Scott Ware, Radiance Publisher and Editor-in-Chief
Recap: Alex tries to win back his ex by getting “enlightened” despite a nagging feeling he may have met another who is his twin flame. And he’s taking over a spiritual business he doesn’t know anything about…
“I just heard 3D relationships are built to break. I want us to go 5D.”
“That sounds hard.”
“Not really, all we have to do is trade our unhealthy emotional attachments for healthy connections, switch from an emphasis on external success to internal fulfillment, and take intuitive quantum leaps on our journeys to know our multidimensional selves as one with the Universe, and therefore each other.”
“But we keep triggering each other.”
“The obstacle is the way. That’s the work.”
“…Maybe it would just be easier to break up?”
Anytime I remembered my favorite part of the mushroom journey, it’s like a dream within a dream, but a dream more real than life itself. Sort of like Dr. Eben Alexander’s NDE (near death experience) that he describes in “Proof of Heaven” where that “other realm” is more real than this one. There, he could clearly see that death never occurs, only transition.
He didn’t just see it, he came to know it.
That’s what happened to me.
It wasn’t a wrenching change, something painful that caused great discomfort. I guess because it involved the scales falling from my eyes (or veils?), it left me lighter, which caused me to giggle a little.
“Do you want to talk about it?” a nearby voice asked, probably hearing my giggling.
I stretched under my blanket. Yes, I did, and I was glad to talk about it because I wanted to put it into words out here in the world. It almost doesn’t matter who was asking, just that they were holding space for me to share.
I described to them how the ceiling above us melted away and I saw swirling shapes in the sky in front of me. They were numerous galaxies dropping down one by one to say hello before gently ascending back into space.
I felt the meaning of this as a knowing, quite came to me clearly and powerfully: all of these galaxies had planets to live on—that I had lived on—and that I had chosen each of those lives myself. I had created those existences. Which meant I created this one, to unfold exactly as it has, as it continues to.
How do you feel about that? I was asked.
I feel powerful. In fact, I feel like God.
One Month Later
“Just because he took some mushrooms, he thinks he’s awake?”
“Maybe he’s just tapping into that rising tide of spiritual momentum…”
“If he thinks he’s enlightened, he’s got another hundred lives coming.”
“It’s possible… although I did overhear him talking about the Tree of Life.”
“Like he’s climbed it, when in reality he’s fallen out and is hitting every branch on the way down.”
“I don’t want to judge.”
“I’m not judging, I’m venting.”
Everybody loves me. People can really see my truth, which makes me love them right back, like a beautiful regenerating loop.
Which is good, because it helps smooth over the rough patches of making a living in the spiritual/holistic/metaphysical industry. Thank Goddess for hugs.
And nobody hugs like these people! Every meeting, gathering, or sound bath: hugs from everybody! I guess when you’ve cured your own lupus, PTSD, or sometimes even cancer through natural means (where the doctors always seem to say, “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it”), you just want to share that joy with another human with hugs.
Until one day when I entered the lobby of OneHeart Spiritual Center on an assignment for the magazine. It was in an office park, which gave it a conservative feel, until you noticed the paintings of angels on the wall with quotes like “Step out of the circle of time and into the circle of love. – Rumi.”
I set my notepad down next to the sign-in sheet and scanned the other names. Didn’t recognize anyone. A woman quietly emerged from a back room and approached me. She had brown hair that was so long and beautiful it obviously required a lot of care every morning. I recognized her from a mystic faire I attended the previous week where I’d proudly purchased my first crystal bracelet.
“Hi…” I was hoping she would remind me of her name as I went in for a hug.
“No, that’s okay…” She recoiled with a snap, her hair following suit. NO hug.
“Oh, sorry. Yeah, um…” This just didn’t compute. Everybody in the tribe hugs. I lowered my arms awkwardly and took a step back.
Her jaw was set firmly, like she didn’t like having to talk to me. “Are you here to see Noelle?”
“Yes, Alex from Enlightened Age. You and I met last-”
“I know.” She suddenly turned sideways and leaned toward me. “I teach a class here Tuesday nights on protection, shielding, and reading the energy of the room. I think you should take it.”
I felt less like she was telling me a precious secret and more like I needed this education, and quickly.
“Thank you?” I said without committing. I was already taking two classes at other centers and another one online, and I definitely wasn’t feeling it with her. She quickly left the room, her hair following a few moments later.
I realized I’d been breathing shallowly and took a deep breath in, but I still felt tight inside. Did I do something wrong? Maybe I said something the other day that offended her and I was paying the price now?
I started to sweat a little. I hate not knowing! Was it a joke that landed badly? Wouldn’t have been the first time. But this tribe felt like family, and they forgave you, right? If your heart was pure-
“Alex, hi. I’m Noelle Page.”
I’d only seen Noelle on social media, so it was a shock to see how tall she was in person, over six feet. With her flowing robes, rosy cheeks and a slightly theatrical air, she dominated the space with a unique blend of grandiosity and humility, as if she knew she was here to serve the planet, yet powerfully and unapologetically. I reached out to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, I’m a hugger from way back,” as she moved forward, and I noticed the fabric from her clothes flowing angelically around her arms.
I then proceeded to get one of those hugs they should teach classes about. It lasted a few seconds longer than most, but not too long. No one was in a hurry to leave, so that the full “communication” of the hug, if you will, could be received by both people. No one was loitering either, like a guy in front of 7-11 saying he just needed money for gas so he could drive his family back to Bakersfield.
It didn’t veer into uncomfortable territory that would cause one to wonder what else is going on here? It was easy and comfortable. A gift, really.
Then she turned and took a large shell from a shelf with some dried leaves inside and showed it to me.
“Mind if I sage you? It’s something I do sometimes.”
