Wisdom Visions

Gill Schwartz
Gill Schwartz
M.A., B.Div.
Poet, Mystic,
World Traveler
Kathmandu to Kenosha
Visionary Teachings
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by Gill Schwartz with Bryan Walton
copyright Nathaniel Schwartz 2015















"Mu, dear, please come down from that ledge. Hovering there can only make you more anxious. We'll talk with the Council and see what alternatives we have. Please, come down."
I think I know what it must have been like to have a mother. Since she designed and applied so many apts, mutating my fetus as chief bioengineer, and since birth she has been my main caretaker, maybe Elisia is my mom. But she's still military. She uses kind words, motherly words, but she says them like an order. Hard for a general to be Mom. And my name is not Mu.  I am designated as Mutant Four Six Nine. The first, and probably last of my kind.

But her talking to me like that is meant as a caring act. It is just that, even with a smile clenched on her face, when she snapped that request up at me, her aura went a livid red and her heart rate leapt. Oh well, that's General Elisia Morgan, M.D. Ph.D.  Sir Mom.
"I'm just stretching. I needed a break." I un-claw from the ledge, send her a retaliated blast of irritating sub-sonics that curls her teeth, flip my membrane-wings wide and drift down, wafting with the waver of my hand-claw.  By the time I land on the countertop where she sits, she's taken up my notebook to read my latest entry:
I'd taken for granted they understand that my purpose necessitates exploring every aspect of human nature with every gift at my disposal. These findings cannot help but affect my understanding and relating with humans.

She reads it aloud while I finish my morning supplement drink and swallow a handful of herbal pills. Elisia makes clear her scientist's disdain of the higher senses and perceptions I use in my search. The hallmark of their tiny world view is that everything is measurable and explainable.  Except me and my ways of sensing and knowing, of course. I came out too much uniquely myself for them to grasp with their simplistic generalities. And I'm left in their hands to educate and manage.  No wonder the Council doesn't know what to do with all this.

"Did you spend any time with that synesthesia experiment?" To bring us round to something more conformable, she focuses on the useful and relevant. Research and Development wants an instrument that can transduce emotion and color back and forth. It is another means that might help us make contact and communicate with the beings on Obt, is their hopeful assumption.

"We do have a certain responsibility. I mean, your gifts are the only way we can pull this research off in time for the Mission. A little more diligence would be appropriate. Don't you believe, Mu?"

When the Message was received some 24 years ago, it was transmitted for every sense and bandwidth simultaneously. Composers from a wide range of genres found a common inspiration. Mathematicians and scientists suddenly saw into new realms that completely shifted the premises of their studies. Philosophers and poets expressed visions mankind hadn't known before. As if from one unbounded Consciousness to another, without the need for restriction or boundaries for its expression, the Message seemed to resonate with everyone on Urth.

Its specific and detailed meaning was reported and confirmed by several Guides in Sectors around the world.  Just four ‘Maha’ or super guides, they also confirmed that it was their own gift of melding their senses that allowed them to grasp the Message so fully.  Thus it was suggested that everyone on the Mission learn this capacity also. Preparations began immediately.  With no clue as to the beings on Obt's physical makeup or culture, the scope of transmission encouraged us to explore every means and mode of communication imaginable.

I finish the portion of dried roots and grasses my system requires as we talk. "You understand," 'it's not the process itself that's causing the problem. Color and feeling easily match up nicely. But at the pitch and intensity called for by your experiments, the human mind gives out. It has such limiting, brittle ways of holding experience, you know." I try not to be sarcastic about such pitiful weakness, but it’s hard.
She peers coolly into my blue third eye with her stem dark brown gaze. To fix my attention. The thin line of her mouth restrains her irritation at my jibes. "Mutant Four Six Nine, you were created to assist our program with just such problems in preparation for the Meeting, I remind you.  Again.  Find a means for the 'human' subjects to withstand the stress on their psyches under such tremendous input. Please." She finishes in a tilt, as if it had been a request all along. My Mom, the General!

Even though I'm one of the main players in this foretold Meeting, it took me years of espionage and influences to gather as much of the story as I have. After the Message had been fully decoded, confirmed, and accepted by all the Sectors of Urth, every Domain's prime concern became this preparation. All international interests and military action were dropped, All Urth's resources were totally dedicated to this quest.

