Orientation

Storytelling + Intuitive Practice = Collaborative Astral Projection

The following is part of the orientation of a course on how to build a spaceship, a collaborative project that combines Restorative Storytelling and Intuitive Practices.

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In 1991, I spent Christmas and New Years Eve in Italy with my friend Massimo and his family. Most of the month was spent in Genoa where their apartment was located, but we took a few trips around the country to visit some of Massimo’s friends and family. Christmas was highlighted by an accidentally pornographic toast I offered his extended family over Christmas dinner (in my defense, there are many different regional words for the male genitalia. How could I know them all?) A few days after Christmas, we went to Trieste to visit Massimo’s friend Nani.

I’m unclear what Nani’s specific job or role was in the largest psychiatric asylum in Europe, but I knew it involved working with a 7 foot tall nonspeaking autistic man who occasionally ripped the clothes off of attendants. None of this might line up with Nani’s experience but this is my memory of his work. I recall seeing a video in Nani’s apartment of Flavio (I think that was his name) ripping the shirt off someone because he was upset. I saw this before we went to work with Nani and somehow got to follow Massimo’s friend around while he did his job in the asylum.

Ah the early 90’s.

Two key people in this story are Alicia and Flavio, but mostly Alicia. Alicia was a beautiful Brazilian woman who was also one of Flavio’s attendants. I met her at a table in what seemed like a breakroom. Nani, Massimo, Alicia and I sat at this table while everyone spoke very fast Italian to each other. Alicia did not speak English, and my Italian was in its infancy, so I couldn’t speak directly to her. This was frustrating because I had very quickly fallen in love with her. Massimo had also fallen in love and used his language advantage over me. We were best friends from college and this became a true test of our friendship.

I sat with my back to the door and had Alicia on my left, Nani on my right, and then Massimo across from me facing the door. The door is important because as we were talking about this and that and Massimo had Alicia’s attention due to the fact that he could talk to her, he suddenly went white and looked above me. I knew that I needed to sit very still and I braced for whatever was going to happen next.

Then I saw a fist.

It was the size of a head of cabbage and it strangely appeared over my right shoulder and then disappeared, then appeared, and then disappeared. This happened rhythmically, and I quickly assessed that this was Flavio. How he managed to get to the breakroom, I have no idea, but I could see that Nani was not worried, so I became slightly less terrified. He was very very tall. He could definitely rip the clothes off of a person like me, and I didn’t want him to do that. I watched as this giant of a man drank dixie cup after dixie cup of koolaid and then he left. Likely this was all very official and structured but it seemed to me like he was wandering the halls demanding Koolaid. I wanted to leave.
And then we did leave. A few other coworkers joined and we headed to downtown Trieste to find a place to eat and drink. They all spoke very fast Italian and I could tell that Alicia wanted to talk to me but the language barrier was a big impediment. I felt left out and I was definitely pissed at Massimo. After we encountered a duo of American navy sailors holding up traffic to do pushups in the middle of the road, Nani looked at me, laughed and said “tu paisan!” indicating that this jerks were my brothers. He was being silly and having a good time but it made me even more upset and eventually I decided to call it a night. No more of this. I declared to Massimo and the others that I was exhausted and wanted to go back to Nani’s. Everyone was a little confused by this but wished me a good sleep. I left.

The problem was that I did not know where to go.

This didn’t occur to me until I had angry-walked in a particular direction for quite a while before realizing that I was completely lost. I did not know where Nani’s apartment was, and I did not know where Massimo and the others were going. Did I even have my passport? I had had a few beers at Nani’s work (ah the 90s) and those buffered me from the harsh realization that I was probably in a lot of trouble. So at some point, I turned around and thought I needed to find Massimo and the others. I knew it would be a restaurant or bar, but I did not know where or even which part of downtown. Trieste is a big city.

Here is the moment where I made a choice.

Previous to going to Italy with Massimo, I had ridden my bicycle across the US and developed what I called “The Driff” which was a navigational tool. This was back when we oriented ourselves by looking at paper maps. I often drifted off the main routes and depended on the Driff to get me where I wanted to go. It was a sixth sense that I practiced out of necessity, and it worked. So there in the vast downtown of Trieste Italy, I chose to use the Driff to find my friends.

This was late at night and a lot of restaurants were closed but the bars were open. I turned down a street, then got a feeling and turned down another street. I recall seeing lots of people enjoying themselves at bar after bar, and then I recall stopping in front of a jazz bar and listening to American jazz music, and I knew they were inside. I knew it, there was no doubt. So I went inside, descended a set of stairs to the section of the bar where I knew they would be sitting, and found them.

I was delighted. They were nonplused but I didn’t care because I had a superpower. I felt on top of the world.

I knew where to go because I consciously used a tool to find my friends. This was not an accident, and it was more than just following my gut. Over the 6 months of riding my bicycle, I developed a tool that told me to go this way or that way, and I trusted it worked. It got me where I wanted to go, and sometimes the tool led me to certain people and encouraged me to engage. The Driff was not just a road map, but an advisor that never let me down. I needed the Driff, and now I was able to use it successfully in the streets of Trieste.

It's not an unusual skill to possess, but this story was about my acknowledgement that subtle tools like the Driff are developed. My experience was that I developed the tool out of necessity and if I continued to practice using it, I could apply this ability to navigate and orient wherever I went. It has been very useful to me, and now I want to teach you this skill, as well as a collection of other subtle skills that are a part of two powerful protocols: Restorative Storytelling and Practical Channelling.

