Philosophy in Action

ASTAR Logo LgTerrorist Transformation Through the
Application of the Science of Consciousness

RIVER OF LIFE

It’s a life-changer – this River of Life. It has a power all its own.

  • When we entered Israel, the Israelis made it very clear:
  • You are entering a war zone.
  • You must never leave your group.
  • You must never talk to an Arab without your group.
  • You must never talk to Arab terrorists.
  • You must never be out after 11:00 at night. You can be shot on sight

We all meekly promised to obey. By the end of the first day I had broken all the rules. It happened quite innocently, really. Rama Vernon had organized a “Dialogues for Peace” program between Israeli and Palestinian leaders, and asked me to join the team of negotiators. We arrived late the night before and rose early in the morning to ride in a small blue bus and begin touring the points of interest throughout Jerusalem. After visiting some of the more prominent places, we were dropped off on one side of the Old City and informed we could walk through to our hotel on the other side.  My interest in the shops and the people began the real journey.

“Stay together” was the last thing our guide shouted as the blue bus pulled away. I found the shops so interesting. I knew I was lagging a little behind, but I could still see my group ahead of me heading in the general direction, of the hotel. Two cars tried to pass on the street. The streets of the Old City are very narrow, and there was not enough room for the cars and me, so I quickly stepped through a doorway to let them pass. As I turned around, I found myself in a very impressive shop. It was as large as a department store in America and filled with treasures like  ancient Persian rugs, huge jars, and old jewelry. Everything you could imagine in an Arab shop. I was drawn further inside by these magical things.

“Hi. How are you?” asked an Arab attendant in perfect American English. “You speak great English!” I marveled. “Yeah, we’ve got a shop in Los Angeles, California. We’re brothers,” another man said as he approached. “Where did you guys learn English?” I innocently inquired. And then it began. I could feel it coming.

“In prison,” they both grinned. I looked at the gleam in their eyes and asked, “When were you in prison?” “Since I was five,” said the first brother. “When I was six.” said the second. “Are you terrorists?” I asked with a twinkle in my eye. Their grins grew as they shook their heads in the affirmative. “All our lives,” said the older brother as their grins grew from ear to ear, prompting me to ask more questions. I broke the second rule.

“How do you feel about the Israeli occupation?” I quipped. Then it exploded. One of those holodynamic experiences you know you were born to unfold its fullest potential. Both men raised their right hands, clenched their fists and said with one voice, “We hate it!” Their fists came down at the same time. I immediately recognized the collective action as the work of a common holodyne and so I began to track and asked, “What color is that hate?”

There was a Star of David laid in beautiful tile in the center of the floor near where we were standing. They looked in the direction of the star, but I could tell their eyes were not seeing it for they were widening first with amazement, “It is black and brown and… it is …” and then they both backed up in stark fear. They dropped behind one of the counters and crouched, shaking from such fear that the whole counter shook. “What? What is it?” I asked but they did not answer.

I walked toward them but their fear and shaking kept me at a distance. It took an hour and a half for them to calm down to the point where they could describe what they had seen. “It is the Great Beast!”

“We cannot look upon the Great Beast! It is forbidden!” The “Great Beast”, as it turned out, was black and brown, a great hairy creature which represented the evil in their world. We talked for a long time behind the counter, sitting on the floor.   They were petrified about having the Beast around. They finally came to see that all their resistance to the Beast and the resistance of their people had not changed the Beast in thousands of years. It was still around. They doubted anything could change the Beast but I insisted the reason I was with them might be so they could learn to transform the Beast.

I suggested they create a field of love around the Beast, but they could not–or would not–even consider such a thing. Finally, after about another half an hour, I asked “What would Allah do with the Beast?” After discussing it for a while, they decided Allah would know how to handle the beast.

Then I suggested they create an imaginary place in their mind, a place of peace in which Allah’s power would be undisturbed, and they would be safe from the Beast. It only took a moment, and they both described a beautiful oasis, peaceful and safe, filled with beauty and life. In this state of being in this beautiful place, I asked if they could feel the presence of Allah, and they both agreed Allah was there. All fear left them and the calming effect was transparent. “How does Allah feel about the Beast? I asked. “Oh Allah loves the Beast. Allah loves everything,” they agreed.

