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Our Christ Ening
Our Christ Ening
Our Christ Ening
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Our Christ Ening

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In the Fourth Century CE, a diabolical plot to rob us of our divine birthright was hatched by the current lords of Darkness, Emporer Constantine and the Bishops of the Empire based in Rome. This book unmasks the conspiracy, reveals the True Teachings of 'The Christ' as he taught them 2000 years ago, and sets the record straight for all of us to realize our indwelling Divinity. A Book whose time has come!
LanguageEnglish
PublisherLulu.com
Release dateApr 11, 2011
ISBN9781257531080
Our Christ Ening
Author

Tenzin Gyurme

Tenzin Gyurme is a Sound Healer and Meditation Instructor currently living in Ireland. You can contact him via email tzingyurme@gmail.com

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    Our Christ Ening - Tenzin Gyurme

    CONCLUSION

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    INTRODUCTION

    In my journey from the darkness to the light, nothing has been more apparent to me than the fact that the modern religious paradigm is not working.

    As a youth, I sensed that something wasn’t quite right and I drifted away from religion sometime in Sunday school. There was an energy about it that didn’t resonate with me, and I found better uses of my time surrounded by the nature that was abundant in my youth.

    Whether it was around the animals that I found such great solace and authenticity in, or the country that I would immerse myself in on the weekends or whenever I could get away from the day to day activities that surrounded my weeks as a child.

    Now don’t get me wrong, my parents weren’t overly religious, and didn’t spend too much time pushing the religious paradigm down my throat, I think that was a part of the society that we lived into in the south in the sixties, and it was just a natural by product of the life that we were living. So, I hold no energy on it either way, it was what it was, and in so doing it allowed me to open to the information that was introduced, even if it was summarily dismissed as untruth by me.

    As the years progressed, I became enthralled by Greek Mythology, and Eastern Philosophy and Religion studying both of these subjects extensively in High School and College. My uncle George, was a professor of Medieval English in Toronto, and my aunt Irene was an author of religious poetry from Central and South America and between the two of them, I had a solid foundation of historical and mythological writings.

    Though, in my youth, my rebellious nature even rejected that out of hand!

    In my years at the University of Colorado, I was exposed to much higher order thought... and when I wasn’t high, I took in the teachings of Chogyam Trungpa in the Glenn Miller Amphitheatre on the Boulder Campus. Between the influences of Trungpa Rinpoche and my then deceased maternal grandmother, Granny Vi, I was beginning to see the light of dharma.

    My post college years were a blur, and it wasn’t until the late Eighties that I converted to Buddhism formally, thought the sect that I chose had some questionable foundations. This was called NSA, (also known as Nicheren Shosu of America), which was founded by a discredited Buddhist Monk in Japan in the 1300’s. The sect had become somewhat cult-like in their approach to Buddhist philosophy, with a militant view of chanting one particular slogan, so that foray was short lived !

    I then spent some time working with crystals and chakra energy, in a rather new-age retreat into energy healing, which was superficial at best. All of this coincided with my posting to Germany with Pan American World Airways. The time was 1989, and my date with destiny was set. I was to participate in the most dramatic event in Human history to date. . . . . the fall of the Berlin Wall.

    I was on the wall that night on 9 Nov 1989, and I can still remember the feeling in the air. The news reports for the months leading up to the collapse, had us all buzzing in the west. Refuges were pouring over the border in Hungary, just a few miles to the south, and the government of West Germany was offering 300 West German Marks to any Oustie (slang for East German) who crossed the border into the west. So Poles, Germans, Slavs and Hungarians were pouring through the Swiss cheese border in Hungary and making their way to West Germany with their freedom in hand, finally.

    We knew it was only a matter of time before something had to give. And sure enough on 9 November, it gave. I vividly remember the experience. I was flying a trip from Frankfurt to Paris and back to Frankfurt, when we heard on the radio in the cockpit, that the wall had fallen and the guards were no longer stopping people in no mans land. (The stretch of land on the East German side of the wall where so many had perished in the previous 40 years).

    I remember excitingly boarding my non-revenue flight back to Berlin, eagerly awaiting the time when I could get home to my flat and out of my uniform to change into my ‘civvies’ to head to the Brandenburg Tor (German for gate). When I got there it was rather late, close to midnight I think, and I remember jumping up onto the wall and being hugged and kissed by everyone up there, celebrating the fall of totalitarianism.

    The euphoria in the air was as thick as London Fog, and the excitement was electric, so much so that it made my hair stand on end. And this experience continued into the coming weeks and months ahead. For we had an opening, a glimpse of what was possible on this earth. Peace was at hand, as the fall of a totalitarian regime that had squandered 45 years of millions of lives had collapsed and in its wake was the possibility of peace on earth.

    I was energized, and something in me was awakened. For a time, I felt more alive than I ever had before or would for some time hence. This indescribable beauty had me feeling as if I could float on air, and the energy of the city gave me wings to soar above the suffering of the world.

    But alas, it was to be short lived, as Gulf war one was on the horizon. And it was only a matter of time until the density of the our 3-Dimensional world dragged me back into the fear induced reality that we were all suffering in our race to the finish line in this life. (Which by the way is death!) I fell once more back into a state of sleepwalking.

    In the late nineties, I was awakened again by the Dalai Lama’s visit to Los Angeles to dedicate the Shitro Mandala at the Gardena Buddhist Temple. The general class that I took with His Holiness re-invigorated my Buddhist principles. Getting a hold

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