A Discussion with Spirit

It's About The Sound

The morning my spiritual teacher died a beautiful black man in flowing white robes appeared to me. I was alone in my car, parked on a street, about to go into a cafe. 

I had been up all night in the hospital by my teacher’s side as he passed away. It wasn’t until this moment that the tears started flowing. Sitting there. Alone in my car. About to go into the cafe for some breakfast.

At some point I noticed this man standing on the sidewalk in front of me, just watching me. At first I think I tried to ignore him, but he just stood there, waiting. 

It was odd. Someone standing there watching me cry dressed in flowing white robes that reminded me of images of Jesus.

I pulled myself together a little, and with tears still trickling out of my eyes uncontrollably, I got out to see what this black Jesus wanted.

He said his name was Spirit, and he spoke to me of profound truths standing there on the sidewalk. What was amazing is that everything he said to me rhymed. He spoke in poems, and sometimes it sounded like he was almost singing. 

You’re probably waiting for me to say, “and then I woke up,” but this was actually physical world reality, as crazy as it sounds. It’s a wild story, but it’s as real as you reading this now.

At first he was telling me that I needed to move through the sorrow into the love. He said so much, so fast, that I couldn’t even retain it all.

At some point, he started telling me how the Light teachings only take you so far, and then you need to get onto the sound.