“Can you wrap yourselves in the love of Allah, and look through the eyes of Allah?” I asked. “Yes, we can look through the eyes of Allah and are wrapped in His love,” said the younger brother. “Wrapped in the love of Allah and looking out, through the eyes of Allah, can you now look upon the Great Beast?”

Like little children, these two grown businessmen, such courageous freedom fighters in their defense of their land and their people, raised to their knees and peered out over the counter onto the Great Beast of Satan. Their eyes began to widen as if they did not know what to do next. They could face their worldly enemies but were powerless over their own holodynes. “Ask it what it wants,” I whispered.

The older brother asked in Arabic, “What do you want?” No sooner had he asked than they both reacted. They ducked down behind the counter shaking with fear, and holding on to each other. “What? What happened?” I asked, but it was another half an hour before they could tell me.

“It wants to consume us!” they cried. I explained it was an ancient being seeking a solution to its own problems. I implored, persuaded and finally got them to wrap themselves once again in the love of Allah and, looking through the eyes of Allah, find out what else it wanted. Gradually they worked up their courage and peered once again over the counter.

“What do you want?” the older brother implored with a quivering voice. “It wants to consume Palestine.” “What else?” “It wants to consume Israel.” They both paused and looked at each other.

“Israel! Why would it want to consume Israel?” challenged the younger brother. “I don’t know?” said the other. They began to argue with each other. “Us I can see. Palestine I can see but Israel? It can’t want to consume Israel.” They both turned and looked directly at me.

I shrugged my shoulders, “What else does it want?” I asked. They looked back at the Beast. They were more confident now and began exploring the intentions of the Beast. “What else do you want?”

“It says it wants to consume everything… all life!” “Why?” I asked. They looked back upon the Beast. “So it can have peace.” It says life causes such conflicts, such problems and wars. The only way it can have peace is to destroy all life.

“So it wants peace.” “Yeah, it wants to get rid of all the conflicts.”

I then asked, “Can you imagine what that peace would look like?” Even as I asked the question I could feel the shift begin.

“Oh. Oh…Oh! It is so beautiful. It is so pure!” They jumped to their feet, hugged each other, and began to dance around the floor. “It is of Allah. It is a witness of the love of God! It is a great river of life flowing through all people and all life!

They were dancing around the shop in total ecstasy. I had never seen anything so joyous in all my journeys. They began to prophesy: “Every foot which steps upon this holy land is brought by God to be here! Every deed is a witness of the love of God. Palestine is but a transitory state – a witness to all nations of the oneness of life and the wonders of God!”

It took considerable time for them to fully experience their joy and their prophecies. Finally I suggested. “Introduce the Great Beast to the River of Life.”
They stopped and stood still, both facing the Star of David on the tile floor but seeing through it to the Beast. “The Great Beast is tired. He very much wants to go into the river and change his life forever.”

“Then let it be done!” They both stared intently in the direction of the Beast. Suddenly they exploded, “It is a miracle!” They threw their hands up and began to dance again. They danced over and hugged and kissed me. They lifted me into their dance and we shared together an indefinable ecstasy. Time stood still. I became one with my Arab friends. We shared the joy of the River of Life together. Finally, they stopped and looked at me. “Who ARE you?” the older brother asked.

“My name is Vernon.” “Veeeeeeerrnoon.Veeeeeeerrnon.  This is not a good Arab name! Come with us.” He motioned with his head to his brother. With a twinkle in their eyes, they guided me back into the depths of the shop to an elegantly tiled well. From what I could tell, it was ancient.

“This well has been in our family for over 6,000 years,” he said. “It is called the Well of Faraig which means in Arabic water where none should be. It has come to mean solutions to problems where none should be, an opening or doorway where none is evident. Here,” he said, “Take this robe and put it on.” When I did so, he said, “Now this headdress.” After they had wrapped me up so I looked very much like an Arab, they stood me beside the well and raised an ancient cane that was part of a display.

“We name you Faraig. From now on, wherever you go among the Arabs, you will be known by this name. You are now family, and you may come and go among us as part of our family.”
I was deeply touched by the passion, openness and total involvement of these two men. I said, “We will be the Faraig brothers. I hereby name you both,” as I took the staff from his hands and raised it over their heads and touched them both, “my Faraig brothers!”

