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The Secret History of Consciousness
Ancient Keys to Our Future Survival
By Meg Blackburn Losey
Red Wheel/Weiser, LLCCopyright © 2010 Meg Blackburn Losey, Ph.D.
All rights reserved.
Coming Out of the (Spiritual) Closet
The legends of King Arthur refer to a wonderful, whimsical, yet powerful wizard named Merlin, who "lived backwards." Most people would take that to mean that Merlin began as a very old man who became younger every year. But that wasn't it at all. Merlin found the doors to the infinite consciousness and then learned how to apply that vast knowledge to the comparatively narrow world of human comprehension and existence. What seemed to be feats of magic were nothing more than Merlin accessing realities beyond our familiar world.
I know, because I found those doors myself.
What I am about to tell you may sound very strange, but this story is quite real and the experiences are phenomenal. Moreover, every day, science is proving the resulting knowledge to be true, and that knowledge has had resounding effect across the planet and beyond.
Over the years, hundreds, if not thousands, of people have asked me to tell my story, and in most cases I have resisted, not wanting to seem like another "woo-woo" person with a great imagination. But during these years, the world has grown up, and I guess I have too. So here it goes.
Being intuitive has been natural for me my entire life. As a child in Catholic school, I really understood the meaning of holy and the inner place from which the saints' devotion came—that place in our heart of hearts where we can go to become unified with all things, that place inside of us that is our source connection, our link to the memories of all times and infinite possibilities from which we can create anything that we desire. That place that many people call the God within us. It can be an overwhelming place.
I remember one day as a child, when I was in my friend's playhouse, the air all of a sudden sort of snapped, crackled, and turned blue. I heard a rustle and saw a light that sprouted wings, unfolding as a dove that flew toward me and over my head as I ducked. "Hey!" I yelled at my friend, "Did you see the Holy Spirit just now?" (I mean, really, what else would you call it?) My friend just kind of shrugged and blew me off. She hadn't seen or heard a thing.
That experience was the beginning of many that no one else believed. Strange was normal for me. I knew things. From a very deep heart place, I understood what people felt, what they really meant when they said things, how much pain humanity carried. I seemed to be empathic to the emotional injuries of others and to have compassion for the pain that I saw and felt.
It became hard for me to tell the difference between their emotions and mine, so I shut off my intuitive understanding as best as I could. Deep down the awareness simmered, but I found a way to cover it up. When I was a teenager, alcohol and drugs provided a blissful escape, but ultimately I felt worse, as their effects lingered in my sensitive system. Later, I developed defensive behaviors and built walls a mile thick around my emotions. Yet all the while I still felt everything.
Because no one else seemed to have an awareness like mine, I hid my experiences, keeping them to myself. I tried really hard to be like everyone else, but I always had the feeling that I didn't fit in anywhere. For a couple of decades, I lived a cardboard life. I lived and loved from the perspective of those around me—my friends, my family, everyone. For example, when I asked my dad what it would take for him to be proud of me, for me to be a success, he said, "Do well in business." So I set out to prove to dad that I was made of that stuff, that I had the grit and determination of a successful business person.
There came a day in 1998 when my cardboard world—everything that I knew to be my life, the foundation of my reality—began to crumble. I found myself alone on my friend's sofa because I had nowhere else that felt safe. One morning, I woke up and was sobbing. At that moment, there wasn't a thought in my head, but I was enshrouded in pain. My heart was broken. Nothing made sense. The grief was alive and consuming me.
It was time to regroup. "Okay, self," I said, "We are not getting up off of this couch until we figure out what is going on here."
I began to look at my life with a fresh set of eyes. I looked at my role in every situation. What I saw was a rude awakening. I had become dishonest and manipulative with myself, and I had a sense of false bravado that I was some great success. I realized that all I was doing was blaming everyone else for my problems. It was time take responsibility for my own actions and perceptions.
As I looked in my own inner mirror, I also realized that I was in no way authentic. I had learned to cover up every deep feeling, every perception, and every little tiny bit of me there was. I had to get real. So I reached into my heart of hearts and said aloud to the otherwise empty room, "Whoever I am, whatever I am, I accept."
I can't emphasize enough the humility that went with that statement, what it meant to truly let go. The words rolled through my body like a tidal wave. I felt much lighter than I had only a moment before. From that moment forward I decided to live authentically, no matter what, to maintain the humility that brought me to getting real.
