Saturday, August 29, 2009

Spirit Story: Prose Drumming

**listen to the audio presentation of this article

Admitting that the cosmology expressed in Sacred Vow is a truth to me, I have often been questioned about my choice to present my truth in the format of fiction.

I personally have always been inclined to fiction for expressing truths, much the way myth and stories have historically been used to portray the essence of the ineffable. I do not see fiction as non-truth, but rather as something that can be more like an extended mantra…a means to comfortably invite the reader (or writer) into opening up and allowing their personal truth within to present itself from through the story. This method can offer a living, ever-progressing truth, perfectly fitted to the need of the reader at any given time—as opposed to merely a presentation of my truth, which may or may not be relevant.

A path of communication with the subconscious—as opposed to a communication with the conscious mind—is alive, more a communion between the personal subconscious and the Collective Consciousness, possibly awakening or speaking to the personal consciousness a little along the way. A living story is also capable of presenting varying, perhaps what appears to the conscious mind to be opposing, truths at every reading—again, depending on the current need of the reader. This is the nature of a myth or a Spirit Story.

For me, one of the most important things in successfully conveying a Spirit Story is the rhythm—something like a powerful drumming circle. Now the rhythm I am speaking of may be the audible rhythm of the words. It might also be the tempo of the unfolding story, the flow back and forth of the relationship of the characters.

Drumming may be very pleasing to the ear and still be far from what is necessary for opening up the sacred space for the mind and spirit to fly beyond what is normally perceived. The same is the case with a story. It may be eloquent, well crafted and entertaining to the intellect and/or heart without being able to make a deep communication with the spirit that affects a lasting change in the person. Mystical drumming is a mantra of percussion; Spirit Stories are an extended mantra, in story form.

There have always been gifted storytellers who can consistently weave a tale, just like mixing a medicine, with an intention of curing an exact ill—on inducing a specific experience—in a specific person or audience. I aspire to this talent, but would not dare claim such a thing to be under my full control. In the case of my novel, Sacred Vow, I was drawn to a concept (introduced to me by my wife). At that point all that was required of me was to be open to the story, perceptive of its resonance (or rhythm), and then accurately capture the vibrational frequency of my experience in words.

Spirit Stories are alive, and they will come into the world when it is their time and their choosing. They are manifest by a collective effort of their readers-to-be and the writer. In the places of Spirit, cause and effect are not linear, and their interactions are continuous. There is no linear process of a creation of a Spirit Story, and then the book is there for the reader. The future readers even now open a place for Sacred Vow to manifest, and speak to me in the past to create an individual capable of allowing the writing to come forth.

Spirit Stories say as much as we have the heart to hear, and that story will change as we change—story and reader co-create each other in a spiraling dance. The finite words on its pages do not attempt to contain all that it is to say. Though the last word has been written, Sacred Vow is also an "unfinished" work—and it has not said all that it will.

People come to me, and teach me what they have found in Sacred Vow. These things I alone could not find within the story. A Spirit Story’s truth is growing, an ever-progressing horizon. Sacred Vow taught me, awakened me in the writing of it, but I have always known that the next phase of my education is what comes to me from my writings, through the readers it has brought itself to. And I am looking forward to this continuing conversation!

Copyright 2008 CG Walters

This is my truth. Only you can determine if there is any value in it for you.

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives. His current novel, Sacred Vow is a metaphysical novel about a man who responds to the mysterious call of [his soulmate], opening the way to redefinition of both himself and his understanding of the world around him…Highly recommended. —Midwest Book Review.

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Thursday, August 27, 2009

Blessed Are Those Who Care Because They Must

If Everyone Cared -- Nickelback

If everyone cared and nobody cried
If everyone loved and nobody lied
If everyone shared and swallowed their pride
Then we'd see the day when nobody died
When nobody died...

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Buncombe Horse Trail 22 Aug 09

This is a trip up to Mount Mitchell (Yancey County, NC, US) via Buncombe Horse Trail by way of Locust Creek/Colbert's Ridge. The weather alternated between mist, rain, and sunshine. It was over 12 hrs of beauty and magic.

