The Egg Moon: Living the Question

By Von Goodwin

Ancient wisdom proclaims a teacher will appear when the student is prepared to learn. One is always where one needs to be, at exactly the moment that is required, to experience opportunities in increased awareness. The experiences of Von Goodwin have proven that the explanation of coincidence is nothing more than rationalization when remarkable things happen in ones life. These remarkable occurrences are often defined as miracles, and yet, the concept of miracles is misleading. The authority each person has in shaping their lives and creating their existence is as real, and as natural as life itself. The miracle then becomes why so many are unconscious to their creative power.

Ancient text commissions those that see a need to act. To enlighten those that are searching, to encourage those that are struggling and to enable those that are eager to pursue their sacred callings. And it is the mission of the author to lead those that are ready to hear to a higher consciousness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: May 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452534374

Von Goodwin

Von Goodwin is a business consultant, personal coach, and author of books and articles revealing the role of the individual in creation. Since 1985 he has worked with thousands of individuals throughout the US and the Caribbean to rediscover ancient wisdom to enrich their personal lives.

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Contents

PREFACE

THE CRACK BETWEEN THE WORLDS

A MOST TRAGIC EVENT

THE FALLEN

A FOUND BOOK

THE SPLIT

THE HEARTBEAT OF THE DIVINE

WAVES OF POSSIBILITIES

THE ILLUSION OF REALITY

FLYING MONKEYS

WHEN A CHILD CRIES

LILLY’S TOUCH

NO BRAKES

IN SHIPS WITHOUT WINGS

2012: A SECOND COMING

THE D-WORD

THE TWINS

IN MEMORY: THE LENTEN MOON

AFTERWORD

CONCLUSION

About the Author

About the Artist

PREFACE

Most people live, whether physically, intellectually or morally, in a very restricted circle of their potential being. They make very small use of their possible consciousness and of their soul’s resources in general, much like a man who, out of his whole bodily organism, should get into a habit of using and moving only his little finger.

William James

Consciousness is thinking with awareness. And awareness is the realization that there is far more that is experienced than is perceived. Consciousness does not have a speed limit, the mind does. Biologically, the brain processes data from our multiple senses at 400 billion bits of information per second, but we are only aware of 2,000 bits at any one time. That is far less than one percent. In fact, it is 0.0000005% of what is sensed! Moreover, the mind processes information as images. And the rate at which that information is processed is 24 frames per second. We can only see in our brain what we’re able to see, or are conditioned to see. In fact, we only see what we believe is possible, reducing the unbelievable to fantasy and illusion. Perhaps this explains why some of us that are more sensitive to the unconventional can see angels, paranormal entities and other realities. So, the question then becomes, what is it that one is experiencing that one is not seeing?

The reality is that there will always be something there that may not be perceived. And the focus then becomes on what is it that is most critical in discernment, and what is not? The Lenten Moon chronicled a tragic time for me and my sister with my Mother’s death, one that presented a fork in the road with regards to reasoning and reckoning. The decision to become a victim, or to become a participant, was not clear in the beginning. Initially, the response was a natural one for Western thinking and that is to assume the role of one that had been harmed. And in doing so, exact a measure of vengeance. And the peril in doing that is to run the risk of being perpetually stuck in quack mire of self-inflicted guilt and pain; and hence to bear the label of victim.

The other option was to accept what had happened and to view death as a transition and not a final act. And in doing so, life then provides a series of interventions as if stepping stones on a dark path. With each placement of a foot, one anticipates a secure foundation on which to place the other. The Egg Moon, this book, describes several of those steps and the obvious benefits. What may not be so obvious are the actions that fashioned the interventions.

We are taught as children that good intentions shape one’s life. And good intentions are not bad, good intentions are often not manifested into reality. That is, a wish, or a desire implies lack, or something someone does not have, and consequently what one may desire. In the daily course of one’s life, noble thoughts are entertained. These thoughts are expressed in words and the words are followed by actions. So, our thoughts become words and our words become actions and actions become who we are.

It seems simple and straightforward to desire change in who we are and what we do and far too often the terminology – the words – get in the way. A simple statement where one might say, I want to be successful! implies a current state of lack of success. And furthermore, the statement becomes a self fulfilling prophecy where the desire becomes the result; creating a type of inability to take action. So, to simply say, I want…, is to have. That is, to have a desire for something and not that something.

