His belly hung over his belt and peeked out from beneath his t-shirt. Sitting in the shade, I watched him descend the winding trail in growing concern.
Debbie and I had left Phoenix the morning before, headed for the mountains to the north-east. We’d gotten a room in Peyson, on the edge of the Tanto National Forest, and spent the afternoon and evening exploring the region and the community.
It was at least twenty degrees cooler there, and during our visit never got above the low 90s. It even rained the first evening, catching us outside walking and drenching us with a cascade of huge drops. We took shelter, watched the lightning, and continued on when it had stopped.
The next day we drove northwest, up to the top of the Mogollon Rim, looking for a hiking trail. We stumbled across Tonto Natural Bridge State Park, which we’d heard about in Peyson, and decided to try that. 
The sign at the trail head warned that the trail was strenuous, undeveloped over most of its length, involved rock-hopping along the stream bed at the foot of the canyon, and should not be attempted by anyone with a medical condition. Although we are both in adequate physical shape, as noted in a previous blog (Leaping the Stream), I am not as experienced in rock hopping as I once was. Nevertheless, we decided to make the descent. We could always turn back if conditions were too difficult.
The scenery was wonderful, with two spectacular waterfalls – one from the mouths of travertine caves, and another from the top of a huge natural bridge over the stream. We managed the entire hike, with only one scrape, passing beneath the bridge and continuing up the canyon rim on the far side.
While paused in the shade of a tree midway up the canyon, we were passed by an overweight, severely out-of-shape man following his two teenage sons toward the bottom. It was late morning, the temperature was climbing into the 90s, and he was already red-faced and winded.
Observing the potential for a heart attack, I focused in my heart and aligned outward, from the heart, to the heart and cardio vascular system of the hiker. Then I aligned upward, from the hiker, with the overshadowing angel of healing, and invoked the Light of Healing – not just for his heart, but for his self, and his resulting mental, emotional, and physical condition.
Once rested, we drank the last of our water and continued on our way.
Namaste,
Glen
I turned right off of Greenway onto 39th, striding along at a good pace despite the unrelenting heat. Two young men exited the house on that corner, and one of them called out cheerfully. I stopped, on the sidewalk, in the driveway, to see what they wanted.
It was the evening of a hot summer day in Phoenix—which means a very hot day indeed. I’d gone for a walk despite the heat, and was circling back when Marcus and Yay called out to me.
They were very young (twenty), wore their caps at odd angles, and towered over me. Marcus had short hair and Yay had slender dreadlocks that hung toward his shoulders. They radiated a friendly cheerfulness and a simple desire for conversation.
After introductions and a brief opening conversation, I asked them what they were up to besides hanging out. Both replied that they were trying to discover who they were.
The words were said with simple sincerity, with feeling rather than intellect, as a search for awareness rather than a quest for knowledge. They spoke of God as being everywhere and in everything, of the various religions as simply holding no interest for them, and of their quest to find God as the basis for their lives.
They were two quite ordinary young men, indistinguishable in their dress, behavior or activities from others of their generation. They expressed no interest in finding any sort of “spiritual” path or discipline, and did not seem to categorize their daily lives those terms. And yet, there I was, called upon by them as I was passing by.
Recognizing that I was there to learn from them, as much as they were to learn from me, I focused in the heart. From the heart, I aligned upward, through the top of the head, with the consciousness of the one planetary life. Then I aligned outward, from the heart, to the consciousness of Marcus and Yay, and through them to that state of awareness they represented in their generation, and from that state of awareness, through the top of their generation’s collective heads, directly to the consciousness of the one life.
Concluding the conversation, I departed into the heat of the evening and made my way home.
Namaste,
Glen
The faun kicked feebly. Its neck hung boneless, and it sucked air in broken gasps.
The snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountain National Park surrounded us. Green pines flowed down their slopes, around the occasional brown blotches of bark-beetle kills, and stopped at the broad grassland at their foot.
Tourist SUVs slowed to stare, point, and photograph the elk grazing on our left, paying no attention to the forest that stopped on our right.