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I am writing a book and obviously this book is important to me. How it is important may change over time, but as I write this sentence, I feel a precarity to the world and myself. Things just feel deeply unstable, and I say this with a healthy measure of optimism and opportunity. Instability invites change. Stability is difficult to adjust and negotiate, but when you and the world are unsure, insecure, and confused, there may be a willingness to try something new. And this book is something new. I’d like to unpack the state of things:

Let’s start within. It appears that COVID-19 continues to transform many of us. There still exists the idea of “long covid,” or long-term and often chronic effects of catching the virus. This may or may not be an actual medical designation, but I can describe my own experience as something chronic. I do feel like I have regular bouts of fatigue and brain fog, and even when I am feeling well, I can feel the virus near me. I can feel it waiting. For me, it feels like a part of who I am now. It feels like it is not a part of my DNA, and in this way, my relationship to COVID-19 is not unlike my relationship to recovery. I don’t think I will ever be rid of it, and therefore I must stay fit. The twelve steps of recovery are predicated on the idea that your “disease” is not only waiting for you, but is doing pushups. I feel I must navigate the world with rigorous attention to my well being and mental health.

For me, it is life or death.

There are certain practices that I must do, and for this I am grateful. I don’t want this to be a confession or an explanation or an invitation to join me, but I do believe some of you feel the same way. Whether it is a chronic mental or physical condition or you too continue to feel COVID-19 lurking in your body, you might feel like you need to stay on top of it, or calamity will happily show up and take control. This is an instability within that for me, is handled through spiritual, mental and physical fitness. I feel I must stay fit or I risk losing the wellness, serenity, and abundance I enjoy.

I also see transformation happening with my friends and family. People around me are reaching, hoping that the next thing will be better, whether it is with their work or relationships or location or wellbeing. Though I recognize that this has always been true for most people who have lived on the planet, I can feel a level of panic in my family and community that didn’t seem to be there before. Yes, the environment does seem new and we’ll get to that, but I wonder if the heightened panic would be any less if the presidential election had gone the other way. My observation is that the feeling of instability was here already. Then and now, people point to climate change and its consequent migration, they point to the disparity between the rich and the poor, they point to the potential dangers of rapidly advancing technology and it results in overwhelm, resignation and panic. It is true that people close to me do carry on, they do their work, they are living their lives, and yet I hear regularly about how worried they are..

And yes, the current administration is clearly fueling this surge in instability.

Whether you voted this way or that way, you are feeling it. That is why you voted or didn’t vote. It seems everyone has a strong existential opinion about politics—one tied to the salvation or destruction of the universe. The world is literally warming up. People are upset and want change and are doing what human beings have done for millenia, which is to point fingers. When we can find an enemy we feel better, because now we have a cause to our suffering and can begin to eradicate that cause. And then over and over again, we see that this is not true and it doesn’t work. This is the biggest challenge with solving things through blaming the strangers. You need more strangers. So we are upset now. We invent another side and then think they are crazy and dangerous. We declare that they are the problem and they need to be corrected if not eliminated. It doesn’t work of course, but we keep trying.

So here we are: elegantly fitting a definition of insanity. We keep doing the same thing expecting different results. We insist on being right. We hide our transgressions so that our argument is solid and clean. We allow ourselves to be unjust to the bad guys because we feel we must do what we must do to protect our civilization. And for me, this is proof that storytelling is at the root of all of it. Our insanity, our blaming, our willingness to hurt people will ultimately be our downfall—person by person by person.

There is indeed something rapturous about the times. There are people who seem elevated above and outside the chaos. They appear to have entered into a new consciousness and perspective. They experience serenity and acceptance. They love everyone and blame no one. This is a real thing, not a utopian goal. I know this place. It is a state of being that is attainable in every moment. Heaven and hell are on offer all day long for each and every one of us. And yet, most of us choose hell. We just do. It is what is familiar to us and quite frankly, it is our resting place. It's where we return.

What you are reading is a part of a book that follows a long tradition of books, practices, and protocols that wish to show you the road to heaven. It is based on my study and experience as a teacher and storyteller. I do feel serenity often. I do feel calm and I do love everyone. This is the case most of the time. But I haven’t left the planet. I also have bad dreams. Resentments find me. I judge others, and unfortunately I do this often. I do believe I am right. And when I do, I am not serene. When I judge, deceive, avoid, dismiss, and fear, I move away from serenity and start picking up hunger and desire and distraction and ultimately it will take me to righteousness, blame and greed. Then I am lost. Then I lose.

Storytelling takes us where we want to go.

It will take us to heaven and it will take us to hell. Telling stories is our birthright as human beings. Stories are not good nor are they bad. They are the primary way we decide what is real and who we are. And most of us forget that such things are fluid and not fixed. So a primary aim of this course and the associated book is to take what I’ve learned through my intuitive work and show you how to see your own stories. I believe that once you see that you and your understanding of reality is constructed of stories, then you can have more choice in what story you tell next. And the story you tell next can lead you toward heaven or hell or somewhere else you choose to go. Storytelling will always be so. It is just who we are. So, bending the mechanism in a direction of calm, love, forgiveness and service is just as possible as bending the mechanism toward resentment, despair, doubt, and discord.