Each Sector – founded as they are on a particular interest or industry – took a corresponding role. One of the stipulations in the Message was that only twelve humans could come on the Urth mission to Obt. The preparation and training of eleven of these were taken up by the Sectors that specialized in a particular interest or endeavor – like agriculture, transportation, architecture, organic growth, etc.

Because the Message was understood to say twelve humans, I am counted as human along with my eleven cohorts in the preparation training. But while they were bred and trained in some precise and potentially useful science or skill for the Meeting, I am the broad-band, the undifferentiated response to the Message. Since we know nothing of the make-up or culture of Obt, I am their hopeful means to meet with the unforeseeable. I was created and born here in the Biomedical Sector to fulfill the role of the non-specialized one of the twelve of the mission. In the machinery that was my womb, I was systematically liberated into this fullness of being. I am Mutant Four Six Nine.

Though my physical maturation was a bit ahead of theirs, and certainly much more spectacular, I went through the nurturing, preparation and schooling along with other humans of the Mission.  I am genetically different in some ways, but my environment growing up was much the same.  I was just one of the kids with some extra apts.  "For the Sector's greater glory, I suppose."

I don't think the Embryologists were very concerned with what form their mutations might take, as much as with their powers and capacities.  One of my classmates suggested that I look like a picture of an owl in the encyclopedia of extinct life forms.  An overgrown owl with hand-claws sometimes extending for wings.  He got quite a roar of derisive laughter from our classmates. And a snicker of agreement from the instructor.

One compensation for my uniqueness is that the interchangeability between emotion and color that they're so taken up with was one of my earliest inner amusements.   My sensing and nervous system responds well to a variety of tunings.  They mock my outer form, but I stifle a sarcastic laugh at the peephole of the human mind trying to contain the majesty of higher perceptions.

"I can't be helpful if they won't accept my perspective. They ask for my feedback then discount it because it doesn't fit in with their clumsy mental constructs."

"Your point of view, Mu, is not always the easiest to grasp. You favor a unique vocabulary that others are put off by."  Mom starts to gather her business paraphernalia, getting ready to go to her lab.

 "I'm trying to help them understand that it doesn't have to be an either/or confrontation between our perspectives.  They would benefit from seeing my perspective as an expansion of theirs.  Why look at the world with barely five limited senses when you have access to so many more?"  I try to ask this calmly.  But no question bothers me more.

 "What you take as self-evident, Mu – as the Guides themselves might – for the rest of us, they are still unsettling mysteries." She pauses at the doorway, briefcase and books in hand. "Your ability to perceive in those ways hidden from us doesn't make you any wiser than we are.  Just better informed."


Our Sector covers some 2,000 square miles that rests across a high desert plateau because we don't need fertile ground.  But as we do need a clean, uncluttered environment, it well suits the Sector's calling. To suit my needs though, though all the labs and living quarters are underground, escape for me is easy up through the ventilation system, flying up to bask in the high elements, to my great contentment.

Though getting up over the foothills can need wearisome flapping, I usually find updrafts off the snowcapped mountain range to the north, a favorite play-yard of mine. I love soaring with the few eagles and hawks I can gather. This where I go after that pleasant chat with Sir Mom. I come up and let the supporting winds dance me, absorbed in sublime resonance into body-soul bliss.

There are still some areas, even up here, that are barren and radioactive from the Great Wars. It’s low, but I still sense it like a kind of ‘static’ stuck in time, and it makes me wary.  And it gives me more privacy because I know the others won't come up this way because of it.

As I let my body hover in its own boundless instinct, I ponder the quirk in the human mind that needs to create partitions and boundaries.  It’s the psyche's fear which feels overwhelmed when some boundary is dissolved, as a kind of symptom of humankind's dilemma.

When I reach the upper realms I really start to feel free. Even after my whole life in the Sector's underground labyrinth, I still stifle and choke on that totally non-natural world.  Good technicians that they are, they quantify everything and tell us that all the numbers are right for our needs – for oxygen, nutrients and living space.  Air that's recycled again and again till it’s noxious.  Lighting that distorts and strains, glares and buzzes.  Every material manufactured.  Artificial. Dead. Lifeless.  Only up here, in spite of the ancient ravaged landscape, do I feel alive.

