The Music Of The Spheres
By: Timothy O'Neill
Tags: Spirituality, Life, Culture, Self, Space

The Music Of The Spheres

Listen closely and it might lift your sagging spirits

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

I would never judge anyone’s journey. I don’t know where they’ve been or where they’re going. There are a lot of decent people out there who will do good work, but who will never face the dark truth of our realm. I see these people regularly and I try to meet them where they are and accept that I know nothing of their spiritual circumstances. At the same time, it hurts to see people sleepwalk through life. I feel apart from them now. It’s growing harder to synch up with the sleepwalkers. I’m identifying more and more with the part of me that’s awake. We had a group today where we discussed music and I lost myself in it. At first I didn’t realize why I found it so relaxing. It’s because for a few minutes I was able to go back to sleep. Recreation? I don’t do recreation. Can’t you see there is a war being waged? I’m feeling old. I was talking to one of the interns before the rest of the group had logged on and she’s sweet as pie and I just felt old. Like really, really old. I think that’s a good thing. It’s more reflective of my reality. I’m an old man in a younger person’s body. This is the dissonance you get when you try to cheat death.

I don’t pretend to be someone who has achieved enlightenment. I’m not a mystic or a sage. I’m a mentally ill recluse who has led a very strange and very disturbing life. I was wondering the other day what the movie of my life would be rated. It’s a hard R for sure, mostly for profanity and violence and other graphic content. I think maybe an NC-17 now that I think about it a little more. There is one scene in particular that would test the strongest stomachs. I had a dream awhile back about the actress Jennifer Carpenter from Dexter. She was being pulled away by the monsters at the end of Quarantine and then she showed up, happy and unharmed in something else. My brain struggled with the logic. How could a person die and then be living a whole other life? Reincarnation, silly. These are just the roles we choose to play. They aren’t who we truly are. So this is my horror movie. Unfortunately for me, this likely means no happy ending.

I lose track of time easily these days, especially sitting at this desk which faces the wall. I wonder if time ever loses track of me. It’s our earthly guidance system, built into the grid to carry us along from point A to point B, but does it ever malfunction? Can you ever become unmoored in time, trapped in some timeless twilight purgatory from which you can never escape? I’m chilled to the bone just thinking about it. I know people have gotten lost in phantom pockets of space-time for thousands of years and were driven utterly insane. We need more search and rescue teams on hand so no one ever has to suffer the unthinkable. There are some things that should never happen. Thousands of years of solitary confinement is one. Solitary confinement, period, is another.

Because this is a movie, I’ve had to do multiple takes to nail a scene in a way that pleases the producers and the director. I’ll sometimes even hear it in my head when I’m about to step onto the stage, ‘Alright ladies and gentlemen, take six’ or ‘we can do this folks, take eleven’. Loops within loops within loops. There is the eternal loop, the loop my life is on, then these mini-loops. So many loops you get dizzy and fall off the ride. Don’t worry, there’ll always be someone there to get you back on. Heaven is pretty merciless when it comes to its children and their lesson plans. You bought a ticket you must take the ride. You simply must, no excuses. I have asked for mercy many times during this dark night of my soul. They’ve told me that in time I’ll realize that this was mercy. I don’t doubt it, but it doesn’t take away the sting of my suffering.

I’m still thinking of my deceased cat, Ella. She was such a sweet girl. I thought her light shined too bright to ever be put out. I miss her so much I can’t put it into words. Even I’m standing back from myself in wonderment while I’m crying thinking ‘she was just a cat, get a grip, dude’. I cannot get a grip. I love her fiercely and forever. She just had the nicest presence, the best energy. It was so goddamn hard to put her limp body into a trash bag and bury it. How could they do this to Ella who never hurt anyone? How could they extinguish her light? There is something fundamentally flawed about our lives here on Earth. We run around and do our work and do our errands and visit with those who will allow it, and we don’t ever stop to question the premise of our lives. We don’t ask what we are doing beyond surviving and watching Netflix. We don’t look to the stars. If we could just pause for a moment and examine these lives under a microscope we might see that the tissue that binds us to the universe has broken down. We are the orphan children of these cosmos living in a state of spiritual amnesia. We need someone to come along and help us remember.

