GOODBYE, TONI! (Musings on the dreaded scourge called cancer)

Toni Kasim dedicated her life to speaking up for community issues

On the night of June 4th, 2008, around 10PM I suddenly had the urge to call Toni Kasim. But I figured I'd better call her in the day, as she might be already asleep. In the morning the first SMS I received informed me Toni Kasim died around dawn.

She had been battling duodenal cancer for several months. I only heard the news just before the March 8th elections, when she withdrew as a parliamentary candidate under PKR. Word got to me that her health wasn't all that good. I only learned it was cancer when Toni's buddy Shanon Shah posted an update on the Artisproactiv forum. I rang her mobile and had a brief chat with her, told her I would come visit her soon.

Well, that visit never happened. And I really ought to have tried calling her last night. If she was able to speak, I could have said a proper goodbye to her. But then, I wouldn't have known she was ready to check out. Toni Kasim was only 41.

Not too long ago, another friend I rarely bump into succumbed to cancer at the age of 44. Her name was Seha and I first met her when she was starting out as a singer with a group called Freedom. I remember her one visit to my bamboo hut back in 1996 or thereabouts when she had just married a fella named Chris Lund. I was shocked to read about Seha's passing in the New Straits Times in October 2006. Didn't even know she had two kids...

Toni Kasim's funeral is today but I won't be there to send her off. A few years ago another very dear friend died of cancer after a valiant fight that dragged on for two years. He was only 42, married a couple of years, and his name was Jesse Hang - but we all called him Chief, after he had an epiphany and saw the profile of an Indian chief etched on a rock near his favorite spot in the river. Following that incident Jesse began to report amazing revelations and was undoubtedly the first of many visitors to experience satori at Magick River.

Chief first showed up back in 1992 soon after I relocated from KL to establish a small community called Magick River in the Pertak Forest Reserve. He quickly became a regular and used to come up every week with a few sarongs, a pair of shorts, and a couple of T-shirts in a rucksack stuffed with packets of instant noodles and other goodies. Chief and I enjoyed our ritual midnight supper of Maggi mee under a full moon, listening to the undines' silvery voices that sounded, by day, like the river's neverending song.

When Chief told us he had been diagnosed with Stage Three lymphatic cancer, we figured he had a good chance of transcending the disease, as he was among the most enlightened members of Magick River. Indeed, Chief was the closest thing we've had to a resident Zen master. Anyway, he tried a variety of therapies - beginning with chiqong and special diets, including shark's cartilage. After a year, when the cancer kept growing, Chief turned himself in for chemotherapy. However, the one therapy that might have helped him he resolutely avoided - and that was emotional clearing. He had always been a private person and found it hard to expose his innermost feelings, especially to strangers.

When we first met Chief had just quit a job as a remisier and was looking into the possibility of managing a mango orchard. After several visits to Magick River, he began to get excited about painting and storytelling - and he turned out to be very imaginative at both. Anyway, during the last few months of his life, Chief began to draw his entire extended family together, by uniting them in their efforts to help him fight the cancer. Gradually, he began to explain the process of life, death, and rebirth to his clan - and when they saw how calmly he faced the prospect of his own death, many of them were spontaneously elevated in their consciousness.

Chief came from a family in Pahang that had enriched itself with logging and sawmilling. It was as if he had taken on all the negative karma of their destructive business to save them from even more serious consequences. In any case, Chief's death on 6 May 2003 was the most uplifting and graceful exit I have ever witnessed. The night before he departed I went to see him with my family and we sat in silence with him for about 15 minutes. Then as we got up to leave and I held his hand for the last time, he smiled beatifically at all of us and quipped: "Hey, there go my rainbow warriors!"

In the final months before he left his body, the cancer had caused Chief's handsome features to become deformed and discolored. His face had puffed up and gone dark and it was quite a struggle for him to maintain a façade of cheerfulness. The cancer was like a demon trying to colonize Chief's physical body - and succeeding despite the expensive chemotherapy and whatnot. However, several hours after Chief let go of his body, the cancer died with him and released its grip on his physical form, which reverted to its original state. When I looked upon Chief's face for the last time as he lay in his coffin, nattily dressed like some Falun Gong leader, he looked serene and victorious - and his face was no longer deformed or discolored. Hordes of tiny white moths danced around the fluorescent tubes at his wake - and when we scattered his ashes in his beloved river, there were thousands of yellow butterflies everywhere we looked.