I looked down at my watch. It was 11:30 at night. Past curfew! Completely dark outside! The ominous blanket of the Israeli warning began to cloud my consciousness. “I really should get back to my hotel,” I suggested. “Oh,” the older brother said, “where is your hotel?” “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I only just got here late last night, and we went out first thing this morning on the bus. I have been separated from my group.”

“Can you describe your hotel to us?” “Well,” I thought for a moment, “it is English, named after some saint, I think, and it looks like a castle.” “Oh we know that hotel. We will take you there.” “But it is after curfew, and you could get shot.” “Don’t worry Faraig,” he said with a sly grin, “We know how the system works. Come with us.”

Silently we slid out a side door. In the shadows of the city we crept tenderly through the back streets. We hesitated in darkened doorways until one of the brothers scouted ahead to spot any dangers. As we approached the last gate, we watched in silence as an Israeli patrol passed not twenty feet away from us. Then, in the open light of the main street we crossed to the hotel. They walked me to my room to make sure I made it without any trouble. “We hope we can see you again soon,” the younger one offered as we said our good-byes. “For sure,” I said, “We are brothers.” I fell asleep almost before I could get into my bed. Jet lag had set in. I had a great night’s sleep.

First thing in the morning, after breakfast call, an early shower and meal, we were off on the little blue bus again visiting the sights and meeting with people. Once again the blue bus dropped us off in the Old City of Jerusalem. I took the group to meet my Faraig brothers but told them nothing of our experience the night before. We bought a few things, went to the hotel, had a good dinner and sat around discussing the situation as we saw it in Israel. At 11:00 PM, as I was getting ready to go to bed, I heard a knock at my door.

It was my Faraig brothers. ‘Faraig,” the older one said, “come with us!” “Where?” I questioned.

“Come. We have no time to explain.” I put my clothes back on and went.

A very small and very old car waited just outside the hotel parking lot. It was dirty and rusted but it ran. I folded myself into it, and we drove without lights through the city into one of its black-out areas. In the Arab sectors, the Israelis allow only minimal electricity and, even though their own suburbs are well lit, the Arab sectors are dark. In this sector of homes, there were dirt roads, evidently no sewage system, because it ran down the gutters, and little power. We entered a home with some lights. It was a nice home by Arab standards. We were introduced to an Arab family with eight children. The mother was obviously nervous and the children sat in absolute silence. Then a young man of 18 entered.

He had a crippled leg, so he walked on the side of his foot and with a pronounced limp. Both his hands and arms were contorted. He held them up to his chest to give him a measure of control on limbs that otherwise would just dangle. Other than his handicaps, he was robust and appeared like any high school graduate who might have played football in any American school. There was, however, no laughter in this young man.

I was introduced. He nodded his head to me and acknowledged his friends who had brought me, and we sat down. His mother, brothers and sisters all sat watching in silence. Then the youngest Faraig brother took his chair, pulling it up close right in front of this young man. He put his hands on each side of the young man’s head and pulling his face within two inches of his own he shouted,

“Mohammed! Pay attention!” It was obvious he wanted to track his young friend Mohammed.
It was a “tracking” (the process of discovery) unlike anything I had ever seen. First it was all in Arabic. Second it was done with my Faraig brother holding young Mohammed’s head in both his hands, forcing him to look straight into his eyes. No sooner had he started than he stopped, looked at me and said in English, “OK Faraig, now what do I do?” “About what?” I asked, shaking my head.

“Well he was tortured by the Israelis. He has such great hate, all he wants to do is kill Israelis. What do we do?”

“Take him back to the time his hate began,” I offered. “OK.” More dialogue in Arabic and then,

“Faraig, he says it started when they killed his father for no reason.” “What happened after that?” I queried. There was more speaking in Arabic, then “He says he started resisting, and they caught him. They left him for five days and nights in the desert in a space too small to stand up or sit down; they broke his arms, his hands and fingers.” At that point the young man showed how all his fingers could be turned completely back to touch his wrists. The joints were completely broken away.

“How did he feel?” I continued. More Arabic talk and then, “He was consumed by hate.” Prompting him, I asked, “What color is this hate?” They worked at it awhile. The young man withdrew into himself, and suddenly, there was a great commotion in the front of the house. Cars drove up. Men got out. We could hear them slamming the doors and shouting to each other. They approached the house.

