Where the Living Dragons Dwell

By Paul Duncan

While searching for the meaning
of life, an important opportunity will arise.
Change is inevitable, but it will always catch you off-guard.

This book reveals how deep the
spiritual realm really is, and how it affects our daily lives.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> Contained within these page,
are many deep secrets of spiritual truth, which have only recently been
re-discovered.

Other books of similar nature,
always tend to touch the surface of spiritual experimentation, but fail to
expose the facts. But this book goes
straight to the core, to explain as much as possible.style='mso-spacerun:yes'> And true to the guidelines of a non-fiction
novel, it is 90% fact, and only 10% fiction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 21, 2004
• ISBN: 9781418459710

Paul Duncan

Starting life as an atheist at the tender age of 9, the author of this spiritual journey soon found himself at a crossroads.  Taking a ‘leap of faith’ at 28, he joined the Fellowship, and became quick friends with a spiritual counselor.  That peace-loving swami was once a member of the Special Forces, who performed RECON in the DMZ,-- deep in the jungles of Vietnam.  Together, they uncover spiritual secrets, that had been lost since ancient times.

Book preview

© 2004 by Paul Duncan. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 06/02/04

ISBN: 1-4184-5971-2 (e-book)

ISBN: 1-4184-3677-1 (Paperback)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, IN

"And the beast was lifted up, and made to stand like a man,

and then a human mind was given to it."

- Daniel 7 : 4 (166 B.C. Holy Bible- New International Version)

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3:

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 1

Traveling Down the Valleys Wild

Everyone is a prisoner of his own experiences.

Edward R. Murrow (Live on Television, Dec. 31, 1955)

I found myself to be walking down a dimly lit street, in a very old part of Brussels, Belgium… the sky was black and starless. Looking up at the walls of the aged red brick buildings that lined the sidewalk, I could see that they were still glistening from a recent rainstorm. As I continued walking on the gently downward sloping cobblestone street, I noticed that an old, old nun with a very serious stoop was slowly walking toward me. Her cowl was draped so far over her head, that I could not see her face. I stopped in front of her, and she also stopped… as if waiting for me to say something. After a few tense moments, I said to her impatiently: So where’s the wolf? She bent over as if to touch her toes, then gripped the bottom edge of her long black dress. Quickly pulling the dress up over her head, she grew into an 8-foot-tall, muscular black werewolf… with glowing red eyes. It snarled at me, and said in a loud, gruff voice: I’m right here!

Terrified, I turned to run… but the creature grabbed me by the left arm, threw me to the ground, and I landed on my back. It let out a vicious roar, and lunged at me… sinking its long, sharp teeth into my stomach. I let out a scream of horror and pain.

Suddenly I awoke, and sat up in my own bed… clutching my stomach from a piercing pain, that was causing me to double over in agony. Realizing that I could pass out from loss of blood, I got out of bed and tried to stand up… but collapsed to the ground, from the raging pain that tore at my abdomen. Then I knew that the only way to make it to the phone, was to crawl down the hallway, while keeping pressure on my terrible wound.

As I crawled along in the long, dark hallway, I could feel a cold sweat beading on my forehead. I kept pressure on my stomach with my right hand, while struggling my way past the bathroom. Then I realized that I had to see how bad the wound really was, by looking in a mirror.

Using all of my strength to pull myself up with my left hand, I was able to stand, by leaning heavily on the bathroom counter. Turning on the light and looking in the mirror, I saw that my face had become almost pure white. Still clutching my wound with my right hand, I looked down… and was surprised to see that there was no blood on my sweat-soaked T-shirt. Ever so slowly, I pulled my hand away from my abdomen… again, there was no blood. So I carefully lifted up my shirt, and saw that huge canine teeth impressions were beginning to fade away from my stomach. I breathed a sigh of relief, looked myself straight in the eyes, and said: It was just too much spicy food. Into my mind came a simple question: ‘But what about the teeth marks I saw?’ I paused, then whispered the words: Cancel, cancel. and the inquisitive thought withered away.

I looked on the bathroom counter, and was amazed to see that there was no blood. As I walked down the hallway to my bedroom, I was both amazed and relieved that there was not a single trace of blood. Walking into my darkened bedroom, I fumbled around to find the light switch… and was sure that my blood had soaked into the sheets. But when the lights came on, I was amazed that my sheets only a little damp from sweat. It was all just a bad dream.