That evening after the ash-scattering ceremony at Magick River, a few of Chief's closest friends stayed on to celebrate the passing of a great soul - and all of us were in telepathic contact with him as he reveled in his newfound freedom as Universal Intelligence. All these years after his death, I only have to think of Chief and I will spot a butterfly or rainbow - for those were his favorite symbols of life's mysterious beauty.

This blog was inspired by news of Toni Kasim's passing early on the morning of 4 June 2008, and I was prompted to remember with profound affection several other friends who were taken by cancer in their prime. I have other friends who are in the midst of battling various forms of cancer. I wish I could take away their cancer with a wave of my magick wand. It's always easier to dispense advice than follow it, and I have long pondered on the significance of this dreaded disease - what are its origins and are there ways to avoid it?

I have heard of so many alternative therapies - including the famous case of Norman Cousins (right), who experienced a miraculous total remission simply by refusing to feel morose after getting diagnosed with a terminal disease. Instead he began to watch hour after hour of the Marx Brothers just to enjoy a therapeutic daily dose of bellylaughs.

Two of my early musical heroes - Frank Zappa and George Harrison - died of prostrate cancer in their late 50s. Somebody told me recently that prostate cancer only happens to those who don't ejaculate frequently. I guess I'm unlikely to succumb to this particular affliction!

Measuring an artificially induced tumor in a laboratory mouse

Anyway, thinking holistically about cancers and tumors inevitably brings me to a vision of the web of life that connects us all, from the subatomic to the supergalactic levels. I've always felt that the temporary ego membrane that separates each of us from every other thing in existence can be compared to a suit of armor. The armor is designed to protect us from injury in battle; however, if we begin to live inside our own character armoring without frequently stepping out of it and becoming vulnerable, the armor turns into a psychological prison within which we experience a sense of isolation from the ebb and flow of life. After a few decades our sense of individuality can become so accentuated that we no longer feel we are integral parts of a far bigger lifeform - or series of lifeforms. Perhaps that sense of individualized selfhood - when overemphasized - is the seed of what subsequently develops into a full-blown tumor.

What, after all, is a tumor? It's a cluster of cells that have disconnected themselves from the rest of the body. Just as in any overly large city, there will usually be a small colony of social misfits (often the economically disadvantaged) who will cluster together in ghettoes and turn the area into a Crime Zone where the first rule of survival is everyone for himself or herself.

This suggests that cancers and tumors are an aberrant side-effect of the powerful force of individuation underlying the process of cell division. When division and separation (centrifugal motion) is allowed to continue without being offset by conscious experience of unification and cohesiveness (centripetal motion), among the potential long-term effects are disintegrative diseases like cancer and leukemia.

Prevention, as most folks know, is far better than cure. So let's start practising Unity Consciousness RIGHT NOW!

[First posted 4 June 2008, reposted 7 December 2017]

Sexual repression & guilt ~ the root of all patriarchal evils, especially in Malaysia! (repost)

When I was 19 I went through an intense and highly compressed ascetic phase. For about two weeks I lost interest in food, sex and sleep. My mind went into overdrive and kept me in a constant state of excitement. I was absolutely determined to figure out what the hell I was doing on this planet in a human body - and what I had been, if anything at all, before taking birth.

My days and nights were spent reading, writing, thinking, observing everything around me, and discussing my ideas and insights with a couple of close friends. I didn't require much solid food, sometimes drinking only a bowl of soup and nibbling on a Marmite sandwich. Meat didn't appeal to me; often I chewed on some vegetables just to get their essence; and I couldn't be bothered or didn't need to sleep, though I would sit in lotus position and recharge my cells from time to time.

Soon I found my testicles retracting and my penis shrinking to a ridiculous size. All I did was burst out laughing because I suddenly understood why Indian yogis have traditionally subjected themselves to long periods of fasting and abstinence.

