Last weekend Shelley and I went away with a small crowd of Spooks to a place called Beaverlac, a pristine mountain getaway well known on the local camping circuit. It’s not far from Cape Town. Two hours of driving brings you to Porterville, and up close to the long ridge that guards the sunset edge of the Cape Fold Mountains. From here, it’s a short hop across bare fields into the stands of gum trees which mark the base of Dasklip Pass, a switchback ride up into cool mountain air where the same long ridge touches the sky. Beaverlac is just beyond this point, but for this week’s post the driving’s done. We’re staying here, at the apex of the pass, so that I can tell you about Flight – and Flights of Mind.|
Every aspect of this lonely pass screams of solitary, silent flight. Glider pilots spend lazy hours cruising the updrafts that press against the ridge. On Sundays, paragliding folk come to dangle from colorful bags of air. Big birds drift by, crucifixes suspended on pinion-tips. A windsock spills the secrets of mountain airstreams to those fluent in the language of aerofoil, lift and drag.
Of all the vehicles with which we grace the sky, none is quite so un-aerodynamic as the one closest to home. Wingless and unformed, it remains, for most us, grounded throughout our lives. Yet with a little training, it can be groomed into the ultimate flying machine. This flyer can move faster than the speed of perception. It can hover on a thought. It will move through rock, split the gaps between the worlds and jump through the moon. It will even leap off the edge of the sea to touch the face of the setting sun. This, of course, is the Spook’s jet plane, the energy body. And places like the top of Dasklip Pass have the E-bo straining at the chocks.
Talking about the energy body has a dual effect: it generates tremendous excitement, and it reminds us of a promise, the one they hinted at in the famous Bond song, which goes like this:
You only live twice, or so it seems.
Once in this life, and once in your dreams.
Wise words, and words worth remembering, because for us surface dwellers, building the energy body is the only worthwhile pursuit we have. The task holds the antidote to life, a condition that is not only subject to the laws of gravity, but terminal too. This ground crew is mortal, but energy bodies - those Flights of Mind – well, they’re allowed to pass beyond the end of the airfield - if they can. This is called Going Solo, and the sky they move through is made of the clear light that the Buddhists call Bardo.
So Spooks work their whole lives building that ultimate flyer, the energy body. It’s a vehicle built with pure Shakti, an unwieldy fabric which makes the endeavor one of the trickiest projects in the world. Knowing this, Spooky pilots like ourselves make a point of studying this esoteric material in excruciating detail.
Shakti, as any wise Easterner will tell you, has no definite form. Instead, She takes many forms, always shifting between each one, never sitting still. Microcosmically, Shakti is like an electron, spinning around her husband, the nucleus. Electrons are notoriously difficult to pin down, yet they give volume to atoms, forming matter itself. On the macrocosmic scale, Shakti is like this planet, spinning around her husband, the Sun. And like the Earth, she expresses so many moods that only the clouds give her state of mind away. So Shakti is a tricky fabric indeed, especially when it comes to making a flying machine.
Because the energy body is crafted from Shakti itself, it’s an all-female affair whose growth is erratic and temperamental. Thus it will develop like a tree, in all directions at once. It has good seasons, and bad. At times, growth will stagnate, atrophy. Yet every Flight of Mind is recorded in a log, each flight compounding the last, building the jet plane with thousands of hours of pure flying experience. Flights of Mind take any form: a lucid dream, a meditation, a visualisation, a sight, a de ja vu. Each is an encounter with power.
The energy body thrives on Flights of Mind. And when left in the hanger to rot, it atrophies. Spooks sometimes say there is nothing more terrifying than an unused energy body…but that is another story, for another time.
Because Shakti is formless, we Spooks call it potential energy. And since Shakti is the substance by which that perfect flyer is wrought, we never say:
“I have an energy body.”
This would be thoroughly incorrect. It would also display a serious lack of understanding, and if any of my students ever tell me this, I shall ground them for three whole days. Oh no. When we refer to the energy body, we say:
“I have a potential energy body.”
Crazy? Yes. But this is crazy wisdom. Meditation plus effort does not equal an energy body. Mediation plus effort equals a potential energy body. Add wisdom to the equation and you get a far better, potential energy body. Heck, add enough wisdom to the formula and you build the kind of energy body that can Go Solo. Potentially.
We have a method that works like a charm. The method is so darn effective that driving up the Dasklip Pass can cause a spontaneous OBE. Our method is called Dancing in Mind, though I prefer to think of it these days as Flights of Mind. It’s a strategy that not only builds the E-bo in record time, but that also takes the weirdo ways of Shakti into the equation.
The philosophy goes like this: You get hold of all your favourite music. From this you build a compilation of songs, or pieces of music that turn you on. If you can do it on software like iTunes, you can sync the list directly to your iPod and never look back. We did it the old way back in the early 90’s with cassettes and things like High Speed Dubbing. Don’t laugh. It worked just fine, and so does my old Sony Walkman (which I dropped onto London pavements ten thousand times.)
Now that you’ve sorted your favourite music out, make a time for yourself where you won’t be disturbed. Turn off the cell phone, pull out the landline and suspend your ridiculous fixation on Facebook, or Twitter, or Myspace. (I assure you the world will not end.) Go and settle down somewhere warm and comfy. I recommend a bed, or a Lazyboy. Cover your eyes with some kind of mask and turn on the sound.
Now for the fun part: simply dance in your mind. Dance over landscapes, over the sea, up in the sky. Boogie, bump, grind, loop and roll. It just doesn’t matter what you do. What matters is that you get into it. It takes a little practise at the early stage, so just enjoy yourself and don’t get too serious about it. By the end of three weeks of daily practise, you should be ready to engage with the principle that will turn Flights of Mind into the real McCoy.
This principle is something very special that we Spooks take very damn seriously. It’s a quality we contain called Belief. You can believe in just about anything, did you know that? So be careful of what you believe. Save belief for the Tooth Fairy, and Father Christmas, and the energy body, for it is belief that will propel us where we must go.
The way to get belief on board is to contact your own sexual energy in your dancing. This is the deepest quality we contain: the urge to re-unite with the Spirit. It comes bubbling up from dark places inside ourselves from time to time, bringing with it strange longings and weird nostalgia’s, the sort that Science Fiction writers tap into regularly. In the East they call it Kundli.
If you can get in touch with that portion of yourself, you can vent it in your Flights of Mind. Meaning you’ll start dancing for strange and wonderful reasons. You’ll dance for completion. You’ll ride the skies on a quest to find what you once had, when you were very young. You’ll challenge your own Ignorance in your dancing. You’ll see. Those Flights of Mind will become a rebellion against all the rules of this narrow, shitty aerodrome.
When your own Flights of Mind become something noble, something worth believing in – you’ll be on your way. Then you’ll dance for one reason and one reason alone: to make the Spirit smile.
Sometimes we call it Going Solo – but mostly we don’t speak about it at all.
Author Bio :
James Walters is a writer and teacher based in Cape Town. http://www.thehighway.co.za/
See the original article at http://www.thehighway.co.za/index.php/Blog/
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