Recapping AWE part I

IAM was on stage, “By the time we complete we will have spent Forty hours together in the Processing of The Ancient Wisdom Experience. It is the equivalent of an American workweek, and work it has been. Work each and everyone of you participated in and shared. Work that is the basis for the enlightened of the ages. It is the great work, the Magnus Opus of seeking and finding many of the answer to WHO YOU ARE. We started Thursday evening, what can you remember?"

“We started with introductions and rules. Oh yea, we met the trainers and their team. We learned the hand signals, about the Hoover in the sky and offering up our judgments. We learned the other neophytes names, and the start of some biggies, like telling the truth, asking for what you want, and that everyone likes sex.” Those were Joseph’s remembrances, and he got a laugh and sat down with a big smile on his face.
IAM called on Ruth.

“There was so much, but I remember the compassion in IAM’ voice. I could how he and MA cared and the assistants supporting us. Everyone supporting me as I spoke. I had never felt that before. Thank you.”
The energy of the room had moved from Joseph’s humor to a warm tear in Ruth’s’ and many of the neophytes eyes.
Chucks’ hand had been in the air since back from break and he seemed to bounce up when IAM called on him.



“Thursday night is when my life began. I don’t know who it was that wrote the check, but I am grateful to them, but none of that life was me. I want to produce AWE. To enroll everyone is waking up. I finally found something that is real, and I have passion for. Bless you, and bless everyone in the room.”



“One of the rules had to do with how life works when you keep your agreement,: said Brenda looking very fresh. “And that is one of my goals. I am only saying yes when I mean it. And I mean it!”



Jules shared that she was still OK about having a lot of sex, but “Honest sex. Fun sex, not manipulation. Telling the truth faster makes life so much easier. I love you all.”
Alan explained the difference between story and experience, “This was and still is an experience. What I tell my friends, without gossiping or naming names will be a story. A very entertaining story and then I’ll give them Chucks phone number to enroll.”
There were whoops of delight, with IAM and MA whispering something to each other.



“What do we remember about Friday night?” Said IAM.
Evelyn stood, “That was when I got in trouble for having a drink. It was, interesting, to have people care about your agreements. Its true, keeping your agreements does make your life. I’m having my sherry tonight.”



“This was the night of the skit, at the Universal Diner. It’s important to order what you want. Be specific or you might not get it.” Said Michael.
We started doing dyads. Working with a partner on the questsion. What do you want? What do you expect? What are you resisting? And what are you experiencing.” Said Art. “These are the questions that keep you present, in the here and now. Questions that lead to success. I loved working with a partner, they know so much more than I do.”



“MA told a story about whacking the pond. About how we will stay in our own pressure pot until we eventually fry ourselves and how we all need a shock to break that pattern and get out of our own soup.”
“Well put Chuck,’ said MA. “I think you’ll make a great producer of AWE.”
“It was Saturday morning that some of you shared your dreams. How questions and insights from Friday rattled your sleep and we aall began to break down our patterns. What happened Saturday?” Ma sat back as hands shot up.
“Saturday was like life, we had dating game, or as I called it self-rejection second best will do.” Said Ruth. “I also got off my sex stuff, or least started the process.”
“We went on an elevator ride after the Greek Sages helped us find the scrolls of our life. They were so funny, and it was such a meaningful skit. We all got amazing insight into our processes, and got great fodder for Sunday.”

“I loved when the angels arrived for sensations. I was awe-struck by the love. There I said it,” said Karla with new found enthusiasm.

Theresa spoke next, “I worked with Art. He is one person I( would have avoided. He’s pink, English looking like my dad, who I thought didn’t know shit. But Art and all you guys have presence, you hung in there when I was ready to quit, ot like Ruth said, take second best.
The exercise about what do you want me to experience in your presence was magical.” She concluded.
“What do you want me to experience in your presence Theresa?” Asked IAM.“Unconditional love. I want you to love your self."

And there were Miracles

An insight or explanation of being reborn or freed from beliefs one imagined were ones own is the key point of this tale. Mr. Writer is aware there are millions, perhaps billions of people who have no reference to this type of change.

Is this the shedding of layers of notions about oneself that were and are false or could it only be a temporary fix?

Was this experience like attaining whole new set of beliefs, or was it just like taking off a raincoat, and it still going to rain.

Were the neophytes grooving a revival, or coming out of the tent back into the old ruts of their life?

At dinner with Joseph, Jules, Dr. Nelson, Teresa, Mona and Art pondered these question. No one had any doubt about the power of this change. About the wisdom of AWE, but all of them had been involved in the psychedelic revolution and agreed they changed, but not to the level of experiences they had with AWE and psychedleic were psychedelics. This was different. There were no drugs, even the leadership of the trainers was mere prodding, efficient, well intentioned and scripted but the work was done inside in every neophyte.

“How are we going to keep this alive? How can we support each other? “ They keep asking.

Back in the seminar room there was lots of sharing about miracles.
Dr. Michael bought an elderly couples dinner without telling them.
Parking spaces appeared right in front of the restaurant.
Diners got free desserts. Some even ate dessert first and joked with the waitress about how desserts reverses stress.
A young child came up to Karla in the restaurant and asked her why she looked so happy. “Because I choose to be happy. You can too, anytime you want too. Life is full of miracles and choosing to be happy can be your miracle each day.”
Everyone applauded.
Karla beamed, taking a moment to look at each of the trainers then said, “Let’s get on with this Love Fest.”
The room broke up with laughter.
“Yes, let’s get on with this Love Fest,” said IAM taking control from the stage. “Let’s recap what we’ve learned.”

The Birthday Party

The moments of solemn sharing ended abruptly.
“Clear the room. Put the chairs up against the wall.” Said IAM.

The assistants burst into the room, dressed as clowns. Their face painted, carrying balloons, with noisemakers, hats, party favors, blowing horns and whistles. It was a moment as incongruous as life itself.

“Who has never had a birthday party?” Asked IAM.
Mrs. B, Ruth, Karla, Ellen, Joseph and Art raised their hands.
“These are our special birthday babies. They get to choose who’s coming to their party. So pick your playmates.” Instructed IAM.

Each of the six groups sat on the floor and were given hats, horns and face paint. They all made themselves up, and began acting out as five years olds.

“You look funny.””You look stupid.”
“It’s my party and I’ll look anyway I want.”
“Let’s play spin the bottle.”

It was chaos making way for confusion that ended with cupcakes and candles
for everyone.

IAM and MA had left the room and returned with their costumes and face paint. They lead a rowdy version of the Happy Birthday song.

When Art blew out his candle it relit. It’s magic he thought.
When the cakes were gone, IAM spoke, “There is a lesson here that is quite obvious. Desserts is stress spelled backwards so tonight at dinner, eat desserts first.
“You have an hour and half for dinner. Practice your Guru lesson. Direct some traffic. Go to dinner with someone new, or a new group. Keep your eyes and ears open for miracles.”

A New Voice Speaks

“We have time for sharing while the assistants prepare a surprise,” said IAM.

Slowly a number of hands we raised.
IAM called on Chuck. “That was amazing. I had no idea how trapped I was in my parents. My attitudes and my pudgy scared body wasn’t even my own. I assumed everything they were and then fought them while becoming them. I want to produce this experience for others. Everyone needs to feel the freedom of being themselves.”

Alan the analytical was next. He stood up without his glasses. “I can see, without my glasses.” His eyes red from tears, “I was my mom, hiding behind glasses, protecting myself from being bullied. Ya know, can’t hit a kid with glasses. I’ve meditated, been in therapy, been in an esoteric school, nothing was as powerful as this. Will it last?”

“If you want it too,” said MA.

“ Yes, this process, your experience is now yours. You are no longer trapped in the habits and beliefs of your parents. The real excitement begins tomorrow when you reawake into life,’ added IAM.

