October 22, 2022

 In hindsight, it looks like each time I recover the memories/impressions of a past life, a trip through the Bardo ensues. This trip can last up to several weeks before it’s over. After the Bardo experiences end, I still periodically have contact with the Imaginal but it’s less frequent. I’m not complaining, mind you! While I enjoy the Imaginal, I’m fine with only have sporadic contact with it. It doesn’t seem to matter whether I am having an Imaginal experience or not because my soul’s development continues regardless and I am always aware of living simultaneously in the horizontal and vertical realms. The head is generally a good guide in the horizontal, at least at this lifetime because I’m living in such a rationalistic age. Maybe in a different lifetime, it will be different?

I’ve had several experiences that lead me to believe that the saying, ‘As above, so below,’ is more true that I suspected. When these experiences began, I had a vivid ‘memory’ of being chosen by a male god as his avatar. Chosen may not be exactly the right word because now I suspect that we have a mother and a father in the vertical realms and they give birth to our spirit. It sounds crazy, I know, but I’m entertaining the possibility.

The experiences of my spiritual mother have taken longer to reveal themselves but lately they have become more pronounced. My spiritual mother is a black goddess, that is a goddess of night, death, destruction, and extinction. She is toxic and her realm is toxic. However, she is certainly not evil and just because her realm is a realm of extinction doesn’t mean it’s bad or even that it’s not beautiful. She is very heavy on Yin energy and I can’t say that I don’t love her. In fact, visiting her realm brings constant death as everything that comes in contact with it, withers and dies. This death is a constant which makes it sort of an anti-life, a flipside of the living, breathing world. Because I don’t have a physical body there, my soul is completely fine with dying each moment. I can’t describe it but constant extinction is a heart experience that moves me. I know it sounds perverse but I love it. Maybe this explains why I’ve always had an affinity for night and death? I’m her child.

It’s not like my spiritual father is any better in terms of tenderness. While he presides over a brighter realm, life there is life stripped down to the bare bones. It’s a harsh, unforgiving environment that is brutal. Life on the edge at all times, always on the verge of being snuffed out. It’s not a civilized realm, rather it’s a complete wilderness, devoid of any of the comforts of civilized life. It’s also harshly beautiful and it moves my heart as well. Again, not having a physical body makes it easier to visit this realm because the soul isn’t afraid of being devoured. The soul is in constant renewal so it springs forth, fresh and alive and vibrant in each moment regardless of where it may find itself.

Anyway, all of this is just conjecture but the experiences are stacking up to the point where they are making more sense. I’m sure things will become clearer over time and, when they do, I will write about them here.

Right now in the physical world, I am in the Philippines at the end of a vacation to see my nephew and attend his wedding to a very smart and sharp Filipino woman. The wedding was last week in Sorsogon and we flew this week to Palawan to spend some time on the water and in the forest looking at birds (of which there are many.) Tourism on Palawan is just waking up again after the pandemic so there were quite as many tourists as I expected. Still, there were more than enough of the ‘beach culture’ folks one sees at ocean resorts all across the world. It’s weird so similar they are. The guys are total bros with bulging muscles and plenty of tats. Most of them aren’t that attractive but there are always a few standouts who have jaw-dropping physiques and receive a lot of attention. These gods among men swagger across the beach either shirtless or wearing a tiny tank top to display their bodies. They are sex on legs and know how to party and how to get pussy.

I have to admit that I kind of desire them and despise them at the same time. (That was probably obvious from my description above.) And I spend as much time admiring their stunning bodies as I do sneering at their ridiculous privilege. It was therefore a little surprising a couple days ago when one showed up in my meditation.