I’m still trying to figure out exactly what happened. I’m not the same person I was prior to my serious illness in 2015. I came out after a month in the hospital to a world that looked the same but was not the same. It just felt wrong. Artificial. Maybe this was just the effects of my prolonged stay indoors and the trauma that I endured, but I think it was my intuition trying to tell me something. It felt like a lot more time had passed than just a month. I wondered if this was an alternate dimension, or an alternate timeline I had been switched onto. I walked back into my house, but was it still my house? I felt like the character Jim in 28 Days Later who wakes from a coma only to realize that the world has been devastated by a zombie apocalypse. This was not that, but it may have been worse. Something more insidious. The past is now just a front. We’re actually living in the future. Anyone who’s not in on the joke is susceptible to malign influence. I was in great emotional distress one day and I saw this image of my mother in my mind. She was bright and shining and full of sympathy and love. She was coming through to comfort me. This made me think that the people I live with are all simulacra and that my actual family died and moved on along time ago. This probably isn’t the case, but I have to put it out there as a possibility.

It’s only in times of great crisis that our faith can be fulfilled through the testing of its limits and the reinforcement of its power and promise. Only when we see our faith at work do we know that our faith exists. We must go forth humbly, seeking not its favor, only attempting to hold it in our hearts and bear it on our shoulders. Our faith is ours to keep, ours to nurture, ours to grow and tend to.

I still doubt that what I do I do for the right reasons. Have I struggled and strived merely to keep myself going and to satisfy my own interests or have I been actively engaged in a larger a larger contest with greater meaning than my one little life? Too often I think it’s the former. Yes, I’ve taken many, many hits but that was either to pay off karma I accumulated or to deal with a demon whose wrath I incurred. What have I done selflessly? What have I done for humanity? The only thing I can think of would be this writing, pouring my heart and soul onto the screen and letting people who are suffering know that they are not alone. I write when I’m sick, I write through my tears, I write when I don’t feel like it. I keep on writing because it’s what I love to do. This is how I discharge my duty. This is the one area in my life where I can honestly say I give all. If only I was so adept and conscientious in other areas.

Sometimes I will look at a chair or a coffee mug and I will think I am that thing. It’s the briefest flash of ego dissolution but it’s enough to momentarily take my breath away. We live in a world of rules and boundaries. Everything is circumscribed. Everything is tightly controlled. Things may seem chaotic these days, and they are, but underneath it all is an oppressive, mechanized disease of order. From birth we are told we are in a box and we are given the dimensions of that box and warned not to stray from it otherwise we get a spanking. We quickly learn that everyone has their own box with its own dimensions and all the boxes are headed down a conveyor belt in a large factory, a conveyor belt of time that takes us from the past into the future and deposits us in oblivion. Our minds are boxes. We take in so much material. Most of it is garbage, some of it is recycling and a tiny portion of it is valuable stuff for us to keep. But we think we have limits. I think I have limits. If I notice myself coming upon a subject or a concept that is a little too profound or bizarre I will recoil from it. I’m afraid of pushing my mind past the limits that have been set for it. I’d like to think I’m a deep thinker, but I can only go so deep before I turn around and head for safe harbor. What if I really pushed myself? At first it would be like holding my breath under water. I would only have a few moments before I would have to come up for air. But I could try.

I used to think that if all of time and space already exist then why don’t we have time travelers in our midst? And if creation is indeed infinite then we should be swamped with visitors. Time functions in a linear fashion in our 3D reality in order to organize the dynamics of matter. Without the forward trajectory of time milk would put itself back in the jug after having been spilt, people wouldn’t age and there would be general chaos. But if time is truly non-linear then we could be having discussions with our future selves all the time and not know it. They might not want to reveal themselves in order to preserve a person’s sanity or to abide by the rules of this system. You are already sixth density. You are already part of a group consciousness, you just don’t realize it. You’re also eighth density, or Source. You don’t realize that, either. Growing isn’t so much a process of discovering as it is of remembering. And we have forgotten so much. That is the sacrifice we make to play the game of separation. I think when we awake we are going to be astonished and a little bashful, ‘I fell for that?!’ But everything will come together. That doesn’t mean just because we are awake we have all the answers. The ultimate truth still lies beyond our field of vision. We may understand ourselves better and our relationship to creation, but not creation itself.

And there’s no guarantee that all of our future selves will be benevolent. It’s possible that a future self has come back to the past to terrorize you. I speak with my guides and they’re the good guys, they’re of the light, but I also have regular encounters with evil incarnate. The good guys say they’re me in the future. Could the evil ones be me as well? Some of them, at least? Is this why this is all part of my dream, because I’m performing all the parts? What remains, if anything, when I wake up? I just want to go home. I really, really do. Where are my ruby slippers?