“My mom was a slut, just like me,’ Jules shared. “All this sleeping around was to show her I was in control, but really I was just acting out.” She paused and scanned the room with a smile, “But it was fun.”

Everyone laughed except Karla. She raised her hand and all the other hands went down.
“What’s happening Karla?,” said IAM.
Karla stood, her head down, fists clinched.
“Karla, can you look at me?” Said MA.
The neophytes were hushed in an awed silence, waiting for an explosion.
Slowly her head rose and a smile appeared. “I love you guys.”
Ma walked off the stage toward Karla and they hugged. Hands everywhere went up for Kleenex.

As the moment passed Art raised his hand and caught IAM’s eye.
“Art.”
“I want to be one of your friends you talked about on the first day.”
The room looked around to see who was speaking. Art was the only one standing, but no one recognized the voice.
IAM came off the stage and spoke “I recognized you the moment you walked in the room. We have been more than friends for lifetimes and we are again.”
Art sat down and realized he had his own voice, not his fathers.

Freeing Father

After the mother process there was a silent break. Art didn’t bum a cigarette but thought how his mother, born a preemie at 6 months spent 2 months in a cigar box. Art thought that probably explains why she smoked for more than 50 years and was always in a rush. She was in a rush to get born. He had a mental picture of her standing by the kitchen door, coat on, purse in hand, ready. Always ready to go.

IAM spoke in a quietly solemn tone, “You’re half way through the process. Some will find father more intense than mother. Those who may have been raised in a fatherless home trust your imagination. Take the first answer that comes up. You just made it up anyway, so stay in your gut and in the process.”

To Art the Father process was as different as a Presbyterian Church service was to the Acid Tests with the Merry Pranksters and the Grateful Dead. He knew he had stuff about his dad. The way they rarely spoke. Dad’s condescending tone. The way he poked fun at him, teasing for what Art was never sure. Art was a good student, an excellent athlete, made friends easily. He wasn’t a good fisherman like his dad, and he had no interest in mechanical things. He just concluded that they were very different beings. He respected him, even talked well about him, but never really felt their was love between them.

Or so he thought.

But creating a clay image of dad and stepping into his body was emotional, revelatory and downright shocking. Stepping into anyone else’s space was shocking. The nonsense of ‘they are different’, ‘he is not like me’ or ‘I’m better that that’ melted in the first moments. Art’s tears and Kleenex consumption created a pile higher than his statue of dad.

His old man felt joy, and sorrow and compassion. He had great love for his mother and for Art’s mother. Art sensed how he thought deeply on God, and money and how caring for his family was so important. He did the best he could with what he had, and growing up as second oldest with four sister he developed charm and wit and a nature as a tease. He loved his sisters and was unsure of what to do with the baby Art. He became the family provider, a role his father had never fully accepted.

This was more than a parent process it was an ancestor process. Art saw how generations had been drug down the rut of beliefs that were not their own. Beliefs passed down generations. Beliefs that no longer served, that had lost validity. It was how the middle eastern wars continued. How revenge and sexism flourished, and their offspring’s assumed the parents beliefs and perpetuated fears and limits all the while believing these were their own beliefs. It felt like he was part of some mechanical entity that was ruled by the habits of others ad infinium.

That he had finally, as IAM had intimated, come to the point to break the pattern. To end the pain and useless suffering mankind had instilled in itself.

Wow! Art felt massively alive after mother, but after father he was brand new.

Heaven & Hell

The familiar cello of Pachelbel’s Canon played to a solemn roomful of neophytes engaging in a miraculous freeing of attention process.

The three days of preparation in building trust, in handling limiting beliefs, in learning to separate stories from experience helped lead to this moment. IAM had said that perhaps lifetimes had lead to this Here & Now.

The courageous compassion and presence of the trainers had a magical catalytic effect on the neophytes.

The new found ability to laugh at oneself and cry the next second had initiated the neophytes into using their imagination, getting out of their space suit and stepping into a spacesuit oh too familiar, the parent.

Beliefs that were accepted as ‘that’s just way it is’, were thrown open to see that this is not me. These are my mother beliefs, that worked for her, and her mother, and her mother , ad infinium.

This was a molting of fears, anger, doubts sadness, pain and tears. Mounds of Kleenex were piled next to many neophytes. Some so intense as to need a wastebasket to puke the bile from a lifetime of living as their parent, in a contradiction of wanting to please and hating to be manipulated and abused.

Some let go of clothing, the confines of apparel were shed like the armor that hid a true being who loved life, had a new vision, and experienced freedom that surpassed sex, drugs or rock n roll. They were no longer just their parents child, but a child of the universe.

IAM had designed an inner war designed to rebirth a roomful of neophytes. They answered IAM’s question, from their GUT, and become alive in the synergy of the forty others with the excitement of Woodstock, an Evangelic healing, and Baptism.
The room had the stench of egos, fried, seared, charred, broiled and roasted.
No one had to be right.
No one already knew everything.
No one couldn’t make a mistake.
Everyone participated. And all were rewarded.
In one moment it looked, felt and sounded like a Bosch painting and the next it was Jesus and Mary sitting amongst the Lions & the Lambs. Sweet forgiveness following the self inflected torment of life.

No one could have imagined the relief and joy that ensued.
IAM, MA, the angel assistants had handed out tissue, waste baskets, cleaned aura’s whispered words of love and encouragement and helped everyone stay in their experience.

There was no dexification.They all felt a power greater that than themselves.

They were reborn, and led by a re awoken Daimon, a guardian angel, with a louder conscience and an incredible lightness of being.

Ancestor Parent Process

“Ready?”
The neophytes were.

“Good. We’re going to create our parents. Mother first.

“Let’s imagine we have been given the most beautiful Italian clay in which to sculpt Mom. We have lots of clay, enough for everyone. We have sculpting tools and the greatest tools of all, our hands. We can even imagine we are great sculptors like DaVinci and Michangelo. Work the clay and get a feel for it.

“Find the perfect spot to begin to sculpt.

“If your mom has passed away, remember she is still present on your scrolls."
Pachelbel Canon in D began to play.
“Okay, let’s start with the feet. This is her understanding, her soles. Do you remember her toes? The arch of the foot? Trust yourself. You’re doing a perfect job. When you’re ready, form the ankle that leads to her strong calf muscles.

“Its’ okay to say or feel anything. What is important is to sculpt, here and now, the clay in front of you. The calves lead to the knees. Were they knobby? Did she have any scars from sports or an accident? Continue up the legs.
“Now where the legs meet the torso form the front and the back. Smooth her stomach and her back. Add the breasts that fed you. Create the area below the neck and her strong shoulders that carried you. Mold her arms out to her loving hands. Hold each finger and form the nails. Kiss the hands, shake them, let them touch you.
“Go back up the arm, massaging it if you like, to the shoulders then sculpt the neck. Do the chin and jaw line. Work around to her nape, and back around to her cheeks and her mouth. Refine your work to do her lips. Remember her nose. Was it cute, large, crooked? Form the nostrils. Then her eyes. Remember the color. Add her brows and any make-up. Add her forehead and then her hair. Short or long, however you liked it or whatever way or color she would do it.
“Now step back. Is there anything else that’s needed? What about clothes? Jewels? Make-up. A scar? Take a moment to appreciate her and your work.

“Now go behind her and find a special zipper, for this is just her vehicle, like a dress. Unzip her and step inside her body. Slip into the legs, the arms, then put your head in hers like a hat. How does it feel in her body? Is she light or heavy? Does she have any pain? Go ahead and move about like her. Get the feel of her.”
There was a longer pause as the neophytes moved about.
“Good. Answer these questions aloud as from Mom. Do whatever you need or feel she would. Go ahead and act it out.”
After each question there were long pauses in which the neophytes responded from quiet whispers to loud rants, screaming, weeping, realizations and insights.
“How does your mom feel about her body?