In all of the examples provided in this book, the concept of Conscious Language was utilized, knowingly, or not. That is, the blending of expectation and gratitude created opportunities of learning and enlightenment. Whether it was the healing of the ruptured disk in my neck, or the finding of a lost book, each incident was preceded by an expectation. Just as science has now hypothesized that space is endless because of the human intent of expecting there to be more, and more space, so it is with living. One is either expecting more, or one is simply hoping there is more. Wanting and hoping creates a victim’s existence, while expecting and gratitude enables one to become a participant and thus to experience more.

One’s mind can be tricky. And what may seem to be harmless sayings such as, Chocolate is to die for, or I can’t believe I am so stupid, or I hope I don’t get sick, or You broke my heart are limiting beliefs that have repercussions. And far too often we know from something deep within us that chocolate is not worth that price. And we know from a higher voice that frustration is often the source of self deprecation. And we know from a primeval sense that the cells that comprise the human body have their own consciousness and can provide their own healing. And yet, having an instinctive knowledge of this, we still succumb. Living a life being connected with the Source begins by having words that comes from your lips that reflect higher thoughts of who you really are. When we see ourselves as creators we then become aware that everything we do, and everything we say, and everything we think is part of a manifestation. And understanding this is a powerful tool in one’s existence. It is necessary to become a participant in life. It defines one as creator.

The purpose of this writing is to provide a listing of awakenings. Moments and happenings that either provided flashes of enlightenment or occurrences that sowed slow-growing seeds of awareness. It is not intended to be a sequential accounting of a life, nor is it intended to be writing with heroes and villains. It is what it is; essays of discovery. I asked a select number of friends and associates to preview this writing. There were those that applauded the contents and found answers to very old questions and encouragement to make course corrections in living. And then there were those that didn’t get it at all and that is okay. Even though I found extreme satisfaction in those I could help, those that I didn’t assist meant it was simply not their time. One is not receptive until first there is a perceived need, it is the adage that one can lead a horse to water, but one cannot make it drink.

It is my hope that the words of this book captures the imagination of the reader and becomes a primer for those who are in search of a personal awakening; those that are living their questions.

THE CRACK BETWEEN THE WORLDS

We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors;

we borrow it from our Children.

Indigenous Rights Quotes

The mountains seemed immutable, stalwarts guarding the gates of eternity. Their stoic confidence cut the wind, the clouds and the flight of the condor. As timeless sentinels of an endless process of life and living, the stone cliffs give a face to a name; a name the locals use to brand nature itself, Pachamama. And what seems to be a fixed world to the spiritually unconscious is but an illusion; change and cycles are constant. And it is here atop a peak that thrusts eight thousand feet above sea level, and within the walls of an ancient, abandoned city, a monument is found that chronicles the dynamics of change and cycles. The Intiwatana at Machu Picchu is carved from a massive stone, and is known as the hitching post of the sun. It is a carved rock pillar whose four corners are oriented toward the four cardinal points; north, south, east and west. And, as legend has it, an Incan shaman on the 21st day of June each year would ceremoniously tie one end of a rope to this hitching post and the other to a golden disc representing the sun. This ceremony dramatized the shaman’s corralling of the sun to have it begin its return on the day of the winter solstice to the land of the Inca, and to announce the advent of the next growing season.

The tour group was led by a notable author and was given permission to enter the ruins at dawn. Fifty seven mystic travelers found their way to the site of the hitching post. Its positioning at the highest point of the ancient city made the panorama of shadows and ethereal clouds chilling. The Urubamba River winding its way through the Scared Valley of the Inca below hinted of an existence far beyond this place; this as if to symbolize a separation between the physical and the spiritual. And as one stands at the edge of the terracing surrounded by works of antiquity, encompassed by the forces of nature, and enveloped by the energy of those that were once there and still remain in spirit, there is a sense of being suspended between two dimensions.

The time between the predawn darkness and the appearance of the sun’s first ray of light was described by the ancients as the crack between the worlds. This cusp provided heightened sensitivity to that side of humanness that was once considered an integral part of living, and is now considered by many to be suspicious and superstitious. And it was here I found myself suspended between many existences, thoughts and memories; between the physical and the spiritual, between the valley and the mountaintop.

The guide led a meditation at the hitching post. The cool morning air, the occasional sound of an exotic call of a distant bird and the sense that there were more in attendance than could be seen, made the ceremony tingling. The meditation focused on a single query. One that centered on what one may leave undone if one were to immediately depart the planet. With an extended period of silence, each took inventory of their lives and works. Then as if to provide a point of reference to ground one’s thoughts, the suggestion was made to tie an end of one’s spiritual rope to the hitching post and the other to the sun. The symbolic return of the sun would then announce the advent of a personal growing season. And it was at that time an overwhelming feeling of gratitude overcame me. And a sense of confidence ennobled me. And with a newfound calling of purpose and guidance in what I must do, I saw the answer in the stone walls that encircled me.