I catch an updraft that takes me higher.  Without effort, my wings spread out, and billowing, I go up, even beyond the scared areas.  I see a few patches of trees and vegetation here and there.  Some visual comfort.  I puff out my body-fur to give more insulation against the growing cold.  And now I really soar.

I spiral from peak to peak, weightless, unbound from gravity itself, untainted by earthbound humanity and its trappings. I am a creature of my own.  With all my senses open and alert, I am aligned with every energy in the cosmos. A true cosmic being, suspended in and resonant with the source of life itself.

I float, and feel swimming with the subtlest breaths of wind.


I don’t experience the human shifting of attention from one realm to another, whether of the senses or of consciousness.  I don't experience separation between them.  I hold them all in an awareness of myself I'd always had that included and transcended those realms.  Therefore the transmutation between colors and feeling, or between sound, texture and smell, is really effortless and pleasant for me.  How am I to work with the imperfection that humans have with their mental partition-making, so that they can taste the pleasure of knowing everything together, all-at-once?  Instantaneous and joyful understanding without separation.

The Council that was held that afternoon because of a classmate’s complaint went pretty much as I'd expected.  Pretty much!  The complainer was Rosaria Tech 4.  She came from her Sector at 12 with as much knowledge of astrology as our computers can hold.
Rosaria coughed and cleared her throat uncomfortably.  Maybe because she tends to rest her aura's energies in pleasant blues and greens, there's usually comfort between us.  Therefore I was confused when her mood suddenly became angry.  She drew herself up, obviously not comfortable and explained to the Council.

"The issue came up while I was training on the synesthesia transducer,” she began. “He was coaching me," she nodded towards me, "on how to meditatively hold that open awareness.  'A partition-free mind’, he calls it. Then suddenly, without knowing where it came from, he told me, ‘Yes, it would increase pleasure during copulation.’  I just didn't know what to think. He'd never acted like that before with me."

I looked around at the members of the Council. There were 8 others besides Elisia.  Most I only knew officially.  Besides Sir Mom, the only other one I know well is Dr. Dew Gudd. And he does do well for me.

"OK, Mu," Dr. Dew Gudd said in his humorous, slightly chiding way with me (that I enjoy)."  You understand, Mu, Ms. Rosaria took your statement to be a proposition to have sex with you."  He looked across the shiny white table, tilted his head and smiled – at me.  Your turn next, he gestured.

I couldn’t help but be swept off in what I experienced as gales of laughter, but others describe as a storm of shrieks. When I calmed down a bit, I explained that during her training her pheromones suddenly exploded into the room. I was just confirming her obvious sudden realization.  Maybe just another example of giving the senses room to interplay.

The members of the Council smiled and nodded knowingly. Except Dr. Dew Gudd, who burst out in good natured laughter, and Sir Mom who pouted as if convinced that I had been naughty.


"Flatlanders". I found the term in a book on metaphysics and it fit so well I always thought of 'them' that way. Everything crammed down in their two dimensional universe. No room for more than side by side, this or that, closer or further. The most rudimentary level of awareness imaginable. They cannot grasp that more than one thing can happen at the same time. That each person can carry multiple roles and that all of one’s guises are about one underlying thing happening.

Flatlanders have an easy time with 'shoulds' and 'don'ts' because, from their view, there's no overlapping or mixing. What happens in the other dimensions is beyond their caring and the fuller views they offer are just distraction from what really matters. I liked the goadings they were getting through our projects - that they are pushed to see that reality is more to be intuited and experienced than in their limited 2 by 2 thought-forms.  They even think truth is linear, and can be related by words.  But reality and truth are not successive, they are global – they are simultaneous.  They can’t be expressed – they must be lived.
'An infinite number of flatland slices still don't show the Truth.  That was my underlying battle cry.

I could smell their slice of world view when they talked with me. 'I see everything from a place of guardedness and fear, one odor tells me. This is all about power and the victories to be won, another pungent one boasted.  These were so tangibly real for me, I could inwardly watch a flatlander spray their whole universe with the scent of their persuasion. Two dimensional and all colored and reeking with one or two favorite issues, their singular world seemed very limited and boring to me.

