The Sliver Of Glass

This happened some time back. One day I was scraping the bottom of the barrel when -- OUCH! DAMN! -- I had a sliver of glass in my finger. It must have been one really sharp and jagged bit of glass, too, because it went in slicker than snot and was very hard to get out.

This is what I remember: I worked at it from down below, trying to push it up and out. Then I was trying to edge it out, pressing gently from the sides. After a while I was rocking it back and forth like a car stuck in the snow. Then I had my finger in my mouth for a minute to get rid of the germs. Somehow then, after messing with it several other ways, all the time with it hurting like a bastard, finally, without any little broken off pieces remaining below the surface, I got it out.

Up to that time, on my honor, I was quite ignorant of that little sliver of glass. But it turned out it had quite a back story, which I may write about someday as a prequel to this post, and it had a story going forward. But since it would be impossible for me personally to watch over and record its movements going forth, I have had to seek and receive access to the akashic records, where such things are forever recorded. Maybe there's very little detail, but of course the barest facts are better than nothing.

You might think it seems odd, with all the secrets and mysteries out there -- the deep things of life and existence, godliness and the spiritual world -- why I would pay such close attention to one sliver of glass.  But it's true, every word. I have one very important reason, I don't want to get the damned thing in my finger again...

The records mention me in its stream, the one detail I personally experienced, that I got it out of my finger and flicked it into the garbage. But it turns out that wasn't the end of the story. The next day the trash guy picked up the bag in the yard, bumped it against his leg, and immediately was impaled on the same sliver!

From there, he put it back in a box headed to the recycling center, where an employee got it stuck in her finger. She got it out fairly easily, then flicked it away into the dirt, when it got stuck in a dog's paw, the dog just happening by. The family took the dog to the vet to have it removed, then as the vet was holding it the dog jumped up and it fell somewhere in the dog's fur. The family traveled far, to a beach, where a kid there petted the dog and got it in his hand. This kid's mom picked it out of his hand, then it fell in the sand.

Now here's an interesting detail I wouldn't expect: A sea turtle, just hatched out, got it stuck in its foot but still made it to the water. The little turtle swam toward China, where it was caught by fishermen. One fisherman, separating the turtle from a tangle in the net, got the sliver in his hand. He was down below in the ship, picking it out, when it fell into some cleaned turtle meat. Next, it ended up in a can of food that made its way to a grocery store.

A guy in Hong Kong ate the canned turtle and pretty soon noticed a fierce pain in his small intestine. A doctor removed his small intestine and the sliver, unnoticed, fell on a table being wheeled out. An associate of the doctor was heading for America for a conference. She set her leather purse down to say goodbye when it got hooked to the bottom of it. Later in America, she set her purse on the head table of the conference banquet.

She introduced the keynote speaker, slated to give an important talk on "The Latest Breakthroughs in First Aid." He put his hand on the table when getting up and the sliver was immediately embedded in him. He tried to give his speech, but the pain became so intense that a medic had to come out and work on him. As it came out, the sliver fell into some wet towels ----

The records break off there. The obvious conclusion is that it's still out there ... somewhere. It might be a thousand miles away or it might be right underfoot. The fact that you are reading this could be significant, because there could be a natural synchronicity at work, meaning you could be the next one to be injured. If that happens, please let me know, I'm curious. And it'll save me time having to look it up in the records.

Please have a very safe day.

Akashic Records And Salt Pork

I wasn't getting very far in recalling details of my dream about The Ideal Woman from Redfield. My memories are very shallow. This would be a good time to remember what I said a few weeks about about the Interior Castle, but I'm not really recalling that either. I could look it up. But let me try to restate it on the fly. There's stuff up here, meaning what I can visualize, like a car, the picture of a car. Then there's stuff up there, also visualized but without entirely conscious thought. It just is. Getting there can be tricky. But the basic move is to do what Elvis advised in Speedway: "Let Yourself Go."

Yesterday afternoon I decided to try for some lucid dreams. I remember reading in a magazine once, along with invoking other spiritual experiences, that there are techniques to make lucid dreams more likely. Some are more strenuous than others. Endurance stuff, like staying awake a couple of days. Standing on your head for several hours, that kind of thing. Another way is the same as sympathetic magic techniques. Such as if I wanted to dream of the girl from Redfield, let's say, I might surround myself with red things and pictures of girls. Another way is to eat strange foods or unnatural portions of foods, anything to get your body out of its normal rut. It's a matter of purposely throwing your digestive metabolism out of whack, knowing you'll have a restless night, but also assuming you will sleep soundly for an hour or so, and in that brief time your dreams will be as lucid as can be.

[Let me pause here to give a legal disclaimer. The techniques described in this blog are "for entertainment purposes only." Do not try this at home or in any other bed outside your home. Consult your doctor before any medical or dietary changes. Like me. I phone my doctor a dozen times a day. "Hi, it's me again. I just saw an ad for Vagisil on TV. And they said to call you and see if it's right for me." No? OK, I'll talk to you after the next commercial break."]

I decided to go with this last technique -- dietary havoc -- which required a quick trip to the grocery store to get some navy beans, salt pork, and johnny cake. With some quick soaking and boiling the beans were softened up enough to eat by 9:30 p.m. A couple big bowls and it was time for bed.

Around midnight I was still awake. The discomfort of being so full was the biggest problem. But you know how it is with this kind of meal, a few hours in and you feel like a pressure cooker. The churning is bad. It's like the song "Locomotion," with the chugga chugga motion. The train's on your digestive track, speeding downhill, saying, "I knew I could, I knew I could!" This is no way to sleep; your midsection alternates between feeling constricted and about to blow. I was sweating through my clothes in agony, discomfort, pain. I felt contorted, twisted in knots. There's a kind of rotting away feeling, a gnawing that doesn't quit. It was exactly what I wanted.

Then it happened. I must have gone into an alternate realm of sleep. I was in a very cloudy place, clouds stretched out everywhere, like looking out a plane's window. There was a palace ahead. I entered the palace and was informed it was where the akashic records are stored. I knew about this place from reading Levi's "Aquarian Gospel of Jesus Christ." I mentioned this to the gatekeeper and he said he didn't remember ever seeing him. So I'm like "Hmmm, that pious old fraud!" Anyway, I checked the digital card catalog and got about 35 million hits on "dreams about women." I was just about to narrow my search to "anima" and more specifically "ideal women" and, I hoped, more narrowly yet, to "Redfield, Iowa," when I suddenly woke up with a most severe biological function in the offing.

The digestive impulse angered me in a terrible way! But with a full belly of navy beans, salt pork, and johnny cake, and the churning that always goes with it, even more than "She," this impulse is something "that must be obeyed."