Archive for April, 2009

I had been chatting with friends who do, and/or listen to, guided meditations (visualizations) and meditate.

One friend told me that he saw guided meditation (visualization) as external and meditation as internal.

When he said that, I became excited. This is my understanding (watered down version) of the conversation:

Meditation is internal. You go within – working to still the mind and enter the nothingness (aka – void, center, core, stillness, etc.); learn about, and from, self.

Guided meditation (visualization) is external. You are following the instructions and visualizing what you are hearing.

I excitedly told him:

From my pre-teen years up until January 2009, my guides/higher self requested I not participate in meditation or visualization tapes, cd’s, classes, groups; nor attend metaphysical related or healing classes, courses, seminars, etc. They (guides and/or higher self) didn’t tell me I COULDN’T; rather requested I didn’t…so I didn’t.

I did ask, “Why not?”, and was told it would ‘contaminate’ or ‘undo’ what they were teaching me.

However, in January ’09, I was given the ‘all clear’ sign to experiment.

I downloaded “The Daisy Pond” (The American Monk) and began listening to, and following the guided meditation. Then something curious happened.

The narrator’s voice went off to my right ear and then started diminishing in volume – I could no longer understand what he was saying.

My left ear heard nothing. “I” then shifted to the left side of my body and out. I entered the nothingness (stillness) and everything-ness. It’s those moments in meditation where you are in nothingness and, for a brief time, you understand everything.

I then told my friend that this was how I was taught to meditate – enter the stillness and experience knowing everything for that brief time. And my friend knew exactly what I was talking about!

When I was younger and had tried to tell others (who did meditation) about the stillness/nothingness, I was greeted with raised eyebrows and the incredulous sounding, “Uh huuh…” I was speaking nonsense to them. I hadn’t discussed it again, until now.

I cannot tell you that one method is better than another; you need to do what feels right to you.

I do wish you each the experience of nothingness and of perfect understanding within.

Jan Toomer
April 1, 2009

“My Passport Says Clairvoyant” by M.B. Dykshoorn (as told by Russell H. Felton). © 1974. Hawthorn Books, Inc.  ISBN 0-8015-5285-6.

Every once and a while, I come across a book that I don’t want to put down; I am so engrossed I even forget to take notes for a review.

Dykshoorn’s story is one such book.

Russell Felton wrote the prologue and began with how he and Jim Bolton had accompanied Dykshoorn to “conduct a ‘psychic investigation’ of an unsolved murder.” It was Felton’s account of that particular case as he observed Dykshoorn work.

The rest of the book is Dykshoorn’s story.

Dykshoorn was born in 1920 in the Netherlands. He was candid about his childhood and growing up psychic – clairvoyant.

As an adult, Dykshoorn began having his abilities tested, in hopes of answering some questions he had about them.

He never received the answers he sought, but had been tested so much that Netherland’s government recognized his ability and “issued him a passport listing his occupation unequivocally as HELDERZIENDE – ‘clairvoyant’.”

His ability surpassed all that I have seen/heard/read about. He explained how he perceived while working. The present vanished and he began seeing and feeling as though he was actually observing (and sometimes experiencing) events from the past as they unfolded.

In this book, Dykshoorn described his techniques and provided information on cases he had worked – which included missing children; locating the human remains of soldiers lost in battle; locating missing artifacts, etc. The cases and how he worked them were fascinating to me.

I really enjoyed this book and recommend it for all.

As the day approaches
I become excited
for life as I ‘ve known
will cease to exist.

Like the fledgling which
stands at the edge and tests
his wings, preparing
to take off for the unknown…
so must I.

The fledgling faces his
new freedom, and his life.
And here I am,
completely clueless as to
what I’ll be facing

As I stand at the
abyss of the unknown.
A smile on my face,
I leap forward
with open wings.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Trusting in that which is beyond my knowing… This is in “Undefined Reality” course workbook.
Jan Toomer