“Sure.” I watched as she took a lighter and ignited the dried sage. She waved the aromatic smoke up and down my body, then signaled me to turn around.
“Will you be taking my picture with the interview?”
“Sure! Or I could get one from social media. I just wanted to say that I appreciate you purchasing a two-page spread…”
“Look at me, I need at least two pages to cover everything.” When I turned to face her, she was smiling. “How much publishing experience do you have?”
“Ask me again after I print this issue.”
Noelle nodded, her eyes sparkling. “I want to show you something.”
She quickly walked down a hallway. I grabbed my notepad and followed her. We passed a dimly-lit room that I’ll call the crystal mediation room. It had large floppy pillows on the floor and large amethyst geodes at both ends. A statue of some goddess or other was against the wall.
We also passed a large room that could easily seat 100. There were handmade drums against one wall, and on the far end a small group of people sat around a table cutting out pictures from magazines for the vision boards they were making. They were obviously having a good time because we could still hear their laughter when we entered Page’s office. It was ornately decorated with hanging tapestries of nudes from the European renaissance period. Again, tasteful, but unapologetic, particularly about the human form.
I took out my phone and pressed a recording app. I showed it to her, then set it on the desk between us. It opened my notebook and started making notes. “I appreciate you supporting the magazine-“
“Look, I believe in what I do. My heart is pure and by recognizing my mission to help others, it’s win-win-win.
I thought about that. “I win, you win…”
She leaned forward excitedly. “And the world wins! It’s a better place because we helped people get to the next step in their spiritual journey.”
I started thinking like a journalist. “What about the people who don’t believe in spirituality.”
“That’s like saying you don’t believe in air. But I get it, it’s a loaded word, especially when people think it’s religious, which it’s not.”
“What’s your definition then?”
“Your relationship with yourself. Then, how deep you want to go into that is up to your meditation practice, the workshops and classes you take in enhancing your mind-body-spirit dynamic, bringing together the sacred feminine and sacred masculine inside you, whether you take part in plant medicine ceremonies, how you function in relationships, the inner child/trauma-trigger/shadow work you do, or whether you can just look in the mirror every morning and say, ‘I love you.’”
I looked at her with a stunned expression. “If you have a class for all that, I’m in.”
“Can I tell you what I see when I look at ‘Enlightened Age?’”
“I may not print it, but sure.”
“I see people who woke up to their potential, stumbled a bit on their path as they healed large parts of themselves, and then wanted to help the world by healing others, and even training others to heal: emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and even physically, because the root of all physical ailments comes from the others.”
“So says Louise Hay.”
“And Caroline Myss and the rest of them, but none of that matters until YOU get it. YOU get your own answers in there,” she pointed at my chest, “And you tell me millions of people past present and future aren’t healing themselves without cutting down the middle of their body with a sharp knife we call a scalpel. If we just slow down, take a breath and look around us from the distractions of the day, the answers are all here to see. Pachamama provides.”
“You’re very quotable.”
“And another thing—if I were starting a magazine to give away for free, I would do it the same way: purchase space here to tell your story and share your healing. If they like you, they go to your website and engage. If they don’t, they turn the page to a fellow healer or teacher.”
After an hour, the interview was complete. I turned off the recorder. “So you’ve been running this spiritual center… for a while now?”
She looked at me for a moment, in no hurry to answer. “She was right, you know, about reading the energy of a room.”
“Oh, you heard that.”
She pointed at me dramatically. “No one gets it right every time, but it helps when you’re trying to accomplish something.”
“Well, I try not to have an agenda. When I sensed some annoyance, I tried to make it comfortable for her.”
“Stop trying anything and just be yourself.”
“I don’t think that would have worked with her.”
“Any thinking from ego rarely works. Thinking from your heart brain: totally different matter.”
“I get the feeling I’m in a class.”
“I’m a teacher, and I know that. It’s my mission, my purpose, my reason, my LIFE.”
“It must be nice to be so clear on that.”
“When you know your purpose, you don’t need anything from anybody.”
“I came to see you. I didn’t want anything from her.”
“Yes, you did.”
I swallowed and started to bead up on my forehead. What the hell?!
She continued. “You wanted her to like you.”
“No, I wasn’t looking-“
“It’s not about that, even if you were. Energetically you wanted something from her, and being very empathic, she felt that and rejected it. Rather forcefully, if I know her.”
“But I was very kind.”
“And there’s something inside you that is quite unhealed that seeks. You’re not controlling it yet, but now that I’ve pointed it out, it’s now a choice.”
“Are you reading me?”
“We all are, it’s just whether you’re conscious of it or not.”
“I truly meant her no harm.”
“And your heart is lovely indeed, but it was obscured by her fear of being hurt.”
“Now before you judge her for judging you, just know that none of us are Ascended Masters and we all have our work to do. I like to say that we’re “gods with garbage.”
“Maybe I should turn my recorder back on.”
“This part isn’t for everyone. Because it’s like this: we’re all God. Yes, we are. Why dance around it by saying we’re children of God, aspects of God, chips and slivers and splinters of the infinite. You ARE God/Source/the Universe/the Force/Spirit, experiencing yourself through your unique filters. And… we have our garbage. We bitch and moan sometimes, engaging in old programming. For instance, if you’d caught me on a day where the gardener of this place weed-wacked by roses again, you would have heard me complain for ten minutes straight minutes. When I do that, just let it roll off your back and I promise to get to the good stuff momentarily.”
“Like that we’re all actually God?”
“Does that phrasing bother you.”
“Kind of makes me uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay, it will be our secret. Ironically, most people are keeping the same secret. Wakey-wakey, world. Your God and when enough people realize that, we’ll end world hunger in a day, and a lot of other things too.”
(Continued next issue, when Alex realizes he is God – it kind of changes thing, to say the least.)