It was to focus their minds like a laser in order to cut through the crap of mundane existence and begin to stepdown and receive data from an extended range of the electromagnetic spectrum.

I've written extensively about my early initiatory experiences elsewhere so I'll fast-forward to the moment when, unexpectedly, I experienced a resurgence of my libido. I was absorbing the Sun's energy one morning and suddenly found myself with the most incredible hard-on ever. The word virile  came alive for me as I felt the solar force course through my throbbing veins. I gazed in awe at my rampant manhood, luxuriating in electric ripples of unmitigated concupiscence.

Priapus, Greek God of Fertility

It was as though my libido had died and resurrected itself as a hitherto unknown species of sacred sexuality wherein my own innate divinity was being expressed as a manifestation of the Primordial Progenitor. The Father archetype and I literally became one.

Omphalos stone

Hajarul Aswad, a piece
of tektite embedded in the
eastern corner of the Kaaba

From that moment hence, I was liberated from a hundred thousand generations of hand-me-down sexual taboos. In a flash I understood the serpent symbolism underlying all pre-Abrahamic belief systems. The esoteric word kundalini  was unknown to me at the time, but when I later read about the phenomenon I knew it was what had spontaneously happened to me.

The electromagnetic basis of all existence in a bi-polar universe is grounded in the sacred union of shakta and shakti, male and female principles. This simply means that the ultimate goal of yoga - which means "union" in Sanskrit - is conscious fusion between polarities on all levels - from the biological (as in sexual conjugation) to the metaphysical (as in the alchemical marriage between our divine and human aspects).

Tantra teaches us that the ego-transcending act of sexual union is among the most powerful and direct methods of realizing our own inherent divinity - at least when performed as an act of worship by those who have cleansed themselves of negative emotions like guilt, fear and hypocrisy.

However, the erotophobic male priesthoods that sprouted in the wake of Abraham approximately 4,000 years ago have systematically perverted human sexuality with their erroneous doctrines of shame and false purity, wherein celibacy became promoted as a virtue unto itself.

Activation of the chakras above the navel was encouraged as a means to "get closer to God" - whereas activating the chakras below the navel was considered dangerous - even wrong - as it reinforced our animality and focused our senses on carnal pleasures.

Thus was sexual taboo entrenched in the Book Religions which gave rise to what I call the fig leaf syndrome. Humans became schizoid and a great divide separated their inner and outer personalities into private and public selves - with a hardwired conditioned reflex to cover up whatever was considered "private" and exaggerate or magnify everything regarded as "public."

This is why in patriarchal societies like Malaysia, issues of morality tend to revolve around sex. Corrupt and dishonest politicians are tolerated to the extent that they often get re-elected, but they must resign the moment they're caught with their pants down.

In effect, we're being given the message that it's okay to do just about anything - including abduct, extort, intimidate, torture, imprison and murder - so long as we keep our trousers on at all times.

By the same token, anything sexual is subject to strict censorship - no kissing, no nudity, no glimpses of genitalia. However, the worst forms of violence are acceptable: punching, stabbing, shooting, karate-chopping, beheading, crucifying, dropping bombs on crowded cities are all "okay."

Is it any wonder that our police force - and a volunteer reserve force like RELA - has attracted such a large number of sexual perverts and psychopaths? These are men who have been brought up to believe that their sexual nature is demonic  and must be suppressed or controlled through harsh laws. Burdened with chronic guilt feelings, these men harbor a subconscious fear of being assigned to hell after they die. And if you're going to hell for masturbating too often, you might as well go the whole hog and commit rape, murder, brutal torture, the works.

Have you ever wondered why on earth in the 21st century we still have statutes against oral and anal sex? Not only are these activities ominously classified as "acts against the order of nature" - they are also punishable with caning and imprisonment of up to 20 years! Each day that such nonsensical laws continue to exist in our legal statutes, they make a complete mockery of reason and sanity.

Only a perverted male priesthood could visualize a deity dressed like a stern-faced judge who can routinely sentence anyone to jail for up to 20 years simply for enjoying a bit of mildly kinky sex. How can you argue with such a twisted mindset? The keenest legal mind in the world cannot get you off the hook except by proving your innocence beyond doubt or providing a watertight alibi.

