September 19, 2021 - An 'overworld' adventure for once

I need to preface the next part of this entry by admitting that I’ve been concerned about the presence of the entity who has been accompanying my meditations since August 27th. I’ve written about ‘him’--I suppose he is male, although does gender really matter when we’re speaking of non-human entities who have no role in reproduction?--in previous entries but will recap here for the sake of clarity.


When I meditate, this entity sits on my left side with his ‘hand’ covering my left hand. I can tell he’s not human because his presence is pure and unchanging, quite unlike us messy, human souls who are constantly morphing from one thing to another. We might be pure, too, but we’re invariably a bit sloppy. This entity has no specific form and is generally quiescent, content just to be there while I meditate. Occasionally, he’ll give me a nudge when I get distracted but that’s it. 


At least that's the way he behaved for the first couple of weeks. Everything changed on September 12. He stepped in and ‘possessed’ my soul, melding his spirit with mine in order to magnify his power and reach out to the large group of tortured lost souls that we had encountered. By doing so, he revealed himself to be an incredibly powerful being, powerful in the sense that he has the capacity to rend through the veils, cleansing away all traces of delusion. He only possessed me for a short time, barely even a minute, but it was enough to do what he needed. Then he went back to sitting quietly beside me, hand over my hand, and he’s been that way ever since. I can tell, though, that there’s more to come.


It’s no secret that I’ve been uneasy about this entity. Why does he sit on my left side, the so-called sinister side? As you know, the majority of my Imaginal journeys are in the underworld and I invariably meet lost souls who are trapped in some sort of darkness. According to most Christian traditions, who tends to occupy the depths of the underworld? The answer is devils, demons and fallen angels, of course.


I’ve wondered if I’m being led astray, used in some way or deluded. Am I guilty of the sin of pride, believing that I can see the truth that others can’t? My superego likes to say yes but the evidence of my journeys states otherwise. I have never encountered anything threatening, evil or malevolent. All of the non-human entities I have met have been unfailingly kind, gentle and loving. And their actions have been merciful, offering forgiveness and redemption to all. 


Given this, I’ve developed a different understanding of the underworld, seeing it as a place ruled by the principles of forgiveness, kindness and generosity rather than punishment, retribution and damnation. Still, it’s clear that I’m at odds with essentially all of Christendom in this view. Because of this, I’ve had a nagging concern in the back of my mind: Am I being tricked?


Ok, enough prefacing. Here’s the meat of the tale:


Today when I sat down to meditate, I was once again aware of the presence of the entity to my left, his hand over my hand like always. Almost at the same time, I became aware of something else as the ‘window’ at the top of my head opened up. I have learned to pay attention when this window opens as it invariably leads me somewhere important. This time was no exception; it was taking into the Imaginal Realm.


At first I didn’t know where I was or what I was seeing. Gradually, though, the images resolved and I realized I was staring at a humble, whitewashed, stone structure like you might find in Greece or other places in the Mediterranean. It looked like a stable but, unlike a stable, it had a brilliant star shining atop. The star cast a warm, golden light over everything: The whitewashed stone, the dusty ground at my feet, the sunbaked grasses and thirsty trees nearby. I looked up at it, trying to decide if it was a star or a bell. It could have been a bell that was catching the light of the sun...but, no, it was definitely a star.


The day was bright and warm. The sky was a brilliant, saturated blue. There was a light breeze off the sea; far down the hill, I could see its sparkling waters. Around me were olive groves and pastures. It was idyllic and beautiful.


Curious about this stable, I walked around to the front and discovered it wasn’t a stable at all but a humble church. A simple, old church like one sees in the Adriatic or Aegean. Basically just a small square building with a dome-like roof. The doors of the church were open and an old man with a balding head and a grizzled beard was waiting outside.


“Welcome, welcome!” he called out, bowing. “We’ve been expecting you!”


He seemed vaguely familiar and I felt like I should know him. Clearly, this was a Christian church and this man was no simple stranger. I could feel his inner radiance burning brighter than the sun. Who is he? I wondered. Perhaps John the Baptist? I got the sense that his name didn’t matter; he was who he was and that was enough.


I bowed to him, puzzled by his words. Who was expecting me and why?


He beckoned inside and I followed, entering at the back of the pews. Inside, the church was very basic, the floors may even have been dirt. The pews were primitive stone benches. It felt like the place really had been built to serve as a stable and only recently been converted to a church. Still, it was clean and well-kempt, humble but beautiful in its simplicity.


At the benches stood rows of waiting people. I became immediately self-conscious when I recognized some of them. This ‘humble’ congregation was composed of no less than the apostles of Jesus Christ! (As well as others I didn’t recognize.) Everyone was dressed in white robes woven from rough wool. They bowed to me as I moved past them, led by the old man who had welcomed me at the door.


At the front of the church was a simple altar, barely more than a lintel of white stone. Sitting upon it were a cross and a vessel of water. And standing before the altar was Jesus Christ. 


My fingers tremble as I write this because I know what heresy this is. The voice of my superego was yelling at me, “Who do you think you are? You’re not important enough to meet Jesus! This is all just one of your delusions.” And yet here he was, despite what my inner critic might think.


I was surprised by how short he was. Just a small man who appeared to be in his thirties. He had a beard. His feet were bare. He looked very Jewish which I suppose isn’t much of a surprise. His features were neither plain nor handsome. Still, I don’t need to tell you that there was something incredibly, profoundly beautiful about him. I understood immediately from the radiance of the Divine emanating from within him why they call him the Son of God. The truth of that term was manifestly clear: Here was the Son of God. It could be no one else.


Instinctively, I knelt before him and he placed his hands on my shoulders. I bowed my head. I got the unambiguous feeling that he was seeing all of me, every part of me and my history, all of my deepest thoughts and feelings. All of my shortcomings. Everything I’d done, whether it was good, bad or in between. Further, I knew he not only accepted me for who I am but he also loved me--all of me--for who I am.


It is impossible not to be moved to tears when one meets Jesus. Such is the depth and understanding and clarity and kindness and compassion and empathy of the man who is the Son of God. He is the Son of God and yet he’s so simple. So humble. So...human.


As I knelt before him with my head bowed and his hands upon my shoulders, I knew he not only perceiving all of me but he was also aware of the entity beside me. Further, I knew he was aware of my concern that I was being ‘tricked’ into believing something evil was in fact good.


With his next words, he laid this worry to rest. “Welcome, Child of God,” he said. “Go forth and continue your work with my blessing. I am well pleased with you.”


I was too busy crying to do much but blubber for a few minutes but finally I pulled myself together enough to thank him. I couldn’t quite believe that this was happening. Was I really being blessed by Jesus himself?


“But I’m not even a Christian!” I protested. “I shouldn’t even be here!”


He laughed gently at this. “It doesn’t matter what you call yourself. It’s all the same Divine, isn’t it?”


I couldn’t argue with that.


He continued, “Look around at those who are gathered here today. These are not just my closest disciples but also people who have done great evil. And yet they’ve seen the light and been forgiven. All are welcome before God.”


I knew that, in this last statement, he was speaking to my experiences in the underworld, working with various entities for the redemption of the lost ones. I choose to take this message as a confirmation that I'm not mistaken; the underworld isn't a place of devils and demons but those who are sincerely working to help those who have lost their way.


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