Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Rob Leaver's Transcendent Self

Here's Part II following my earlier post re Jung and his spiritual self, Philomon...

On my thirteenth birthday, my mother took me for a ride and told me that I had been a twin but my brother had died shortly after birth. It was very upsetting for me because we lived way out in the country, my father was away all week, my mother was occupied with my three sisters, and I was often lonely. I spent a lot of time at my secret campsite by a brook back in the woods with my pony, Thunder, and our dog, Benny Beagle.

My mother told me that when my brother died she and my father decided to give me both of the names they'd chosen. I was named Robert, after my father, and Oliver, which was my twin's name, after my mother's father. I remember wanting to know whether I was born first or second, whether I was Robert or Oliver.

That night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I became very sad and started crying into my pillow. Then, for some reason, I started whimpering "Ollie, Ollie, Ol-lie." Somewhere along the edge of sleep, he responded. He told me that he was there, always had been there and always would be. When I asked him what had happened, he paused, said he wasn't used to language, and would have to find the words to describe it. He then explained that God had decided to send me out into the physical world but to draw him back from that world into the spiritual realm. He said it was kind of an experiment, something God wanted to try out. Then he told me that from that day on he'd be available to me as a spiritual guide or self, and I could call on him at any time, and whatever I asked him he'd always tell me the Truth.

And I have called on him. Not much at first, because I didn't really want the Truth, but more and more as the years have gone by. All I have to do is think, "Ollie," and he answers, "Yes," and we start right in. He doesn't tell me what's going to happen in the future, mind you, but he's very clear about how our world works. One thing about him is that he doesn't tell me what to do. Nor does he talk in terms of right or wrong. He says it's not his job, because, from a purely spiritual perspective, none of that stuff matters. Gallaxies come and gallaxies go. He says, basically, that life is short and of uncertain duration, and I can waste it or make the most of it.

"So, Ollie, do you have anything to say to these good folks?"

"Sure. Tell them they've all got their own Ollie and they can call on him or he