It was calving season, and the road stood between does and fauns emerging from the forest and an abundance of fresh spring grass.
Cheryl’s window stopped whirring down, and she called, “Do you need assistance?” to the ranger standing over the faun.
“No thanks!” he replied, “I think this one’s done for.”
His tone and stance conveyed sadness, compassion, and the emotional injury of repeated trauma. He had seen this many times before, and been helpless to be of assistance.
I focused in the heart, and aligned upward from there, through the top of the head, with the soul of the ranger. Once that connection was made, I identified as the soul of the ranger, and moved into his (now my) heart.
From the heart, I aligned upward, through the top of the head, with the overshadowing soul, and invoked its light and love downward, into the heart.
From the heart, I radiated that light and love outward to the internal emotional injuries caused by being helpless to aid another being. I held that light and love until those injuries began to relax, releasing that portion of awareness identified with and held within them.
With that release, I again aligned outward from the ranger’s heart, with the soul in the dying faun. As the ranger, I surrounded the faun with the light and love of soul, and aligned it upward with the light and love of its species, and the green spring grasses awaiting it on the other side.
Then I withdrew from the ranger, back into my own heart, and wiped the tears from my eyes.
Namaste,
Glen
June has been a very busy month, full of working seminars, presentations, family tragedy, and illness. However, I am recovering now, and am preparing to teach a new course, “How to Save Earth, Wielding the Law of Relationship.” This course will be of particular interest to the readers of this blog, as it shows how to perform the inner, transformative work described herein. I will be sending each of you a flyer describing this new course in the next few days.
Glen
I braked to a stop at the light, and turned my gaze from the fire truck to the fireman standing in the meridian. A red pump truck was parked at a gas station on the south-east corner of Beach and Imperial, while a ladder truck was parked on the north-west corner. One of the busiest intersections around, it was an excellent spot for panhandling but I’d seldom seen it used for that.
A handsome young fireman was standing in the middle of the street, dressed in a yellow, sleeveless jacket sporting reflector stripes, thrusting an empty boot at the drivers. Glancing around, I spotted two more working the commuters.
My first thought was that the government cutbacks had gotten so bad that the firemen had taken to the streets to beg for money to keep their stations going. Then I remembered a similar scene in Phoenix last month, and realized that they were probably collecting for charity. Muscular Dystrophy was a popular one, but I wasn’t close enough to see what was written on the rubber boots they were holding out.
I moved into my heart and pondered this situation – men who made their living rescuing lives at the risk of their own, standing amid traffic on a hot day to collect money for charity.
Smiling, I aligned upward with the Christ, outward through the firefighters to all firefighters everywhere, upward from them to St. Florian (their patron saint), and called on the Light.
Namaste,
Glen
I strode around the mini-SUV, into the street. The vehicle had been thrust partway into the drive at a forty-five degree angle, and left there – a testament, perhaps, to the driver’s road rage. The entire house had a dark, shadowed feel, as though veiled in astral-emotional smog.
I’d known one of the kids who grew up there. David spent a lot of time at our home, but had never spoken of his family and had moved out as soon as he could.
A parrot screeched, and a woman shouted, “Shut up!”
When I reached the next house, it screeched again, and again the woman shouted, “Shut up!” in annoyance.
When I reached the house after that, it screeched again, and the woman’s shaking voice screamed “Shut up!”
I grinned at the foolishness of repeatedly shouting “Shut up!” at a parrot, and wondered how she’d react when it began parroting her words.
Then I frowned. It sounded like a large, valuable bird. I’d pictured an African Gray Parrot when I first heard it, which was certainly not something one would expect to find in that shadowed house.
I focused in my heart and extended its radius outward, touching the aura of the house, and found old age, bitterness, and loneliness.
I aligned upward, to the source of Divine Love, and invoked it downward, infusing the house, and its occupants, with the Light of Love.
I aligned upward again, to the source of Divine Purpose, and invoked it downward, infusing the occupants with the Light of Purpose.
I left the Light in place as I walked on, guiding those who dwelled in shadows to their next step.