While taking a long, hot shower… I made a mental list of things to do, to get ready for my weekend to serve my country in the National Guard. After arriving on base, I ran to the line of troops, who were lining up for open ranks inspection. Colonel Rappel was an African-American man in his mid-fifties, and he was very strict for a commander of a Guard Unit in southern California. You had to polish your boots and iron your uniform, for he did not miss a single detail.

After we were dismissed, we went towards our various duty sections, located in a long, gray cinderblock building. As I was sitting behind a long workbench covered with miscellaneous electronic apparatus, I reached for a pair of needlenose pliers with my left hand, to hold in place a delicate component, to repair a defunct UHF transmitter. As I reached for a soldering iron with my right hand, I heard a hoarse voice speak.

The commander wants to see you in his office, Paul. said Master Sergeant Gonzalez… a tall, dark haired man hovering over my shoulder. I shook my head and said:

I’ve just got this one part to…

Go Now! Vominos!

I set the part down, and walked out into the adjacent hallway, which lead to the front office.

Walking down another long hall, I gave brief verbal greeting to a few familiar faces along the way. Knocking on a steel door, I heard a deep voice say: Come in. I entered, and marched straight to the desk. After coming to attention, I gave a sharp salute and then said: Sergeant Duncan reporting as ordered. The commander, gave me a quick salute, then said: Paul, this is a guard unit… you don’t have to be so formal.

Yes sir, I said, and promptly went to parade rest. With a sigh, the commander opened up a folder laying on his desk, and said: Your electronics skills are very good, but we want to send you to Biloxi for six months, so that you will know this equipment inside and out. Here are your orders. He handed me several official documents, with his signature at the bottom.

I understand sir… when will I be going?

Set that up with the travel office.

Yes, sir. Is that all?

Yeah, that’ll do it.

I came to attention, and with another crisp salute, I saw the Colonel roll his eyes, and wave his hand. I made a swift about face, and headed out the door. I headed for the travel office, and once inside… I met a short Hispanic Technical Sergeant, in her dress blues. She looked at me with a smirk, and said casually:

Going to Biloxi?

Yes… how will I travel?

By plane or car, your choice

Can I make my decision during lunch?

Sure. Just let me know by the end of the day.

With that in mind, I headed for the chow hall… and noticed that a line was already forming outside. Spotting some of my friends in the center of the line, I walked up to them and said:

The commander is sending me to radio school.

Oh yeah? When ya goin? said Randy, young blond-haired Germanic man.

Soon. Should I go by plane or car?

Just then, someone yelled: Hey you, no cutting in line! So I said to Randy: I’ll talk to you inside, and walked to the back of the line. As we made our way into the chowhall, I passed by a blackboard that read: Today’s Main Course: Chicken Enchiladas.

After walking through the cafeteria-like serving area, and having Spanish rice, and ‘chicken enchiladas’ scooped onto my plate… I walked into the dining area. Carefully balancing my tray of food while looking for Randy, I quickly located him with another person from my section. They were at a table near the emergency exit, and so I made my way toward them.

Sitting with us was LaMont, a young black man with a protruding chin. When I asked him whether I should take a car or plane to Biloxi, he said to me with a smile: Jus’ take de plane to Biloxi, iz easier dat way. Randy intervened saying: Don’t do that. How much does your car cost per mile?

Eighteen cents

Great. The government pays twenty five cents per mile, so you’ll make money… and get to drive off-base on your days off.

But it’ll take me three days to get there… and Arizona is burning hot this time of year! He shrugged and said: Just drive during the night, that’s what I always do.

LaMont’s face grew serious and he said: Lis’n, my couzin dro’ from L.A. and wuz on he way to Ba-ton Rouge. The po-lice foun’ his white Escort two milz outside Phoenix. When dey search de area, dey foun’ his body in a ditch wid his head beat in. He leaned forward, opened his eyes wide and said: Things c’n happen on de road ya see. We finished our lunch in an uneasy silence.

Several days later, I was standing in the early morning light… and stepped steadily down a flight of stairs with an overloaded dufflebag on my right shoulder. Making my way through a narrow parking garage, I approached a classic red Mustang… and stopped. I recalled the first time I saw that car: July, 1973.

It had just come from the used car lot, and my oldest sister (at twelve years old), and I (at nine) stood a short distance from it. We were observing it’s smooth lines, as it sat in an old garage. I said without looking at her: I like the colors… reminds me of Big Red. Red paint with a black roof. She replied: It’s too small. Big Red was a ‘68 Toronado.. and it was just right. Too bad that it burned up on the freeway.