Hidden symbolisms in stone were constructed by the ancients to record a message and experience that would survive the ages. The Inca used quipu, a system of strings and knots, to record information that was important to their survival. And this system of talking knots was made of material that would not survive the ages. So, the Inca replicated the more important quipus in stonework at sacred sites. And that became the inspiration for me to chronicle events in my life; events that had proved to be providential. The quipu was equivalent to my verbally telling the tale of my growth, and the stones reflected a more permanent methodology in the written word. I envisioned that the sequence of events in my life mirrored the exactness of the stacked stones of Machu Picchu. And that the perfectly fitted joints of those stones reflected the elegance in timing of my events; and that defied explanation in both respects.

The full moon was still visible well after sunrise. This orb is called the Egg Moon and marks the beginning of spring; a time of new beginning and growth. It is a time that signals the end of long, cold nights and the gradual lengthening and warming of days. It is a time to tend to activities that will produce fruit and the necessities in living. It is a time to become reacquainted with one’s connection to the source. It is a time of change. And this celestial occurrence symbolized an awakening and an evolution to a place where thoughts are based in awareness; seeing more than what is visible.

The following is what some may call coincidence. It is far more than coincidence, or chance; it is an orchestration. Strangely, as you will soon discover, the impetus for what happens comes from within as intent and is mirrored in the physical world as reality. And oddly enough, my reason for chronicling these events is to provide an opportunity for others to experience what most recognize as twists-of-fate are in fact conscious creation.

A MOST TRAGIC EVENT

There is nothing more tragic than to find an individual bogged down in the length of life, devoid of breadth.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

I was where I needed be, at a time that was meant to be. The idea of a better time and place had no meaning as there is no such thing as coincidence. A feeling of relief rushed over me. A sweet surrender comforted me. It was as if a tired fugitive had been caught, and the anxiety of running and hiding was replaced with acceptance. And with acceptance the fear of being exposed was gone. For the first time, in a long time, I was at baseline – at a point where what was experienced as a tragedy now appeared to be a tutorial to a higher calling. It was a lesson that was paid by a life, and a message that was announced by an alarming accident. As the ending of a physical life announces the beginning of another existence, so it was with this transition. It was a conversion from a perspective of life based on fear to one based on love.

I awoke to the hissing sound of escaping steam and the smell of engine coolant and oils. Months earlier my efforts to bring those accountable for a preventable death had ended with a declaration of innocence. A jury of unfocused peers had deliberated for minutes to deliver an eternal decision. The blurry image of the traffic light flashed its colors as the muffled sound of bystanders competed for my attention. Things happened in slow motion; movements, sounds and thoughts were surreal. The last thing I remembered were the sounds of a car horn and screeching tires, and then a crushing pain in my chest. It was then I lost consciousness.

There were times when I would plunge into a state of mind that seemed like a trance and relive aspects of the thirty one day ordeal. It was an ordeal that blended a patient’s confidence in a doctor’s medical ability and disclosure with a medical provider’s deceit and arrogance. And that lethal alchemy created the poison that took my mother’s life. Tonight my focus was on the morning of her death, a day where minutes were fleeting, and yet eternal. Moments whose memories would last a lifetime, and seconds whose duration was far too brief.

***

The three hours of sleep was not much of an escape as I hurried to ready myself for a long day. It was to be a day of medical interventions to correct a series of misfortune. Misfortune that had begun a month earlier with what was described to me as an unremarkable heart attack and subsequent cardio arterial bypass grafts, and was culminating with a corrective procedure utilizing an experimental drug. Wrestling with tasks that were usually performed in a semiconscious state, these tasks were now dispiriting exercises.

These movements caused a level of aggravation that caused tears and expletives to flow. It was as if I were physically impaired. Dropping my toothbrush into the toilet, falling in the shower and popping buttons from my clothing were occurrences that on any given day would be a comedy of errors and brushed away as clumsiness. But today was not a typical day. With one eye on the clock, and the other on the hotel door, I was at long last ready to rush to the cardiac surgical floor of the hospital.

Making my way toward the door, while still gathering myself, my departure was interrupted by a command made by my companion. The order was a demand to slow down and show some consideration for one’s spouse and wait. Ordinarily the request would have been an appropriate accommodation. Today, however, was not an ordinary day. The request came with a scolding that ten minutes would not matter and we could then go together as a family. And opting to concede a few minutes to avoid generating rage, I succumbed to what I considered then to be bullying and waited. Turning quickly to look at the clock, I had fifteen minutes to get to Mother’s room