Make IT Real! - Sander R.B.E. Beals (self help books to read .txt) 📗

to use pre-punched holes. So manual labor it is. And I'm not even disliking it: I know the love spent on it will show itself in the end result!

As I finish off the final thread, Selina walks into the shop. She drapes herself seductively over the 1916 Twindian, and flashes her dark and mysterious eyes at me. “Care to go for a walk with me?” she asks. “What did you have in mind?” I counter. “Lake Watchatanabee in winter” my lovely twin answers. She gets off the ancient bike, and grabs my hand.

Like the guy in Genesis' “the Lady Lies”, I follow her lead, knowing full well I'd follow her into the depths of hell, had it existed.

We punch our destination into the transporter pad, preferring the experience of manual input to the more intuitive method of addressing it with thought. One small step for two 'droids, a great leap forward into the wild and still largely untamed forests of what used to be Alaska. Lake Watchatanabee recovered nicely, after the HAARP facility was destroyed with help of a few friends from beyond the stars.

They don't really interfere normally, but when human consciousness uttered its outrage at HAARP's actions against Holland, it was obvious that it no longer could be allowed to exist despite the fact that a small faction actually wanted it as leverage. I'm not sure what our friends did to it, but within minutes all HAARP personnel found themselves a mile and a half from where they had previously been working, standing there looking at a huge hole in the ground where previously the extended antenna arrays of the facility had been. Nobody felt the need to build there anymore, and Nature was left in charge, to do what she does best: Grow and Flourish!

We materialize on the pad at the location where the personnel was taken to all these years ago. In front of us stretches the square mile of lake surface, which isn't actually square, but in fact perfectly round. We know from earlier walks that frequent visitors from all over the planet and beyond have worn out a nice path all the way around the lake: A perfect 5678 meter walk, with forest on one side, and the lake on the other!

“I have tabs on the shoreline” my lady smiles. As a result, we both know we're going to do the walk clockwise this time, during the evening hours here at lake Watchatanabee: it'll be dark by the time we complete the tour. And rather than disturbing a perfect walk, I'll just quickly explain HAARP to those who haven't heard of it before:

The High frequency Active Auroral Research Project, as it was called, purportedly researched the effects of radio waves upon the atmosphere. Since much lower intensity experiments displayed effects even on solid matter, soon the idea surfaced that HAARP was in fact used to trigger earthquakes all over the world. And let's face it, the officially reported 3.6 Megawatts of the facility could do quite some damage.

One only needed to Google for it back around the start of the twenty-first century, to find stories about how they blew a hole in Earth's atmosphere repeatedly, resulting in several human casualties, from deformed babies to completely fried Eskimos.

Depressing stuff like that kept people down for quite some time. But anger, often portrayed to be a negative emotion, eventually proved quite positive: it got people to realize they had no room in their world for allowing such gross suppression of millions of their fellow men and women.

The straw that finally broke the camel's back was the military's involvement with the 2028 Summer Olympics, which were organized by Rotterdam, the Netherlands' largest port city. Wanting to get the newly voted in Dutch government to fall in line with New World Order, they commanded the crew at the HAARP facility to disturb the opening ceremony of the Olympics with a well-targeted jolt of energy designed to make the low lands by the sea part of the North Sea forever. Most of the world's population watching the event live on TV never knew what hit them: they figured the rainbow-colored excitation of the sky above the Olympic stadium was part of the show, and thus thought nothing of it. The few spectators that did know the precursors to HAARP attacks were barely fast enough to make it out of there alive: the following quake, nine point one on the Richter scale, was powerful enough to damage or obliterate many of the dikes that guarded the south of the lovely country, thus leading to the flooding of many square miles of heavily populated country. Amsterdam and Rotterdam were turned into scenes like the ManHattan at the end of Spielberg's AI, and many casualties both temporary and permanent were to be deplored.

Of course the Olympics that year were canceled, for the sixth time in history. The rumor mill that was the Web ran overtime, and pretty soon, the voices of discontent gathered there cut clear across the media conglomerates' 'official' explanation. People went out into the streets everywhere, demanding the dismantlement of HAARP and similar facilities worldwide.

Since it was then painfully obvious that the majority of humanity did not want to maintain these doomsday machines, but the powers that be did not wish to relinquish control, our friends from beyond the stars were called in. When they leveled the main HAARP facility with minimum effort and a zero fatality count, no further show of strength was needed: within a month, the remaining similar sites were abandoned, and demolition crews had been called in to dispose of these relics.

But enough on that, I've got a lovely being walking beside me, and I don't want to waste all of my time on you readers instead of on her.