In their simple, mechanically consistent minds, every question has a definite answer, every need its perfect fulfillment. This depth blindness showed in everything they did. Didn't they grasp how many different ways a thing came be perceived, all of them true? No. That would bring doubt to their Verifiable Reality.

While they applied their energies to absorbing the latest programs and accomplishment scales, I lavishly spent my time letting my inner knowing guide me where it will. As their every thought was laboriously subdivided into linear bits for appraisal, my pleasure was in the floating where everything beautifully blended.

I spent a long time floating yesterday. We were given a break after many hours of this type of rigorous testing.  In a heart-beat, I was up the air vent and out over the high desert.  The whispering winds were especially sustaining and consistent, delicately embracing and coaxing.  Gratefully given over to gliding, I put myself into a state of pure free flow sensory association.  I disconnected from my sensory inputs to leave my central nervous system fantasy free. Image becomes hallucination.

This free flow cleansed and renewed my being, my psyche again receptive to the undefinable wonder in each moment.  But I didn't think that would be too easy to communicate as they burrowed through their tunnel world.  So, I pleasantly passed the rest of the day in joyful self-absorption.

I did eventually find a trick of attitude-shift in talking with some of them to discover something worth listening to.   I did not attend to their surface focus, but listened as if out of the corner of my mind to what they were really trying to share with me.  From that view point, it was easier to note how the images and ideas build and move around to fathom their deeper, more pervasive concerns.

But with my multi-modal access to what they were experiencing, it seemed a far richer understanding, I believe, than the way they think know themselves.  It became too much then for me.  
Gliding there in the afternoon's updraft was the only solution.


I try to envisage what it must be like for them.  What they call the visible spectrum is a third of what I see.  And so for all their physical senses, there are more vast energies and vibrations they couldn't imagine.

With such limited perception of the world around them, or of themselves, no wonder they live so stupidly.  I try to have compassion for the souls trapped in those flexible coffins.  But I have little left for them because of the continual defensiveness that I feel against their images and reactions to me.  But, because of my 'gifts', I'm hypersensitive to their psyches, their concerns, moods, suffering.   I don't have a switch in there where I can turn my 'gifts' off and on as convenient.  I have no means of shielding myself except with a distancing attitude of sarcastic contempt.

"Owl Man" is one of their favorite titles for me, because I resemble that creature, Nihil claims.  Long folds of flesh join my arms and back muscles - my 'wings' when I tighten up and make them firm.   And the set of my skull slopes back more than theirs tends to do.  That name ‘Owl Man’ is all right.  It's appropriate when I sense their loathing image of me as a mutant, a repulsively freaked human.  But they don’t notice the little ridge on my chest in front of my heart – that I have seen is different from theirs.


COUNSELING and CENSORSHIP  present tense
"We need to talk about this, uh, misunderstanding with Rosaria."   Doc Dew Gudd is trying to be official with me. Very unsettling.

"I had no underlying intentions towards her," I declare with as much definiteness as the phrase will take. "Besides, you know the whole idea is still a puzzle to me. No, I think they couldn't pass the chance to accuse me of something."

"Mu, don't you think your Mission mates might be more, ah, congenial with you if you at least tried making friends with them?"

"Good Doctor," I say with a bit more sarcasm than intended, "having to censor everything I say because of  their limited perception range, so I don't offend or confuse them, I am left with very little to say.  And when I try, they respond like I'm a fumbling nitwit."
He turns in his chair and looks at his computer’s screen-saver display.  The focus is just fuzzy enough, intentionally no doubt, so I can’t tell if it’s long grasses in the wind or waves on water. "I'd like to suggest that just because we don't perceive all you do, doesn't mean we're an inferior species.  Although I agree, that's not a certainly.  But the result is you go around with this 'floating anxiety' because you make yourself feel alien, outcast, untouchable.  What I'm suggesting, is for your good."

