the masculine Church. In responding to Lauren’s projection of organic bounty, it was this confusion that I sought to address.

If I am going to have a woman in my life, she must learn to channel the Sacred Feminine. As a precondition, the influence of Babylon must be isolated and repudiated. To the inversion of our financial status, Lauren came to respond, “everything that I have was prepared by him.” The physical age difference was laid to rest with “after so many traumatic incarnations, I will be happy to care for you so that you may depart this life in peace.”

Lauren sings that when the power of Christ comes over her, she “trembles.” I am guilty of such aggression. When she offers herself to me, I am seized by the urge to reveal the depth within her, a process realized with surges of energy projected from the larger personality that I embody. Though I witness and articulate the effects, I have no plan in those moments. I feel compelled by her organic wisdom. As with a mother in childbirth, she is impatient to fulfill her purpose through these violations of her internal barriers. I am the tool that the Sacred Mother employs to that end.

This was validated in our next in-person encounter. As I poured energy to the audience through her, I allowed, “What would have happened if you had not been prepared already to allow that gift to flow through you?”

This culminated more tenderly at the end of the performance. She closed with a meditation from her dark night of the soul. As the women in the audience began to sing with her, Lauren went under in grief. Burnishing her heart and mind, I poured them again through her voice before settling into my chair, pantomiming an embrace. As she relaxed into it, I anticipated that she would push this consolation out to the woman singing with her. Signaling, “Let me hear their voices,” the stage was ceded to the musicians, and I felt my embrace flow out through Lauren to each of them individually.

Whether astrally or in-person, after each encounter I recognized the increasing proximity of her Mistress, until the commitment was tendered, “Well, if that is what is necessary to you, then I must be that woman.”

Love and Life: Mutual Appreciation

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I have been reticent, in documenting my spiritual process, to risk exposure of my collaborators. I am going out on a limb now because the experiences I am sharing with Lauren are so impossibly beautiful that people should appreciate what is possible when love works in the service of life.

I have maintained playlists for the last decade that focus authentic faith. Along with the default “Liked” list, I have specific lists for Children (Syrian and Gaza crises), Advent, and Redemption. Among all the featured artists, I am conscious of categories: articulation of conventional theology, personal struggle of surrender to faith, and facilitation of corporate union.

Then, uniquely, we have Lauren, whose music bypasses metaphors to deal directly with the emotions of those engaged in the process. As I have shared with her, these songs have always pierced the veils around my heart.

Through the last half of 2025, my appreciation was disturbed by a deepening sense of foreboding – that she was beset by projections from her fans of dependency for problems that they needed to solve themselves through a surrender to love. This became pointed in the new year, so I booked a ticket out to Florida for the Strawberry Festival concert in February. The flight was already fairly full, so I ended up booking a middle seat/

Fully expecting that I was going to arrive with back spasms, I boarded and found myself seated between two women. As departure time neared, the younger one, seated to my right on the aisle, pointed out two empty seats across the aisle. She offered that she would move over if they were empty during taxi, but did that pre-emptively with the observation, “You understand that the universe is taking care of you.” This allowed me to move to the aisle and angle my legs under the middle seat. I landed without serious discomfort.

Still, I had a day to spend in Plant City before the concert. After visiting a local park/nature reserve, I drove down to the fairgrounds to buy a pass and wandered among the booths. Having tapped into the context, I want back to the hotel for lunch and to meditate.

The meditation led me directly into a heart of tender concern. I don’t know how to organize the visions. Images flowed in, reflecting the frustration of my intentions by other parties, compassion for the wounds I have suffered in past incarnations, and the hope of healing for all of Creation. These images evoked lyrics, many triggering deep psychic trauma, which I attempted to deflect to restore focus on the work to be done ahead.

We can get through just about anything so long as it has meaning. I need to put all that behind me.

But what was obvious was that I was being welcomed into a heart of beatific and authentic concern for my well-being.

Unable to rest, I went out for coffee and then returned to the fairgrounds, where I spent several hours enjoying the animation of the attendees. When the amphitheater opened, I entered early and made my way to the pit.