I don’t care. When I’m a man, I’ll be drivin’ this car all over town… while everyone else will be scootin’ around in little electric cars.

HA! she said mockingly, This car won’t last ten years!

Exactly sixteen years later, I stood before the same car. Just having been back from the body restoration shop, it looked just like new again. Setting the dufflebag down, I opened the passenger door, picked up the dufflebag once more, then crammed it into the back seat. After cranking the engine a few seconds, it roared to life… and began to make a slow, familiar ‘dub-dub-dub’ sound as it idled. Putting the gear selector into reverse, I began to guide it out of the driveway.

As I left San Diego county, I felt that I was leaving home once again. Stepping on the accelerator, my body was pushed into the seat, as I began to pass the slower moving traffic.

Two hours later, the freeway continued to stretch off onto the distance, the sun approached the middle of the sky, and I could see the heat of the road beginning to rise from the black asphalt. After rolling down my window to get some fresh air, a blast of hot, dry wind swirled into the car.

Looking out across the barren desert landscape, I could see only an occasional cactus plant pass by. Approaching a vehicle rest stop that was 125 miles from Yuma, I pulled off of the freeway. I searched for and found a parking space among the numerous other heat scorched vehicles. Carrying a small cooler, I headed for the nearest picnic bench… which happened to be situated close to the motorhome parking area. When I sat down, I heard aggressive, high pitched barking. Looking over the edge of my cooler, I spotted two small dogs: a Dachshund and a Toy Poodle. They were running towards me at full gallop, while threatening me with loud yapping. Behind them, I looked at the owners of a beige Winnebago, that the dogs apparently came from. So I called out: Why don’t you control your dogs?

They just stared at me, and I could tell that they were at a loss for words. The dogs stopped a few feet from me, and walked back to their presumed owners with their tails waving triumphantly in the air. Evidently, they had barked at me to impress their owners.

Ten minutes later, after I finished a long, refreshing drink of cool water… I noticed that the owners of the Winnebago had driven off, and the two dogs came to me with their tails hanging low. They had been abandoned by their owners. Feeling terribly sorry for them, I let them approach and sit in the shade of my table. Reaching into my cooler, I retrieved a roastbeef sandwich… and gave one half to each of them. They sat down by my feet and wagged their tails appreciatively. When a small family of weary travelers sat at a bench directly across from me, the two dogs got up and ran toward that family, barking furiously. The family looked at me angrily and said:

Why don’t you control your dogs?

As I was about to respond, I suddenly realized that there was no way that they were going to believe that those weren’t my dogs. So I ended up staring at the family, speechless… just like the owners of the Winnebago. When the dogs came within a few feet of them, they turned around and walked towards me, wagging their tails. When the family stared angrily at me, I felt that it was time to go, and packed everything in the trunk. When I was in the car and heading slowly toward the freeway onramp, I saw in my rear view mirror that the two dogs were walking toward the family with tails wagging, as if that family were their new owners. Then I realized that the two dogs had been abandoned for quite some time, and were acting as mercenaries, for food and drink.

After pulling over to yet another gas station for fuel, food and drinking water… I noticed that my pants pockets were stretched to the limit with spare change. I searched the car for an empty gallon-sized freezer bag, then decided that all excess coinage would be deposited in it, from that moment onward.

As I continued down the freeway, the car became as hot as an oven, despite the wind rushing in from the open windows. With sweat pouring down my spine, I allowed my right hand to rummage in the center console, and found an old glass thermometer: it was reading 115 degrees.

After checking the warning lights and seeing that all was well, I had to squint to see through the bright sunlight. My hand sifted through the console again, retrieving a pair of cheap sunglasses with scratched lenses. They were perfect for the long road ahead.

Passing through New Mexico, I pulled off of the freeway to take advantage of a rest stop. Having eaten lunch at a cement picnic table, I was just relaxing when a thin young man with a sheepish look on his face, approached my table and sat down in front of me.

There was an uneasy silence between us. My name’s Jake, he said quietly. I’m Paul. I said suspiciously, Is everything okay? He released a deep sigh and said: No, not really. Y’see, I’ve come down here from Montana to live with my dad, and he kicked me out, and now I don’t know where to go. He bit his lip and said: I’ve asked a church to help me, and they just give me ten dollars, then sent me away. I’m just about out of gas and stuff now. After a moment, I smiled and said: Wait here a moment. I returned to my car… and after a brief search, found just the thing I was looking for. I returned to the table where Jake was sitting, and gave him a very heavy freezer bag, filled to near bursting with change. His eyes opened wide with surprise, and he said with a smile: I can’t thank you enough!