I tune out, and go quiet for a few moments.  “But if I’m not already another species,” I venture to say, “likely I’m transitional at least, headed toward another kind of being – on the way to another species.”  Doctor Dew Gudd looks startled, but I continue.  “You all are too, whether you’re conscious of it or not.  If species evolved in so many ways, obviously they have been, we all have been, in transition for millennia – flora and fauna.  Do you suppose suddenly all changes stopped when the idea of species was invented by homo sapiens?” 

He seemed confused.  Maybe species are species for him, because science decrees it.  He doesn’t respond to my words, wanting to go back to him counseling me.  “So what’s the point about having to censor your thoughts and not making friends with your Mission mates?”  I’m aware of a tension building in me that makes me feel defensive.  I had listened to what I wanted, and said more than I should have.  "No, I will not subject myself to dealing with their limited abilities to see me," I tell him, and send a wave of high sonic purple to emphasize.  "I'll end up being some kind of pet for them,” I conclude.  “There will have to be a different way for us to meet on common ground."


A quest of mine for a long while has been to find a way of directly transmitting some of my experiences to them.  As long as they didn't have those kinds of experiences, there would be endless discussions and arguments on how important they are.  Hamil, of course, would like them dismissed as a way of locking me out.  Doc Dew Gudd would like to see me more accepted, no matter how it happens.  I'm really not sure if Elisia really gets how vital this is to me.  But once they have something that gets them out of their little "reasonable" worlds, they would be convinced.  Then they would understand me a hell-of-a lot better.  And Sir Mom would be happy that we could get on with our synesthesia and higher sensing projects.

One clear early morning, as I wafted through the warming breezes, I noted that at the outermost frills of my wings, the interplay of breeze and my taunt flesh that kept me effortlessly aloft could be attuned to my inner currents as well.  I sensed this would create a powerful harmonic.  It would resonate on broader, more tangible octaves, touching the physical as well as subtle energies.  I knew I could broadcast such multiple waves.  This could be a connecting link to bridge the membranes of our psyches.  A rush of excitement thrilled me.  I dove and leaped in the huge skies again and again.  Yes.  This might be a way.
I called my first such recital: "A Sound and Light Show: For the Many Layers of Experience."  The few classmates and several of the researchers were interested.  Doc Dew Gudd hoped that demonstrating my 'unusual' gifts in an acceptably helpful way might promote my general acceptance.  That could open ways for other aptitudes to be shared.
They let me use a beehive-shaped, deeply subterranean room that had been an acoustic lab.  Trying it out, my first emanation across its resonating dome thrilled me to the core.  The space became a tuned and subtle instrument that let me align impeccably with my listener-observers.

At my first Show, although I went very gently, the small audience surrounding me was startled.  They expected to be experiencing through their usual senses – as if I were to broadcast music and light out of my body.  When I energetically touched directly on the nerve patterns that sourced these experiences, they gasped with a special pleasurable depth.  I had realized it could only serve to broadcast the most general, impersonal program, completely vague though a dramatic soothing of sorts.  I joked with myself at letting them experience some of my perspectives on things at a preconscious level.   Perhaps for a few potentially popped-opened-up humans.

To prepare for this, I sent my subtly vibrating light core down into the grounds that surrounded us.  This settled my whole being, through deeply sinking vitalized roots into Urth's primal rhythm and energy.  In a series of resonating chambers. I opened my higher psychic sensors and perceivers so that each came into its own primal, unembellished mode – the mode that archetypal perceptions open up to.  Also I was comfortable in knowing that each person there was free and empowered as to how they personalized and consciously detailed their experience of my intuitive symphony of the inner senses.  For me, at least, this felt like it was a function of my intuitary gland, as if it vibrated with it.  The others in this group, like instruments or sections of an orchestra, seemed to interweave their normal senses in a way, thus creating a depth of meaning far beyond their usual abilities to express.

They had intuited the experience, at least that’s what I felt.  A theme spontaneously arose through me. I knew it as the "Song of the Soul".  I understood it was about the soul's inexpressible longings, the hope, the pain, the resolution into its next longings and joys.
I was so moved as it coursed to expression through my many channels – it really seemed that I could help people intuit, without their mental stuff – to experience intuition.  I knew I'd found a rich field to explore and share in this way.