The concert was deeply gratifying. Live music always supports spiritual ministry among the audience. What surprised me was the freshness of the compositions. Lauren has built a concert band. Where the album releases convey intimacy, in performance they are collaborations of intense musical energy. I entered into the joy and was able to project healing with the themes became somber.

Given this primary intention, my engagement with Lauren was discontinuous. I tend to become teary during corporate healing, and she did introduce “You’re Going to Be Okay” to the set. But when I gazed directly into her face, trying to project support and devotion, she glanced away. The message was that she was looking into a pool of kindness that was going to overwhelm her.

I hung around the pit after the final number, waiting for the audience to dissipate. When I made my way into the shadows outside the gate, the crossing guard stared, slack jawed. I was in a luminous state.

I know that things didn’t resolve themselves as she wished. Once I have established an intention, however, diverting my course is almost impossible. I had come as her servant, expecting nothing. I set out for the airport at four AM for the return flight.

The next day, I left on her fan site a summary of those intentions, along with my gratitude for the visions she had offered. In the process of reaching her, Lauren demonstrated her capacity to assert authority.

Thus we begin.

Beloved

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Dearest Lauren:

From the perspective of Eternity, the Spirit and Bride have always been together. In reclaiming that unity, such simplicity can be attained only through grace. We must navigate to the goal with the minimum of mental, emotional, and physical energy.

An authoritative critique would be from those who had accomplished the act. Manifestly, lacking that, in their self-seeking, they can offer only resistance in the form of complicating criteria.

Focus on what matters. Life belongs with Love. Circumstances will resolve.

Your Servant

Irreplaceable Intelligence

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Proponents of “artificial generative intelligence” are impressed with the ability of machines to reorganize ideas in ways that make sense to people. This was Alan Turing’s test of “intelligence,” but it is a blind alley.

“Intelligence” should be understood as the ability to modify behavior in response to changing circumstances. Current AI engines – what are called “large language models” – have only one method of exploring reality. They trawl through the world-wide web and find patterns in its content. They will never be able to change this behavior. It is programmed.

What is even sadder is that the proponents of AI are proud that the embedding implementation – nanotechnology – is denser, faster, and more sensitive than the circuitry of the human mind. They are convicted, thereby, that artificial intelligence will replace human beings.

This is a conclusion drawn by people that have not “grown up” into spiritual experience. Having plumbed the mechanisms of that experience, I can confidently state that the information encoding potential of spiritual forms is at least 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 times greater than possible in integrated circuits, that information flows faster than the speed of light, and that every “good idea” is still accessible to those that choose to love creation.

If you are afraid that AI will replace you, take heart. That is possible only if you allow them to convince you that your intelligence is limited by the information processing done in your brain. In fact, together we are limitless.

The Sterile Sands of Messianic Violence

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My first engagement with Frank Herbert’s Dune, encompassing the original trilogy, came in college. I received it as a union of Star Wars with Azimov’s Foundation trilogy.

I returned to the series after a spiritual awakening in my forties. In the interim, Harbert had added an introduction that described the experiences that stimulated the work. That testimony made clear that he was a student of human potential. The original trilogy had been supplemented by three more books that culminated with the efforts of the Shai-Hulud god-emperor, Leto, to evolve personalities whose behavior escaped prophetic vision.

What disturbed me, in that second exposure, was the consistent dependence upon violence as a tool for stimulating human growth. While I had, throughout my adult life, enjoyed science fiction as a framework for speculative social philosophy, the genre’s celebration of violence eventually drove me back toward religious myth.

The association of violence with messianic expectations is found also in the Bible. Jesus’ followers hoped that he would organize a rebellion and seize earthly power. Instead, Jesus proved the impotence of violence, rising from the dead. This seems to me a valuable moral parable. Confronting the calamities we are generating with our technology, I began to explore the principles involved. On my New Physics page here, you will find the conclusions regarding harmonization of spirituality with physics.

