YOUR TRAVEL OPTIONS
1. Ignore the following and also the previous.
2. Answer your phone, whether it is ringing or not, and say that you’re too busy not paying attention to be bothered.
3. Shake your head in vigorous disagreement to this sentence.
4. Sit in the corner. Stop fidgeting.
5. Try to see things my way, then your way, then the way a dog might see things—and lastly, a parrot.
6. Write your name on a cereal box.
7. Dance a jig.
8. Look at the sky then the ground then the sky then the ground then the sky. Hey, you’re a bobble-head!
9. Read some more of this book.
10. Keep an open mind and see where it leads you.
THE FIRST YEAR
Following my initially terrifying introduction to ‘traveling’ were more events of a similar nature. Going to bed became a contradiction in terms. It became a routine of the unknown. I was never sure where I’d ‘wake up’ while out of body. I ‘woke up’ in the neighbor’s house. I woke up at my elementary school. I woke up in the woods at the end of the block. I woke in every place of which a child’s world consists.
During my early travels my realization of what was happening arrived slowly, as if through a haze. I’d fumble around trying to discern objects that might be familiar, like a wall or a doorway. I was drawn to my neighbor’s house because I had been there before. I was the same age as their daughter who went to my school, and our parents hung out together. It was the usual set of reasons a child has for being anywhere. When I ‘awoke’ in their house, it was additionally confusing because their tract-house was designed to be exactly the opposite of my house. Like looking in a mirror, I’d turn left to enter a room and ‘run into’ a wall instead. It only become clear that I was in their house when I stumbled across one of our wacky neighbor’s vinyl-wrapped chairs. The vinyl was to protect the furniture from children and was removed for dinner parties and martini lunches. When I ‘fell’ over the chair I immediately knew where I was. And with this recognition of ‘where’ came clarity. I began to understand that I was not sleeping but I was not awake. I was moving and aware but I wasn’t in my body. It was not a dream. I was really in my neighbor’s house. My early travels were like this, a slow realization of my surroundings, and then ‘focus’.
The ‘return’ to bed was especially frightening when I first began traveling. I’d be enjoying a pleasant nonphysical stroll in the front yard when suddenly I’d be jerked back to my paralyzed physical body and a ‘vibrating’ roar that engulfed all of my senses. I was isolated from any outside events, often for more than a half hour. If the phone rang or lightning had struck, I’d never have known nor been capable of reacting.
Coping with the ‘return’ was difficult until I came to realize that it was happening whether I wanted it to or not. My only option was to maintain a patient, inquisitive attitude. After I had experienced the gripping ‘vibration’ many times I learned that it eventually faded away and that I’d be all right when it left. I became determined to do nothing. I would not struggle against it. I would discover what I could while the ‘vibration’ was present. It was a matter of forcing myself to remain as calm as possible during the storm.
From eight to nine years old I was ‘traveling’ all the time. Although I still didn’t grasp what the event was, I did learn what to expect. I began to think of the ‘travels’ as normal for me but I rarely spoke of them with family or friends. I was always disappointed by their response to my exciting tale of the ‘real dream’ from the night before. I had hoped for answers or similar stories but this quirky adventure seemed to be my game alone.
A MEMORY OF ME
I’m on my back, lying on my bed. My eyelids are shut tight. My arms and legs are locked. Nothing will move. I can’t hear anything above the roar. It keeps happening. But it doesn’t hurt. It’s just shaking me. If I don’t force myself to move I’ll learn what this is. I want to understand how this works.
THE BIG WRAP UP
At the age of twelve I found a metaphysical book at the library that had a chapter about something called “astral projection”. While I don’t care for that phrase today, at the time it was magic. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. There were others like myself. My excitement was boundless because I wasn’t alone. Since the Internet was years away from becoming what it is today, I began to search for tidbits of “astral” information in bookstores and magazines. While it was comforting to read about the topic, it didn’t take long before it occurred to me that most of it was fluff and reruns. I knew more about ‘traveling’ than I was reading. It was the impact of this realization that pushed my silent study beyond a curious fascination. The answers had become my responsibility.
SEVEN STEPS
You’ve been very patient while I prattled on about my childhood and here’s your reward. You’re about to learn how to get out of your physical body, and I shall keep on prattling. Oh lucky you.
There are Seven Steps to intentionally traveling out of body.
1. Desire
2. Relaxation
3. Visualization and Destination
4. Direct Lift-out
5. Awareness
6. Travel
7. Return and Memory
Each step is an important singular piece and also important as a whole. Your subconscious thoughts and a variety of physical factors also play a part. We’ll get to those soon, don’t rush me.
To introduce briefly the Seven Steps here’s a quick, not so random event from when I was ten. I’ll tell the story and then break it down into the steps. It’ll be fun. I cross my fingers and promise it will. Although the following travel was completely unintentional it was propelled by the same seven steps you’ll be using.
At age ten I was fond of gymnastics. My favorite activity was tumbling end over end down a long mat like a ridiculous circus clown.
My craving for tumbling also manifested itself during my restful hours. At night, in my focused thoughts, I’d envision the rolling and leaping. Over and over I’d jump and roll and jump and roll and jump and... It was quite by accident from my mental-tumbling that I discovered an ability for pushing my nonphysical out of the top of my head. Although it was incredibly fun, it was also disconcerting as I actually felt as if I were flinging my entire physical body forward, up and out of the bed to crash into the wall. From there the shock of being ‘out’ immediately dragged me right back into my physical.
Now I’ll break down the experience into the seven steps:
1. Desire
I wanted to tumble. I focused on tumbling. I did tumble, nonphysically.
2. Relaxation
Although I had not intentionally ‘controlled’ my relaxation I was deeply relaxed while focused on tumbling.
3. Visualization–Destination
I visualized myself tumbling to satisfy my desire. A destination can be a person, place, object, or ‘action’. The destination in this event was the ‘action’ of tumbling.
4. Direct Lift-Out
My nonphysical tumbled out as an ‘uncontrolled’ response to my focused desire. This puts the lift-out into the category of ‘indirect’ but who cares because it was a hoot.