(Doctor Dew Gudd had explained to me some time back that some unique cell groups located a bit in front of my heart had morphed or evolved into this intuitary gland when I was created.  It appears about the size of a small finger, he told me, and produces hormones that seem to activate various forms of intuition and insight in different senses of my body.)
I waited on my perch as everyone found their way up and out the chamber, many smiling, lighthearted, elated.  But one young woman didn't budge her down-turned head till the hall was empty.  She stared at me across the rows of hammocks they'd rested in. When she did finally look up, I saw it was Rosaria.  We'd been friendly since her complaint to the Council.  We'd spoken, but never really talked.

"We've made fun of you in many unkind ways," she whispered painfully, standing next to me on my perch with her head bowed, "always implying that you were anything but human. But experiencing your Song of the Soul is the most fully human thing I've ever felt."
I tingled with celebration. At least one person got it.


Since the Sound and Light Experience, Rosaria had been spending/talking and being with me. I began by feeling a bit guarded, defensive at the memory or her complaint to the Council. But all that was clearly past. She received pleasure and soul nourishment from our harmonious interchanges.

She posed questions about synesthesiology that I had to reach for. "How do emotions hold wisdom that is b and the rational mind's reach?" That was one of her casual wonderings that kept us discussing through the next two classes, dinner time and right to lights-out. Definitely on the same wave length. Contemptuous of emotions.

As a master gymnast, she'd taught me a few flips and spins that nicely embellish my flight choreography. Of course it’s only been a short while and we're staying very public with everything. But I never imagined I could feel so trusting and open with another human besides Doc and Elisia.

From the beginning of our training, she took my eye.  She has the same color hair as the light fur that covers my body – and her skin is as dark as mine though her eyes are nearly as light blue as my third eye. Most everybody else here has lighter coloring. Maybe we're from the same gene pool. So, in spite of her discounted complaint, I was pleased when she began our friendship.

I suppose her being an Astrologer Tech 4 gives her a cosmic point of view. Maybe it’s that expansiveness that lets me feel comfortable sharing with her. I don't like tight boundaries. And with me, that calls for covering a lot of space.
In the midst of talking about a Team project, Rosaria innocently asked me, "Does it bother you to look so, you know, special?"

She asked good-naturedly, so I answered with humor. "You mean, does it bother me to look like such a freaky mutant while you all look so normal?
"Well, Mu, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Just curious."
"No hurt at all, because, truth to tell, we're all freaks. We're all designed. You were designed to look "normal-like.”  I'm designed to be me."

"What do you mean?" She was surprised and a bit irritated.
"Don't you know that since the 21st Century, with the radical climate changes and pollutions with synthetic gases, ecosystems destroyed and foods genetically altered, an uncontrolled gestation brought a hopeless mutant? 

"You are all designed to appear normal and I am designed to be an endless source of wonderment and discovery. Sir Mom can't even keep up with documenting my capacities."
"You're a bit vain, aren't you?" she chuckles.

"I need something to compensate for looking like an overgrown, furry owl, don't you think?" I sent-her a melodious flow of sub-harmonics to express my comfort with her.
"I don't need all that specialness to like you, Mu. I like you because you're kind. Maybe they forgot to design that into most of us normal ones.


Dr. Dew Gudd Douglas attends to me like I am a marvel, a blossoming of Homo Saps’ hidden potentials.  He checks and notes my physical, emotional and mental parameters with caring regularity.  He obtains material and benefits for me that my classmates couldn't. I like him.

From what I know of him, he was involved with the Message early on.  Maybe he was one of the Decoders.  I watch how things get done in the Labs when he's around. Everyone is very cooperative with him while he attends to me.  He's somebody important.  So I feel well supported while I explore my ways into further worlds.  As if he gives me such good anchoring in this world, I'm empowered to reach many others.

The Sound and Light Experience was his idea from the start.  As he confessed in his very pleasant way with me, the Show was mounted mainly to give him a full taste of my gifts.  Then he convinced the rest of the Council that it would further the Mission group's skills too.  As part of the Official Program, of course.