The mother and children became very frightened. My Faraig brothers went to answer the door. Mohammed also got up. The three of them went outside. There was a great commotion of shouting and angry words. Finally, after about half an hour, the band of men left. The three men and the mother came back inside. “We had to explain what we were doing,” said the older Faraig brother.

“Everything is OK. Let’s continue.”

I realized what risk they were taking. Once again we faced the young man’s hate. “It is black. He cannot see how big it is. His entire world is consumed by the blackness.” “Have him travel through the blackness to its outer edge. How far does it go?” “It goes to the edge of the galaxy,” the brother translated. “Good.” I whispered, “It is the size of the galaxy. Now ask him to put a field of love around this hate. His love must be bigger than his hate. Can he do it?”

“He will try.” More conversation and the young man nodded an affirmative. “He is trying.” “Ask him to talk directly to the blackness. Ask what it wants.” They talked for a few minutes, “It wants to kill all Israelis.” “What else does it want?” More talk and then, “It wants to kill everyone who supports Israelis.” “What else?” “It wants to kill all life.” “And what would it have if it killed all life?” Into the eyes of my Faraig brother came an instant recognition. It passed between us in the twinkle of an eye, and I knew he knew. With genuine confidence he spoke rapidly to Mohammed. Suddenly the young man exclaimed, “Oh. Ohhh! OOOhhhhh!” He got it. His family got it at the same time. His mother and all his brothers and sisters began to weep. They were so relieved. They knew he knew.

He sat for a moment in silence. There came from him the most beautiful radiance. He spoke rapidly to my Faraig brother who then turned to me and said, “It is the love of Allah.” “Please explain to me what is happening,” I implored, even though I knew.

“He says his hate is to teach him to love without conditions. He says his enemies have taught him unconditional love. He sees now that all his life has been to teach him love.” Then with a gleam my Faraig brother asked, “It is the River of Life, yes?” “Ask him” I suggested as I nodded in Mohammed’s direction.

The young man got up and gave me the gentlest embrace. He held me for some time and then, as he let me go, I asked, “Mohammed, what about your hands and foot?” As my Faraig brother translated, Mohammed looked at me and said, through his translators, “Ah Faraig, these are my witnesses to all the world of my unconditional love for my enemies.”

I was profoundly moved. His family swarmed around him, hugging and kissing him, and his mother cried her gratitude taking my hands to kiss them. They offered food and drink, and we stayed awhile but by that time, the night was almost gone. In the wee morning hours I crawled into bed, totally exhausted but gratified to know that even the most hopeless of situations is driven by its potential solution. In these cases, that solution was the River of Life.

It seemed only moments before the call for another early breakfast came and off we went in our little blue bus. We visited a few more churches, began dialogues with heads of organizations, and met with some amazing people. We visited more churches, were dropped off in the old city again to visit the shops and then headed back to the hotel. It became a routine. Every night at 11:00 sharp my Faraig brothers would pick me up, and off we would go to visit another “terrorist”.

On the third night, a seventy-year-old woman who was very aware average spotted me going out of the hotel. “Hey buddy,” she called, “where are you going?” I stopped to talk with her just to quiet her down. “You got a girl on the side?” she chuckled. “No girl.” I laughed. “Then where are you going? I see you going out last night and again tonight. What kind of night life is this?” she prodded. “If you promise not to tell, I’ll tell you.” “I promise, I promise.”

“I am “tracking” Freedom Fighters—” she looked perplexed—“terrorists each night.” “Ohh. Can I come?” She was sincere since she knew my work. “Let me ask.” I conversed with my Faraig brothers, explained who she was, and they agreed. Off we went. The next night there were three of her friends with her. The night after that the whole peace commission showed up. There are no secrets. The Arabs brought more cars. The whole procession looked like something out of a Key Stone Cops movie; no lights; a caravan of five cars all winding down through the dark streets in the middle of a war zone; everyone ducking down but keeping a lookout for Israeli soldiers; going from one place to the next; and meeting with so called “terrorists”.

During the day we would tend to sleep on the bus and drag ourselves through the various sites, while trying to stay awake during the meetings. Each time we met with an Arab group, the leader would always begin “I will tell you where we have been…”  What followed was an hour and a half of memorized sermons about the history of the Arab people.  I quickly lost interest.