I’m getting ‘the treatment’. It’s a process whereby they rehabilitate sick, traumatized or recalcitrant souls. They did this for Hitler after he completed suicide, and was very put out that he didn’t complete his mission. He was confused and required a lot of work but eventually they got him to a place where he could reincarnate and give life another chance. Knowing that I’m getting the same treatment as Hitler does not inspire confidence, but they tell me I need it, or deserve it and I trust their judgment. But I have to say it’s felt more like punishment than anything else. I’ve suffered in ways I couldn’t have imagined before this all began.

I want to go back to time briefly. There is something I’m just not getting. Some key clue I’m missing. If time is not linear then what does that do to cause and effect? Perhaps the relationship would change, and effects would be felt before the causes were made clear. Perhaps time could interpenetrate itself, folding over onto itself and stacking up to the celestial ceiling. I had a dream once where I was helping my younger self write a screenplay for a short film. It didn’t feel like a dream to me. It felt like a memory. And if you read the screenplay it doesn’t sound like something a young person would write, or be capable of writing. So I’m a future self interacting with my past self. Only now am I seeing the cause of the effects. Still, it’s not quite right, is it? I’m missing something crucial and I don’t think my brain is big enough to grasp it. I can only wonder what other effects we are seeing that only in the future we will realize the causes of. Maybe there is a fluidity to time. Maybe we co-create time with our consciousness. Maybe when we arrive in fourth density we can swim through it, upstream or downstream. Maybe in fourth density energetic grids organize reality, not time. I really don’t know.

I know that I’m in captivity because of my illness. I have to take my medicine regularly or I become a monster. I don’t know how long this will last, but I’m very lonely, and very bored. It was my fault I got sick. I was reckless. But I don’t deserve what’s happening to me. No one does.

Some people are convinced I’m a psychopath. A psychopath who is nice to animals. They doubt I can empathize with people. They doubt whether I can care selflessly for another. They doubt I can love. I’ve wondered the same things. If I’m a psychopath I wasn’t born this way. I devolved over time through pain and trauma. But I don’t think I’m a psychopath. I feel genuine emotions. I feel love. I feel joy. I feel anger. I feel sadness. I feel sympathy. I feel shame. A psychopath wouldn’t spend this much time worrying whether they were a psychopath or not. A psychopath wouldn’t spend hours writing about what makes people tick and sending out messages of hope to those who are in pain. A psychopath wouldn’t take such a passionate, heartfelt interest in the suffering of his brothers and sisters. A psychopath wouldn’t grieve like I grieve. A psychopath wouldn’t have been an angel to his grandmother. A psychopath wouldn’t have written letters to his parents telling them how much he loved them. A psychopath wouldn’t be a sensitive soul who felt all distress so acutely. I am not a psychopath. You want me to be a psychopath because it fits the narrative you’ve created, but it just doesn’t add up. Find someone else. I’m not that guy.

What a strange place to end up, this Earth. We could have landed anywhere, or nowhere, and we show up on this blue marble coasting through space. They say all roads lead to Orion, that Orion is our past and also our future. I don’t know about that, but I know that I find this set up of planets and stars and galaxies to be rather odd. We live in a holographic universe, now what is projecting the hologram? Where does the information come from? Is it possible that the stars and the black holes and the comets and the quasars are all for show? That we were provided this backdrop for the purposes of the human experiment? When I am truly having a hard time of it, one of my guides will say ‘I’m going in’. Going into what, from where? 3D life on earth is a game. Are they coming into the game? Or merely into third density? Or perhaps into whatever exactly this is? Again, there’s something I’m missing. What are we inside of? Could it be that the higher densities designed a game for us and that this game has very distinct boundaries? They gave us lots of things to occupy our time and imaginations. But we’re in a bubble universe and there isn’t actually such a thing as ‘stars’. It’s all part of the dream. When we wake up in the future we realize that we lived in an artificially constructed past. This doesn’t feel quite right, either, but it’s something.

This is my least favorite part. The ending. I’ve never liked endings. They always made me very sad. I always think I could have, should have written more. But I have to let the piece go. There is always another one coming on its heels. So I would only ask this of you, dear reader, don’t give in to despair. Try to do some honest soul searching and discover the reason for why you are here. You have one. We all do. See if you can refresh your heart by tapping into your purpose. We need you here, with us. Don’t ever give up hope.