I’ve written here before about desire demons and I've had a number of experiences with them. They sometimes possess me and get me exceptionally horny. The ‘possession’ doesn’t tend to last long because I don’t enjoy being hooked on them and invariably manage to disconnect from them. They are kind of creepy looking but also have a certain lurid sexiness that drips like scented oil from their bodies. I see why people enjoy getting off on them because they make all sorts of alluring promises and tell us all sorts of fantastically flattering lies about how we look, how sexy we are, how desirable we are, etc. They are not evil but they also aren’t good. There are parasites who feed off our libidinal energy, growing stronger and more powerful. Like any parasite, though, they don’t seek to kill their host. It’s better for everyone if the host continues to thrive and humans–especially young humans–have libidinal energy to spare.

While I was meditating, one such desire demon showed up. He was kind of upset and agitated and I couldn’t figure out why. At first, I assumed he was here to prey upon me but then realized that wasn’t the case. He had sought me out in order to deliver the soul of a guy who had just died. To my surprise, the soul of the recently deceased was one of these beach culture bros. I don’t know how he died but, from the flashes of memories I received from him, guess that it was either a drug overdose or alcohol poisoning. It’s possible, too, that it was neither and he had an allergic reaction to something he ate and died suddenly.

In any case, the bro was in a state of disbelief and denial about being dead. You can’t blame him because it happened so suddenly. He wasn’t upset (yet) and wasn’t sad (yet), just surprised and confused. Like any good host, I welcomed him inside me and invited him to stay for as long as he needed. This is only the second time I’ve had a soul deposited on my doorstep so it’s not a common experience. I learned from the last experience with the teenage boy that such souls need a safe, warm, protected and nurturing place to stay for a time while they process what happened to them and work through their issues. Time moves very fast for them, much faster than in the physical world, so I’m always surprised by how quickly they work through everything. As they do, their soul transforms, becomes lighter and less patterned by their ego.

These souls haven’t developed a Pearl Body which means they need to be in the presence of a guide or someone like me. One needs to have come to terms with dying over and over and over and one also needs to have integrated the Personal Essence before one can travel safely through the Imaginal. So, in a sense, I’m providing him a ‘place’ to gestate. (I find it fascinating how many other entities our souls can contain at one time; I’m aware of any number of visitors at any given time. The fact is that when there are no boundaries and no limits, we’re incredibly malleable and multidimensional.

This bro disarmed me with his sweetness. He is clearly heterosexual or at least mostly heterosexual, something I surmised from the content of his memories. In life, he’d been an exceptionally handsome and sexy man and had enjoyed more than his share of sex. He was one of those beach bro alphas I described earlier. His body had been shaved and tanned and mounded with the most aesthetically pleasing muscles. His face was rugged and he possessed black hair and probably a black beard. I’m sure there were plenty of tattoos on his nubile body as well.

At first he was bemused by the experience of finding himself in me. Only very gradually did the reality of his death settle in on him. When it did, he cried and cried and cried and cried. And I cried right along with him. It was tragic. Who wouldn’t be affected by it? Slowly, I was able to both comfort him and explain what I know about the post-death experience. I told him he was welcome to stay as long as he needed. He would only go when he was ready, no one would force him. He was safe inside me and could completely open up and merge with me if he so desired.

He did.

It was quite an experience. I’ve never merged with a straight dude before, certainly not this completely. It was also incredibly erotic because he was naked and I was naked and our ‘bodies’ were completely entwined. Perhaps because he was feeling so vulnerable, he wanted to melt into me, he wanted me to be the dominant partner and he even offered up his asshole, positioning himself on my cock so I could fuck him. It was an exquisite lovemaking and it left me breathless and in tears because it was so tender and intimate and real. This was the sort of union that humans are trying to reach when they make love in the flesh but it’s not possible to experience such sublime pleasure and intimacy in the flesh. 

As you know from reading this journal, I don’t have sex often with the souls and entites I meet in the Imaginal. Most of time it is inappropriate and therefore I try not to let my libido interfere. This time, however, it was completely appropriate because this man had spent his life perfecting his physique in order to make himself irresistible. He was driven by a need for union and need for release. Having sex with him felt right, especially because it finally brought him what he’d always craved and had never quite achieved in life.

And I can’t say that I didn’t find it enjoyable, either. ;-)


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