"How does she feel about being a woman?

"How does she feel about food?

"How does she feel about health?

"What does she think about money?

"What are her feelings about friends and peers?

“Remember to stay in her body.”
IAM asked a long list of questions.
"How does she feel about sex?
"How does she feel about love?
"How does she feel about her mother?
"How does she feel about her father?
"How does she feel about your father?

"Keep in your gut!

"How did she feel when she found out she was pregnant?
"Was she glad, sad, scared or angry?
"How was it giving birth to you?
"How did she feel when she first saw you?
"Did she breast-feed you?
"What was her experience of you as a baby?
"How was she when you walked, and talked?
"What did she tell you?
"What did she tell you about the world?
"What did she tell you about your father? About men? About friends?
"What did she tell you about food? About work? About money?
"Did she talk about god? About love?
"Are there questions that you want to know? Ask her?”

Tissues scattered the floor. Dropped by neophytes who now glowed in
happiness and delight. IAM paused as calmness swept the group.

“Now thank her. Tell her you love her.”
More tissues were distributed.
Then one voice screamed, “I hate you bitch.”

The neophytes gulped as one. “Reach behind your sculptor, unzip and climb out,” IAM said.

“Find the shovel and begin digging her grave. When you are done, lower mom into the grave.

You may read her eulogy, say a prayer, or goodbye

Ancestor Freedom Process

Sunday around noon, IAM came forward and took the stage. “It’s time for the most powerful process of AWE.”
The room had been cleared of chairs. The neophytes sat or lay on the floor.

“Many of you have spent lifetimes of working and searching to get to this
process.


“Stand up and spread out around the room, at least an arms length apart. There will be assistants to help you with anything you need. Let’s go over the hand signals.”
The neophytes waved one hand for a Kleenex, did the fist for support, and waved both arms for a wastebasket if they felt sick.

“We ask you to keep your eyes closed. Stay in your own space. Stay in your gut. We’re going for feelings. Trust yourself and answer the questions outloud. Any questions?”There was a hush. Alan started to ask something, changed his mind and handed his glasses to an assistant.

Sensations

“We have a special gift for you.” IAM said.
It was Saturday night, past midnight.

So many egos had died, the room smelled like gym socks.
“Find your special place on the floor. Give yourself at least a foot between each other, and make a large circle.”
The room was empty of chairs. The assistants were gone, only MA and IAM were in the room. The group sat cross-legged on the floor in an oval.

“To fully receive this gift you will need to keep your eyes closed, stay silent and receive the gifts given.”
The group took a collective breath and a sigh.

For Art the darkness deepened as he let go with each breath. Finer and finer his consciousness let go. A moment of total silence occurred at the top of his breath then passed out his nostrils. The sound of running or falling water drew everyone’s attention to the center of the room.

“Place your hands, palms up in front of your and an angel will wash your hands.”
A warm soft cloth, held by gentle hand, caressed and washed each palm.
The smell of dead ego’s were replaced with sweet jasmine, lavender and vanilla.
A childlike voice began amongst the sound of water, “Welcome to your body. Doesn’t it feel good? It’s great to be alive and smell, and touch, and hear my voice.”
Patchouli, frankincense and sandalwood were wafted toward the neophytes. The resonate sound of wind chimes and a Tibetan bell rang. The sound of rushing water continued.
“A group of angels are here to serve you treats. Put out one hand.”
Bit sized pieces of fruit were individually handed to each neophyte.
“Touch your gift. Smell it. Place it on your tongue and roll it in your mouth. It’s so wonderful to taste.”
A grape, strawberry, raisin, a slice of peach, a chocolate kiss were given to each neophyte. The ten assistants moved in silence, and with utmost care serving the treats and sensations till the group was alit with perma grin.
The voice was an induction toward innocence and appreciation. “Life is so exciting. Everything tastes and feels wonderful.”
When each neophyte had sated his sensors, an angel again washed and caressed their hands and placed them in a gesture of prayer. Then in voices tuned to the magic of the evening, whispered three magic words in their ear.

The room was lit with candles and a guitar began to strum as the voice sang, “It’s in every one of us, to be free. Find your heart. Open both your eyes. We can all have everything without ever knowing why.”
The angels sat with the neophytes, joined hands and joined in song.

The group swayed as perma grin and tears of joy filled the room.

“MA has a quick story for you tonight. Then be back early for a busy day tomorrow.” IAM said.
“Once upon a time, not so long ago, there lived a two frogs. A boy frog and a girl frog. They lived in a small pond and enjoyed sitting atop lily pads and croaking where the tasty bugs were, taking invigorating swims, and resting. One day from out the sky there fell a large golden ball. It landed in the pond, creating a large wave that knocked them off their lily pads. “Something has changed,” they said to each other. “We must go out past our own pond and tell the other frogs.” “Good night and thank you for your work.”

Orchestra Pit

“How was dinner?” IAM said. “Any miracles?”
Everything had become miraculous.
“I’ve never ordered what I want for dinner,” Ruth said, “That’s a miracle for me.”

There were miracles at everyone’s dinners. Groups directed traffic on Broadway. Someone guided the planes onto the airport. Parking spaces appeared. Service was great.

Life was a great metaphor of transformation and realizations.

The neophytes had begun to write their own scrolls. Everyone shared the happy news.

They could create miracles…free the slaves, heal the lame, raise the dead, and most important clear and rewrite their own scrolls.

Hugs were everywhere. Fists of support were raised.

Everyone shared gushing praises of clean scrolls, guru lessons and, it was as Karla said, “ a love fest.”
It was Karla who changed the energy saying, “I’m leaving.”
“Karla, what are you leaving?” MA countered.
“This shit pisses me off.”
The temperatures cooled.

Some neophytes stood to speak, defend and save Karla, AWE, and the high.
Karla turned and headed for the door.
“Karla, do you want to keep your agreement and stay?’ Serenaded IAM, in a fashion that enthused Karla’s interest. “The next process will let that anger free.

“Everyone chooses his or her three favorite words. Use words that you have a charge on. Clear the chairs and half of you on each wall.”
Everyone did as told, even Karla. IAM asked everyone’s phrase. Karla first.
“I hate you.”
“Good. Next,” IAM went from one side to the other till everyone said their words.
“I hate this.”
“I’m not rich.”
“Please help me.”
“I need you.”
“You did it.”
“I love you.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Please hold me.”
“Daddy don’t.”
“Listen to me.”
“I want more.”
“Life is great.”
“I love AWE.”
“Be here now.”
“Give me money.”
“I am innocent.”
“I love me.”
“It’s my choice.”
“I can dance.”
“Jesus loves me.”

With various bravado everyone said their words.

IAM spoke, “Now as the conductor of this orchestra you are my instruments. This is how it works. I will point to you and you will say your words. Easy?”
“Yes,” was the group response.
IAM pointed to Jules, “I love you.”

He pointed to Michael, “I hate this.” Like a conductor IAM used his wand.
“It’s my choice,” Brenda said
“I don’t know,” Alan said.
“Who are you?” Art said.
“I hate you,” Karla said.
IAM created a discordant cacophony of contradictions with one phrase against another.

Then he shifted into a higher gear adding discordant emotions. Pointing back to Jules, “With anger.”
Jules yelled, “I love you.” Then she giggled. IAM challenged Jules not to cheat herself of the experience of “I love you” in the different emotions of anger, sadness, jealousy, and enthusiasm.
IAM conducted everyone, adding forgiveness, rage, pity, doubt, fear, even lying to the orchestra.

It was destiny for Karla, a martial arts master, to be asked to play “I hate you,” with fear. She exploded in an attack toward IAM.