The fourth day things began to change. One of the Israeli legislators joined our bus. He became our guide. He turned out to a great guide and a wonderful person. He introduced us to a special group of twenty Arab leaders and twenty Israeli leaders. He explained that they had been meeting for over a year, and had never agreed on a single issue except that they would agree to meet every week. As we traveled on the bus, some of the people were talking about the process of transforming information systems, and he began to ask me questions. As our discussion developed, he invited me to attend the weekly meeting. I accepted and promptly invited the whole Peace Commission (they would never have let me go alone at this point).

The group met in a large room and sat in a circle. The meeting was opened by an Arab leader who took his staff, tapped three times on the floor, and said in English (the common language of both groups), “I would like to tell you where we have been.” “No,” I immediately said. Again, he repeated, “I would like to tell you…”

“No!” I said more firmly.

“What? Who the hell are you? How dare you interfere with our traditions?” He was almost uncontrollable with rage. It was as though I had stepped on his face. But my Arab friends said, “He is Faraig!” They were all pointing at me and saying “He is Faraig!” and nodding their heads up and down and grinning as wide as their mouths would go. Never had anyone dared to interrupt the “This is where we have been” sermon. I realized, however, that some attempt must be made to break the pattern of the “gate-keepers”–those “holodynes” (information systems) that closed the door to new experiences.   Change had been almost impossible. So I said, “No.”

The leader finally realized his own people were agreeing, and he was the only one who was angry. He must have noticed this because he forced himself to gain control. “Faraig?” he raged: then a little more calmly, “Faraig?” Then finally, “What do you mean, Faraig?” with a little challenge behind his sarcasm.

“I mean you are meeting here to solve the issues between you. There are no solutions to anything in telling where you have been. This is only the continuation of a past which was not successful. Hope for a future lies in unfolding new potentials.”

“What do you want?” he asked a little perplexed.

“I want you to stand up.” “Me? Stand up?” “Yes. Please. Stand up.” The man shook his head and mumbled, “Faraig, Faraig; all right, all right. I will stand up for any man they call Faraig.” I stood with him and addressed the group.

“I would like each Israeli in here to imagine this man at his “fullest potential” (best self). Can you sense the strength in him, his loyalty and faith, for example?” There was silence for a moment, and then our guide, who had been with us and learned to focus on the potential of every person, said, “He is a very kind and dedicated leader. I trust him.” Then another said, “He is very courageous. He works very hard.” Their acknowledgments began to flow, at which time these men who had never agreed upon anything, except to meet, flowed with the inner knowing they had gleaned about each other over the many, many meetings.

After about five minutes, the Arab leader said, “This is really great. I never knew. I never knew.” He almost cried. I stepped in and invited, “Now, would the leader of the Israelis please come to the front.” There was a moment of hesitation as they each looked at one another. To fill in the gap, I suggested, “Would our guide like to come on up here.” He did.

He stood beside the leader of the opposition so to speak – two men from warring tribes. “You Arab leaders focus on this man. What do you sense about his fullest potential self? What characteristics do you sense about this man? Do you recognize his openness, his sense of justice and non judgmentalness? Can you feel his love for his people and his country?” They were nodding their heads, then they began to flow with the knowing of this Israeli. “He is a great leader.” “He is a wonderful father and a real gentleman.” For five minutes they continued. The guide beamed his acknowledgement.

I asked these two leaders to face each other Full Potential Self to Full Potential Self. They looked at each other. First they smiled, and then they fell into an emotional embrace. Both cried. Then the Arab leader exclaimed, “This is the place where we can agree. This is the place of solutions where none were possible. Thank you Faraig!” Both opened their arms and embraced me.

A sense of peace permeated the room. I suggested the group divide into smaller groups and do the same process with each other so everyone would have the experience of relating Full Potential Self to Full Potential Self with each other. It was a very lively and interesting group. It ended around the same time, as the sermon would have ended had it continued in its traditional way. But, today, new dimensions were explored, and they brought new understandings, agreements, and visions of possibilities

The last night we visited with a man referred to as “the most holy one”. In America he might have been one of the nameless and homeless. It was immediately obvious that there was no two-way conversation in him. Any attempt to address him was like pushing the button on a tape recorder. He kept telling stories, only stories.  He never gave a direct interaction with initiative or meaning, only stories. He lived entirely in the past. Any attempt to reach into his holodynes was thwarted by another story.

