Off On Our Own. Ted Carns

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СКАЧАТЬ happen to surge we may have to start scheduling some things so we can have our share of quiet time and still be welcoming hosts. I have noticed a decline in the drop by’s, but I don’t think it’s because we’re losing friends.

      I think it’s what the Hopi elders predicted of the last days. They said we’re going to see two distinct and profound changes. Change #1 is that it’s going to get really hot, and #2 is that time will accelerate. It will be like “Oh my God, it’s Friday again!” That happens when you get older, but the elders said this will be different – everybody will experience it.

      I wondered and pondered just how that could happen. Then I realized, yes, time really is relative just as Einstein said, and we each can choose between two distinct approaches to time. We can either be obsessed with efficiency and saving time, or . . . we can kick back, relax and take time, or just simply make time. Time doesn’t expand in the obsession to save it – it does the opposite: It shrinks. Time may be money, but money has wings, and like time it flies away as fast as it can. Life is where time is. Its fullness is in taking time and making time. Life actually disappears when all you want to do is strive for quickness and efficiency. Saving time may actually be even killing time. How ironic can you get? The effort to save it makes you lose it. Time-saving efficiency gets you to your destination quicker, but that’s what makes time accelerate.

      On reflection, I can remember sitting with artists, actors, actresses, activists, acupuncturists, anarchists, autistic children, professional athletes and total assholes; Ayurvedic, homeopathic and naturopathic healers, chiropractors, surgeons, pediatricians, dentists and general practitioners. I’ve spoken with victims of cancer and HIV who were in their last days among the living.

      I’ve been woken up at 3 am to be told, “I spent all my children’s college savings on cocaine. What the hell am I going to do?” I’ve chatted with psychiatrists, psychologists, psychoanalysts and philosophers; child therapists and social workers; teachers, lawyers, outlaws, juvenile delinquents and law enforcement officers; musicians, poets and an opera singer who sang for the Pope; Catholic priests, Zen Buddhist priests, Jehovah’s Witnesses and preachers of most every Christian faith, members of every race, creed and religion, and a man who knew Al Capone when he was a kid.

      I’ve had coffee with saintly persons and embodiments of apparent evil, and sometimes both at once. I saw a guy who was an undercover narcotic agent for 25 years sit with a confessed heavy bud smoker like best friends. I remember the narc said something like, “Nobody’s on duty up here.” I’ve sat with servants, masters, seekers of Truth and compulsive liars. Visitors from all over the world have walked through The Stone Camp’s unlocked doors. And I still don’t know how most of them even found the place.

       Unembellished Truths

      There are a bunch of spiritual books on the market that I call embellished truths. They’re like fictional spiritual wonder stories. Some authors even say right out front their work is fictional, but people still want to make religions out of them. I watch in amazement as cult followings develop around these well-worded fantasies. People have asked me if I’d had the Seventh Insight they read about. I want to say “Yeah, with my guru Mickey Mouse.”

      I will be so bold as to say that this book is quite the opposite. I feel the need to un-embellish what really goes on here. Other realms of experience and manifestation that are often fabricated and sensationalized actually do occur here, but I just don’t talk about them because it’s way too personal. Quite a bit of what really goes on here is unbelievable.

      Here’s one example that rests just this side of the untold experience border:

      Sorry guys, but no one will ever convince me that “trophy hunting” is anything more than a passing crude and arrogant abomination. I was obsessing about it one time and was suddenly hit on the head by the hammer of my own moth and butterfly collection. It represented years of collecting and I actually went flush at the thought of what a hypocrite I was.

      I took the collection of butterflies down from the wall, dug a small grave under the pines and gave them a proper burial. Then I begged God to forgive me for judging people. I kept the cecropia and luna moth specimens just a little while longer so I could admire them. I had a real hard time digging their grave because they were so big, beautiful and rare and because I’d never actually seen one up here at the house.

      That night at about 2 am I was woken by a scratching on the screen of the window to the left of me. I thought it was a mouse. It kept scratching so I grabbed a flashlight. I walked over to the window and there was the biggest, most beautiful cecropia moth I had ever seen. Chills went up my spine. I thought it was a ghost. I actually pinched myself.

      I admired it until my eyes started slipping closed, and went back to bed. Then maybe around 3 or 4 am the scratching started again. This time it came from the window on the right. I thought, “That beautiful cecropia in the prime of her short existence wants to be admired a bit more,” so I got up walked over and there was the biggest, most beautiful luna moth I’d ever seen. This is a true, unembellished story, one of many I could relate. So imagine the ones I won’t relate!

      Note: If you want to skip ahead to the nuts and bolts and systems that make The Stone Camp function, be my guest, but if any of this stuff I’ve been talking about strikes a chord with you and your life, I invite you to keep reading for a while.

       A corner of the library

       Heidi – an expert in timelessness

      5

       DEEP CONNECTIONS

       “One year I was barefoot from late spring snow to early fall snow.”

      If you’re a Star Trek fan, life here becomes very much like the town in the episode “Far Point Station.” The town itself appeared like any other town, made of inanimate buildings and streets, but the whole place was the “shape-shifting” flesh of one huge sentient being that was injured and forced to settle on the planet’s surface.

      Far Point Station was a highly evolved conscious entity that in form reacted symbiotically to fulfill people’s thoughts and wishes. If you went into a fabric shop you found the cloth of your dreams on the rack you swear wasn’t there a moment ago. If you yearned for a particular fruit ripened to a particular perfection you found it was there all along in your fruit bowl, but you just hadn’t noticed it before. That is how life really wants to relate to us all, but our desire-based mindset stifles its effort.

      Far Point Station is pure fantasy. Star Trek is science fiction. But the story behind it has some basis in reality. It was said that daily a crow flew overhead and dropped a nice crust of bread to St. Anthony for lunch and if he had a visitor it would drop two. Manna from heaven, feeding 5,000 with a couple loaves and fishes, water all of a sudden flowing from a rock to save Haggar and Ishmael in their banishment to the desert – it’s all the same phenomenon.

      There СКАЧАТЬ