She was strong and fast and at IAM in a flash!

But IAM was faster, melting like water, he rolled her to the floor in her own motion, tossing her glasses to MA leaping across the room. MA rolled to the side of the room and into a cross legged meditation posture, with glasses in her lap. It was as if the scene was scripted by the World Wrestling Federation. IAM landed atop Karla, and with compassion, continued the exercise, “With love.”
“I hate you!” Karla screamed.
“With love.” IAM repeated.
“I hate you.” Karla said in a new tone, like an armored entity of evil had left Karla’s body.
“With anger.” IAM said.
“I hate you.” Karla complied.
“With pity.” IAM said.
“I hate you.” Karla spoke soft.
Art felt compassion from Karla.
“With joy.”
“I hate you.” Karla replied with joy that broke through the room in a wave of fists of support.
IAM lifted Karla to her feet and they hugged.
Hands went up for tissue. Karla took her place along the wall.
“With compassion.” IAM resumed.
“I hate you.” Karla said in a tone that brought more tears to the neophytes.The neophyte’s shock transformed to amazement. IAM and MA had gone beyond gurus.

They were superheroes.

THe Dating Game & Guru Lessons

When all the participants had left the room the door was locked from the inside. When the door was opened the chairs and stage were gone.
“Come in and sit against the far wall,” MA said.
“AWE is about giving you an opportunity not only to look into your past but, to experience significant new moments. It’s Saturday afternoon. Some of you may already know what is coming. It’s time to get ready for Saturday night and you need a date.”
The music played the theme to The Dating Game TV show. Jules and Joe appeared excited. Ruth and Karla sat in silence. Art sat up straighter. Brenda retied her long hair. There were sounds of distraction and discomfort.
“I can see some of you have experienced this game before. Who here is good at this game?”
Jules, Joe, Art and few others raised their hands.
“Who is not good?”
Everyone else raised his or her hands.
“Are you all willing to participate?”
There was no reply. Even the eager ones were reluctant to get excited about a date.
“Since no one objects, here are the rules. You’ll be in a large circle. Our lovely assistants will lead two of you into the center and you will have thirty seconds to choose a date. You choose by walking over and standing in front of someone giving them your most provocative and attractive look. The person can either nod yes. If so, then take person’s hand. If that nod is a no, you’re back to cruising.
“Now, there are options. Some of you may be home wreckers and ask someone who is already attached. You may choose someone for attraction, or because you would normally avoid that person, or that person may remind you of someone out there in life. Try not to choose someone you may already be familiar with. Any questions?”
“What if no one chooses me?” Ruth said.
“Everyone gets a partner. You can choose the person in the circle who is also selecting. If there are only two people left, that is the choice. No talking. Let’s begin.”
The theme from The Entertainers played, and the game began. It was a fun game. Even the rejections seemed full of life. There were attempts at triads, some were told to stop talking, others never said no, some were very picky. The heaviness at the end of the dyad was now replaced with a hand holding partner.

After everyone had a date, who became their new dyad partner. IAM began asking questions.
“What was your experience?
“Did you really go for what you want?
“Did you feel rejected?
“Were you happy with your choice?
“Did you compare your partner with someone else’s?
“How would you do it different if you could?”
The responses varied.
“I was scared.”
“I don’t go for what I want.”
“I felt terrible saying no.”
“I’m happy with my selection.”
“This was just like high school. I never dated. Wait, this is better than school, I got a date.”
“I enjoyed this. I never felt rejected. I just felt like my first partner made another choice. I wasn’t bad. This is hard to explain but it felt different knowing it was just another choice.”
“Bingo. That is one of the big wins in the Dating Game. No one is really ever rejected. There are other choices. Do you feel the difference?”
Everyone raised a fist in support.

“Before dinner break I want to share with you how to be a Guru. It’s really quite simple. You pass through the door of opportunity and take credit for whatever is happening in the room or arena.

"For example, you step out into a cloudy day, and as it begins to rain you announce, in your most significant and expressive manner, ‘Rain fall down,’ and you point to the sky and lead the rain to the ground. Like so.”

IAM pointed to the sky and down to the ground with a flourish. “Repeat two of three times so all disciples get the message. Go to the beach and watch the breakers roll onto the beach and sense the rhythm, and as the wave comes ashore signal the waves in and out.
“Tonight when you go out to dinner I want you to use this lesson to direct traffic. Stand beside the road, safely off to the side, face traffic, and as they come in your direction point them ahead, like a traffic cop, smiling and taking full credit as the traffic guru. You can do this with a washing machine. Spin this way, and when the cycle reverses, you reverse your power too, with, now spin that way. Have fun.”

The Four Questions

“Lets see what’s on your scrolls. MA will write four questions on the flip chart. The row on my left will be A, and they will ask the first question, then sit quietly and support B, your partner, to feel an answer. Steve and Vicki, come up front for a demonstration.”

MA wrote:
What are you experiencing?
What do you want?
What to you expect?
What are you resisting?

“Steve, you’re B. Are you aware of your life scrolls?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good. Take a moment to remember what you saw on your scrolls and then answer the questions.”
Vicki, who was A, asked Steve, “What are you experiencing?”
“I am in the room. In my body.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to do this exercise right.”
“What do you expect?”
“I expect to fumble around and eventually get it right.”
“What are you resisting?”
“I am resisting my scroll about being right.”
“What are you experiencing?” “My throat is tight. I have to cough. My mind is trying to come up with cute answers. I feel vulnerable.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to get off this position. I want to have no fear. I want to be right.”
“What do you expect?” “That I will be stupid and wrong. That I’ll screw up and it’ll be a great demonstration. Ah, this is not my scroll. It’s my mom’s. She’s telling me I have to be right if I want to be anything.”
“What are you resisting?”
“Taking chances. I’ve had the same job for five years, and I really should be working and producing AWE full-time.”
“What are you experiencing?”
“An insight. I am happier than when we started this. I know what I want to do.”

IAM stepped to the front of the stage. “Not everyone will have such a quick insight. All of you will begin to read your own scroll and discriminate between your script and those written by others. Notice how Vicki just asked the questions, and Steve did not make excuses, give reasons or justify his experiences. Very good. Thank you both.

“Neophyte A will begin. You have five minutes. Do we have a bell?”
The bell sounded.
“Begin.”

Dyads in AWE are opportunities for catharsis, courage, truth telling, discomfort, vulnerability, humor, embarrassment, upset, tears, insights, new choices, falling in love, wanting to leave, and blame. Moments when anything is possible and dreams, are recovered.

Art went for self-love. He expected to get self-love, but was he resisted loving all of himself. One of his scrolls said he must love himself before others could love him. He found another scroll that read he couldn’t love himself until he was totally conscious. He found his desire to experience loving himself greater than his resistance to not loving himself.

Art shared, “I feel that the more I am present to my resistance to not loving myself, the more present I was to loving myself.”

IAM seemed very excited about Art’s sharing. “One of the truths of existence is that nothing can exist in two places at the same time. So if you own your resistance, it disappears and is replaced by what you want. You must, however, own the resistance completely and have a desire.”
Others shared about doing this type of work before.

Some commented that this one exercise was better than years of therapy.

“It’s me. I did all of my life to me. It’s the first time I feel I am not a victim,” Brenda said.
“I don’t think I got as far as some did. It seemed there were layers of prefaces, warnings, dangers and excuses why I couldn’t get at my scrolls. But now I know they are there and that I can, like Brenda said, stop feeling sorry for myself and read the scrolls.” Michael heaved a loud sigh and sat back down.

“I have scrolls that say I can’t do things.” Karla said.
“Who wrote those scrolls, Karla?” IAM directed his attention to her, now.
“It doesn’t matter. They say I can’t feel, and I can’t.”
“Who says?”
“I say,” Karla spoke with a defiant tone.“Okay, let’s take a break. Ten minutes ‘til tingle.”