Friday, August 21, 2009

As We Believe, So It Becomes

“We see things not as they are, but as we are.” —attributed to many sources: including the Talmud, H. M. Tomlinson, Anais Nin, Immanuel Kant

photo by photographer padawan

In “Magic and Mystery in Tibet”, Alexandra David-Nell tells of a ‘hat that walked.’ The hat was blown off the head of some traveler and fell into the valley below. In the next party of villagers that traveled this point in the road, several people saw the dark spot in the valley below and speculated on exactly what they might be seeing. Some thought they saw it move, so it must be some unfamiliar animal!

This continued with future travelers. Each time what the travelers saw below seemed to become more animated and frightful tales began being spread among the villagers. Everyone was too frightened to go to that place in the valley to investigate. Eventually, all the belief (energy) invested into the “creature” imbued it with enough life force that it actually began to take on a life of its own…and eventually went about its way.

Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.—John Lennon

Science now tells us that what we “see” is really not what is before us. Our personal consciousness assigns imagery and meaning to energy fields. We believe and it becomes so—for all practical use.

I have had enough experiences of being sufficiently exhausted (or just plain foolish) to truly have not seen something that was before my eyes. Coming back to a book after years of change in one’s perspective to find ‘new gems’ in the same text is another common example of the phenomena. With such explicit experiences of selective perception, how can one be certain of the limit of possibility?

We are much more likely to see what we believe than believe what we see—author unknown to me

I have read of cases of hypnotic suggestion manifesting physically, such as a highly responsive hypnotic subject will blister when touched by a finger and told it was a cigarette—and vice versa. A couple of small studies reported in a Harvard Gazette article (08 May 08) concluded that hypnosis actually sped healing for surgery and broken bones. There have been numerous studies of the positive medical benefits of placebos. Each of these scenarios is the perception of the individual defining their physical experience—the mind over matter.

Perception defines affect. -- Strike a Chord of Silence

In the same context—and a bit of good news--the demon of our nightmares evaporates in the light of acceptance/scrutiny. It is said that dream is the arising of a subconscious issue/concern that has not been given consideration in the light of consciousness. If the need is strong enough and we do not resolve the conflict, a theme will repeat, or perhaps the exact same dream may repeat.

I have only had a few recurring dreams in my life. Many years ago, I had one of being the head guard in a prison. The dream always started with the inmates rioting in a courtyard partitioned within the main prison building by a 2/3 height concrete wall. Alarms were going off, all my armed guards and I are running down stairs to take positions around the courtyard and quell the riot.

Once we were in place, I noticed that many of the inmates also had guns. Very quickly, I identified a single—very large—fellow as the leader/primary instigator. I was certain that if that person was immobilized, the riot would collapse. Without hesitation, I raised my pistol and aimed at his head. As I did, he turned to face me.

When I pulled my trigger, certain all would be resolved very soon, I heard an impotent click. I pulled the trigger several times, each with the same result, as the man raised his pistol to aim at my face and walked toward me. Every time I had the dream, just as the man put his pistol to my head, I cowered behind the wall and would awake in a sense of fear/anger. I would not be able to get back to sleep and the residual tension was evident in my body and mind for several days afterwards.

The wound may be illusion, but the pain inflicted by the imagined is real.-- Strike a Chord of Silence

Each time I had the dream, and was forced from sleep by it, the dream became more powerful, the impact afterwards was greater, and the anticipation of the next occurrence more traumatic. Though the scenery, activity, and characters of the dream were exactly the same each time, my experience of the dream (and its impact) became more intense with each repetition—merely because of my changes in my perspective going into the dream.

I could not find the message that the subconscious wished to convey, so out of frustration I demanded of ‘myself’ that I would not cower when the next dream came—even though I had some concern about just what physical manifestation might be the result of getting myself shot in the head—even in a dream. Though I do not consider this hardheaded approach to be particularly wise, I reacted the only way I seemed to be able to at the time.

Finally, I had the dream and all ran exactly as it always had, up until the part where I cowered. This time I felt the fear as keenly as ever, but did not move. When the leader of the inmates pulled his trigger, I heard, Click! Click! Click! --the bullet never firing.

Though I slept through the night, I remembered the dream clearly in the morning, and felt the strong impression of the experience in my body—not as tension, but as something that I had lived and incorporated in my very definition of self. I never had the dream again. And, am certain that it was not by sheer will power—conscious mind overcoming subconscious—that the subconscious issue was resolved.

