I happened to see the article in last month’s Shaumbra Magazine titled “Spiritual Tailgating” – the one my Master Self wrote. I assume it was me, the human, that the Master was talking about. I asked the editor run my version of the story this month in the fairness of equal time.
Do you know what it’s like trying to keep up with the Master on this spiritual road trip? The Master claims I’m tailgating, but the fact is that he drives through my life like an absolute mad man. It takes everything I have just to keep him in sight as we speed down the harrowing, outrageous highways and byways of life. Sometimes I think he’s actually trying to lose me! I can see his face in his rear view mirror, laughing to himself as I nearly miss a hairpin turn, or have to slam on my brakes when he comes to a sudden stop just to let a chicken cross the road.
When I started awakening many years ago, the Master said, “Come with me.” I took him at his literal word. He was sitting in the driver’s seat of an expensive red convertible sports car, its engine purring like a lion ready to leap. As I walked around the passenger side to get in, he motioned to a beat-up 1960’s style Volkswagen mini-van behind me, complete with psychedelic flowers and peace/love/joy slogans painted on the side and said, “That’s yours… it’s much more your style.” Then he hit the gas pedal of his sports car and left me in a cloud of dust. I’ve been trying to catch up ever since.
Just between you and me, the Master isn’t what I thought he would be. I remember my first encounter with him like it was yesterday. I had just gotten back from a week-long retreat at my guru’s ashram in Mexico with 500 other people, where we slept on straw mats in an old sheep barn. Our diet consisted of organic seaweed, and water blessed by the guru in order to purify our bodies. Nearly everyone got diarrhea but the guru told us it was part of the cleansing process. We chanted and prayed 8 hours each day, and spent another 4 hours of hard labor helping to build the guru’s new mansion. I bought a small piece of fabric for $500 that the guru actually wore one evening during the eye-gazing session. I have to admit that it was so dark that I’m not sure the guru was actually looking into my eyes or was asleep, but I think he was looking. I think I felt something.
As soon as I got home from the ashram and recovered from dehydration, I placed the piece of the guru’s fabric on my altar, right next to the Shaman’s Magic® flute and a crystal toning bowl I bought in Sedona several years ago. I lit all of my Light Power of the Archangels® candles and some Hawaiian Kahuna Breath® incense, and started my 90-minute evening chanting ritual. And then it happened.
I heard laughter from somewhere behind me. It was a joyful, merry laughter, like you’d hear from someone who just heard a really great joke. It was a natural belly laugh, like Santa Claus after a few snorts of cognac. Not a “ho-ho-ho,” but rather a “ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.” Nobody else was in my Sacred Energizing Room, so I could only assume I was having a real spiritual experience. I immediately grabbed my Egyptian Healing Wand® and tapped my forehead nine times like the instructions said. “Yaw-wah-zee-doo,” I chanted with each tap to my skull. I learned this sacred chant at a sweat lodge ceremony in Peru several years ago when a group of us were on a portal-opening tour.
The laughter persisted, nearly drowning out my “Yah-wah-zee-doos.” Now it sounded like someone was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down their face, the type of hysterical laughter where one can’t stop. I was actually getting a little annoyed; I didn’t feel this was appropriate conduct in my holy-of-holies chamber, amongst the Pleiadian Activation Oils® and Sweet Songs of Lemuria® audio recordings. But the laughter continued.
“Who cometh now to my Temple of Universal Love?” I asked, my voice going a few octaves higher than normal due to nervousness. I hadn’t used my Dark Matter Protection Mist® in the room since I got back from the ashram so I wasn’t sure if a negative entity had penetrated the force field.
“It’s me, your Master Self,” was the answer, in between guffaws.
“In the name of Father/Mother Ancient Spirit, what art Thou laughing about?” I asked a bit nervously.
“You! Er, us. Well… actually YOU.”
There was a long pause before I asked, “Do I please the gods with my holy rites?”
“No, but you crack me up with your makyo!”
Makyo? I’d never heard the term before. It must be a Sanskrit word for reverence and piety.
“Listen kid,” said the Master, “you’re not getting any ascension points for your sacrosanct activities. You’ve got the right idea but you’re going in the wrong direction. It’s like trying to sing, but using your ass to blow hot air…”
“Excuse me!” I gasped. But almost if on cue, I farted. I’m sure it was only a coincidence because of my recent bout with Montezuma’s revenge. The Master’s laughter filled the Four Directions of my sacred room, as did a rather foul odor.
“Let’s cut to the chase, Grasshopper. You want your divine golden angel at your side, right?”
“Yes, more than anything else,” I replied nearly in tears.
“Well, I’m here, bunky,” said the Master with a Jack Nicholson voice imitation. The voice turned a little more compassionate now. “I’m your Master Self, the embodied enlightenment of you. I don’t come from the future, and I’m not an angel. I’ve always been here, just waiting patiently for you to realize me.”
“Why do you come now, Master?” I asked. “Have I achieved my Order of the Benevolent Starseed® Level 14 degree?”