Dyads, We all need a Buddi.

The chairs were in two rows facing each other. Art sat across from Liza, a chiropractor from NYC.
“This is your truth partner. You are going to chose a memory and tell the truth about that memory. You can choose bold memories from your scroll, or hazy recollections. Steve and Vicki will demonstrate on stage,” MA said.

Vicki began, “I remember when I was six, before first grade, I had a blonde doll I loved and mom wouldn’t let me take it to school.”
“How did that feel?” Steve said.
“I felt cheated. Dolly was my friend. I didn’t know anyone at school and it was scary. I stayed by myself and sat as far in the back as possible.”
“How did that feel?”
“Sad. I missed stuff. Stuff the teacher said. And I missed some fun.”

“How did that feel?”
“That felt like an excuse not to learn. To play stupid. To get bad grades. To be depressed.”
“How did that feel?”
“It felt like a role in a play. I just made up those limits.”
“How did that feel?”
“That feels like I want to tell my mom. Not a big thing. Just to let her know that I had those feelings.”
“What is important about that?”
“How I feel about me. It’s not Dolly. She is still here on my scrolls. Nothing is missing. I do have it all with me, and now I choose to sit in the back. And I do have fun and lots of friends. And I do learn.”
“Thank you,” MA said.

“The row on my left is A, sitting across from the B’s. A will tell a memory. B asks how you feel about that memory. B will ask the same question. Repeat the question until A releases the emotion.”
“How will we know?” Michael said.
“Something will happen. You’ll sense a truth rush, emotions, insights or feelings of well being.”

MA caught IAM’s eye, and gave the impression of pondering an idea.
“IAM, let’s do an aura cleaning first.”
“It’s time to get Hokey. Steve, is the slide projector ready?
The assistants nodded.

“Clyde, hit the lights and turn on the projector.”
“These are pictures of a human hand shot by a Kirlian camera. The camera can photograph energy being emitted, like the way PGE can take pictures of your roof to see if your home is leaking energy.”
“The PGE camera shows heat,” analytical Alan said.
“Yes, what is heat?”
“Energy,” Chuck said.
“Turn the lights back on. Everyone put your hands about two inches apart.
Can you feel the energy? Now rub your hands together. Now, place them apart. Can you feel the energy now?”
There were strange noises of realization from everyone. Some people’s hands moved back forth as if playing an accordion. Some looked as if they were holding energy balls.

“Those of you holding energy balls juggle, them or play catch with each other.”
The noise changed to the sound of children playing. High lobs, burning fastballs, diving catches, behind the back passes, a touchdown, a slam-dunk and a gentle roll across the floor to someone. It was a gentle game with a major revelation. There is energy coming off our body. Energy can be created. Others can feel this energy.

“Have a seat. Lights off, Clyde. Here is a photo of a plant that has just been watered.”
A flower, petals defined, had sparks of colors emanating from it. The slide changed to one with a very dark aura.
“What do think is happening here?”
“Something is blocking the flowers energy,” Alan said.
“Yes. What do you think that is?”
“Someone is about to snip the plant?”
“It’s hearing loud music,” Evelyn said.
“Close,” IAM said. “Actually, the flower is being yelled at. It’s an experiment to see if plants respond to sound. It’s from Peter Tompkins book, The Secret Life of Flowers. Next slide.”
A hand with energy streaming from it, similar to the flower, appeared.
“Next.”
Another picture of the same hand with very little energy streaming appeared.
“What’s happening here?”
“Yelling again?”
“Stress or tension?” “Yes,” IAM said. “What kind of stress?”
“Is the person thinking negative thoughts?” Ruth said.
“Bingo. This is the affect on a person who is thinking ‘I don’t know’. Not negativity but doubt or uncertainty.”
“So, are you saying we can control our aura?” Ruth spoke again.
“Well, let’s test it and find out. Ruth, come up here and I’ll clean your aura.”
“This is not like cleaning someone’s clock,” Joe questioned.
“Ruth, set your glasses down and come on up.”
Ruth walked up as IAM began rubbing his hands together, then shaking and flipping them as if they were wet. Ruth faced IAM and closed her eyes as IAM smoothed the space above Ruth’s head with his hands, then down her sides. He emitted strange gurgling and whooshing, sounds, like those heard in old science fiction movies. He continued to smooth or polish Ruth’s front, sides and backside. His hands vibrated like those of a Pentecostal minister at a revival meeting, healing and chasing away demons. IAM made strange pulling sounds, ‘plurps’ and ‘pops’ as he ‘removed the gunk’ from her charkas or energy centers. From the survival center up to the heart, throat, third eye then to the crown center, IAM cleaned Ruth’s aura.

“I’m cleaning her sex center, opening her heart, freeing her speech and opening the tube to the Hoover in the sky.”

He rubbed his hands as he fluffed her.

“Now a little ‘Scotchbrite’ to keep the luster.”

IAM made the sounds of a spray can as he sprayed Ruth from her feet to her crown.
There was a pause, then Ruth opened her eyes with a,

“Wow! I’ve never felt anything like that. It’s amazing. I feel so clean.”
Everyone roared with laughter.
“Now you and your truth partner spread throughout the room and cleanse,” MA said.
The sounds in the room were like a huge wave crashing on rocks with the ensuing quiet as the wave dissipated and the next wave contained every swishing, whizzing, pssting, zooming, woomming sound imaginable. Some participants faces lit up. Some became spacey, hokey, even revelatory.

“When you’re complete, take your seat in the rows. We have time for
some short sharing.” MA said.
Analytical Alan raised his hand, “I felt something…something out of my
body. Has anyone done research on this phenomena?”
“Alan, get back in your body and have the experience,” IAM said.

“I liked giving more than receiving,” Brenda said.
MA said, “Might that be a pattern? You may find other examples on your scrolls.”
“Do you all feel in your bodies?” IAM said.There was a sea of fists from participants.

The Scrolls

Art used hand signals to bum a cigarette from Antonio.

The seven-meals-a- day-granola-snackers passed around fruit and nuts.

Art found another fire exit balcony to be alone and smoke. He felt very stirred up and alive. No one had made a harsh judgment, except himself. He put out the judgments he had with neutrality. “This is just the way it is,” he told himself. “I said it, and I’m off it. All my beliefs were just made up.” He felt excited. As IAM said, “Judgments beat boredom.”

The bell rang. The participants, not assistants, found those who were still in bathrooms, making sure no one was late. The neophytes were becoming a team of anxious helpers.

“Welcome back. We have five minutes for sharing,” MA said. IAM was not in the room.
Karla, the shit disturber, who wanted the love fest to cease, had been blasted in judgments. She stood, eyes downcast. “I’m happier now. It feels like people are more real.” She dropped into her seat.
MA spoke in a voice aimed at Karla’s solar plexus, “Who’s more real, Karla?”
“Everyone is.”
“Karla, stand and tell me from your gut.”
MA walked over to stand in front of Karla. “Karla look at me.”
Karla took off her glasses and made eye contact with MA. Her eyes were moist.

A spark, a zap, some type of connection happened. Aura’s merged or the tentacle fibers of feelings fused with a healing.
“I am more real,” Karla said.
Everyone applauded. Karla and MA hugged.

MA returned to the stage. “Put down anything on your lap. Assume a comfortable relaxed position, and let’s take a trip.