The ISA may be an extremely cruel and unjust law - but what about the laws against anal and oral sex? They are utterly insane and totally insufferable. If this Victorian era legislation were to be enthusiastically enforced, I'd venture that more than one-third of Malaysia's adult population would right now be serving time (free at last to enjoy as much anal and oral sex as they can handle, just as drug addicts can always find a regular supply if they befriend the right prison warders).

Infamous arsehole Saiful Bukhari Azlan with Khairil Anus Yusof,
special aide to Najib Razak

But do you think any Barisan Nasional lawmaker would even consider revoking these archaic laws so long as Anwar Ibrahim remains poised to take over as prime minister?

The issue of sexual repression I have raised with this blogpost has a multitude of ramifications. Nature has designed our bodies in such a way that when we attain puberty, a psychedelic slew of hormones are secreted into our bloodstream which accelerate and enhance mental and spiritual growth. But if our early encounters with our own sexuality are fraught with guilt and shame and subterfuge, we shall find it much harder to attain mental and spiritual maturity.

This is precisely why patriarchies are invariably dead against sex, drugs and rock'n'roll - which may be considered evolutionary triggers in the context of modern living. Sexual freedom causes the young to mature more quickly. Drugs (specifically entheogenic substances like LSD, psilocybin and ayahuasca) - notwithstanding their potential negative side-effects - can facilitate neurological and sensory breakthroughs that provide otherwise unavailable glimpses of ordinarily inaccessible realities. And rock'n'roll  is essentially a code name for any innovative genre of music that serves to initiate young people into neo-tribal states of consciousness, often catalyzing new artistic and cultural forms into manifestation.


Going by the orc-like behavior of our policemen and security personnel, one can easily conclude that what we have in Malaysia is a sex-obsessed society of mental and spiritual retards. The more we attempt to suppress our sexual nature, the more obsessed we become with it. Four thousand years of religious erotophobia have produced only one significant result: the burgeoning of a multi-billion-dollar porn industry.

No sexually repressed society can ever produce great works of art. As long as our collective kundalini  is blocked or forced to express itself through "underground" routes, Malaysia will remain a mediocracy - where mediocrity rules unchallenged.

Think long and hard on this, people... and make sure your children do not grow up sexually repressed!

[Originally published on 20 April 2009 as part six of a series - Where Malaysia is headed. Reposted 11 February 2014, 2 April 2016, 20 July 2017 & 27 March 2019]

Return from Bamboo River ~ a report from beyond the veil!

Friends have been coming to me with pieces of a vast, multidimensional jigsaw that's still in the process of being assembled.

Where was I during the five days in December 2009 I spent comatose in the Intensive Care Unit of Sungai Buloh Hospital? (I can't call it the ICU after seeing Avatar without fantasizing about the beautiful blue-skinned Neyteri...)


My beloved friend Selina - whose eyes can penetrate the many veils of reality - said she meditated with the Blue Buddha mantra as soundtrack and found herself looking at my lifeless body all hooked up to life support equipment. There was nobody in. So she searched the astral planes for me... and eventually found me sitting on a rock, looking very relaxed in a sarong, with a cup of tea.

We had a long conversation and I conveyed to her that I was utterly fed up with the entropic, apparently deteriorating conditions in the 3D Matrix. She used the full force of her feminine charms and persuasive powers to convince me that it was worthwhile returning to my physical body. "You don't want to miss the grand celebration when all of us break through to the next level!" she said (or something to the effect) and offered me her hand. My expression softened at that point, she said, and I reached out to touch her.

Well, I was pleased to hear Selina's report - though I can't confirm if this astral encounter really did occur. Another friend - a Puerto Rican shaman named Rafael - later informed me that he, too, had searched for me in the astral and, like Selina, was relieved to find me sitting on a rock by the river. Seeing I was in fine form, he left me alone.

