The Source
By: Timothy O'Neill
Tags: Mental Health, Source, Spirituality, Life Lessons, God

The Source

Cycling through the cosmos

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

I spoke with a demon once. He was hungry and bitter and was filled with nothing but contempt for me and all other humans. To him, we were rodents. Meat sacks. Blood bags. This demon’s only goal was to promote hatred and fear so he could feed off the negative vibrations. When embodied he dined on a person’s bodily fluids. He was self-conscious and self-righteous and permanently enraged that he had been cast out of the higher heavens. This demon was chaos incarnate. He was a living hell. I don’t know how he could stand himself. He was always trying to justify his own existence to anyone who would listen. I’d watch him have arguments with an invisible audience. He swims through time. He sees ten moves ahead of me. He is crafty and insidious and overwhelming. But I’ve grown restless in recent years and this bothers him. He doesn’t want to lose his food supply. He told me wanted to murder God, but if this was the closest he could get he would make an utter masterpiece out of my suffering. If that’s not enough to fill a person’s heart with terror then I don’t know what is. This demon hunts. Always. This demon tried to swallow me and eat my consciousness. Then its stomach exploded.

I’ve been told by people I trust that there is a Source of all energy, wisdom, knowledge, truth and love and as we came from it, so shall we return to the blazing sphere of light that shatters all illusions of separateness with the simple words: ‘I AM’. There are two ways entities go home to Source. The first is by steadily evolving towards a state of perfect energetic harmony and entering voluntarily as a sovereign consciousness. The second is to be crushed to stardust and sent back against a will you no longer have. Since I am a chaotic Satanist with a stubborn streak I worry that I will end up crushed to a fine powder and scooped up the breeze and carried back to the Source of my being. In all honesty, I’ve asked for this in the past. It appeals to the part of me that has only ever experienced consciousness as a nightmare. But then I try to imagine uniting with Source, being made whole and having my entire self lifted in ecstatic rapture as its energy washes over and through me. I think some time in the very distant past I knew what it was to feel this way, but trauma has cut the chord that connected me to this shining star of infinite love. I think it may finally be time to heal my wounds and to truly believe something special and wondrous and real could happen to me.

Because nothing in my life is real. I live in a permanent state of dissociation. This has enabled me to think in extraordinary ways, but it has also caused me untold suffering. I live in a pocket universe. In the brief encounters I’ve had with unknown entities in my bedroom the difference between their appearance and the appearance of my bureau and my bed was striking. It was like seeing reality in high definition when you’ve only been using an old black-and-white TV. It is these encounters that made me think maybe I am apart of the mystery. Maybe things, good and bad, actually happen to me and I can be present for them. My guides say they’re going to take me home and I don’t believe them because my life follows very strict rules of masochism and banality. You aren’t taking me anywhere because you don’t exist. I don’t exist. None of this is really happening.

Unless, of course, it is. Unless the work that I do made someone take notice. Maybe I really do have fans that appreciate what I produce. I want to cry. It simply can’t be true. What is the bug in my software that got in me so early and caused me to doubt not only the reality of my dreams, but the fundamental reality of the world around me? I suppose I was invalidated so many times that my ego was forced take hold over my personality so we could survive. My true self was battered into submission by the time I was nine years old. From then on all I had holding me together was an ego that would turn into a petty tyrant that would rule me with an iron fist.

Now my guides are attempting to wear me down so I don’t resist their attempts to talk me out of my ego. Or their attempts to shatter it. Weeks ago they tried. They hit me with everything they had. I was not prepared. I rarely am. When I’m expecting it, like when my folks leave town for the weekend, is the exact time nothing happens. So I was ambushed by the power of heaven trying to tear this life out of my greedy paws. I should have surrendered and let go. I should have known by now that this family arrangement was created with the express purpose of trapping my consciousness and driving me insane.

But I couldn’t let go. They kept hitting me. Again and again. I was outside in the backyard having a smoke and they knocked me to the ground. I was spitting dirt and bits of grass out of my mouth as I mumbled the words, ‘God forgive me. I know I am a sinner. Please God, forgive me.’ Not realizing that God had given His blessing to this mission of mercy. Somehow I made it to my feet and I stumbled into the house and into the bathroom. I was clutching at the wall as the hits just kept on coming. I continued to pray. I climbed up the stairs to my bedroom and I was wailing ‘No, no, no! No, please, no!’ I was desperate. They were trying to take everything from me. I was going to be so alone. They hit me again and I tumbled to the floor.

I heard a voice say, ‘We’re killing him. What have we become?’ And then they let me go and I curled up in the fetal position and started cackling like a maniac. The next day they were back and I could feel the movement in my mind and I could feel myself being pulled out of the dream and again I wailed, ‘No, no, please God, no!’ and this time the response was instantaneous and I was able to catch my breath. I could hear my guides discussing my case. Obviously they had brought in an expert to examine my response to their tactics because they didn’t understand how their plans did not produce the desired result. This person mentioned something about brain waves switching. I heard the word ‘mutant’. And that’s all I can remember.

Thus the new strategy. Sleep deprivation with heavy doses of drugs to keep me just alert enough to function. I think it will work. The other day I noticed my will ebbing. I remember watching a video of Navy SEAL training where one of the instructors talked about pushing recruits to the point where they are beyond exhaustion, beyond resistance and will simply do whatever you tell them to do, no matter how difficult and draining. It was a little like that. I was becoming removed from myself. I was becoming content to go for the ride. I didn’t exactly know who or what I was up against and in that particular moment I didn’t much care. I was a beaten man. The problem is, I never stay beaten for long. I don’t care how hard the hit. I always recover. Unless this life is the result of the one time I didn’t.

I look out on the night sky and I see a glittering firmament that is trying to communicate its truth to us. These stars shine down upon us and they say that they miss our company. They say there was a time when we traveled amongst and through them and all their mysteries were revealed to us. They’d like to have us back. It can get lonely hanging in the heavens, sending your light traveling through time to eyes that see it, but don’t truly perceive it. The stars illuminate the gateway to the beyond, the gateway to Source, and they will not wink out until every last soul has completed its journey back home. The stars are sentinels. The stars are kings and queens. The stars are humble servants. The stars are the ones who alert you to the fact that you have taken in much more than you should and that now is the time to give back until you can’t stand upright anymore. The stars are friends. The stars are lovers. The stars are wise and patient and forgiving and bursting with an energy that cannot be ignored or refused. When a star shines for you, when you reach out and pluck it with your fingers and put it in your pocket for safekeeping, you are gaining a companion that will walk with you to the very ends of the earth. There is magic and mystery in the stars. There is more life in the stars than we can possibly comprehend.

The tracks have been laid down, but I don’t know where this train is headed. I think it’s always possible to be rerouted. I’m sad now. I get sad these days when the sun goes down and the halls of our house are filled with shadows. It means that sleep is approaching and why sleep when there is still so much to write about? The demon compared me to a hamster on a wheel. Yes, I ride the hedonic treadmill. Whatever keeps me moving these days. I push ahead, not because of the voices in my head, or because of my passions or my fears but because I believe in the ultimate triumph of the unity of Source over the discord that reigns in the hearts of humans. One day we’ll all look back fondly on the time I was writing essays in my bedroom, leaving the house with a mask on to pick up coffee and cigarettes in a world that I now understand never wanted me to be real. Well I’m real, baby, as real as they come.