The first thing I learned was that I didn't know how to tell the truth. I don't mean I lied to everyone all of the time. I didn't know how to tell myself the truth, and because of that, I had become a pretty good B.S. artist with everyone else. But after that moment of humble acceptance, I began to practice truth. I caught myself when I was covering up what I really felt, and I began to learn how to feel safe revealing my more inner thoughts and feelings. Soon that spilled over into practicing on other people. I would swallow hard and speak the truth as I saw it. Funny thing was, as I did, people became more comfortable with me, and I with them. Simultaneously, the people in my life that really didn't fit, people with whom I'd had destructive relationships, started to just kind of fade into the sunset. But as each negative person fell away, others came into my life—others who were authentic and, even more exciting, open to the idea that what we see around us isn't the only reality there is in creation.
One day I ran into a tenant to whom I had leased a client's house in the middle of a gorgeous old farm. She invited me to come to her house for weekly group meetings she was having. She told me that the meetings were all about astrology, and that they did drumming and different things like that. The next week, I timidly wandered into the meeting. It was already in progress when I arrived. Everyone in the room was quiet except for a young woman in the back of the room. Her eyes were glazed, and her posture was kind of strange—stiff, like she wasn't comfortable in her body. My eyebrows must have gone up because someone seated near me whispered that the young woman was channeling. I had barely and only recently heard of channeling, and I wasn't even sure I believed in it. But I decided that if I were going to live authentically, I would stay out of judgment and give this experience a chance.
That experience was much more than chance. It was a door, and without realizing, I had walked right through it.
I continued going to the weekly meetings because the people who attended were wonderful, loving, and didn't seem to want anything from me. They honestly seemed to like me for me. It was a comfortable place—one where I had no ties, no strings, and I could learn to relate to people I didn't know from my new and authentic self. As I did, I started feeling energy in my hands; little squiggly spirals tickled the ends of my fingers. My palms were on fire. My intuition blew wide open. It was annoying at times because I would hear snips of people's thoughts, and I couldn't help it. I knew things—what would happen next, when it would happen, who would be there, everything.
I rediscovered that place inside of me that I knew so intimately as a child—that place I secretly called my holy place. When we did meditations at the meetings, I would automatically open my heart and move into that inner place I had found. I learned to stay in that place as long as I wanted. And as I accessed that place inside of me more and more, life began to get more and more comfortable—magical, in fact. I discovered that when I got out of my own way, life was really, really easy. Without realizing it, I was learning to live unconditionally.
Often, the young woman who had been channeling at the first meeting I'd attended would channel different entities, who gave very emotional messages to the group. During one such channeling, I was filled with so much energy that I felt as if I would explode. I could barely sit still. I was physically uncomfortable, and the intensity continued to grow. Worse, my throat felt strange. It felt full and as if it would speak of its own accord. I clamped my mouth shut so hard it hurt. I didn't want to blurt something out and embarrass myself and everyone else. I felt as if I was having a battle with an unseen force, and it was nearly winning. When the channeler had finished, I could take it no longer. After a barely respectable moment, I jumped out of my chair and started pacing back and forth in the small room. I told the channeler I didn't know what was happening, and I described the feeling I was having inside.
She very kindly said, "That's just how I felt when I first began to channel."
Uh oh, I thought. This was not where I'd thought I was headed. Could I really channel? Me?
The mother and daughter who hosted the weekly meetings offered to work with me to see what would happen. I was given great instructions about how to keep myself safe, how to let only those entities who were "of the light" enter my body.
When I first began stepping aside so that an entity could speak through me, I would hover next to myself, just outside of my body, watching, listening. Since I had become all about authenticity, I became really annoyed at myself for doing this. After all, something might be said through my body, with my face, that someone would take home and use. That message might change their life, and it would be my fault. However, when I voiced that concern out loud, I realized I was calling in the wisdom of God and then questioning his word. Who was I to doubt? From that moment forward, once I was comfortable with the incoming energies, I leaped right out of my body. I became a deep-trance channel to the point where people used to identify my channeling with the work of Edgar Cayce, the sleeping prophet.
One night at group, after I was finished channeling and returned to my chair, I looked over at the young man who was sitting across from me. His kidneys were failing, and the dialysis treatment he was having wasn't working. He was on a transplant list. As I looked at him, my vision switched to his insides—not just to his internal organs, but also to the tiniest inner workings of his physical being. It was beautiful and fascinating. Spontaneously, I began to read his body to him, somehow explaining that the sodium content and some other things having to do with his dialysis weren't in the right balance for him. I saw it all, and told him everything. Around the room, everyone stopped in their tracks.
The information turned out to be right on. When the young man's dialysis was adjusted to the new protocol, he felt much better.
This new ability was exciting to me. As time went on, I found that the reads would happen spontaneously if someone asked a health question. This gift seems to be a natural ability, and since my first experience, it has expanded. Many medical doctors have taken my classes on interdimensional healing. One of them actually stood up in front of a class of about thirty people and told them I was better than an MRI. I had worked with his sister who had metastatic breast cancer, and I had read tiny lesions in her brain, exactly where they were later found.