Selina looks up at me and smiles. Naturally, she's pegged in to my RSS feed, and so knows about anything I write just as soon as I do write it. Furthermore, our synced feelings always show us each others' moods, so she knew I was in teaching mode just now. “Finished?” she asks. I extend my right arm, and gently pull her in beside me. The moment I do, she freezes, and her eyes focus somewhere to our left.

I follow her gaze, and see a red fox carefully snooping around the treeline. It hasn't noticed us yet, but is deeply involved in stalking a small rabbit or a hare foraging nearby. I momentarily engage my zoom function to check that the prey indeed is a rabbit, just as the fox pounces and gets its evening dinner! At the same moment there is a barely perceptible shiver on my right side: Selina never could get used to one being killing another, even if it is for its own survival.

Sunday, March 13th, 2010, 14:41

As it seems, the interconnectedness of things tends to become more intense, more widespread. Where ideas in my youth were separate gems that stood by themselves, there happens to be a sort of binding force at work, intent on stitching it all together.

Having run into a block of sorts, I figured I'd do the website early, partly as a distraction, and partly as a possible source of inspiration. Because that I've learned by now: if I relax and trust the process that delivers, it will deliver, no doubts about it!

And again it worked: my very last addition of today spoke of manifestation being an act of trust. Quite in line with my earlier remark that I didn't quite understand that mechanism yet, the Cosmos provided me with the most clear-cut example of how it works: trust first, then doubt about your wishes arriving becomes futile, like resistance against Borgs!

Being in a multi-timeline environment like this novel gives one a distinct perspective on reality. Is thought cause or effect, does it precede or follow reality? Looking back upon our lives, I'm quite certain we've all encountered events in our minds, that later became 'reality'. Most of us are aware that what we plan has a certain tendency to become reality. But usually we expect realization to take a certain amount of physical action to complete. Now if you're lucky, you've already encountered some thoughts that required zero physical action on your part, to manifest in a way that seemed unexpected to say the least. Now that is manifestation 101: by leveraging these wild realizations, you begin to embrace the idea that physical activity is not always required to make something become a reality in your life. Sure, it may help, just as I'm writing this novel to shape my reality, but by now I'm quite convinced I could very well trash the novel, lie flat on my back, and just wait for the love of a lifetime to miraculously appear on my doorstep. But then again, that wouldn't be half as satisfying as doing what I'm doing right now. And frankly, I doubt which would be faster....

My most remarkable results in this arena were 'fire and forget': Think it once, forget all about it, and just continue with whatever takes your fancy. That's how I landed the 'Portraits of a Lady', twice in a row, and several other things not mentioned here: why else do I live a mere three hundred meters from where my kids live?

So, do our thoughts cause reality, or does reality cause thoughts? Or are they, like everything, so intricately intertwined that no such assessment can be made with absolute certainty? Does my writing dictate what will happen, predict it, or does it merely describe things as they have already happened? In the same token, does writing this novel work to realize wild ideas from my ever expanding mind, where singular ideas about my future are rapidly forming themselves into coherent webs of meaningful coincidence?

Suffice it to say, that the web of Knowledge in my mind is vastly larger than the limited subset of what will be a three hundred page novel by the time it is finished. An image says more than a thousand words, and the movies inside my mind are extremely high definition master-pieces......

4444AD, Day 225, 19:28, Lake Watchatanabee

The snow creaks under our strolling feet. It is quite fresh, with the snowfall just now subsiding. Selina has gotten over the fox and his somewhat offensive choice of a dinner partner, and is happily chatting away. I walk beside her, my right hand with hers in her right coat pocket. Her left is in her own pocket, for her arms cannot comfortably reach across my broad back, and into my coat pocket.

An eagle flies overhead, its outstretched wings measuring almost seven feet. We both look up, imagining for a moment how it would be to fly that high. Heck, why even imagine? A quick nod, and together we engage remote viewing, temporarily picking up whatever the eagle overhead is viewing. Very synchronistically, it is just at that moment observing us.....

Awesome, to soar that high, over the snow covered trees of the Alaskan outback. We could stay with it, to watch it reach its nest, probably in this very secluded location. “Let's”, I hear my lady say. Her pretty mouth hasn't actually formed a word, but the intention is there nevertheless. Amused we watch as the eagle flies out of visual range, towards the more densely populated forest areas. Then, all of a sudden, it dives down, apparently spotting a prey. I sense the disconnect as Selina drops out of remote viewing, and I decide that that takes precedence. I too disconnect, just in time to catch her looking up at me. We both know which trace of the past caused this fearful reaction: in a previous incarnation, my twin was a young child, with a pet cat whom she adored. One day, while playing with miss Kitty in the garden, little Marion got terrified when a large Doberman jumped the fence and attacked the white Persian. A flurry of white hair and splotches of red, and the attacker left behind