Some time ago, when I originally agreed to write articles for the TMI FOCUS, I did so because I thought it would be fun. At least I’m fairly sure that’s why I agreed. It could be my memory is playing tricks. No … I’m sure that must be why I agreed. After all, no one would volunteer to do something that’s work. Or ... would they?
So I said to Julie (the wonderful person in the office who is assigned to keep the TMI FOCUS on schedule), “Why don’t you give me a few of the questions that are routinely asked, and I will consider them.” Great suggestion ... huh? Wrong! The questions were undoubtedly the most difficult she could find.
I’ve used every tape you’ve sent me, but I still can’t get out of body. Tell me what I should be doing. ... How do you tell someone where the rocks are in uncharted water?
For example I’ve used the tapes for almost two years and still don’t know what Focus 10 feels like. Can you please tell me what I’m doing wrong? Or, what about this one: I’ve used every tape you’ve sent me, but I still can’t get out of body. Tell me what I should be doing.
How do you tell someone where the rocks are in uncharted water? Even more specifically, how do you tell someone there aren’t any charts? I have pondered this for nearly a week. This morning I remembered someone who glided through a Gateway Voyage back in June of 1982. When I say glided, I mean on gold-plated skates. He was a wonderful man by the name of Guy Murchie. I think the best way to sum up who or what he was, would be to say—Guy was a wonderful human being, who wore size fourteen shoes. He wrote a beautiful book entitled The Seven Mysteries of Life. He wrote others, of course, but I respect him for Seven Mysteries. He called it “An Exploration into Science and Philosophy.” I think it was a masterpiece of wonderment. Inside its almost 700 pages were insightful explorations into things like: different kinds of eyes and how each perceives; how ants reason; the afterlife of missing limbs; minerals that want to live; and a plethora of inexcusable sidetracks of curiosity no one in a million years would pursue—except, of course, for Guy Murchie.
...it’s important because he wasn’t asking someone else the questions. He was simply asking himself.
Why is that important? Well … perhaps it’s important because he wasn’t asking someone else the questions. He was simply asking himself. And, not being one to settle for “I don’t know,” he systematically and doggedly pursued insight to places one almost cannot fathom. I mean,… after all … page 159, how many viruses can fit into a ping-pong ball! Gosh... the book excites me.
Guy does what I envision myself doing. He asks a simple question and then chases it to the ends of the earth. He has learned to open his mind to the song of discovery. He dares to imagine the improbable, only to find that it is true. I figure if I work at it as long as he has, maybe I can do the same thing. Maybe I can discover something new.
Maybe there are more interesting things to pursue than an out-of-body experience. Maybe the real zest for living can be found in simply wondering why spiders build their webs the same way all the time.
What am I trying to say here? Maybe Focus 10 isn’t where you belong. Maybe there are more interesting things to pursue than an out-of-body experience. Maybe the real zest for living can be found in simply wondering why spiders build their webs the same way all the time. Or do they? Where would you begin with that wonderment? Anyone who would like to know how to collect spider webs ... just write the Institute and I’ll confess all.
The tapes the Institute produces are not meant to be exact road maps. They aren’t meant to force the same experience on everyone who uses them. They are simply a tool. They’re meant to fire the mind, to stoke the coals. The phoenix always rises from the ashes. Don’t look for what others have experienced. Look for the small spark of insight others miss. Look for the feathers!