CHAPTER 11

Loneliness births many possibilities. And so my familiar came into existence. It came First as a voice in the left ear. Eventually, it crawled out and took form as a lover; then as my shadow, then as an Adversary, and I became a consort to its similitude.

-- -- Excerpt from unpublished note by Michael

Michael tried different areas in his apartment to place the altar until one night his eyes were drawn to a particular wall where there sat a shelf unit that he was able to split in half. One half remained a book case that he placed in another part of the apartment. The other half, the top part would be the altar.

Each item he had placed on the altar had its own stories and realities.

He placed a greeting card on the altar. He had bought it from the Bodhi Tree in Los Angeles before he moved to New York chasing after Lazarus while holding imaginary hands with Matthew. The card had a painting of a Gatekeeper standing as a temple that existed between dimensions. This always fascinated him. This would be his eye focal point when he prayed and he meditated. When he would look at the card, he always saw himself standing next to this Gatekeeper. He figured if you have to stand some where that would be a good place to stand.

Many times Michael looked at the greeting card for an answer. There were times he imaged himself in that place standing next to this Celestial Gatekeeper looking out on creation. He imagined that he had projected himself there during meditations and/or prayers. During times when he was socializing with friends and was bored; he would project a part of himself there. His friends often remarked that he seemed far away in thought. He smiled and made no comment on their observation. He had no idea at this time this projecting exercise was helping him to awaken his mystical powers.

During a meditation before he moved to New York, he felt a wavering feeling pass through him. He saw a part of himself step away and the living temple hovering between dimensions was him; he was a Celestial Gatekeeper. He laughed, "Some part of me will always be the Light." He thought it was amusing.

It was one of their early Saturday morning walks in Central Park with Marie. She was taking a break; sitting on a bench listening to Nature. Michael decided to wander off to listen for something to call to him to place it on his altar.

He heard a voice. At first he thought he was imagining it. But then he realized it wasn't any of the noises in his head. The voice was crying. He walked toward where he heard the voice coming from and approached a wall that was made of various sizes of stones, covered with vines; some barely alive. You could tell because the wall was sheltered by some trees, bushes, homeless people had slept away from prying eyes. A few old moldy clothes were scattered about. The smell of urine and feces greeted him as he pushed through the bushes. Maybe it was someone injured or dying. His imagination was starting to run rampant. Insane again he thought but he continued to follow the weeping. He looked around and until he heard an in audible voice coming from a rock lying by a dead small tree branch in a clearing by the wall. The rock was severely cracked. It was grayish in color and small enough to fit into your hand. Ants were crawling all over it, a used condom several days old laid near it, there were two crushed beer cans and the grass had been trampled out until there was only dirt and a few dead small branches. He looked around. No one saw him. He was conscious of not wanting to be noticed. He picked up the rock and examined it. There was a red line through it as if it had been cut with a razor blade. He felt pain erupt from the rock like an electrical charge; but he didn't let go. He was now more intrigued than afraid.

It spoke. "I am a part of the Temple that was once sacred to the Goddess. Long have I laid in ruin since she has been hidden in the underground stream.

When the temple was defiled and the initiate was raped by those who used dark energies, I broke into pieces and have bled continuously through time and space and inner dimensions as I fell through many doors and windows of realties until I found myself here. I was a sacred prostitute, a sacred vessel, who learned how to move my conscious from one place to another and into one form or another. The ones who became dark abominated the rituals of the blood ceremonies and created destructive thought forms that took shape as many creatures and things in many worlds to serve as their dark servants. My blood was stolen and taken into their dark spells and I moved myself into a one of the talking stones of the Goddess.

The temple fell from the heavens in thousands of pieces. We were like burning rocks.

I am a stone that is crying. I want to be human again, move my consciousness out of this form. Help me as I will help you. Parts of the temple have been scattered throughout creation.

Nightmares guard the entrance to the worlds that keep up prisoners. The stones can only be accessed through imagination. I am a part of a greater being. Use me on your altar and together our stories will be a pathway out of The Machine."

Michael again felt an electrical charge, then a slight dizziness from something passing through him.