A Most Unusual Computer

A few years back I was living in the Hill Country of E. Central Texas. I'd been on the road for a number of years, just following God - so I had with me just what would fit in my car. My journals and family photos and other things were stored in a friend's garage in Salem, Oregon.

One day my inner guidance told me that I could finally get the computer I'd always wanted. Hmm. Up 'til that time, I didn't know I'd wanted a computer. I was also told I'd be visiting Portland on such-and-such a date. I thought, well, that's a good idea - but there's no money for that. Yet.

Soon I received a call from my friend in Salem that her garage had burned down, and they were going to include me in their insurance settlement - and part of that would be money to fly me out there to inspect the damaged items to see what could be salvaged. The dates of the trip were the dates my guidance had given me. So - I went to Portland.

When the insurance money came through, I knew it would go to buy a computer. I contacted Sid and Marilyn Frances who lived in the Rose City area of Portland. I had lived with them before in intentional co-housing community; I had stayed in a little trailer in their back garden. They had a mom-pop printing operation, and had several computers. I asked them to have their computer guy build a p.c. for me, and we made plans for me to come back out to Portland so they could teach me how to use it.

When I arrived, Sid was finishing installing the programs he and Marilyn had chosen for me. Then it was time to go pick out a printer and scanner. Sid and I set out for Best Buy. I knew enough about talking with machines by then that I realized I should telepath to the boxed printers and scanners and ask for volunteers to join my computer setup. I bought a printer and scanner, and we took them home.

Sid worked and worked to try to get the scanner to connect. The printer was fine, but the scanner would not work. Finally Sid asked me to get out my dowsing rods and tune in with the scanner to see what was the matter spiritually. The scanner said to me, "This is a very high-vibrational operation you've got here."

I said, "Yes - we'll be doing channeling and healings - all kinds of Lightwork."

The scanner said, "Well, I was made to do porn."

"My goodness!" I replied. "Would you like me to do some healing work on you? A soul retrieval?"

"No!" said the scanner. "I want to do porn."

I told Sid what was up. We had a good laugh. Sid and Marilyn and I used to have the world's best laughs. This was a great one. The next morning we returned the scanner to Best Buy, though I never told them the whole truth about why we were returning it. Then I went back to the boxed machines and tuned-in with them. I had learned my lesson! This time I telepathed, "This is a very high-vibrational operation. No porn, no fear - only unconditional love and healing. Who would like to join us?" One machine volunteered. I bought it, we took it home, and it hooked up without a problem.

So - ever after that, something amazing happened with that computer setup. We would be standing in the room where it sat. We'd be talking about this or that. Suddenly, on its own, the scanner would start scanning. What it was scanning was apparently nothing - but there was something going on energetically, for sure. The scan completed, then the printer, on its own, would start to print. It would carefully print out a whole page, but when the page emerged, all that was visible was a fine spray of ink - no words or images visible to ordinary eyesight. If, however, I viewed the page energetically, scanning it with my inner vision as I passed the healing energy of my hand over it, I could pick up a message from the universe.

Once, as the printer was about to print in this magical way, I took the paper out of the holder. The printer kept revving and revving, refusing to complete its energy process unless there was actual paper for it to print on. So then I put a piece of paper which was already printed into the holder, and again the printer refused. It must, apparently, have a blank page. It did accept the blank side of the printed page.

One time I heard from the one I call God, that I was to give Sid his Bar Mitzvah. Now, Sid was in his seventies. He had never Bar Mitzvah'd, and he had been born Jewish, but was not religious. So I asked him if he even wanted a Bar Mitzvah. Sid - anything for a good laugh - Sid consented, figuring that the universe had a great punchline in there somewhere. I said to God, "You know, I'm not Jewish in this lifetime, and I'm not a man. How do you expect me to give Sid a Bar Mitzvah?" God told me not to worry - just to put together what I could of a Shabbos dinner, and then I'd be channeling the Bar Mitzvah blessing direct from God to Sid.

We had the dinner, and it all happened as God said it would. OK. That was that.

Next morning Sid and I were standing near my computer talking about this and that, when the scanner started to scan and the printer started to print. We knew something was up. I went over as the paper emerged from the printer, and scanned it with my hand, and it read "MAZELTOV!"

Oh, that God. Anything for a laugh. By the way, for anyone interested in the concept of the "Big Bang," it's worthwhile to consider that the universe prefers it to be called "The Big Guffaw."