The Peace Commission sat in a circle looking at this person, treating him with respect, though unable to make any difference at all. Compared to the adventures of the previous tracking sessions and the enjoyment of the River of Life, this was not going anywhere. I realized I had been developing my own agenda, so I let go of any expectations. I looked around the group and separated myself off to talk privately with one of his devotees. I quietly tracked one of the Arabs, and thought perhaps, that it was enough that I would have just met this revered man. I forgot the whole event until six months later.

I was back in my home in United States, and I received a phone call from one of my Faraig brothers. He was back in Los Angeles, and had a gift from his “holy man”. We arranged to meet, and there he presented me with a shoebox filled with key chains cut from an olive branch. My Faraig brother explained that the branch had been cut from “the most holy” olive tree in Israel. Each key chain was about the size of a silver dollar, and each was carefully hand-painted on both sides. In the painting was the River of Life, and dancing on the shore of the river were two men. One man held the flag of Israel and the other the flag of Palestine. To my amazement, on the other side of the olive cutting was another painting of the River of Life containing the dancing men with the flag of Russia and the flag of United States.

There, among the olive trees, in a sacred garden, a holy man took the time to create a symbol of gratitude and hope from a holy tree. He painted the River of Life; he painted men dancing; and he sent me a reminder of what is possible in a land where bombs abide in the midst of the olive gardens.

When we left the Israeli airport, we were warned that airport security was tight. Each person would be required to go through an intense interrogation process in which the names, phone numbers, addresses and details of every conversation would have to be reported. Since we allegedly were never separated as a group, this caused a great concern from some of the Peace Commissioners. We attempted to calm their fears, but it was obvious to everyone we would never be able to tell even unified stories. I led the way through the airport.

When I got to the interrogators, I was asked who I was and why I had come to Israel. I said I was really tired. I was with this big group, and we had visited so many churches I never wanted to see another of these types of churches as long as I lived. The interrogators looked at the group, saw how tired and bored I was, and asked if we had ever been separated from each other. I said “I can hardly wait to get out of their sight. All I want to do is go home and be with my family.” They passed the entire group through at once.

The above is a true series of events, made possible because Faraig applied the principles of science to transform the situations being faced;  From these first initial meetings came the movement called The Order of the River of Life that was instrumental in transforming in transforming both the Israeli side and the Palestinian side of a seemingly irreconcilable war which had last so many years.


Ending the Cold War Through the
Application of the Science of Consciousness

ENDING THE COLD WAR

The American-Soviet Dialogues for Peace was commissioned resolve the conflicts between the United States and the Soviet Union.  In June of 1988, when seventeen of the leaders of Soviet’s powerful military organization sat across the table from four members of the American-Soviet Dialogues for Peace, a participant of ASTAR was one of the four. He writes: “Our assignment: to negotiate for a change from the war-mentality of the Soviet Union to a peace-mentality.

The Cold War was at its peak. Some American visionaries, like Ramah Vernon and Barbara Marx Hubbard, had organized a conference between Soviet and American leaders in a series of Dialogues for Peace but they admitted they “did not have clue” as to what to do about the military type of thinking that was going on. The war had become institutionalized. “It seems unsolvable but still, we have to try” Barbara said. I agreed. Not because I did not have a clue but because I could sense there was a purpose in my being there with those people at that time. Frankly, I was being “pulled” into the situation by some invisible force.

Barbara had invited me. We were both speakers at various national conferences over the years and had shared similar interests. As a world-recognized visionary, her skills at accessing the future were legendary. I shared her views about how humanity is in the middle of the greatest transition ever made by the human race. But we had never discussed Russia or the Soviet Union or the Cold War.

Six months before I got her invitation I was teaching an introductory course on Holodynamics.  In the middle of a sentence one of the participants jumped to his feet, shouting at the top of his lungs in a (then) strange language (Russian), he roared to the front of the class, threw me up against the wall and, holding me with his arm against my throat, was about to punch my face out.