Around the time Selina had this vivid vision, thousands of other people - immediate family, close friends and total strangers from around the world - were praying for me or sending positive vibes. For sure, my soul must have felt the massive force of all this love and was humbled by it. Perhaps falling ill was my soul's way of sulking, but such an outpouring of concern would certainly have convinced me that life on earth wasn't all that terrible and that I really ought to renew my earthly visa and return to physical embodiment.


A couple of friends - a practising shaman and spiritual master from Germany named Rainer and his angel-voiced wife Karin - visited Magick River with six other pilgrims in tow and stayed 13 days, about a week after I was discharged from the hospital. Rainer and Karin came with many messages for me: essentially, they wanted me to be aware that I was embarked on a whole new phase of my earthly mission with dramatically enhanced powers - and that it would require some time for me to fully integrate the new software.

I was grateful for Rainer and Karin's inspired insights and their magnanimous friendship. Seems ironic to me that the people closest to me physically are the most reluctant to acknowledge me for what I am - and that it takes a group of relative strangers coming from halfway round the planet to recognize and appreciate my gifts. In any case, I felt richly rewarded by Rainer, Karin and their friends' wonderful company.

I was required to report back to the hospital on 14 January to get a clean bill of health from the doctor in charge of my case - but when I showed up he was nowhere to be found. The nurses said he was busy on his rounds, so I distributed the thank-you cards and fancy chocolates I had brought (courtesy of my daughter Belle) and checked in with Dr Zulkifli, head of the psychiatric unit, who had said he wanted to see me.

Dr Zul wasn't in a chatty mood. He sat me down in his office and told me I had MDP. "What's that?" I asked. "Manic depressive personality," he said laconically. I wasn't in the mood to argue with Dr Zul who struck me as essentially a decent guy, even if he appeared completely caught up in his role as drug-dispensing psychiatrist and arbiter of sanity. I detected a trace of the Inquisitor in his ego-field and knew at once he wasn't keen to hear my opinion of psychiatry.

Dr Zul's prescription was 2 mg Risperidone to be taken twice daily. I knew from Dr Zul's expression that he was utterly convinced it was his moral and professional duty to slow down my brain functions and return me safely to the 3D Matrix where I could take my place amongst billions of other well-adjusted tax-paying robots.

Now, the question is: I was admitted to the hospital for malaria. So how did the shrinks insert themselves into the story?

As I have already narrated in earlier segments of this report, I emerged from my 5-day coma completely renewed, with gleaming neural circuitry and upgraded software. My brain functions were crystalline and I was able to navigate several dimensions simultaneously (imagine being promoted from driving a 4-wheeled internal combustion earthbound vehicle to piloting a flying saucer).

Naturally I was ecstatic and ebullient. Dr Zul's assistant, Dr Siti, had come around to interview me after the nurses reported on my being awake most nights. She subsequently told my daughter: "Your father is too happy." Belle found that amusing. "Isn't it a good thing that he's happy?" Dr Siti's enigmatic reply was: "Yes, but not too happy."

So, because I was too happy, I needed to be tranquilized, sedated and occasionally strapped to my bed whenever I did anything to upset the normal routine (for example, on two occasions, I tested the staff's response time by pulling on the emergency cord in the shower. Both times they took nearly five minutes to arrive on the scene and were chided by me. They must have taken offence when I suggested that the only acceptable response time was one minute. That would make the difference between life and death for whoever needed help.)

I must confess that I've always considered myself a top-level Quality Control Inspector whose job is to ensure that all systems are running perfectly. Hence the terrible frustration I have felt most of my life on this planet where dimwitted mediocrity still rules in so many areas - especially the country I chose as my operating base.

Why was I so over-the-top happy?


Simply because I had glimpsed the inevitable outcome of all evolutionary threads - and it was an extremely happy one. Our destiny is to be fully conscious in the body and free of all robotic indoctrination. We are not fated to remain semi-conscious, semi-intelligent slaves to any system. Indeed, we are baby gods who will someday take over the management of the entire universe - when we have become totally compassionate and infinitely patient.

Of course, the fast-crumbling and benighted power structure would like us humans to remain sheep-like and half-asleep forever. After all, it depends entirely on us for "manpower." The so-called ruling elite have for countless generations fattened themselves off the blood, sweat and tears of so many species. To them we are merely farm animals, their property. That's what feudalism is all about: a gross misunderstanding of the nature and ultimate purpose of existence.