“Yeah, right,” said the Master with a tone of sarcasm that eluded me at the time. “Actually, my light body hurts so much from laughing that I just can’t stand it anymore. You’re killing me, kid. I want to get in there and enjoy life with you, but between you trying so hard and me laughing so hard, we’re just not doing the integration thing like we agreed to do. You’re so preoccupied chasing rainbows and unicorns that you forgot what we agreed to in this lifetime: Relax into embodied enlightenment.”
“Well, I’ve certainly been trying!” I cried indignantly. “Do you know how much money I’ve spent on all of these classes and sacred tours?!”
“All too well, all too well. We could have bought a yacht and sailed around the world for what you spent, and had a hell of a lot more fun than eating seaweed at a phony ashram. I want to live, kid, not suffer. We did enough suffering in past lifetimes. Now it’s time to rock ‘n roll. Hey, how’s about we go bowling tomorrow afternoon? A few beers, a few cigars? You can even invite some of your friends. (pause) Oh, that’s right, you don’t have any friends. (laughter) Well, I’ll bring some of the Ascended Masters.”
“You know the Ascended Masters?” I questioned with wide eyes.
“I AM an Ascended Master, Battan-san.”
I was totally confused. I’m hearing The Laughing Master, who claims to be me, and also claims to be an Ascended Master. And, he wants to go bowling tomorrow. Between having no money to pay the rent because I had to go to the guru’s ashram, recovering from Thunder Down Under, and now talking to an irreverent laughing Master, I broke down crying like a little baby. I learned later that this is exactly what the Master wanted. It was time for me to release and allow.
I found myself soaking in my bathtub about an hour later, with no idea how I got there. I saw a fresh white towel and bathrobe laid out on the stool near the tub, and a hand-written note on top of the towel. I reached over and read it: “Meet me at Big K’s Bowling Emporium tomorrow at 6 PM. Don’t be late. BYOB (bring your own balls) – The Master.”
“I don’t have any balls,” I thought. HEY WAIT! He wanted me to say that to myself! Damn him!
And that’s when I actually met Him. The Master. The best friend I would ever have, and the most irritating Being I had ever known. He has pushed me to my (our) limits. Out of my comfort zone. Beyond what I thought possible. He single-handedly forced me into Life itself, with me kicking and screaming most of the way. He made me breathe in a way I had never breathed before. He made me laugh even when I didn’t want to laugh. He made me eat at nice restaurants, stay at nice hotels and even travel first-class on airlines. He had me singing and dancing and listening to beautiful music. I probably shouldn’t even say this in a family magazine, but he even made me touch my body.
The Master had me talking to complete strangers on the street, smiling at joggers when I went out for long walks, paying for a coffee for the lady in line behind me at Starbucks and walking off before she knew it, waving out the window of my car as I passed another car on my street… well, he had me in Life.
Anyway, I met him at Big K’s Bowling Emporium the next day. He actually looked like a character out of The Big Lebowski movie. He was dressed in a polyester team bowling shirt. On the back, embroidered in large colorful 1950’s style lettering, was “The Ascended Masters Club,” like it was his team sponsor. The embroidered graphics showed bowling pins flying through the air, and in small letters below it said, “Every ball a strike.” On the front, embroidered over the heart was the name “The Dude.”
After he rolled three consecutive 300-point games, and I rolled my typical 100-point games, he dined on two deluxe bacon cheeseburgers and a six-pack of Heineken beer, while I nibbled at my salad and drank a natural fruit smoothie. Then he invited me outside for a ride. It was a ride that continues to this day.
“Come with me,” he said with a smile. The moment he got into that expensive red convertible sports car, the engine started purring with what felt like 400-horsepower under the hood. As I walked around the passenger side to get in, he motioned to the aforementioned Volkswagen minibus behind me. “That’s yours,” he yelled, “It’s much more your style, at least until you relax into your (our) enlightenment.” Then he hit the gas pedal of his sports car and left me in a cloud of fairy dust.
He’s not the Master I had envisioned back in the early days of my spiritual awakening. I was looking for a guru. I thought spirituality was only about veneration, reverence and ritual. I look back now and laugh to think how boring I had become, when indeed the whole point to embodied enlightenment is to live. That’s exactly what the Master wanted to do, and exactly the opposite of what I was doing. I used to think a grand golden angel was going to swoop in to cradle me in her bosom while I cried about the hardships of life. Instead, I got a living Master who didn’t get caught up with the issues of the past, but lived full-on in the Present. I got a Master who loved life in a way I had never seen before, and was not afraid to live because the Master knew there was no death. I got a Master who didn’t wash my feet in holy ointment, but rather stuck both his hands out the window of his hot little sports car and flipped me off with his middle fingers, while I was trying to keep up with him in my old Volkswagen minibus. That’s the Master I got – the Master of Life.
I’ve been trying to keep up with his insatiable desire to live ever since. I used to think I was on my way “out” of this planet, wondering if I should stay or leave. Now I realize the Master and I are “way in” to life. It’s the best lifetime I could ever imagine, and the most eccentric and loving Master I could have asked for. And the best thing is that… it’s all me.