We chat about that as he takes some neuro-physiological measurements.  He repeats the optical testing twice; the paired eyes and Third Eye separate, then together.  He pauses in the process often to reflect on what he notes.  It has me curious, then a little wary.  He's done little with my Third Eye vision till now as it seemed beyond observing with the usual methods.
"Something unusual happening, Doc Dew Gudd?" I inquire.
He walks back to his desk and bids me leave the exam chair and follow him.  I settle on my perch next to his desk while he sighs and stretches into his chair.  I track his focus shift from his outward observing mind to a centered, subjective aware one.  This lets him be as open and  perceptive with me as he can. That's how fully we communicate.
“Your nervous system,” Doc begins, “except for the ends of the circuits – the receptor and effector nerves – is the same as mine.  Nothing you are capable of doing is alien to my potentials.  I note hints of these same capacities in myself, although in a much more subtle and problematic way.  Even the flying I often dream of gives me a comradery feeling when you tell me of your flights in the desert above."  He smiles at me with kind knowing.
"You were mutated – or hyper-evolved, we might say – hopefully to prepare you to relate with any reality you might encounter on OBT.  But we didn't expect you to actually develop new sensory organs once you received the new unique apts we gave you.  The wide range of vibrational frequencies your normal sensing range encompasses – two or three times that of ours – spanning from X-rays to magnetic fields, we now understand that these aptitudes can manifest as specially evolved organs and glands.”  The doctor paused, reflecting on how to proceed.

“We know that the human parathyroid gland, for example, which regulates the level of calcium in the blood, probably evolved from the gills of fish.  Mammary glands are probably highly modified sweat glands.  They develop from distinctive mammary ridges running along both sides of the trunk of a mammalian embryo.  The intuitary  gland we spoke of before.  It’s the pineal gland in the midbrain – which regulates the cycles of sleep and waking – that appears to have evolved as an indirect way to improve vision, by keeping toxic compounds away from the eye.  Perhaps these glands hyper-evolved too – highly modified from earlier forms of cell-groups.”

It was this pineal gland that was involved in growing and activating your Third Eye.  It secreted chemical messages, hormones, just as the pituitary gland at the base of your brain secretes at least seven different ones.  These chemical signals passed through your blood to arrive at the target organ, which has cells possessing the appropriate receptor in your Third Eye region.  But we're still not certain exactly what role it played in you except for the hormones.  In most non-mammals, you see, the pineal organ is a directly photosensory organ, while that of mammals is non-sensory.  Owls are not mammals, but you are almost entirely a human mammal.  What role the Third Eye now plays for you is another question.  And I think it worthwhile finding out more about it, because it won't be there for you in any human body."

Dr. Dew Gudd had asked me before what I perceived through my Third Eye.  As open as I tried to be with him, there was nothing I'd found to say that could describe it, except in the vaguest, most abstract terms. Till now. Just as he was noting something down after his testing, I recognized some fuller opening of awareness in my Third Eye. Not yet fully discernable, but certainly more developed.  It was also a kind of seeing, but in a meta-physical rather than a physical sense.  If Doc was picking up something with his machine that would help me grasp it better, I would benefit.

"So how would you describe my Third Eye function from your measurement's point of view,” I ask.

He took a pause to fix himself an herbal tea.  A mint mixture.  For calming, I suspect. Meanwhile I gnaw at the dish of fresh roots he keeps for me here.

"Although we are limited in what we can observe in this way, you could say it seems your Third Eye sees 'with' what it perceives rather than 'at' it.  As it focuses on something, your EEG drops into a meditative delta wave.  Your EEG moves through strange harmonic inter-resonance between your normal consciousness and a very deep meditative state. As if your normal 'seeing' becomes just part of the scenery for higher revelation and understanding.  You haven't been very conscious of this shift, from what you say.  But whether from continual use or your natural maturing, this Third Eye way of seeing seems to be becoming integrated with your physical senses," Doc seemed to conclude.

"The two kinds of 'seeing' coming into sync!" I started chirping with pleasure.  He was describing the awareness I've been getting flashes of for some while.  I'd thought maybe my neurotransmitters were a bit sparkly because of the nice connections happening with Rosaria.  But now that I pay attention to it, I feel the focus of my aura gather there at my Third Eye, as if it is the center of my soul.