However, there is absolutely no call to hate or resent the ruling elite - because they are only maintaining a misguided tradition inherited from their distant ancestors, the not-so-noble Creator Gods who established the early civilizations on this planet. And these were indeed great civilizations with astonishingly advanced architecture and a complex bureaucracy. Without their tutelage, we would be without written language, mathematics and technology. Not such a bad thing, actually, since the introduction of alphanumeric symbols eventually led to a left-brain-dominant culture at the expense of our animal instincts and intuition.

Those who believe they wield ultimate power on earth are, in truth, terrified of their own shadows - which explains why they allocate almost two-thirds of their time and resources to defence systems and live in a perpetual Green Zone behind barricades and barbed wire. They are trapped in their own compulsive, paranoid need for secrecy, gathering data through covert agencies and 24/7 electronic surveillance of the population at large. Take away their protective armor and sophisticated killing machines - and what you get is an increasingly desperate and bewildered bunch of overaged delinquents, totally panicked by the prospect of losing control over what is essentially uncontrollable. It is beginning to dawn on some of the brighter ones that money, power and prestige will not get them through the frequency gates. The qualities that will - compassion, empathy, integrity, and the capacity for love - cannot be acquired through reptilian cunning and public relations.

But there's no way back - only the way forward.

From simplicity we became enmeshed in complexity; and now it's time for us to evolve to another level of simplicity - the Zen state of Buddhic consciousness so lucidly described by modern mystics like Eckhart Tolle.

pic courtesy of dpchallenge

In my beatific state of fully expanded awareness, I could see all humanity finally released from drudgery and meaningless toil; from cruelty, injustice and oppression. Freed from mechanical routine, we would swiftly blossom into cosmically conscious beings and take our place in ever larger constellations of sentient beings as galactic citizens.

It would be the end of disease, debt, decay and death. Physical immortality (or at least indefinite life extension) would become an option. We would regain our childlike curiosity and sense of wonder and many of us would choose to become adventurers and explorers (but not colonizers, that's a big no-no), beyond the confines of our native planet. Yes, the promise and prophecy of Star Trek would be fulfilled!


From my expanded perspective, the political shenanigans taking up so much bandwidth were nothing more than a ruckus in the schoolyard. Even the most villainous players became mere manga characters in an X-rated cartoon universe.

PlayStation wasn't invented when I was a kid - but I now found myself in a 4D virtual reality game in which I could gleefully immerse myself with absolutely no fear of getting hurt. Within the confines of the 4D Matrix, all objects and characters appear 3D. Humans are programmed to behave in specific ways and whatever they say is scripted. And because the fictitious deity they invented happens to be a punitive and vengeful one,  they have become compulsive liars in order to avoid - or at least postpone - punishment.


If you're a truth-speaking entity in virtual world populated by congenital liars, you'll definitely be viewed as a serious MDP case. MDP is what Dr Zulkifli chose to call my "condition." Other shrinks might have labeled it dementia praecox, schizophrenia or bi-polar disorder.

Truth is, my clinical death and resurrection experience had cleared my cache and made room for a massive file some might call the God Program. I wouldn't call it that for the simple reason that every time anyone installs that particular software and attempts to run it in public, they either get crucified for blasphemy or incarcerated in a madhouse.

Binder dundat.

[First published 7 February 2010]

Return from Bamboo River (Final Part)

Friends have been coming to me with pieces of a vast, multidimensional jigsaw that's still in the process of being assembled.

Where was I during the five days I spent comatose in the Intensive Care Unit of Sungai Buloh Hospital? (I can't call it the ICU after seeing Avatar without fantasizing about the beautiful blue-skinned Neyteri...)


My beloved friend Selina - whose eyes can penetrate the many veils of reality - said she meditated with the Blue Buddha mantra as soundtrack and found herself looking at my lifeless body all hooked up to life support equipment. There was nobody in. So she searched the astral planes for me... and eventually found me sitting on a rock, looking very relaxed in a sarong, with a cup of tea.

