For the last 15 years I have hungrily devoured a whole lot of “spiritual” books. I loved them all! I love the sense of freedom and expansion and boundless possibilities that I feel when reading them. I especially loved spiritual autobiographies where the authors shared their intimate and personal human experiences.
I loved books on dream work and energy work and shamanic journeys and healing work and sitting in emptiness and exploring various dimensions and levels of consciousness. I loved exploring unconditional love and compassion. I loved exploring being a creator and a co-creator. I loved surrender, allowing and acceptance. I loved just being a witness. I loved trying to talk with Nature and seeing if I could hear it talk back to me. I loved shadow work and bravely diving into dark and scary stuff. I liked holding a pole of light and awareness and a space of unconditional love. I liked holding space for others and for groups. I liked reading about and feeling the aura of peace that some spiritual teachers would emanate. I liked reading about communication with beings and spirits and channeling. I liked visions and messages. I liked reading about sex as the path to God and books written by others who claimed celibacy was the path to God Realization. There were sorcerers and wizards and folks who could manifest material objects from thin air. There was Oneness and non-duality and those who could get information on anything at all from the Akashic Records. Medical intuitives. There were psychics and mind readers. Mediums who spoke with the deceased. Near death experiences. Folks who could see auras and energy fields and the entire history of the soul and even one’s current soul “contract”. There were those who spoke only of blessing others. Those who lived in caves often meditating for 10 or more hours at a time and living on very little food. And of course there were books on mushroom journeys and LSD journeys and ayahuasca journeys. Lovers of theology would compare and contrast different traditions – some with love and understanding and some with hate. Being present, being here now and being in the presence of God. Time traveling. Oracles and visionaries. Remote viewing.
It’s a very long list!
I loved them all. Still do.
But along the way I seemed to lose myself.
Now in some traditions this might be looked upon as a good thing. Losing the ego or the little “me” is the whole goal!
But I wasn’t truly losing me so much as trying on a whole lotta different outfits! I read all those books and immersed myself in the experiences and the teachings. I tried all of the outfits on!
Somehow it seems important now to blaze my own path. To follow my muse and just see where it leads me – even if the path won’t necessarily fit into any box.
Books are an immersive experience for me. Some say that all books carry an energy and for me this has been especially true. Certain books would induce powerful dreams and messages. I would fall asleep almost instantly in the middle of a book and have crazy experiences that always seemed to center on teaching me something from the book in a sort of experiential way. Books would lead to teachers and to many unexpected blessings and then more and more and more.
But this reading and experiencing new things through books phase seems to be ending.
I had a good friend who was a sort of hard ass New Yorker. She was a book editor and very good at what she did. But after editing everyone else’s books for 30 years she too felt like she had somehow lost herself. She could blend and fuse with any author’s work and from that place could guide the author and edit the author’s manuscripts with remarkable ease. But when she went to try and write a book of her very own she simply couldn’t. She had lost her precious individuality and lost her own unique voice. And she very much wanted to express her own voice. So what did she do? At the age of 70 she went to Peru and did Ayahuasca for 2 weeks in a row and came back claiming it was the best thing she had ever done. Upon returning she very much lived an inspired life and the life she wanted.
Last night I had a dream.
It was simply an image of me wearing about 40 pairs of glasses all at once. I could not see. I was confused. A voice said “too many lenses”.
End of dream.
So today my new exploration is away from exploring the endless books and endless experiences of others and the endless points of view and endless perceptions of others.
In a way, I suppose, I feel like the hero returning home.
I have learned a lot and experienced a lot. I know I am different but not quite sure how to express it. I live simply – I clean my house, take things to Goodwill and only hang onto what is truly meaningful now. What matters to me now? What is truly important? What is worth teaching and sharing with others now? What is meaningful and fulfilling and interesting now? Who do I want to be in my relationships? Who do I want to be in my intimacy and my connectedness with my wife now?
I’m feeling a sense of wanting to experience being unique and a pioneer and a maverick now and not just be a mouthpiece for the books and teachings of others.
I am slowly and lovingly removing all the glasses and lenses and filters from my face now. I bless them all. Their time is done.
In no way am I done learning. But I feel satiated. I yearn to simply be guided and taught from within. To be in alignment with my Soul and my Divinity. And to share with others.
© John David Latta