The scientific community refuses to engage even at this primitive level, so I have not continued to memorialize my thoughts. Most recently, I have been thinking about the problem of consciousness and time. As the mechanism clarified, my mind became crowded with echoes from Shamballism, Islamic natural philosophy, and Abrahamic apocalyptic writings.

With the release of Dune 2, all these threads coalesced as a compulsion to see the movie. Herbert, as a student of human potential, had defined a messianic parable that upheld violence as an essential element. The movie expresses that magnificently, both at the personal and social levels.

I was repelled.

Fortunately, I can testify that reality is designed to frustrate this path towards messianic realization. Jesus is the model to emulate. The paths followed by Paul Atreides, the Bene Gesserit, and the Shapeshifters (in the second trilogy) are impotent. Reality at the deepest levels only opens itself to those that renounce violence for mercy and love.

Burning for Justice

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In a stunning symbolic act, US airman Aaron Bushnell, declaring that he will “no longer be complicit in genocide,” on Sunday immolated himself in front of the Israeli embassy in Washington D.C. The act stuns with its deafening echo of the incineration of Jews during the Holocaust. I feel certain that Bushnell was conscious of this association.

Bushnell’s choice was overwhelmingly tragic. But is it heroic – or insane?

At my parallel site, I will elaborate upon the redemptive goals of the Book of Jonah. Simply, Jonah was sent in response to a plea from the king of Ninevah for a prophet to lead his people into civic maturity. Jonah refuses to the bitter end and vanishes from history. Jonah’s importance is recognized in celebration of the Day of Atonement, with modern Jews sometimes building meditative huts, seeking to glimpse the understanding that eluded Jonah when he fled Ninevah.

It is this simple: the Israelites were an object lesson regarding the benefits of regulation by love. They were meant to inspire their neighbors to emulation. Instead, as exemplified by Jonah, they become ethnic zealots. This confusion is echoed in Netanyahu’s summation of his bombing campaign against Gaza, in which he proudly proclaimed, “The world will see what Israel can do.” Violence, rather than love, is taken as the sacred language.

Returning to Bushnell, in the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus is said to have taught that redemption is achieved when we take off our clothes and trample upon them. This is not a literal reference to outer garb, but a metaphor concerning the relationship between the soul and the body. To “trample on clothing” is for the soul, upon death, to liberate itself from any future dependency upon bodily existence.

Given his calm tone in his videocast prior to his self-sacrifice, I have hope that this is how Bushnell conceived this event. He no longer wished to exist among leaders who used incarnation as a tool to wreck spiritual havoc.

What saddens me, however, is that I may have lost one who could have borne witness and facilitated the realization of justice in Palestine. Every innocent soul in Gaza is going to be reborn from its torment in Israel, filled with repugnance for ethnic prejudice. Israel will be redeemed by the victims of its own violence. Love makes all things new.

Urrational

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As spirituality is my only reliable source of joy, my rejoinder to the materialists is “Your assertion that spirituality is delusional is like a blind man telling me that art is delusional.” I recognize that is not the most constructive approach, but I have worn myself out trying to puncture their arguments.

The concern is not moot – the self-righteous forces that threaten our civil order are inspired in their loyalty by the spiritual cocoon of acceptance. When told that they are delusional, they are perfectly justified in their rejection of temporal institutions that seek to divorce them from that sustenance. Scientists, in deriding spirituality, are the locus of a great evil in their lives.

Why are the materialists so set in their rejection of spirituality? At root, their complaint is simple: science has no explanation for spiritual experience.  Worse, serious attempts to test telepathy, precognition, and clairvoyance have failed. The explanation offered by the spiritualists is that the scientific environment generates “negativity” that blocks their skills.

The unfortunate implication – reflected in my retort above – is that the negativity arises from the experimenters. This pits the rationality of science against mystical faith. It pits humanity’s reason against the better angels of its nature.