After spending the night in Las Cruces, I drove onto the freeway in the early morning… and headed for Texas. Upon reaching El Paso, a smell of smog and filth filled the air.On the north side of the border, I passed by huge steel power lines, which were held in place by concrete embankments. I could see large dark factories belching gray smoke, from sky-high chimneys near the horizon. On the other side of the border, were primitive houses on small lots, filled with blowing trash. I stepped on the gas to get away from the depressing city, and the steel power lines began to zip by.

Arriving at Van Horn late at night, I slowly drifted into the darkened parking lot of a second-rate motel. Entering the 1970’s style waiting room, I saw an old lady behind the counter, making entries into a journal. I approached her, and said politely: Reservation for Duncan? She glanced up at me, opened up a small file box on the counter, then said quickly: Yeah, it’s here. Yer almos’ too late.

I know. I said sternly. Since it’s July 4th, where are the fireworks going to be tonight?

Fireworks? Is this town? Yer jokin’. Then she tossed a key on the counter, and left.

Settling down in the small motel room, I walked slowly to the bed and sat down. Gazing at a one inch gap at the bottom of the room’s front door, I realized that a scorpion would have no trouble walking right in… so I quickly looked under my bed and tore off the sheets, to search for small intruders. After a deep sigh, I thought: ‘Here it is, July 4th and no fireworks. My step-dad always put on a great fireworks show by the big pool at his house in the hills of Mission Valley.’

Grabbing the remote, I turned on the boob-tube and flipped through the channels… until Johnny Carson’s face appeared. Laughter slowly died down from the television audience, then Johnny picked up a card from his desk, and said: Here’s another one. Did you know, that if you dropped a rock on the head of a penguin from a height of twenty feet, there is only a ten percent chance that he will be able to identify you in a police lineup? Along with his audience, I burst out laughing, and then attentively waited for his next line. I found it to be a very relaxing way to end a stressful day.

While driving the car the next day, and speeding on my way to San Antonio… I could see the landscape begin to change dramatically. Light green scrub brush began to appear in large, wide patches in the fields… and long, winding rivers made their way through narrow canyons. The air that rolled into the car was hot, but it had a softness to it, from a rising humidity.

Going through San Antonio’s freeway was easy, and I recalled how I was sent to basic training in Lackland AFB. On the day after graduation, my class had been given ten hours to visit downtown San Antonio… and wearing my dress blues, I went to visit the Alamo.

It was a good feeling, to walk in the very place where so many brave Texans had given their lives to delay Santa Anna in his northward march. I wanted to see it again, but time was growing short, so I cruised on through to Houston. Approaching the Louisiana border, I passed through Beaumont… where the trees were tall and dark, and their branches were covered with Spanish moss. Passing through Baton Rouge, I noticed that tall green grass was everywhere, and the air was laden with heat, and heavy with humidity.

Driving through the lush land with the windows down, the air became stifling… much like being in the cramped room of a sauna. When the road started taking me further south, it began to meander along the sunny Gulf coast, past tall, gleaming white hotels on the left… and colorful beach umbrellas along with bikini-clad women on the right. After several hours of cruising, I noticed that I was approaching an old black-and-white lighthouse… then realized that I had reached my destination. Driving onto Keesler Air Force Base, I parked in front of a tall, white hotel. I walked up to a well dressed man behind the hotel’s counter, and slapped down my ID card. He examined my card, checked a log book and said slowly: You are not on our list Mr. Duncan, how long are staying? I replied with a smile: Six months and one day.

I hate to tell you this… he said with a smirk, …but anyone who stays on this base longer than six months… has to stay in the barracks.

Walking toward the car in a huff, I drove halfway across the base to find the NCO barracks. I approached the large, dark cinderblock building… and knew that it was to be my home for quite a while.

The days passed slowly by while I studied through my electronic debugging classes, and the routine became numbingly monotonous.

March to school, march back from school, eat, study, sleep… then march to school again. Then one evening, I was playing pool with another sergeant in the recreation room, and I was winning (for once). I said while aiming for a solid blue ball: How is life treating you?