We had a long conversation and I conveyed to her that I was utterly fed up with the entropic, apparently deteriorating conditions in the 3D Matrix. She used the full force of her feminine charms and persuasive powers to convince me that it was worthwhile returning to my physical body. "You don't want to miss the grand celebration when all of us break through to the next level!" she said (or something to the effect) and offered me her hand. My expression softened at that point, she said, and I reached out to touch her.

Well, I was pleased to hear Selina's report - though I can't confirm if this astral encounter really did occur. Around the time she had this vivid vision, thousands of other people - immediate family, close friends and total strangers from around the world - were praying for me or sending positive vibes. For sure, my soul must have felt the massive force of all this love and was humbled by it. Perhaps falling ill was my soul's way of sulking, but such an outpouring of concern would certainly have convinced me that life on earth wasn't all that terrible and that I really ought to renew my earthly visa and return to physical embodiment.


A couple of friends - a practising shaman and spiritual master from Germany named Rainer and his angel-voiced wife Karin - visited Magick River with six other pilgrims in tow and stayed 13 days, about a week after I was discharged from the hospital. Rainer and Karin came with many messages for me: essentially, they wanted me to be aware that I was embarked on a whole new phase of my earthly mission with dramatically enhanced powers - and that it would require some time for me to fully integrate the new software.

I was grateful for Rainer and Karin's inspired insights and their magnanimous friendship. Seems ironic to me that the people closest to me physically are the most reluctant to acknowledge me for what I am - and that it takes a group of relative strangers coming from halfway round the planet to recognize and appreciate my gifts. In any case, I felt richly rewarded by Rainer, Karin and their friends' wonderful company.

I was required to report back to the hospital on 14 January to get a clean bill of health from the doctor in charge of my case - but when I showed up he was nowhere to be found. The nurses said he was busy on his rounds, so I distributed the thank-you cards and fancy chocolates I had brought (courtesy of my daughter Belle) and checked in with Dr Zulkifli, head of the psychiatric unit, who had said he wanted to see me.

Dr Zul wasn't in a chatty mood. He sat me down in his office and told me I had MDP. "What's that?" I asked. "Manic depressive personality," he said laconically. I wasn't in the mood to argue with Dr Zul who struck me as essentially a decent guy, even if he appeared completely caught up in his role as drug-dispensing psychiatrist and arbiter of sanity. I detected a trace of the Inquisitor in his ego-field and knew at once he wasn't keen to hear my opinion of psychiatry.

Dr Zul's prescription was 2 mg Risperidone to be taken twice daily. I knew from Dr Zul's expression that he was utterly convinced it was his moral and professional duty to slow down my brain functions and return me safely to the 3D Matrix where I could take my place amongst billions of other well-adjusted tax-paying robots.

Now, the question is: I was admitted to the hospital for malaria. So how did the shrinks insert themselves into the story?

As I have already narrated in earlier segments of this report, I emerged from my 5-day coma completely renewed, with gleaming neural circuitry and upgraded software. My brain functions were crystalline and I was able to navigate several dimensions simultaneously (imagine being promoted from driving a 4-wheeled internal combustion earthbound vehicle to piloting a flying saucer).

Naturally I was ecstatic and ebullient. Dr Zul's assistant, Dr Siti, had come around to interview me after the nurses reported on my being awake most nights. She subsequently told my daughter: "Your father is too happy." Belle found that amusing. "Isn't it a good thing that he's happy?" Dr Siti's enigmatic reply was: "Yes, but not too happy."

So, because I was too happy, I needed to be tranquilized, sedated and occasionally strapped to my bed whenever I did anything to upset the normal routine (for example, on two occasions, I tested the staff's response time by pulling on the emergency cord in the shower. Both times they took nearly five minutes to arrive on the scene and were chided by me. They must have taken offence when I suggested that the only acceptable response time was one minute. That would make the difference between life and death for whoever needed help.)

I must confess that I've always considered myself a top-level Quality Control Inspector whose job is to ensure that all systems are running perfectly. Hence the terrible frustration I have felt most of my life on this planet where dimwitted mediocrity still rules in so many areas - especially the country I chose as my operating base.

