Читать книгу Off On Our Own - Ted Carns - Страница 16

There are a bunch of spiritual books on the market that I call embellished truths. They’re like fictional spiritual wonder stories. Some authors even say right out front their work is fictional, but people still want to make religions out of them. I watch in amazement as cult followings develop around these well-worded fantasies. People have asked me if I’d had the Seventh Insight they read about. I want to say “Yeah, with my guru Mickey Mouse.”

I will be so bold as to say that this book is quite the opposite. I feel the need to un-embellish what really goes on here. Other realms of experience and manifestation that are often fabricated and sensationalized actually do occur here, but I just don’t talk about them because it’s way too personal. Quite a bit of what really goes on here is unbelievable.

Here’s one example that rests just this side of the untold experience border:

Sorry guys, but no one will ever convince me that “trophy hunting” is anything more than a passing crude and arrogant abomination. I was obsessing about it one time and was suddenly hit on the head by the hammer of my own moth and butterfly collection. It represented years of collecting and I actually went flush at the thought of what a hypocrite I was.

I took the collection of butterflies down from the wall, dug a small grave under the pines and gave them a proper burial. Then I begged God to forgive me for judging people. I kept the cecropia and luna moth specimens just a little while longer so I could admire them. I had a real hard time digging their grave because they were so big, beautiful and rare and because I’d never actually seen one up here at the house.

That night at about 2 am I was woken by a scratching on the screen of the window to the left of me. I thought it was a mouse. It kept scratching so I grabbed a flashlight. I walked over to the window and there was the biggest, most beautiful cecropia moth I had ever seen. Chills went up my spine. I thought it was a ghost. I actually pinched myself.

I admired it until my eyes started slipping closed, and went back to bed. Then maybe around 3 or 4 am the scratching started again. This time it came from the window on the right. I thought, “That beautiful cecropia in the prime of her short existence wants to be admired a bit more,” so I got up walked over and there was the biggest, most beautiful luna moth I’d ever seen. This is a true, unembellished story, one of many I could relate. So imagine the ones I won’t relate!

Note: If you want to skip ahead to the nuts and bolts and systems that make The Stone Camp function, be my guest, but if any of this stuff I’ve been talking about strikes a chord with you and your life, I invite you to keep reading for a while.

A corner of the library

Heidi – an expert in timelessness