O Kombucha! - 1994

Years ago I used to travel back and forth between Yellow Springs, Ohio and Lexington, Kentucky as an animal communicator. When in Lexington I'd stay with a friend who lived on a horse farm, and often we'd have gatherings there for spiritual healing and growth. I had conducted one "Council of All Beings" out in the barn already - a gathering of humans, dogs, cats, horses, plants, and various inner-visible beings - angels, power animals, and so forth. We had the second Council scheduled, and human people started to arrive - but it was cold outside, and pouring down rain to boot. We were waiting for word from Spirit about how to conduct our gathering when suddenly I felt a strong pull to my friend's refrigerator. Feeling a pull to the fridge is nothing new for me, but this was a different kind of pull. When I opened the fridge, the energy surrounding this weird-looking thing in a plastic bag was beaming at me so strongly I picked it up. It was a kombucha fungus.
The Kombucha immediately began to communicate through me.* It said, "You don't have to eat me, you know." The Kombucha was referring to a remark I'd made earlier about its appearance - I had said it looked like an alien to me. I hadn't, of course, thought it might be listening to me.
I replied, "I know that." Then I asked it, a little suspiciously perhaps, "What are you doing here on earth, anyway?"
The Kombucha said, "I'm healing the hole that let war in." That melted away any doubts I had about letting a fungus lead the meeting. By then I had realized it was God talking to us anyway, in the form of a fungus. I do not remember what else went on that evening. Healings, new understandings, bonding - all the good things that go with spiritual growth in supportive community. I don't remember the details of the rest of the evening, but I'll never forget those words - "I'm healing the hole that let war in."
Since then I've been involved in various intentional communities. In my heart I carry the vision of the architecture of a community I'd like to live in some day. I see this community built around the ba'qua, the eight-sided form used in FengShui. In one section of that ba'qua I see energy-transforming beings such as Bees and Goats and Kombucha, working with the negative energies naturally generated by humans, to transform them into creative potential, energies to be used for healing and spiritual growth.

I have a sense that this community Kombucha is encouraged to grow quite large, and its tea is a regular drink for humans and other people...but I also see the extra fungus being used as soil amendment and soil healer, as the community recycles its waste to make more and more topsoil of the highest quality.
I, along with Kombucha, wish to do everything possible to "heal the hole that let war in." I'm certain that that includes receiving counsel from fungus on occasion, just as it means sitting in Council with All Beings, and just as it means merging with the energy of Trees in order to do what humans can't do by themselves: make and keep Peace on Earth.

Climbing Tree In The Glen - 1990

In my days as a naturalist in Eco-Camp at Glen Helen*, I alternated between Discovery groups (age 5-6) and Arts Camp groups (young teens interested in a combination of nature and arts). I loved both ages. I only had one really difficult group, and it was difficult simply because the young teens were so overloaded with sophistication that they were bored with the simple good things of life. Perhaps "bored" is the wrong word to use here. Actually, they seemed to have some sort of barrier against receiving the feeling-experience of Nature.
During most of their week of camp we did the usual things, which had always been rich and fascinating for my other groups: we hiked the Glen, found the bee tree, drank from the iron-golden waters of the yellow spring; we found snakes, walked the creek, and of course, made plenty of art. But there was no spark! The kids got most of their excitement from putting each other down and shifting little clique energies. The one thing that seemed to light them up just a little was our quick-time hike back for lunch on Wednesday: we passed the Climbing Tree. The Climbing Tree is a large old osage orange, long dead - and it's the only tree in the Glen that the campers are allowed to climb. That particular day we had no time to stop and climb, so I promised my young folks that we would hike to the Climbing Tree on Thursday night, which was always our no-flashlight hike night.
Thursday dawned, and my teens were again moody and clique-y and generally unpleasant in some elitist way I still could not break through. We were discussing our skit for Friday's end-of-camp performance. The skit the group was brainstorming was just plain unpleasant. I worked to open the kids to other ways of seeing, but had no real luck with that.
Finally evening came. All the groups of campers and their naturalists were gathering and heading out on the trails. The naturalists all had their stash of Wint-O-Green Lifesavers, the kind that, when you crunch down on them in the dark, produce flashes and sparks - our little bit of night magic. My group was eager - for once! - to get on down the trail. We got to the Climbing Tree, they began to climb into its limbs, and soon all six teens were up in the top of the Tree. Then - an act of God! I don't know how else to describe what happened. As soon as all the kids were up in the Tree, a whirlwind came and shook the Tree! Nothing else around was touched by that Wind. Not even I, standing at the base of the Tree, was touched. The Wind shook the Tree furiously, and scared those young people so that they all screamed for help!
I said, simply, "BREATHE." My presence, my voice, everything about me, was directing those kids to find their calm center, stop screaming, and breathe.
As soon as they did, the Wind stopped. Everything was perfectly calm. The campers came down out of the Tree and were in a hurry to get back to the dining hall and cocoa. We had to hike until it was pitch dark, first, of course, so they could bite their magic Lifesavers. I have to say, that little human magic was nothing compared to the holy terror they had just experienced in the Tree.
On Friday we hiked out to a good place to practice the end-of-camp skit. The kids had a lot of ideas, but mostly, they were developing something secret. I'm a theater person - I love directing improv and on-your-feet playwrighting - but this time the campers wanted to work without me. It felt all right for me to wait quietly at a distance down the trail. Their secret felt like a good one, not exclusivity.
Time came for the final cookout, whole-camp picnic, and all the skits. When my group got up, they amazed me with what they did - not because of how talented they were, or because of the quality of their work, but because, in the space of the last twenty-four hours they had made a sea-change as a group. They had been truly and deeply soul-shaken at the Climbing Tree. Their skit? They acted out what had happened to them in the Tree the previous evening. When they got to the part where I told them to breathe, the one who was playing me said, "BREATHE!" Something came through her voice and her presence. Something good, something right, something powerful - and the whole audience was still. We all felt it.
I think of that group of kids every now and then. Who could ever forget such a dramatic visitation? Whenever I feel discouraged about all the separativism and elitism and this-and-that-ism of divided, warmongering humanity, I think about that moment: the youngsters in the tree, the power of the wind, the strength of the breath - and I get very still inside, knowing that Love itself WILL intervene when the time is right. And then I just breathe.