Why was I so over-the-top happy?


Simply because I had glimpsed the inevitable outcome of all evolutionary threads - and it was an extremely happy one. Our destiny is to be fully conscious in the body and free of all robotic indoctrination. We are not fated to remain semi-conscious, semi-intelligent slaves to any system. Indeed, we are baby gods who will someday take over the management of the entire universe - when we have become totally compassionate and infinitely patient.

Of course, the fast-crumbling and benighted power structure would like us humans to remain sheep-like and half-asleep forever. After all, it depends entirely on us for "manpower." The so-called ruling elite have for countless generations fattened themselves off the blood, sweat and tears of so many species. To them we are merely farm animals, their property. That's what feudalism is all about: a gross misunderstanding of the nature and ultimate purpose of existence.


However, there is absolutely no call to hate or resent the ruling elite - because they are only maintaining a misguided tradition inherited from their distant ancestors, the not-so-noble Creator Gods who established the early civilizations on this planet. And these were indeed great civilizations with astonishingly advanced architecture and a complex bureaucracy. Without their tutelage, we would be without written language, mathematics and technology. Not such a bad thing, actually, since the introduction of alphanumeric symbols eventually led to a left-brain-dominant culture at the expense of our animal instincts and intuition.

Those who believe they wield ultimate power on earth are, in truth, terrified of their own shadows - which explains why they allocate almost two-thirds of their time and resources to defence systems and live in a perpetual Green Zone behind barricades and barbed wire. They are trapped in their own compulsive, paranoid need for secrecy, gathering data through covert agencies and 24/7 electronic surveillance of the population at large. Take away their protective armor and sophisticated killing machines - and what you get is an increasingly desperate and bewildered bunch of overaged delinquents, totally panicked by the prospect of losing control over what is essentially uncontrollable. It is beginning to dawn on some of the brighter ones that money, power and prestige will not get them through the frequency gates. The qualities that will - compassion, empathy, integrity, and the capacity for love - cannot be acquired through reptilian cunning and public relations.

But there's no way back - only the way forward.

From simplicity we became enmeshed in complexity; and now it's time for us to evolve to another level of simplicity - the Zen state of Buddhic consciousness so lucidly described by modern mystics like Eckhart Tolle.

pic courtesy of dpchallenge

In my beatific state of fully expanded awareness, I could see all humanity finally released from drudgery and meaningless toil; from cruelty, injustice and oppression. Freed from mechanical routine, we would swiftly blossom into cosmically conscious beings and take our place in ever larger constellations of sentient beings as galactic citizens.

It would be the end of disease, debt, decay and death. Physical immortality (or at least indefinite life extension) would become an option. We would regain our childlike curiosity and sense of wonder and many of us would choose to become adventurers and explorers (but not colonizers, that's a big no-no), beyond the confines of our native planet. Yes, the promise and prophecy of Star Trek would be fulfilled!


From my expanded perspective, the political shenanigans taking up so much bandwidth were nothing more than a ruckus in the schoolyard. Even the most villainous players became mere manga characters in an X-rated cartoon universe.

PlayStation wasn't invented when I was a kid - but I now found myself in a 4D virtual reality game in which I could gleefully immerse myself with absolutely no fear of getting hurt. Within the confines of the 4D Matrix, all objects and characters appear 3D. Humans are programmed to behave in specific ways and whatever they say is scripted. And because the fictitious deity they invented happens to be a punitive and vengeful one, they have become compulsive liars in order to avoid - or at least postpone - punishment.


If you're a truth-speaking entity in virtual world populated by congenital liars, you'll definitely be viewed as a serious MDP case. MDP is what Dr Zulkifli chose to call my "condition." Other shrinks might have labeled it dementia praecox, schizophrenia or bi-polar disorder.

Truth is, my clinical death and resurrection experience had cleared my cache and made room for a massive file some might call the God Program. I wouldn't call it that for the simple reason that every time anyone installs that particular software and attempts to run it in public, they either get crucified for blasphemy or incarcerated in a madhouse.

Binder dundat.