Redemption comes when love finds a way.
I began writing this in January of 2005, hoping to finish by April 15. I have been subjected to a number of tax manipulations, and I believed that all the chickens would come to roost. If worse came to worst, I wanted to get this into circulation before then.
As it turned out, that deadline has caused things to stretch out. There are more players on the field than ever before. Most of them try to control me, and complain that I don't cooperate. I point out that perhaps my purpose is greater than theirs.
Castaneda talks about the power of intent. The sorcerer learns to listen for intent, to stalk it, rather than trying to manifest it. This document contains the tools that the people I love need to love themselves. I've done what I came to do.
In the interim, in my dreams I've gone to bat again for the Caliph, walked with the spirit that called himself my Father, ministered to the founder of my employer, and fathered two more children.
Jewel touched me, every now and then. On the way back from the bookstore one evening, I told her that I was proud of her. She was abashed. "What for?" "You've kept your heart clean. As best as you are able, you do in the way of love."
I met a young lady, whom I'll call Vivian, at a Quizno's in Oakland in March or April. Her father called her on the phone. They discussed her auditions. I found myself enchanted by the musicality of this woman's voice. When she hung up, I remarked upon that, and she turned around. The message wasn't entirely flattering: "He's old enough to be my father." I forgave her that, as I wasn't coming on to her. On the way up the freeway, she caught up with me, and I admitted: old enough to be her father, or a teacher.
Jewel was skeptical: she didn't want me involved with anyone in the trade. I pointed out that she was leaving the business, and maybe it would be well to have a representative. As the discussion evolved, it became clear that she wanted to stabilize my spiritual environment.
I offered another model: maybe it would help to have someone we trusted pushing from this side. She'd tried pulling me through dimensions before, but I had been unable to adapt to that great a departure from classical causality.
Unfortunately, the opponents got to Vivian first. I had sketched out the opportunities that would open to her when she began to learn how to make her open heart work for her. They offered her a concrete solution in the present. When I walked away from our engagement without hesitation, she realized what she had done. The next morning, she crawled into my bedshirt pocket, observing that "it's cold out there." Vivian hadn't realized what she was carrying around in her.
There was a lesson to be verbalized. Vivian's fear cost her something that can't be bought. Having been run in circles by my concern for the safety of my children, I knew what Jewel was going through. However, I knew by then that the purpose of love is to make people more powerful, and that children are an asset to their parents, if they'll let them be. I cautioned Jewel that she was trying to control her situation, rather than committing herself unreservedly to the purposes of love, and allowing love to find a way. Rather than trying to own me, she might commit to acceptance of everything that made me more powerful - including associations with woman as powerful as she.
I'm not certain that there are such, but it seemed to hit home. Good things began to happen.
Last year, Jewel and I made love once on the drive up to Livermore. Elton John's The One was playing on the radio, and I went totally off the scale. I had forgotten about it, until I came across his collected Hits at the bookstore two weeks ago. I took it in to work. I hope that the artists will forgive my reproduction of the lyrics:
I saw you dance out of the ocean
Running fast along the sand
A spirit born of earth and water
Fire flying from your hands.
In the instant that you love someone
In the second that the hammer hits
Reality runs up your spine
And the pieces finally fit .
All I ever needed was the one.
Like freedom fields where wild horses run.
When stars collide, like you and I,
No shadows block the sun .
You're all I ever needed.
Baby, you're the one.
I played this ten times in a row, each time getting higher than the last. Something resonated. Part of it was in her reaction to Yearnings, years ago, but there was something more.
We worked a lot with music that week. She said that she was trying to tie me down.
Those of you who've seen Braveheart may understand now the relationship between Wallace and his lover. The meetings in the forest never happened - not concretely. Their child was a child of love, conceived through dimensionality as Jewel and I had conceived our lost baby.
My proponents were aware that I had recently bridged time back to the years around WW II. Mel showed up and suggested that I do that with Jewel, that we go back to the moment her children were conceived and make them our own.
She immediately entered into negotiations regarding paternity tests. Talk about unstable behavior!
We needed energy to do this, and lots of it. I cheated: I poked the opponents really hard, and pulled the hostility I generated into my heart and passed it on to Jewel. It accumulated over a couple of weeks, but she was hesitant. She didn't want that kind of energy involved in the process. I suggested that it was an opportunity to learn a skill in transformation of intent.
Our job as parents is not to protect our children from harm, but to prepare them to master risk. That is the purpose of love: to make them stronger. No, not stronger - strong enough.
She came to me in May. The ether was too noisy at bedtime. I couldn't keep my more intimate opponents out. She told me to go to sleep while she worked on it.
I woke up around midnight. It was as it had been in the beginning. A gorgeous thrill in and through me. I reached back, back into time; my body thrashing like a salmon fighting current. I could feel her waiting for me there, and she pulled me in. She was having sex. We focused our attention on her ovaries and my testicles, capturing the spark of our lives therein and moving them together. We knew the spiritual personalities were crossed with their gender: I pulled apart the halves of my personality and mated them with their opposites in her.
My body burst into sweat, drenching my night shirt. Useless reaction: I had never before worked so hard in this domain, but it wasn't work done by the body.
We draw ova into the Fallopian tubes, and I set to work manifesting the sperm. One egg was fertilized. A sudden impulse to compromise: maybe we should let him have one? A stern voice: "No. Keep him out." I could feel him reaching past my fingers, and pushed him aside with my shoulder. With a second burst of energy, our will was consummated.
But they weren't bound into time yet. Something more was still to be done. Binding them to futures: we imagined playing at the beach with them: Kevin the chaperone to his sister, Gregory his brother's older mate. Then we imagined them working together, Kevin and his sister as research scientists, and Gregory and his brother in the entertainment industry.
Not enough. Bind them to personalities! The feminine spirit of the boy found us, and we welcomed her home. We tried to find the girl's, but it eluded us. We paused, and the Jewel that is worked with the Jewel that was to bury her knowledge under layers of night.
The next day, she came to me, and we found the solution in the way that men and women should. The history of her pregnancies appeared before me, and I was drawn to the death of our child. That loss could not go unanswered: he had chosen a life with us.
That night, Jewel connected the two moments together, and I ushered the spirit of our lost son from one body to the next.
Last summer, our children called for me. They accepted me. They name me as their father.
The opponents still wrestle with us. We heal them, as much as they will allow. But she is still and clear: her children are the children of the man she loves. She is fulfilled.
Dearest Jewel. What greater honor could I imagine?
I love you.