Several years ago, I wrote an entire short book as an empty vessel to Spirit as Spirit shone itself to me, as a vessel of Gabriel of the Archangel’s fame.
Gabriel watched as I wrote, fused as I was to a spirit, A_, in my own belief system, which was itself a Ferris wheel of shifting contours.
There were rules, too many to mention. I didn’t follow them exactly. They helped me to stay Joe Perez in a psychic laboratory where I was communing with saints and angels, and fighting off the devils and demons. Every sentence was a battle in a cosmic war. Every paragraph was the communication of an urgent, powerful, essential message from the spirit world to our time.
I still have the book I wrote, which I called the Hadith 1-5, after a subset of Mohammad’s scriptures. “Channeled literature” they call it, if they’re literary New Age types. “A mess of psychotic or schizophrenic mind” they call it, if they’re scientific, spiritually reductionistic types. “Authentic 21st century Judeo-Christian-Islamic revelation,” said nobody, heartbreakingly. It is said to be the work of a Kalen, a fusion of my own personality with A_’s and Queen Ewi and Allah.
To me, it was just something I had to do. It was shown to me on my path, and every bit of it was a painstaking struggle to identify the meaning of the spiritual entity which wished to put words in my mouth. I trusted in the spirits. Too completely. I felt later, battered psychologically and physically, drinking water from the toilet of my jail cell, that I had been deceived. I was just learning to read the spirits, and didn’t have tutelage.
I should have sought out help. I should not have attempted to write a Scripture on my own, buried in my apartment, sent on errands by the speakers of mystery. I was committed to a path of surrender to Spirit, and I went wherever Spirit instructed … to my own peril. It ended like a Hollywood story, a Steve McQueen movie, with a man and a car and a high-speed chase to the only place in the world which could renew the split between the worlds at that moment, Clear Lake in the form of Bright Water. I have to talk in riddles just to convey the gist because it isn’t time yet to say the full story. There’s a longer story, and we’ll get to it in due course, but the essential point is that I tried to write a Scripture and failed.
Or … I found out that it’s really damn hard. When I stop talking about me, listening to my words, my wants, my ideas, and simply give myself over to the voices that are not-me, and surrender to them … then words come out unexpectedly. I do not judge their meaning. They mean what they mean, their every sound a symbol of that whatever is necessary in the moment, in that particular relationship of Spirit-to-Joe.
I was a Prophet, speaking words of the other, of Allah, or Queen Ewi, or Y___.
I was an Oracle, delivering words from another place which perfectly addressed my own questioning.
I was a Messenger, my body absorbing subtle energies which changed my magnetic form, and allowed me to perceive a split between myself and the other voices.
I tapped into the left brain/right brain divide, and the left body/right body divide, and allowed my body to be inhabited by holy ghouls, other entities which took over parts of my body. I gave up control to something else. It was the path of surrender. It was the path I called the Way of Falam, meaning Followership.
I don’t write exactly like this any more, but I have been changed by my experience down to my electromagnetic bodily essence. I haven’t tried to write another book like the Hadith 1-5 in several years, and I don’t plan another one quite like it. Today I take responsibility for what I write, but there is much I have not been able to say, for the spiritual entities are around me unseen (or within me unheard?) and I cannot talk to them. Now I navigate my words with the “multitudes within” (Whitman) with a much more complex relationship to them.
There is no “I” typing this, but I do associate “I” more with the activities of my right hand than the activities of my left hand, my right-side body more than my left-side body, and my left-brain as opposed to my right-brain. Together they navigate a complex relationship of subtle energies and forms of spirit, deciding the words to say without judgment from the “I” unless I intervene to create safety and structure and sense.
Before I say more, it is useful for you to have context, quite a few different overlapping contexts actually. First we must regard my efforts at writing in my 30s with Soulfully Gay before getting into my 40s. I wonder: Should I publish the Hadith 1-5 on this website? It is not a good document, I feel. I do not want to be associated with it, I don’t think. But perhaps I need to. Perhaps I need to show you my failed Scripture, so that I may learn lessons from the path of channeled literature and better understand the path I have taken instead, one of better wisdom, I think.