2 results for (book:ur2 AND session:725 AND stemmed:me)
strands
identity
mountain
invaded
rocks
(10:21.) Let us look at it differently. People who read so-called “occult” literature may consider me “an old soul,” like a mountain. Period. In grand ancient fashion above other more homey village-like souls, I have my own identity. Yet that identity is composed of other identities, each independent, as the mountain is composed of its rocks and could not exist without them, even while it rises up so grandly above the plain. My understanding rests upon what I am, as the mountain’s height rests upon what it is. I do not feel invaded by the selves or identities that compose me, nor do they feel invaded by me — any more than the trees, rocks, and grass would resent the mountain shape (intently) into which they have grown.
(Jane’s material on strands of consciousness2 had actually developed because of my experience involving my father while I was in an altered state of consciousness. That episode had upset me to some degree, but Jane’s discussion of the subject in Politics, plus a few comments Seth made in ESP class last night, helped me put the affair in a more objective light.
(There’s been a definite acceleration in Jane’s and my own psychic adventures lately. In fact, we’ve had trouble keeping up with our experiences, and little time to study them. I am sure of one thing: I’m in contact with my deceased parents in ways that I certainly didn’t employ while they were physical creatures. Nor did they in relation to me, of course. Yet certainly the use of such inner abilities — or at least an awareness of them — could greatly enhance communication between the members of a “living” family.)
(9:34.) Identity itself is composed of pure energy. It takes up no space. It takes up no time. I said that there are invisible particles that can appear in more than one place simultaneously.5 So can identity. Atoms and molecules build blocks of matter, in your terms, even while the atoms and molecules remain separate. The table between Joseph and myself (Jane, in trance, sat with her feet upon our long narrow coffee table) does not feel invaded by the invisible particles that compose it. For that matter (amused), if you will forgive me for that old pun, the atoms and molecules that form the table today did not have anything to do with the table five years ago — though the table appeared the same then as now.