Namaste,
Glen
I was turning the key in the ignition when I heard a tap on my passenger window. It was a young woman – dark hair and eyes, heavyset, with a tiny little cockapoo dog – making the “roll down your window” motion with her right hand. Puzzled, I did so.
“Can you give me a ride? I’m trying to get to my uncle’s place, and my car broke down.”
I moved into my heart center, aligned outward, and felt her aura. It was fairly normal, free of malice or ill intent, and the only surface desire was for a ride.
“Which direction?” I asked.
She pointed behind me, and a bit to the right. I asked a couple more questions, and the situation became clearer. Her name was Amber. She’d been driving to her uncle’s house from her home, a couple blocks away, when her car broke down. Continuing on on foot, she found me, leaving a house in her neighborhood, and decided to ask for a ride.
Chelsea, her dog, would not be coming along as he knew the way home from here. That bothered me, but she seemed quite certain. “OK,” I said.
She ordered Chelsea to go home, and the little dog trotted off down the sidewalk, back in the direction from which she and Amber had come. Slightly reassured, I turned the car around, and drove off, following Amber’s directions.
“What were you doing?” she asked.
“Publishing committee meeting. I’m part of a company that publishes spiritual textbooks, and this was our monthly meeting.”
“Oh? That’s cool. I left my medicine in my uncle’s car, and I have to pick it up.”
“Medicine?”
“I have a tumor in the left side of my brain.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll pray for you.”
I hadn’t sensed anything like that, and I’d have expected someone with a tumor to be more specific. Nevertheless, I aligned upward, from the heart, through the top of my head, to the great deva of healing, and through that deva with the Christ.
Invoking the Light of Healing, I aligned outward, to Amber’s brain, and infused it with healing light. I held that alignment the two miles to her uncle’s place, and then throughout the drive home.
Namaste,
Glen
I scooped up a spoonful of vegetables, and prepared my palate for the coming assault. The veggies were from an ordinary package of frozen peas, carrots and corn that had been dumped – still frozen – into a frying pan and cooked without seasoning. My life experience taught me to expect a mushy, tasteless mass, and my ego resented the imposition.
I’d been out of town the previous Friday, when Rory had knocked on my parent’s door and offered to cook them a free meal.
It was a sales pitch, of course, and although my parents could not afford to purchase anything, a free meal was, after all, a free meal. So they invited Rory in, watched while he prepared a simple lunch, and then ate what he’d prepared.
When I returned on Monday, I was told that dinner that evening would be prepared by representatives of Salad Master, and that four of my parent’s oldest friends had been invited. I’d been looking forward to resuming my routine, including preparing my own meals, and interrupting it to sit through a sales pitch was most unwelcome. However, it would have been impolite to decline and I was prepared to endure it for my parent’s sake.
Dressed appropriately for dinner with my seniors, I sat down and focused in the heart. From the heart, I aligned upward, through the head center (at the top of the head), with the Christ, and invoked the protective Light of Christ downward, into and infusing my instrument, my immediate environment, and everyone present.
Then I aligned upward again, from the heart, through the head center, with the Divine Plan, and invoked the Light of the Plan downward, into and infusing my instrument, my immediate environment, and everyone present.
Holding that invocative alignment, I prepared to participate in the meal.
The first bite of veggies brought a surge of physical-etheric energy. It was delicious! I smiled in surprise, and took another bite. I continued eating through three helpings, until the entire serving was gone. The same was true of the salad, frozen chicken, lasagna, and cake – all prepared without seasoning, with whole foods, at low temperatures, using the Salad Master cookware.
My parents were so energized they decided to sell Salad Master themselves. I saw that it might a solution to their financial problems, and continued to hold the Light.
Namaste,
Glen
Debbie and I had left Phoenix the morning before, headed for the mountains to the north-east. We’d gotten a room in Peyson, on the edge of the Tanto National Forest, and spent the afternoon and evening exploring the region and the community.
While paused in the shade of a tree midway up the canyon, we were passed by an overweight, severely out-of-shape man following his two teenage sons toward the bottom. It was late morning, the temperature was climbing into the 90s, and he was already red-faced and winded.