Really great, said Frank, who had black hair, and an old Spanish ancestry that was visible in his lean face. Things have really changed in my life since… I sank the ball into the right side pocket, and aimed for the eight-ball, when I asked him: Since what? I noticed that he was eyeing me carefully, as if he was about to ask me a tricky question. With a snap of my stick, the cue ball struck the eight ball, and sent it spinning toward the left corner pocket. He quickly put out his hand, and stopped the eight ball in its place. Completely perplexed, I looked at him curiously, while he gazed at me sternly, and said: Do you believe in God?

I paused, and searched my mind to find the most honest answer possible. Then I said: I don’t know… I’m not sure what to believe in. He quickly told me about his search for God, and how anyone could get an answer from Him, when the human mind was at peace. So I said: How do you get your mind at peace, with so much going on all the time? He smiled and said: Read this booklet, it’ll help you out. He handed me a small blue booklet which read: ‘Buddhist Meditations for the Beginner.’ Not sure where such a religion could lead me, I said to him warily: Thanks, and shoved it into my shirt pocket.

Two days later, my class schedules were getting hectic, and the new logic circuit information I was being taught, was not coming into cohesion. At the end of the third day, I retreated to my small room and sat at my desk, wondering how to improve my concentration.

After opening the top drawer, I found the meditation booklet. Carefully reading through the tiny pages, I quickly understood the need for focusing on a single thought, and how breath control cleared the mind. So, sitting on the floor with my legs crossed, I began to focus on breath control and nothing else. Within ten minutes, I felt at ease… and my mind had let go of all of life’s bothersome events.

In my room the next afternoon, I went deeper into a steady state of calmness, resulting from breath control. The more I pushed my thoughts away, the more I could relax, and clear my mind of all useless and repetitive thoughts. When all of my thoughts had dissipated, I felt a great calmness wash over me.

After many days it became a routine, and I started to understand the logic circuits with greater and greater ease. Random thoughts no longer clouded my thinking. It was pure bliss, just being able to stay quietly seated, without a single thought in my mind.

When I finished my classes and passed the final exams, the time to return to southern California had come. After stuffing my uniforms into the old duffel bag, I crammed it into the backseat of the car, and drove off of the base for the last time. Cruising back through Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona… I noticed how nature gradually changed from heavy humidity and swamp trees, to light humidity with low plains and scrubs, to dry air with tall green cacti and distant, dark mountains. Upon leaving Arizona and entering California, I thought: ‘How could such a vast expanse of land, have such a great diversity… and yet adhere to one another so evenly, without a master plan? This was no accident… maybe there is a God after all.’

After finding a new line of employment with a telecommunications firm, I distanced myself from the Buddhist religion, after it had fallen short of it’s promise of ‘spiritual enlightenment’.

On Saturday, I drove around the small beachside town of Carlsbad, which was just north of Del Mar. Since the sun was out, and the weather was pleasant, I parked the car and walked around an old downtown area that had several blocks of small shops. One store window that caught my attention, had many different kinds of sparkling crystals lying about, on different mythology-based displays. I stopped at the door, to read a document that was posted there, as it was referring to a special meditation course. I entered the shop, and questioned the woman at the counter about the introductory class, that was being advertised.

That very night, I entered a small room full of strangers. We were all seated in neatly lined folding chairs, as we waited for the instructor to arrive. When she did, I noticed her to be a short, pudgy white woman with long blond hair. She stepped up to a tall wooden podium, smiled, and said in a pleasant voice: Good evening all. During tonight’s session, we are going to visit with our animal spirit guides… so just sit back and relax. As the lights dimmed, we all took several deep breaths, and began to completely relax… letting our troubles just drift away. As she gently guided us into deep relaxation, a great sense of well-being rolled over me, and a peaceful darkness allowed my eyes to rest. In the deep, dark distance… I heard her say: You are going to a place, where you can meet your animal spirit guide. It is a part of your soul, and will guide you to someone who will influence your life greatly.

After a few moments of deep silence, I suddenly stood in a green forest… and in a dream-like state, I began to walk. From behind a tree, a raccoon appeared and looked up at me, as if to ask a question. As he walked slowly away from me, he looked over his right shoulder, encouraging me to follow him. As I did, I approached a tall, thick pine tree. He stopped, glanced at me, and then looked behind the tree. Suddenly, a neatly dressed, overweight gentleman in an expensive business suit stepped out from behind the tree. His thinning black hair was neatly combed, and he smiled politely at me. Then he laughed in a deep, jovial manner that made me feel at ease. He looked me in the eyes, and I noticed that his eyes glimmered with wisdom and honesty. I had a deep sense of knowingness, that he would never steer me wrong.

I heard