“Take a deep breath from below your solar plexus. Let it out slow. Relax, sit comfortable, feet flat on the floor. Now take another low, deep breath and let it out slow. Close your eyes. Imagine a tall building in front of you. The doors automatically open and you walk into the lobby. The elevator is straight ahead. Press the down button as you breath low and slow. The doors open with the sound of a bell and you walk in. Push the down button. You begin to descend. Everything becomes quieter and you become more and more relaxed. You’re going down past one then two then floor three. You go down deeper and deeper within, past four, five and six. Each floor is more relaxed more calm. The stillness encompasses you. Down to seven, eight, nine. At ten you stop. Wholly relaxed and completely still, your mind is totally at ease. The door opens and you walk into the storage area of your scrolls. Down here are the catacombs of your existence. Everything that has ever happened to you is waiting for you to take a look.
“Find your scrolls. All the events of your life are stored here. Gather everything you want to study and go back into the elevator. Press the up button. The elevator rises slowly from ten, nine, eight. You are becoming more alert. You are still and relaxed but becoming more aware as you pass seven, six, five, it’s four you. It’s freeing going up. Two, one and then the bell rings and you walk out with your scrolls. Your eyes are open as you walk out of the elevator and back into your seat in the room.”

MA’s voice was slow, controlled and hypnotic. Her words encouraged the trance state. Breath, relax, slow, low, down, within, further, still, all helped induce the neophytes to look for the material needed for the work with ease. Their pictures and memories of life were now at hand.

IAM was now on stage with MA. “What kind of an experience was that?”

“I found file cabinets in my basement,” Art said.

Susan, the attractive waitress from the Jazz D’Opus Café said, “There was a guard
in front of my scrolls. He handed them to me and whispered, “Be gentle.”

“My basement was a mess. There was shit everywhere. Dirt, dust, a bike, my report cards, army uniform, my kid’s crib.” Joe said, “They’re all kinds of other people’s stuff. Stuff they expect me to do.”

Evelyn said, “I fell asleep.”
“Evelyn, just trust that while you were asleep you still gathered the scrolls.” MA smiled at her. “They are there, always with you.”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember as well as I used to. It’s my age.”
“We’ve had people remember things from age one, even in the womb, and before they were born,” IAM added.

“I liked the experience. It was very still. I didn’t have a lot of judgments.” Michael spoke up.

“My scrolls had feelings attached to them. Some I liked. Others were, gunky.” Jules followed Michael with her share. “They felt sticky, like I couldn’t let go of them.”

“Did everyone collect some scrolls?”

Every hand went up, even Evelyn’s. “Take a ten minute break and when you come back, the chairs will be set in dyads. Sit across from someone you don’t know or haven’t worked with.

The Last Judgment

“The quickest, most elegant way of finding the stillness is to let go of your judgments about others and yourself. This exercise will help do that. It’s like the introduction process, only you play from your seats.

“MA will you demonstrate?” IAM said. MA nodded.
IAM gave instructions. “Each of you will come up on stage. You get one minute to speak the main voice and any and all auxiliary voices that block the stillness. After one minute you will here a sound.” IAM pointed to the supervisors.
A bell sounded from the back table.

“Then you will finish that thought. Any neophytes who have a judgment about you or your sharing will stand. Any questions?”

“I don’t get it. How is this going to quiet my mind?” Alan said, one of the few who had not been to the Doctor’s classes. “I’ve been meditating for twenty years and five seconds of silence is amazing. I can’t see how this will do anything except make a lot more noise. This is a very simple minded attempt at something people work at their whole lives.”
“Thank you for sharing,” IAM said. “Anyone else?”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.” Shelly, the quiet girl from the Canby farm, said. “I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing and people’ll hate me.”
“Shelly, who’s responsible for your feelings?” MA said.
“I am.”

The neophytes raised a collective fist in approval.

“We’re ready. We’ll start in the back and work row by row.”
“I’ll demo,” Ma said. “I have a voice that says I’m doing the devils work. A voice that says I should be teaching Sunday school and getting my life together with Jesus. “A voice that says I shouldn’t have friends that are gay. Another voice that tells me to go back to teaching social studies. I’m a klutz. Why bother to dance or exercise?
“I have a voice that says I’m better than you and one in duet that says I’m less than you. A voice that says there is not enough money and that I’ll always be poor. Sometimes I know AWE will never make enough to pay my bills, much less get what I want, and I don’t know what I want and even if I did, I couldn’t do anything about it cause I have those two kids and a womanizing husband.
“Voices that say AWE is the best thing going and we are making a difference, and this is the work the Lord put me here to do.
“Voices that say PA is the most lovable man in the world and that IAM is a blessing and that my clothes fit good and my teeth are crooked and I don’t know what to do with my hair.
“I got voices from rock n roll, TV shows, movies, and a jingle that says, ‘See the USA in a Chevrolet’.
“What are we suppose to do? What did we do? What we are going to do next.
"This isn’t working. Ah, shit. I got voices that got something to say about everyone and everything.”
The bell sounded and there was a moment of silence.

“Now those with judgments about MA or anything she said stand,” IAM said.
About ten people rose from their seats.
“MA will call on you. Say, I judge you for whatever the judgment is. Then MA will say, “Thank you I can use that.” Put those judgments out there so the Hoover in the sky can get rid of them.” IAM said.

Everyone’s judgments about each other unfolded all the fears, angers, doubt and sorrows that IAM call the FADS.

“Our judgments are keeping us from our stillness,” Joe said.
“I see everyone as a trainer. The collective unconsciousness holds us back, and let us go at the same time. We are wise fools. We believe what we judged. We judged others not from our being, but from our judgments. Judgments judging judgments.

We were miles from a direct experience of our self or others.” Shelly spoke encompassing the group mind.

In the back of the room, an assistant wrote the judgments on a flip chart. After all forty neophytes finished, the air was thick with judgments. But everyone seemed lighter.Then IAM said, “We’re going to take a ten minute silent break.”

The Oracle of Delphi & Daedalus

The bell rang calling the participants back into the room. MA was alone on stage. She seemed to be waiting a signal from the back table.

“We have special ancient trainers. From Delphi, the Oracle. And from Crete, Daedalus, the architect of the labyrinth of Minos.”
The room exploded in laughter as in walked Doctor B. and Doctor K., the producers and main enrollers of the Portland AWE. The two men were dressed as the ancient sages.
Doctor B. wore a long, black woman’s wig, a white short tunic and sandals. We could see the skinny Jewish doctor’s cleavage and erect nipples under the gossamer tunic. His beard, mustache and legs were shaved. As the Oracle, he carried scrolls and wore a crystal pendant.
Following him was Doctor K. His hair had been colored gray and styled to look like the busts of Caesar. He wore a toga, Birkenstocks, and carried a staff and scrolls as Daedalus.
Everyone knew the doctors. Doctor B’s mother and wife were participants. Doctor K’s ex-wife was a participant as were a half dozen of his girl friends. At least thirty Neophytes had taken the doctors classes or were their patients.


“Thank you for giving us a purpose to incarnate and be here now,” said Daedalus.
The Oracle took a posture with legs spread and eyes closed. His hands and head were upturned as if receiving something.


“I am Daedalus. I am here to reveal the ancient truths that IAM and MA wish unveiled. They deem you are ready to know who you are.”
The Oracle began to shake and shimmy. His hands came together in a gesture, like a charade for a book. The Oracle’s eyes opened and focused on the back of the room. “Know thy self!” His eyes closed as he moved hands back to the open, receiving position.
Everyone in the room waited for Doctor K to handle the straight line as Daedalus, but he stayed in character. He unrolled a scroll, and then he said, “Human beings are given all the abilities of the divine. Each one is blessed with sensors, feeler, perceivers, and communicators. All of us may know things without ever knowing how we know. The ancient scrolls are all within you.”
The Oracle quivered before shouting, “Be still.”


“The Oracle speaks only the truth. She channels the teachings and does not beat around the bush. She communicates what it is, but is short of the how-to’s.


