Each of us learn different lessons in our series of lives. Sometimes it’s how to protect oneself and survive. Sometimes it’s cooperation and love. Other times, it’s expansion of consciousness and skills into new dimensions that others cannot comprehend.
Last night I picked up a book titled Shadow and Evil in Fairy Tales by Marie-Louise van Franz and then couldn’t help but also reflect on Alvin Schwartz’s memoir An Unlikely Prophet, which recounts his teaching by a Tibetan tulpa, an almost-human being created and kept alive by thought.
I’ve had my mind blown many times in this past couple of decades, which is not a bad thing, I believe, because it’s been during this time that I’ve healed some of my dissociative propensities, become social like I’ve never been before, learned to sing on stage, and become happier than ever before.
These improvements in my happiness came with having had my mind blown and expanded to acknowledge not only other dimensions, but also beings operating from these other dimensions with skills beyond my understanding.
Shadow and Evil in Fairy Tales asserts that the shadow is never meant to be vanquished entirely; otherwise, it becomes evil. It is meant to be balanced, integrated, used creatively and, if it gets seriously out of control, tolerated until something, usually external, reestablishes the balance.
Usually it’s nothing rational that the hero can “figure out.” (We are all heroes of our own lives.) Usually, the hero is required to suffer and wait, like Prometheus, punished not for an ultimately bad deed, but for stealing fire, which raised the consciousness of all humanity.
We have the tendency to blame ourselves when we can’t find an immediate answer to our very serious problems, but I’ve come to realize that waiting, even while suffering, is simply “what is” and is probably an essential part of our journey, inescapable, painful though it may be.
And the further along we are on the path of consciousness, the more lonely is this path. And that is also part of the training.
We get hints here and there about the purpose of our suffering, which keeps us going.
For instance, I read that Alvin Schwartz was told by the tulpa that a vision the tulpa had created for Schwartz was done with the help of Schwartz’ own mind – what psychologists call “confabulation,” the mind’s propensity for filling in the unknown with whatever is logical or desired, though it may be untrue, but compelling.
When I read that, I had to review my most recent weird experience to see if I could detect elements of my own mind’s work, which required some humility in case I’d helped create this ridiculous and terrifying event.
I thought, first, about the “orange alien” and just couldn’t see how I would have created such a stupid image. A realistic image, on the other hand, I might have created, but not a talking, cartoon stick figure of a stereotype I resist even to acknowledge.
It’s possible, even likely, that many other of my other experiences recounted in my book are in some part confabulations, as it is scientifically proven that this is a very common, natural human trait. But I don’t buy that I might have invented a high, screaming pitch in my ears to propel me out of bed when I was exhausted last month. No. Somethings really are done to us, not created by us.
I know we create some of our reality. But there are also others creating reality for us.
I conclude that there was a mind-control transmission attempt, using a simple stereotype image of an alien, and my rebellious sub-conscious (thank goodness) refused to participate in a confabulation, leaving me with the vision of an unadorned outline – my clue that it was a transmission attempt and not a real thing.
At least that’s my working theory for now.
But what of other experiences that I’ve thought were incredibly life-like? Is it possible that they were partially confabulated by my mind, when I wasn’t so aware of the game or resistant to certain ideas? It’s possible.
I do now understand confabulation and consider it regularly as I interpret the strange events that happen to me now and then. I accept that sometimes I could have played a role; and sometimes I am quite sure there’s nothing of me in them, and they had to have been externally created.
For what purpose? To try to control my mind?
On one level, yes. On another level, I see it as ultimately, cosmically waking me up to recognize and protect myself from things like mind control technology – which probably exist beyond this planet – giving me a chance to build my skills to defend myself on vaster realms.
Might as well take that viewpoint. It’s more empowering than anger or fear.
In Shadow and Evil in Fairy Tales, the hero is always rescued, though s/he may wait a long time, and may be wounded and outcast for years (maybe lifetimes as well), struggling against incredible odds.
But living with humility, integrity, and compassion, the hero is always helped to succeed and then become the King – both a psychological and cultural metaphor.
“Waiting without knowing” is an ancient motif and message. It seems to be essential and does not mean that the hero has made any mistake.
The unfolding of consciousness takes us on paths far beyond the “realities” acknowledged by our culture – accounting for our loneliness.
Revisiting and reviewing everything we believe we know about reality eventually will break down those barriers. We can only review and see anew with an open and humble mind.