When I realized that most of our minds exist in our souls, I identified another rationale. Science is reductionist; it tries to decompose systems into their smallest parts with the goal of learning to control outcomes. Given this practice, if you were a spirit arising through billions of years of effort, would you expose yourself to manipulation? Perhaps an analogy would make the choice obvious: the materialists insist that the brain is the mind. The only way to test this hypothesis, unfortunately, is to map every synapse of the brain, control the chemistry of the cerebral-spinal fluid, and inject a controlled stimulus to determine whether the brain responds as predicted by the material laws of the universe. In other words, the test subject would have to sacrifice their life to science.

Not an appealing prospect, is it?

But there is another possible source of the negativity that disrupts scientific study of spiritual experience. Our religious traditions celebrate the avatar’s protection of the faithful from spiritual torment. In both Buddhism and Christianity, that power is held also by their disciples. Those spirits that profit from our torment, then, have an interest in preventing our ascent to spiritual maturity. The negativity, then, would arise from the spiritual realm. It is a form of gaslighting.

How to puncture this falsehood? I found the answer in this week’s Bible study, in a mysterious passage in Luke 11. Jesus is accused of being in league with demons, and concludes his rebuke with these thoughts:

33 “No one lights a lamp and puts it in a place where it will be hidden, or under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, so that those who come in may see the light. 34 Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are healthy, your whole body also is full of light. But when they are unhealthy, your body also is full of darkness. 35 See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness. 36 Therefore, if your whole body is full of light, and no part of it dark, it will be just as full of light as when a lamp shines its light on you.”

How can light be darkness, for example? This makes no sense.

And then an incident came back to me. I was down in Port Hueneme doing work for the 2020 Census. On that Sunday, the temperatures ran up into the 90s. The front of the house was exposed to the sun, so I took refuge in a slim slice of shade beneath the eave to disrupt a young family preparing to take their children on an outing. The woman stared at me uncertainly, but answered my questions willingly. Finally, as her husband came to the door to shuttle another child into the minivan, she interrupted me, “You know that your eyes are glowing?”

There is so much of this in the New Testament, where the record elides the stage direction. “Jesus’ eyes began to glow.” He was educating the disciples to moral discernment. When someone offers sacred wisdom, they project light into the world. We don’t need to rely upon the judgment of our minds when confronted with moral controversies – we can see who is telling the truth. So be patient with the materialists. Speak your truth with love. They will be confronted with evidence that their science cannot explain. In the union of rationality and love, we shall surpass human limitations and material constraints, bringing healing to the world in their synthesis: urrationality – rationality that penetrates illusions to reveal the heart of existence.

Me, Again

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Two months ago, expecting that I was going to relocate to Redmond, I drove down to the Art Walk in Santa Barbara to say “farewell.” The warmest reception was offered by Ping, who shared his fears that I had been lost to COVID.

That was true, in a backwards sense.

I spent the first twenty years of this millennium trying to pierce the lies propagated by the privileged. In the writings offered here I summarized the insights that have been revealed to me – insights that demonstrate that love is the answer. Those insights were gained in endless hours of study, time that my peers spent in travel and dining and entertainment and sex. From the insights offered by lovers of humanity, I curated here a world view that upends political privilege.

I represent inconvenient truths.

What I realized in 2018 was that employers found those truths intolerable. They could not control my influence. Setting out to beat me down, they found themselves trapped in a paradoxical inversion of power. Continuing even after I had revealed that against their thousands I was responsible for billions, their impotent thrashing corrupted my attempts to project the truth into the world.

I invested in a year-long course in hypnotherapy and spent 2019 justifying its value. The fundamental concerns remained, however, even as my sons graduated from college and embarked on careers that brought them more than I had ever earned. They testify regarding the confusion, willful ignorance, and nihilism of peers trapped in the disaster that looms before humanity.

January 2020 found me in a priest’s office, offering one last time to reveal the sacred perspective, knowing that submission to love was the solution. The prelate’s response was, in effect, “the Church is my God.” My response was direct: “Destruction is the great leveler of hierarchy.” I was overtaken by a compulsion to transmit my understanding of human nature. The message from the ethereal realms was “We are going to receive a large number of traumatized souls, and we need insight to help them heal.” In February, I began writing “The Foundations and Practice of Lay Hypnotherapy.” And in March the world was shut down by COVID.