“Being still is like our friend Diogenes, searching for an honest man. How can we find someone who is still, when we only see and look for actions? We must first find what is inside us, instead of looking for stillness. What are our voices? What do they say? What do we believe about the voices?”
The Oracle’s shimmying began again, looking like something from a Grateful Dead concert. His arms went overhead and shook for almost a minute. Then the Oracle took a deep breath and assumed a relaxed posture. His eyes moved around the room, looking with a soft knowingness at many neophytes.
Daedalus unfurled a scroll and turned it toward the audience. The scroll was blank. He said, “It’s time to fill in your scroll. It’s time to remember. To recall the events of your life and what you created. It is you who have created this life. Today with IAM and MA and all the neophytes in the room, you are given permission to tell the truth about those voices that block the stillness.”
Then Daedalus took the Oracle’s arm and led him Oracle out of the room.
Everyone applauded as IAM and MA resumed their places on stage.“They’ll be back later,” said IAM.

The Art of Hugging

“I think it’s a good time to learn hugs,” MA segued. She motioned to Vicki and Steve, to come up on stage.
MA and Steve hugged. Vicki and IAM hugged.
“Hugging is not groping,” MA said as she grabbed Steve’s ass.
“It’s not a plumbing check,” IAM said as he thrust his pelvis into Vicki.
“We have some different versions of hugs,” MA said.
They demonstrated the plumbing fear, side-to-side hug. The bear hug, which is a wrestlers hold leaving someone short of breath. The mixed message hug, which may include plumbing to plumbing, a tango dip, a tongue and a phone number.
“Here is our newest hug, the AWE aura hug.” IAM’s hand began to vibrate like a Pentecostal Minister. MA closed her eyes. “You caress the energy fields around the body.” He made an oscillating whooshing sound. “Add sound.” His vibrating hands outlined MA front, sides and back. Then, he clapped his hands at hug disengagement. “Her auras clean.” “You now have five minutes to hug as many people as you can.”
This was what everyone in the room wanted and needed.
Jules used IAM’s five words, “I find you sexually attractive,” on every one she hugged.
Ruth later said she wouldn’t mind hugging naked.
Art hugged MA, IAM, Steve, Vicki and Teresa, whom he decided he wouldn’t avoid, and his buddy Joe, who tried to slip him a tongue.
“Take a ten minute break. We have some guests coming,” Steve, the room supervisor, said.

Saturday Morning & No Cartoons

Saturday Morning
There were two late arrivals Saturday morning, and one who confessed to an aspirin.
“What do you remember from last night?” MA said.
Many more hands rose this morning. Art shared that he realized he made a choice that people liked him. He told his fishing story.

"When I was six years old my family lived in Hood River, Oregon. This was the summer before I started first grade. It was a most eventful summer. I learned about Indian giving, baseball, what happens to stray dogs, television, friends and a lesson in fishing that became a story I’ve told thishundreds of times.
"It was a hot dry day. As I walked to the irrigation pond to practice fishing the sound of crackling pine needles accentuated each step. I was going to fish, or actually practice fishing, for this body of water was an irrigation pond. I knew fish did not live in here, but my sense of fishing was tie on a hook, or have someone else do it, stick on a worm , cast and wait., I loved to cast, but waiting was the hard part. I was sitting very zen-like when Andy an older neighborhood kid showed up. He looked like Alfalfa from the Our Gang series, with red hair and a spiked cow-lick. He was wearing blue coveralls and he was barefoot.
“Hey whatcha doin?” He asked.
“Fishin.” I said.
“Well come here, I’ve got something to tell ya. It’s a secret.”
"I started to pull out my line when he said. "
“No leave that there. Hurry.”
He led me behind a barn away from where I could see the pond or my line.
Something felt fishy as I listened.
“Uh, have you seen that new science fiction show on TV? It’s so neat.”
“Yea.” I said with great enthusiasm. “I love it.”
“Well don’t tell anyone about it, OK?”
The fishiness had now become a school of confused fish.
He turned and walked back to the pond and two other older kids and one younger kid. Joe, Billy and young Bobby.
“Don’tcha think you should reel in your line,” one of them said.
"I don’t ever remember kids paying that much attention to me, but with a bit of embarrassment I reeled. There was a fish on. I felt it as I reeled in.
"I had a fish on. A six incher. I think I beamed a very broad smile. And, I knew, the kids had put the fish on the hook.
"I they liked me. They wanted me to catch a fish. It was a gift. It wasn’t a trick, but it was. They may have been fishing for my soul, because that is what I caught that day. My conscience was fed then. I knew people liked me. I wasn’t too sure up to that point."

Others shared:

“I realized I couldn’t lie when looking in someone’s eyes,” Michael said.
“Unless I ask, how can I get what I want?” Brenda, a washed-out mom, said.
“There’s a giant vacuum in the sky that wants to suck up all our negativity and limiting beliefs. I have a lot in need of sucking.” Winnie said in one of her shortest sharings. *
“MA told a good night story about the Golden Ball that showed up in my dream. I was small and excited about starting school. I knew there was something wonderful that I was going to learn. I had a ball I was going to take it to school so we all could play.
“IAM, you were in my dream as a kid. I knew it was you because you dressed the same in those large collared shirts. I put the ball under my arm and was going to take it to school. My dad said, ‘You can’t take the ball. There are kids who don’t have a ball and you don’t want to be different.’ Chuck, a myopic overweight thirty year old seemed to sleep at times in the room. But now tears seem to form on his cheeks as others raised a hand for a tissue. “I was crushed. I never felt special.”
IAM walked to Chuck’s side of the room, and gave Chuck a deep and reverent look.
“Chuck, today you can recreate your self and get back the Golden Ball.” “You’ll probably even find a bunch of other kids to play with.” MA said.
Ruth, a chiropractor who looked older than her years, spoke sounding like a nervous Auntie Em. Ruth looked like Art’s Nana.
“IAM, if all there is, is love, how are we going to keep from getting diseases? I mean, all this love means we will all sleep together and what’ll stop the sexually transmitted diseases?”
The Neophyte’s attention grew. The room changed from Chuck’s sadness to keen interest.
“What belief would someone have to have to think we’d all have sex with each other?” MA said.
Joe, the carpenter, raised his hand. “I don’t want to sleep with everyone. Just some of the women.”
The almost everyone in the room laughed.

Art sensed the room as an entity, it grew hot and cold as a barometer of feelings. The room held its own identity, a synergy of feelings everyone especially the trainers from years of experience, could read.
Jules, an earth momma, whom Art knew had slept with most of the men and some of the women said, “Ruth do you want to have sex with everyone?”
“Uh, yes, I guess I do.” Ruth spoke in a voice we’d never heard before.
The room focused on IAM.
“Now, you want the truth about sex.” IAM paused as the room’s attention trained at him.
“Well, the truth is everyone does it, did it, will do it. We all do it different, or similar. It’s not a competition, it’s fun. The truth part about sex is to get on or off it. If I’m attracted to someone I say it. ‘I’m sexually attracted to you’, and offer it up to the Hoover in the sky. Sex is not about obsessing and AWE is not about getting laid. Sex has chemistry and not everyone’s chemistry matches.”
Ruth sat down with a newfound grin.

The Golden Ball

Art found a private balcony. He smoked in great deep full breaths and stared into the night toward the Memorial Coliseum.

“Can I have a hit of that?”

It was Teresa.
“Sure.”
“I don’t smoke cigarettes,” Teresa said.
“Neither do I.”

The one-minute bell rang. Everyone headed for the door.
The chairs were gone and everyone sat on the carpeted floor facing MA, who sat on the edge of the stage.

MA told the fairy tale of the Golden Ball and then a strange story.