Third Eye seeing is not just a different point of view than my bi-eyes have, but a completely different consciousness of knowing. I look at Doc, his caring, expressive body fully relaxes into his padded recliner chair. His nervous system settles into a meditative state. I note his aura is tuned into the higher consciousness, tones of blue and purple. And, on a subtler, interpenetrating dimension, I intuit the nature and quality of his being, and recognize the quality and evolution of his soul. With my Third Eye resonant with my bi-eyes, I can see a fuller, truer aspect of his being. I'd always been touched by his honesty and concern with me. Now it was revealed to me as tangibly evident in his character. Immediate.
We sit in warm peacefulness looking at each other this way. Maybe he's even experiencing something like I am. "It's a kind of understanding that is self evident. You see it, so no thought is needed to grasp it." I try to put it in the simplest terms because, reality shifting though it is, it seems to take no more than opening my eye.

"Do you think this might be another realm to explore in the Sound and Light Experience... How about the Inner Revelation Show?" Doc's encouraging smile permeates through his whole being and pleases mine.


What I liked best in doing the Sound and Light or teaching Synesthesia or other inper skill teaching is that I didn’t have to pay attention to their "social selves”.  I’ve seen a few of their infants. They're still natural and alive. Clear and consistent right through. When they laugh, they laugh freely and with their whole being. When they cry, they couldn't grieve deeper. But these matured ones distort their every thought and expression. Its hard to maintain balance when their energies, body tones and the quality of consciousness says one thing and they insist on trying to deceive me. And themselves. So we keep a "no social selves" pact. We use the same beehive shaped space for the Inner Revelation Show. Usually its just the 12 of us from the Mission, but often Doc Dew Gudd and Sir Mom will sit in. Some of the members of the Council have asked to join us, but I don't want to disrupt the group field. I'm tuned to it limed-the way it is.

I sit in the center of the chamber. They are around me, lying in recliners on three ascending circling tiers. I beam out delta brain waves that, along with the movements and breathwork I've taught them, brings them into a relaxed, natural trance. With them in this open, unencumbered state, I open the full range of my psi factor and read the spectrum of the groups' vibrations, from thermal radiation to the quality of consciousness. I guide and work these fields to create a psychic tone that is a harmonic of the groups' and brings them all into resonance. That resonance is the carrier field for everything else I do with them.
Imaging wholeness, I let my creative wisdom, likely sparked in my cerebellum in league with the intuitary gland in front of my heart, respond to what I sense and intuit in the group. It’s as if the full spectrums of their beings are dancing to the flow of that resonance - their hopes and fantasies, longings and fears - aspects of themselves they might not know of.  Often I touch into such aspects of myself when I'm flying, and I artfully let the wind carry me to where I'm drawn.

Though transpersonally alive to each other, each one of us experiences this dance or energy and psychic fields in our own personal mode and manner. The portals of synesthesia are open to unique, personally attuned experiences of my Whole Being Song.

he range of inner sensing is open. Sight, sound, indescribable sensing swirl and dance with kinesthetic awareness: As I feel the restrictions of space and time dissolve my- experience is what my freed soul calls for, as each of them around me know themselves in this unbound way.
They have wondrous, sometimes transformative journeys. And I have the pleasure of deep contact with them. Free of their "social selves."

And I believe this is similar to how Obt has sent the Messages to us over the ages. With Obt's ability to broadcast the full spectrum of psychic vibrations, they tuned their missives to the resonant frequency of each age.  From these expressions of specific universal truth and wisdom, each psyche perceived it encapsulated in their specific worldview. So, to the mathematician, they are unfolding higher laws of mathematical science. To the mystic, they are purer revelations of the Divine.

The Messages have been recorded, of course, since the first Directives came through. Unable to perceive the psychic vibrations themselves by technical means, they can measure and record the EEG's of various people perceiving them. Entraining with these, I get a ghost image of the Message's field itself.

Humans' are enthralled with the Messages' contents. You know, "What can be used for?" and "What does this mean?" That's not about doing at all. It’s about being. It’s the level and quality of consciousness they take me that really activates my Third Eye.
What I learned from the Messages is what I try communicating to them: each one to experience in themselves.

The End




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Copyright Nathaniel Schwartz 2012