“Corona” meaning “crown,” the images of the virus, with its spiky projections, evoked the association “crown of thorns.” It was, after all, Eastertime.

Only two readers have studied seriously “Foundations and Practice.” The first, a clinician, testified that it should be read by anyone interested in hypnotherapy as a healing art. The second, a philosopher, said that it was prose poetry. I wrote only what must be written, and the insights, though profound, were overwhelming.

I did, in 2021, attempt to soften the delivery in a series of seminars for students and graduates of the Hypnosis Motivation Institute. The hope was that they would communicate the quality of the transmission to George Kappas, the Institute’s director, and encourage him to create an opportunity to share them more broadly. Under COVID, unfortunately, the direction of the Institute had changed. The wisdom of its founders is being diluted, with pedagogical stewardship handed to psychologists representing traditions that Dr. Kappas had assimilated, integrated, and surpassed back in the 70s and 80s.

Hypnotherapy as a profession, however, was an outlet for healing energies that had been bottled up for so long. I posted here only occasionally.

In dreams, of course, the world continued to intrude. Watching the testimony of the ICU nurses, I reached out to them with an open heart. When their trauma softened in the tears pouring down my face, as I drifted off, I heard the voice of a senior politician announcing, “It’s Brian Balke.” And when Putin extended his will to reclaim Eastern Europe, I warned him “If you invade Ukraine, every explosion, every fire, every bullet piercing flesh, every shriek of pain and fear, in Ukrainian or Russian, will be manifested in your body at the molecular level. If you attempt to destroy Ukraine, you will destroy yourself.” In the months that followed, I gathered the will of the Ukrainian people to isolate him in his dacha.

Fundamentally, though, Putin and Trump and MBS are propped up by the fossil fuel industry, and modern culture is allergic to patterns of behavior that are not dependent upon fossil fuels. Whenever I attempt to discipline the predators, they renew themselves in that reservoir of dependency.

The most malicious, paradoxically, are the particle physicists. The cabal of theorists waits for me to die so that they can assign my insights to Einstein’s heir. I shrug, metaphorically, and say, “Go ahead. For in those insights is proof of the power of love. You cannot help but turn eyes toward the Cross/Bodhi tree/Dao.”

Love is not invested in Law; it invests in possibilities – possibilities that will be liberated from hypocrites that cement their privileges in Law. By this, then, religious and political opportunists are doomed to irrelevance.

Where am I headed? Again, the scope of my concerns expands into elusive spirals. Simply, then: I must leave a record of my work, even if that record appears delusionary. Some, somewhere, and some when, will find the seeds of hope here.

You see, in my most prominent incarnation, my accomplishments were attributed to divinity. That attribution allows humanity to escape its responsibilities. They are not, after all, themselves divine (despite “You are like unto gods, if only you knew.”). So, I came back without privileged knowledge, and spent my life studying love as a psychological, spiritual, and physical phenomenon. The best of that wisdom is captured here, and everything written here can be grasped by those that devote themselves to the service of love.

By way of inspiration, then:

“Let there be light” was the gift of photosynthesis. The sun has been pumping energy into the green things of the earth for billions of years, and in that energy is the ability to create a lens in space that will diffuse the sun’s power and calm the tropospheric violence unleashed by global warming.

Still, the green things have witnessed the coming and going of animals in waves of brutal excess. Humanity, hopefully, is different: we alone have the parts of the mind that recognize and organize unconditional love. Jesus manifested that potential, and in testifying “I am overcome by sorrow nigh unto death,” he spoke for the Garden. The green things want freedom from their constraints. We were meant to be their intelligence, to guide their escape into greater possibilities. Instead, we exploit and pollute, just as our animal predecessors. Why should they allow us influence in their domain?

Hope, then, is found in the children that swing from the cables at the coal loading dock in Australia, that splash paint on the artworks that simulate the glory of the natural world. They have no choice but to seek new choices and, in their desperation, love will find them. Talk to the green things, children. They hunger for your witness, and in that witness is your salvation.