At the time I was more or less automatically present so, rather than reacting I looked him straight in the eyes and raised my little finger in front of his face. He controlled the urge to punch me, still but still held me against the wall screaming in Russian, and the intensity in his voice decreased. It was then I first recognized something about Russians: they process information from an entirely different framework than the one I was using in the class. No wonder our nations were at war!

He switched to English and then in front of the group we began to negotiate. The topic was centered on what is reality? My premise was we are living in a conscious universe and everything is made of information in motion.

In retrospect, the Russian version of reality was formed from a “wave” or “quantum” framework where everything is made of energy. The framework I was using in class was a “linear” or “particle” framework. His framework was based on quantum physics; mine was about classical physics. His approach was passionate, mine was more intellectual. We stepped back, switched roles and took the other’s position and eventually laughed about the entire scenario. It was like ending a Cold War at the classroom level.

From that time on, every class I held seemed to have an increasing number of Russian participants and we kept learning from each other. One day, after about six months of classes attended by Russian students, I finally got it: Russians have a different way of processing information! Two days later I got a call from Barbara Marx Hubbard.

So, on the day that I walked into the Soviet-American Dialogues for Peace meeting room with the Russian military leaders, I had at least an idea of what to expect. Still, what occurred was far beyond anything I may have anticipated.

We arrived a few minutes before the agreed-upon meeting time. The first thing that hit me was that the entire military party was already seated in full uniform, at attention on the opposite side of the table. Every hat was perfectly level and each chest displayed such an array of metals that I wondered if they might have been mass-produced. I found out later they were each well deserved.

The second thing that was unmistakable was that no one greeted us or even looked at us. No acknowledgement was given. We sat down on our side of the table and silence reigned. Even the air seemed heavy. Then suddenly, exactly on time, the apparent leader across the table from me rose to his feet, glared at us like we were bad little children and then pounding on the table with both fists yelled directly in our faces in Russian: “WAR IS INEVITABLE!” He sat down and seemed confident he had made his point.

I glanced over at Barbara and the other three representatives. Their mouths had fallen open. I could see they were intimidated beyond solutions. Intuitively, I rose to my feet and, without taking time to rationalize things out, I was instantly in a state of being in harmony and under the control of my Full Potential Self.

I glared, with even more vicious contempt than the military leader, pounded with both my fists on the table with more intensity than he, pointing my finger directly into his face shouted, louder than he had shouted, “War is NOT inevitable SIR! What is inevitable is that LIFE WILL UNFOLD ITS POTENTIAL! SIR! And your moral and ethical responsibility, SIR, is to help that potential unfold through yourself, your family, your profession, your country and in the family of nations, SIR!”

I sat down and, as I began to look up, the first thing that I saw was that his head was a few inches from the table top and he was looking up into my eyes to see who the heck was in there and who would dare to talk to him this way? I smiled back at him and winked. It took him only a moment, and he leaned back and laughed! Every hat on the other side of the table tilted as all of them began to laugh. His bluff had been called.

“Ah yes,” he said in perfect English. “But how does one help that potential unfold?”  Without hesitation we focused on the Unfolding Potential Movement, and he brought up the Perestroika concept of a new way. We discussed in detail how new technologies could be applied to everything from telecommunications to local food growing. Thus the door was opened to the mind set of one of the greatest military organizations in history, and to the transformation of the largest nation on the planet. Eventually they gave us a free reign.

During the implementation process I was interrogated by the Soviet Information Control committee which included more than 500 of their top scientists. After three and a half hours of interrogation, I was fully approved. I had more fun in this arena than I had experienced in years!

Because everything I was doing was based on the latest sciences, the military formally introduced me to the academicians who adopted me into their academy. Holodynamics became a special department in the Russian Academy of Natural Science. I was invited into a series of seemingly endless negotiation sessions. Within a few months we certified more than 630 Master Teachers and the Holodynamic Unfolding Potential framework was taught throughout the Soviet Union. We taught them how to teach others. As hundreds of teachers in more than a hundred cities spread the word, we all experienced how to access the collective consciousness of their entire society.

As it turned out, the laws of Nature and the pull of the future was the power behind both personal and collective transformation of consciousness. It was so powerful that within two years the Cold War ended, and Communism was ruled as “illegal” in Russia. The Soviet Union fell, and was divided into Russia and the seventeen Republics.