“We have studied some material from Doctor Gregory Bates, a biologist, on the habits of frogs. The Doctor built a frog pond and invited many frogs to live on his lily pads amongst reeds and grasses. The frogs liked the artificial pond and did fine. Dr Bates wondered what would happen if when winter came he heated the water. He was in Illinois. So he applied a heating coil and warmed the water to keep it from freezing. Usually frogs hibernate, but by heating the water, the frogs flourished doing froggy things all winter. One day the doctor went to work at his lab and left the heating coil on. The water got warmer and warmer ‘til it almost boiled. What do you think happened?”
“The frogs jumped out.”
“Everyone agree? Anyone think any different?” MA said.
“No.”
“Well, when the Doctor came home, the frogs were still in the pond. None of the frogs jumped out. Because he feared killing his frogs, Doctor Bates wanted the frogs out in a hurry, so he grabbed a two by four and whacked the pond. All the frogs leapt out to safety.

“Go home now and have lucid dreams. See you back at eight am and we’ll continue our study of frogs,” MA said.

It's Your Life. We Only Serve What You Order.

MA spoke as IAM returned to the stage.

“In the universe of having what you want, you need to place your order. We have a skit to demonstrate.”

The assistants segued and set up a table and chair in café fashion on stage. They added a red-checkered tablecloth, a rose in vase, and a water glass.

IAM sat, and Vicki, an attractive female assistant in a short skirt, strutted to the table, smiling.
“Hi, I’m Vicki, your waitress. May I take your order, sir?”
“Hello.” IAM looked her over like she was on

the menu. “Yes, can I see a menu?”

“Yes, sir.” She handed him a sheet of paper where in large letters were printed,

“It’s Your Life Café. We only serve what you order. Order with care. What you ask for is what you get.”
“What’s this small print?”
“Oh, that’s our disclaimer. It says you also get what you resist. We don’t serve that, but that’s what most people get.”
“Well, I want more money?””How much money, sir?”
“I need enough to pay my bills and get a new car, a Jag. I want a trip,
new clothes and I want to pay the staff more.”
There was a roar from the table in the back of the room. Fists were
raised in support from the assistants.
“How much would that be sir?”
“One hundred thousand a year to start.”
Vicki wrote that down.
“Anything else, sir?””Yes, I’ll have three new friends, a room full of love and acceptance, some
challenges, lots of hugs, oh, and insights and realizations. And I’ll buy a round of self-love for everyone.”
“Will that be all?”“Yes. Let’s start with menus for everyone,” IAM said.

“Thank you Vicki.” She bowed and the assistants removed the table and passed menus to everyone.

Life Works Whe you Keep your Agreements

Art was in his seat ready to work as AWE began Friday night.

For some of the neophytes, being late was the first lesson to process. The door closed at seven o’clock. A large assistant stood guard at the door and asked the stragglers, “Did you make an agreement to be on time?”

"The traffic was bad.”
“My husband was late getting the kids.”
“Your clock is fast.”
“Hey, I’m late. Let me in.”

The guard kept asking the same question until the neophyte’s excuses stopped and answered, “Yes.”

Then he asked, “Who’s responsible for keeping your agreements?”

“I didn’t hear the bell.”
“Stop being weird.”
The guard continued until the participant said, “I am.”
“Are you willing to make a new agreement?”

For some people this was half their transformational experience. Showing up on time might allow their lives to work.

“Yes.” Each one relented and the guard let that person in the room.

The guard repeated the same question. This process was the dreaded “door” confrontations.
While the door confrontations continued, IAM and MA entered from the back in a flourish. IAM wore a blue blazer and open collared disco shirt. MA wore a turquoise silk dress. They beamed with excitement as they surveyed the room.

MA spoke first. “We have some people who are late. They are learning we have a procedure for broken agreements. Did anyone else break an agreement?”

There was silence.

“Did anyone smoke a joint or have a drink?”

Two people stood.

The elderly Jewish lady, Evelyn, blurted, “I always have a glass of sherry before going to bed. Been doing it for forty years. Helps me sleep. My husband, God rest his soul, started me on that the first year we were married. Now I am a widow. Been a widow for ten years. Harold was a dentist.”

There was laughter.

“Did you make an agreement to abstain from drinking until the experience was over?” MA said.
"Oh, yeah. I didn’t think it mattered. I’m so sorry. It’s not like I’m a drunk.”
“Evelyn, do you want to make a new agreement?”
"Yes. I can do that.”
“Let’s see what happens. You may have a new experience of Evelyn.” IAM said.
Others stood. A chiropractor took an aspirin for neck inflammation.

Michael took one hit on his bong.

Mary Ann, excited about the experience, told her roommate about a sharing and broke the confidentiality agreement.

The late people had to join those standing as MA asked them all to make new agreements. “We have time for sharing. What did you learn yesterday? Any insights or dreams?” IAM said.
The energy in the room changed.

The heaviness of broken agreements was replaced with the excitement of realizations.

The group remembered they were there to heal and transform their lives.

They remembered they were going to travel back to the ancient wise ones and gather tools to uncover their truths.

One person had a dream of opening a closet and finding a twin.

A haggard looking woman with three children said, “ At breakfast my teenage son said he loved me.”

The analytical ones restated that agreements make life work, the hand signals, the bedtime story, the introductions, the fish bowl story of how everyone is connected.

Karla stood. “This is shit.

"Not horseshit or good-for-you-bullshit, but you-can-kiss-my-ass-with-your-fantasy-of-love shit.” Karla, prim in creased jeans and glasses had said during introductions that her therapist made her attend. She didn’t look at anyone and stomped her foot. She took a fighting stance. She spoke soft and fast while shaking her head no.

IAM moved toward her. “Karla, what do you want?”

“I want this love fest to stop. I want an end to this airy-fairy dream shit. This door guarding is shit. People always break rules.”

“Karla, I hear what you don’t want. What do you want?” IAM moved off the stage to walk among the participants.

“I want my money’s worth. I want to get to work and experience my life.”

“So do I,” IAM said.

Karla sat down, her face flush, arms and legs crossed, looking to the side of the room

New Age Introductions

“It’s time to get to know everyone. We want each of you to come up on stage and introduce yourself. We want you to answer six questions.

"One, your name, if you forget, it’s on your nametag.

"Two, what you want to be called?

"Three, what you do to earn money?

"Four, how you got here?

"Five, what you want from AWE.

"And six, who in the room you would avoid? I’ll write the questions on the board,” MA said in a well timed segue.

“Now there are a couple of ways to do this. I’ll demonstrate how not too.”

IAM crossed his arms over his chest, stared at his feet and began fidgeting from side to side. He spoke in a hushed tone while holding his breath and speaking very fast.

“My name is IAM Talisman. Don’t call on me. I’m broke. A bus. Money and a girl friend.”

“IAM will you uncross your arms, look up and standstill,” said MA.

IAM exaggerated all MA’s commands. He became a robot staring toward the ceiling.

“Relax and breathe. Speak slower so we can understand you. And if you need help, the questions are on the board,” MA said.

IAM took a deep breath, shook his arms to his side and looked out over the participants, then at the questions on the board. “My name is IAM Talisman. Call me IAM. I’m a self-employed human potential trainer. Dr. B drove me here. I want everyone to get what he or she wrote down on the training application. I want to make three lifelong friends. And, I want more energy.” He looked around the room at all the faces, and then toward MA.

“IAM, who would you avoid?”

“I avoided the question. Let’s see?” He looked around the room again.

“In the back. I can’t see your nametag. Michael.”

So started 46 hours of a non-stop, everything-one-could-ever-ask for and things-no-one-realized-you-could-ask-for experience.

“My name is Art Deco. Call me Art. I sell pounds. By Toyota pick-up. I want to love myself. I’d avoid Teresa.”

Art thought he’d told the group he sold pot. It was his scariest truth. Only
IAM, MA and Art’s buddy Joe knew pounds of what. Art had laid it all on the line, and his ego died, the transformation began.

Art went home alone, shaking.