My speculation is that the message from the subconscious was how perception/expectation defines experience.

copyright 2008 CG Walters
Excerpted from **Strike a Chord of Silence, a new book of metaphysical maxims and essays

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CG Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives.

Autographed/signed copies of CG's "Highly Recommended" (Midwest Book Review) Sacred Vow are available from the author– or purchase as ebook or from Amazon as Kindle version or printed copy.

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Sunday, August 9, 2009

Rock Creek Hike 08 Aug 09

It's been a while since I shared my hikes up the mountain online. In fact, I have been more or less silent online for a time. My publishing (online and off) so absorbed me that I got much too disconnected from the mountain (as itself, and as symbol of my inner self).

During this online silence, I have been very much in communication with the mountain--trying to return to the core of my nature, where the writing comes from, to that place that produced Sacred Vow. About every couple of weeks I visit the mountain. It has become a 10-14 hour, (more or less) non-stop walk up, across, over, around, and back from the Black Mountain Range (NC, US). In that time, I cover about 25-35 physical miles, many facets of myself, many planes of my existence, and commune with whatever inhabitants of the mountain that will visit with me.

The next book (Strike a Chord of Silence) is about to come to press.

And the next novel is roiling within, demanding that I find time to let it come out into the light. All considered, I am easing online again--Online communication is also something that is pushing me to find time for it.

My walks (as my writing) are my spiritual practice (Your daily life is your temple and your religion. --Kahlil Gibran). They have great value just in the beauty that I see, spending all that time in nature, but I also tend to believe that you blend/become one with anyone/anything that you spend time with. It is my honor and blessings to share the nature of these mystical mountains.

At the end of most of my walks--though exhausted--I tend to have a predominant sensation of an altered, elevated state. This effect remains, becoming lesser every day after the hike, for two to three weeks. Now and again I initially leave the mountain with a completely contrary state of mind. But as we all know, all things beneficial do not not necessarily come easily.

I tend to like to focus my walks primarily on the eastern side of the Blacks. I also like to start from one place (White Oak Creek Rd) and only take walks that I can achieve by starting at that point (as soon as there is light enough to see in the woods) and returning that point before dark.
Today I decided to walk to to Rock Creek (along the Locust Creek fire road, up some logging roads to Colbert's Creek Ridge trail, down to the trail head, over Colbert's Creek Road to and across Rock Creek Road, until the Forrest Service Road that runs alongside of Rock Creek). Then the intention was to rock hop up the creek until I had to bushwhack to Mt. Mitchell.

It took me 4 hours of preliminary hiking to get to the start of my intended exploration (above). Part of that was due to the time it took to get around the Free Range PitBull Farm that I stumbled onto while walking the paved road making a connection between the Colbert's Ridge Trail and Rock Creek. For a while I stood still, keeping eye contact with the dogs as they charged out into the road. After a while, I tried moving slowly backward away from them. But one tried to circle around me and another got increasingly aggressive as I moved away.

Eventually I was able to back them off, made my way away from them and dropped into the woods/creek that ran in on the other side of the paved road. Warily I moved by the PitBull Farm and onto my destination.

Once on Rock Creek, it was a beautiful walk/climb, though often very demanding. Creeks often have large, slick stretches of rock faces covered with moss and water, making it impossible to stay on the creek. This creek had several, sometimes rising hundreds of feet. Such areas force me into the laurels and rhododendrons along the sides of the creek--laurel hells, I was once told "stay out of them!"

When I walk, it is pretty much non-stop except to retie my shoes or restock my nutrition pouches on the pack. This started out as something to care for my heart (avoiding heart valve replacement 9 years now), but has become something more like a mystical practice. I just keep moving forward, taking in the beauty, communing with all the forest's spirit(s).

Monday, August 3, 2009

Sacred Vow: 1st 15 Chapters in 30 seconds

The most significant event of your life calls to you, from barely beyond your perception…both imminent and impossible… Highly recommended…metaphysical novel about a man who responds to the mysterious call of a woman, opening the way to redefinition of himself and his understanding of the world.—Midwest Book Review

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives. Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as ebook, paperback, or Kindle version