Eventually, I pulled myself together; my mind was still racing a mile a minute, but I’d managed to stop sobbing and started to get a sense of normality again.
I had an urgent need to write down what had just happened, and I foolishly started writing this whole story down at once, which didn’t work out.
I gave up relatively soon, but the idea was well-founded. It was pretty wild how quickly things returned to normal. One minute, I was uncontrollably sobbing, piercing straight through the veil with an understanding of cosmic order; the next, my hand was sore from writing for more than 10 minutes, and now I needed to poop.
Looking back, two things are crystal clear:
It’s easy to see how one can quickly lose their mind if they are not adequately prepared for what they may encounter on this journey. I really struggled to accept what had happened to me for a while, and yet I was the one desperately seeking it out.
It’s also absolutely wild how we live in such a contrasting world, stuck somewhere between having the ability to tap into the divine cosmic consciousness, and still having to poop because your body hasn’t eaten in three days and is apparently clearing everything out.
It was the former which I was now grappling with.
Was I mad?
Am I Jesus?
Did I just have a psychotic break and imagine all that?
I needed validation.
I needed someone else to validate my experience. I needed external, objective input.
So,
I started spending all my money meeting spiritual peeps, from psychics to tarot readers to gurus.
I remember a few of these early meetings.
The first lady I went to very frankly told me that I had likely opened up my crown chakra, and well… that was it. She didn’t seem the slightest bit impressed or interested in my journey. She also told me that I needed to stop smoking weed; my guides told her so. I inwardly laughed, as I believed that Mary Jane was helping me through all of these experiences. So me and my newly formed, now somewhat bruised, spiritual ego ignored her and went on to the next source of expertise.
Damn. Guess I’m not Jesus.
My second meeting was at one of my favourite places in the world, Kalk Bay. Like all newbies to the spiritual game, I was floating around completely ungrounded, like a fairy lost in spiritual novelty.
I was out buying crystals and exploring the boho shops, probably namastaying every Tom, Dick, and Harry who crossed my path. Soon, I found a tarot reader. I wafted in, and she drew some cards for me.
The first card to come up – yup, you guessed it. The Fool.
I remember how much this annoyed me; my spiritual ego just took another knock.
What the hell, man? The Fool?
I had managed to open my crown chakra myself, and I’m The Fool?
Urghh. Tarot sucks.
The tarot lady noticed the annoyed look on my face. She smiled and explained to me:
“The Fool is not what most think. Yes, the Fool is a fool, he is walking inattentively and is about to fall off the cliff. He ignores the dog trying to help him and is grossly underpacked for his journey.
“But the Fool is also a precursor to the Master. One cannot be a Master unless they are a Fool first. Because every time you try something new, you are a Fool. And most people don’t want to be a Fool, but those who are willing may end up becoming something great.”
I’ll never forget that.
To be a Hero, you must first be a Fool.
Also, maybe I don’t know everything. Shocker.
Over the next few weeks, I opened myself up to the spiritual community, seeking individuals with similar experiences and mindsets, and exploring deeper aspects of myself that had been previously hidden.
Also, I wanted to dance, like a Fool.
Michael's musings 