Don't Crucify Me
(It's so Passé)
Why am I writing this book?
If someone had told me twenty-five years ago that I'd experience the kinds of things I did, I'd have laughed myself silly.
What happened to me only happens to other people. Strange kinds of people--people like psychics and healers
who do that kind of thing instinctively from birth, or those who learn stuff from a lifetime of meditation and study with
a guru, or folks who endure some unusual trauma like getting hit by lightning.
Well, I wasn't that kind of strange geek, no sir--even
though some people thought I was strange, but not in that way. I never was aware of psychic abilities during childhood
or while growing up, didn't study anything metaphysical or experience anything trans-formational as I trudged through the
first forty-seven years of my life. That kind of stuff happened to other people, thank you, not to me.
Oh, yeah?
So, gentle reader, that's why this book
is being written. Because eventually I be-
came one of those other people. But what's different about me, at least
to me, is that this occured in a very pedestrian way, which isn't how I thought it was supposed to. I was taught almost
everything, most of it in week-end or week-long seminars and workshops and retreats and conferences--
You serious?
--then got the rest from experiences I sought out, but which again were controlled
events. No chimney bricks dropping on my head, no sudden revelations, no cataclysms--just classes and people, all in the U.S.
of A. Pretty dull, huh?
Keep talkin'.
After being dragged around by the nose this way
for a few years by my inner guid-ance, I finally realized there was a method to all this madness. I was being led to expe-rience
certain things in order to write about them for others, so people would know that what I'd learned to do, anyone else could
too.
Getaway!
Of course, you, gentle reader, aren't one of those
other people, are you? No, 'course not. You're just one of the worms the world takes such a delight in stepping on.
Right? Absolutely! Only problem with that view is that you're wrong--absolutely!
For true?
I realized this error when, in my late forties,
I was forced by personal circum-stances to read The New Testament for the first time (see my book The
Search for David for details). In the course of reading T.N.T.,
I noticed with surprise that on a couple of occasions Jesus was quoted as saying,
"Ye are gods," and also, "...nothing shall be impossible to you."
Ah, gimme a break, Jesus, baby. You didn't say that,
did you?
Then, years later, I read the same kind of nonsense in Ramtha
and Conversations with God. So, I thought to myself, all these guys are snorting the same kind of stuff, right?
O.K., let me get this straight: gods have mortgages, drink beer, are late in their car payments, have affairs,
get downsized--
That's it! We're sized-down gods!
Little gods, baby gods, gods-in-training. But, you say, I can't even levitate, much less create universes. Yes, I answer,
but a human baby can't even sit up, much less walk or build space stations. Baby baby gods we are. Got it, baby? So,
you reply, what are you trying to say, George? I'm saying we're created in the immage (not physical
image, dummy, but spiritual pattern ) of God (whoever that is),
which means we latently have the powers of God (whatever those are). We also have free will (which includes free love--I knew
we'd get to sex sometime), and that means we have unlimited abilities to screw up to our hearts' content on planet Earth.
Oh, the joys of being a god!
I get to screw up! Wahoo!
But, you know what? After a couple of thousand
lives, screwing up gets tiresome, trying, boring. A real drag. Too much energy expanded on killing people, for instance, when
you could be having sex instead. Those 60's hippies got it right , "Make love, not war." Take back your
creative energies, folks! Make babies, don't kill them!
Now you've done it! Writin' like God O.K.'s sex
and thinks it's fun! They're gonna stretch you out on the rack again, like they did in the Inquisition!
O.K., O.K., I won't talk about sex any more, except
for sex in the astral--no rules about that. But, listen, just as a human baby has to
learn how to be human, so do baby gods need to learn how to be godly. Do human babies trip over their feet when they start
walking? I...think...so. Do they wet their pants--and worse? Better believe it. Do they fall off swings and bicycles, skin
their knees and elbows, punch each other in their respective snouts? Seem to recall doing all that. How about you?
Maybe...
But! Did your mistakes turn you into a monster?
I don't think so, even if your mate does. Do you know that the word 'sin' originally was an archery term that meant
you hadn't hit the center of your target? How 'sinful' is inaccuracy? Even
if you've made the same mistake (mis-take) ten lives in a row? Did
it ever occur to you that you have to work at becoming a grown-up, dues-paying god? Huh? Kinda like training to be
an NBA player. How easy is that? How much practice, how much effort, how much time, how much pain, how much frustration?
A lot...
In any case, if you're a baby god, then you've got inherent
(if presently unknown and untested) powers. The potential is there--it's your birthright. Remember the time of your
birth! No, not in the twentieth century, but during The Big Bang! That's
when you were born! Bang: created! Baby god! Shining light! Got it? And what do you think you were created out of, if the only thing existing then was God?
And if you still believe that the real you was created by your parents, you're a whole lot weirder than I am--and
that's pretty weird!
You're sayin' I'm...?
So, now that you know you're a baby god, what are
you going to do about it? Well, for openers, try reading this book,
which should convince you that you're not just a sackfull of molecules but a whole lot more. I don't know how godly that'll
make you, but you sure won't think you're ungodly any more!
G'wan, don't be chicken--buy this book! Now!