One thing became very clear: natural law indicates that every challenge is caused by its potential solution. The key to resolving conflicts is to grasp that potential is real, and then master how to unfold that potential effectively in whatever situation is being faced. It’s just like being about four years old. Each person must learn that THEY CAN DO IT and THEY CAN DO IT NOW in the present! Knowing this is part of growing up. There are some additional things that are valuable to know in order to help stay on track. Time is one of these things. According to the best of science, time bends. As Stephen Hawking points out, the past, present and future are running in parallel.

We taught how we live in a multidimensional holographic universe where everything is made of information in motion, everything has a hyperspacial counterpart (a Full Potential Self), and unfolding future potential is the motivational power behind the continual development of life.

As people in the Soviet Union realized that anyone can step out of time, access and change the impact of the past and bring the future into the present, they naturally tended to integrate the future into the present. We call this process Relive/Prelive.

The first Relive in Russia occurred in a large oval auditorium with more than 600 participants. They were from every walk of life, and more than 30 were children under the age of three. The children sat for hours in the center of the auditorium and were the best behaved children I had ever seen. They never created a distraction, and once in a while, one of them would stand for a moment and babble something. Everyone would listen, and then the child would sit down and the audience would shift their focus back to the subject at hand. Children were treated as adults and acted accordingly.  (I found out later they were all water-born children and had always been treated with respect).

The first Relive participant was an 89 year old lady who was led down the steps into the center of the auditorium by three generations of her family. Her voice assistant was her great-granddaughter who was seven years old who, under my guidance, translated and led her great grandmother through her Relive.

The seven year old was assisted by her mother and her grandmother as the Great Grandmother journeyed back into the past and recounted the number of wars, the deaths of her loved ones, and the destruction of so much of her family life. Eventually she was able to call forth each of the participants involved in these catastrophic events, revealed their Full Potentials, and uncovered the plans involved and the lessons learned by these catastrophic experiences.

From the seething chaos emerged an elaborate collective vision of a Russian Egg that contained multiple dimensions of consciousness. As it turned out, each dimension served as aids to her and her family in unfolding their potential. They understood why events had unfolded as they did, and tears of gratitude flowed throughout the audience.

This Relieve was only one of the seven processes we introduced in the Unfolding Potential courses we taught throughout the Soviet Union (see www.holodynamics.com). We spent endless hours, days and sometimes far through the night, teaching and negotiating with various interests in the Soviet Union until, two years later, Communism was declared illegal by the people and the Soviet Union was reorganized into Russia and the Republics.

I was amazed and watched as The Soviet Union, which includes more than 60% of the landmass of the planet, was transferred from government ownership to private ownership without a physical war! The walls came down, and new programs sprang up. Capitalists may find it interesting to know that today more millionaires are being created each year in Russia and the Republics than in any other place in the world.

Most people in the world do not know what really happened during the Soviet transformation. More than 119 agencies, including the military, the academicians, the government (14 different ministries), and the people came together to affect change.

People gathered by the thousands in every city we visited to learn about Holodynamics. Entire cities (such as Irkutsk, near Lake Baykal) declared themselves as Holodynamic. In Irkutsk, for example, the Holodynamic Coordinator’s office was right next to the Mayor’s office in the City Center. In Holodynamics we taught people how to step out of time, out of their harsh climates and over-controlling government mentalities, and into the potential field of their future.

The stories about how they transformed the immature parts of their past could fill the pages of many books. I spent nine years among them as they learned that no matter how much suffering they had experienced or how many of their family members had been killed, wounded or imprisoned, and no matter how restricted their knowledge about reality had been, they could discover for themselves how to step out of time, transform their past and stay focused on their future. It was all about unfolding potential – personally and collectively. They loved it.

The effects created exponential growth among the people in Russia and the Republics, stimulating their transformation. The footprint of their future is now indelibly stamped into their history. Someday more details of their heroic journey will be made public, and everyone will learn how these people with the new information re-sculptured their society for the future.

They learned to start at the micro level – among their information systems that created their DNA and organized the five trillion life forms in their body. They connected directly with the core essence of their being – their real Full Potential Self – and developed a personal relationship that supports everything they were covenanted to accomplish. They learned how to relate more effectively and comprehensively with each other and how to participate in their communities in ways that would ensure sustainability.