In conjunction to the new sight I had gained, the intense energy in my body was relentless. I couldn't seem to find a trigger switch to let the energy out of me. I was losing weight and couldn't sleep. It was as if I were plugged into an invisible force that never stopped. In an effort to get more comfortable, I began to play with the energy. I'd put on music that had no real melody, and I'd begin to move, allowing the energy to flow through me, out of my hands, around me, inside of me. One day, as I spread my hands, my sight opened again, and I saw a rainbow-colored arc flowing from my right hand over my head to my left hand. I was in awe.
And then I got aggravated. I started talking out loud. "Okay, this is beautiful, but I have no idea what to do with it. So now what?" I had no clue, so I kept moving and kept working with the energy.
Every morning, I did the same thing, and out of desperation, I would say aloud to no one I could see, "Someone show me what to do!"
One morning someone showed up. An absolutely magnificent holographic being stood right there in front of me, in the middle of my living room. I was so startled I jumped straight up and straight back.
Quickly, I centered myself and found the sacred place within me. I opened my eyes, and there he stood again, patiently waiting for me. He was grandly and extraordinarily tall, with very defined features. His hair was nearly black, and it flowed over his shoulders. He literally glowed in his crimson robes. In fact, he glowed seemingly from the inside out. He was almost transparent, but he felt huge and solid. Dear God, what was happening? I didn't know for sure, but I did know that all of those times I had begged for clarity, for help, for understanding, really had been heard.
The being started to move like I had been doing, but with some very subtle changes. As I watched him, the energy he manipulated changed color and shape. In my body, I could feel what was happening in his hands. I started to move too, mimicking him. As I did, the energy within my hands began to change shape and change color.
Every morning, as if by cosmic appointment, I met with this being, whom I had lovingly begun to refer to as "Master," because his presence felt like an expanded part of that holy place inside of me. His presence to me felt like sacredness embodied and oh, how humble I felt! Calling him Master seemed insufficient, almost trite, but yet there were no other words to describe him. Being with this Master reminded me of what it must be like to be in the presence of enlightened beings such as the group of Ascended Masters that included Jesus, Metatron, Enoch, and others. I grew to love these moments, when he and I would move together. Instead of feeling insane, I felt calmer and more centered than I ever had in my life. My inner vision had changed again and again, growing in scope and abilities. And all I kept saying was, "Show me." Never why, what, or who—just "Show me."
One day, as we were moving together, my entire sense of reality changed. It was as if I had leaped into another dimension or into someone else's dream. I found myself walking down a path, away from my cosmic teacher. As I walked down the path, a young boy came to me and said I had to go with him.
"No!" I firmly told him. I had to keep practicing.
The kid wouldn't take no for an answer. He looked like a peasant from 19th-century Europe. His blond hair was tousled, and his pants torn at the knees. His white shirt was at least two sizes too big and well worn, like a hand-me-down. Yet he spoke with such a confidence and authority that I couldn't ignore him. So I followed. Up the narrow path we climbed until we came to a large opening in the native rock. It was the entrance to a grotto, a shallow cave. In it were twenty or so men, all in white. They were silent, as if keeping vigil for something. Another man there held a sword, tip down, in the position of peace. He silently beckoned me with his liquid brown eyes.
"Listen," I said, "I have work to do, and I don't have time for distractions." He remained silent, yet I heard in my body that I was supposed to go to him. I did. There was a ceremony, and he gave me a gift, although I didn't understand it at the time.
At the moment the ceremony culminated, my sense of reality shifted again, and I was at the entrance to a courtyard. There was a gate in the arched entrance, but I couldn't go through it. My feet felt glued to the floor. I could see people in the courtyard beyond, milling about. I wondered what this place was. It felt like a university of some kind, but I wasn't sure.
A wizened old man sat at a table to my left, seeming to ignore me. His gray hair straggled limply down the sides of his head, and his thin beard lay folded atop his huge belly. His eyebrows were so bushy I could barely see his narrow brown eyes. The table was inlaid with azurite, malachite, lapis lazuli, tiger's eye, moonstone, and other semiprecious stones. I heard a voice inside of me say to look up. The energy had begun to well up in me, so with my eyes, I raised my hands, hoping to release the intensity. Instead, light came out of my hands to meet the bright light that had opened above me. As I began to move, the light took on shape and density. It became a carved object, and that object felt as real as cold carved stone. I explored the object and then, somehow knowing what to do, set it on the old man's table.
Excerpted from The Secret History of Consciousness by Meg Blackburn Losey. Copyright © 2010 Meg Blackburn Losey, Ph.D.. Excerpted by permission of Red Wheel/Weiser, LLC.
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