The Tenth Insight: Holding the Vision (17 page)

BOOK: The Tenth Insight: Holding the Vision
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Here I could clearly see what was intensifying the polarization: each side was thinking the other to be a conspiracy of evil.

The advocates of the old worldview were no longer considering the Human Potentialists as misguided or naive, but were, in
fact, considering them to be part of a larger conspiracy of
big government
socialists, holdout adherents of the communist solution, who were seeking to accomplish exactly what was occurring: the erosion
of cultural life to the point where an all-powerful government could come in and straighten everything out. In their view
this conspiracy was using fear of increasing crime as an excuse to register guns and systematically disarm the public, giving
ever-greater control to a centralized bureaucracy that would finally monitor the movement of cash and credit cards through
uplinks into the Internet, rationalizing the growing control of the electronic economy as crime prevention, or as a necessity
to collect taxes or prevent sabotage. Finally, perhaps under the ploy of an impending natural disaster,
big brother
would step forward and confiscate wealth and declare martial law.

For the advocates of liberation and change, just the opposite scenario seemed more likely. In the face of the conservatives’
political gains, all that they had worked for seemed to be crashing before their eyes. They, too, observed the increasing
violent crime and the
degenerating family structures, only for them the cause was not too much government intervention, but too little, too late.

In every nation capitalism had failed a whole class of people, and the reason was clear: for poor people there existed no
opportunity to participate in the system. Effective education wasn’t there. The jobs weren’t there. And instead of helping,
the government seemed ready to back away, throwing out the antipoverty programs with all the other hard-won social gains of
the last twenty-five years.

I could see clearly that, in their growing disillusionment, the reformers were beginning to believe the worst: that the rightward
swing in human society could only be the result of increased manipulation and control by the moneyed, corporate interests
in the world. These interests seemed to be buying governments, buying the media, and ultimately, as in Nazi Germany, they
would slowly divide the world into the haves and the have-nots, with the largest, richest corporations running the small entrepreneurs
out of business and controlling more and more of the wealth. Sure there would be riots, but that would just play into the
hands of the elite as they strengthened their police control.

My awareness suddenly jumped to a higher level and I finally understood the polarization of Fear completely: great numbers
of people seemed to be gravitating to one perspective or the other, with both sides raising the stakes to that of war, of
good vs. evil, and both visualizing the other as the perpetrators of a grand conspiracy.

And in the background I now understood the growing influence of those people who claimed to be able to explain this emergent
evil. These were the
end-times
analysts to whom Joel had referred earlier. In the growing turmoil of the transition, these interpreters were beginning to
increase their power. In their view
the Bible’s prophecies were to be understood literally, and what they saw in the uncertainty of our time was the long-awaited
apocalypse preparing to descend. Soon would come the outright holy war in which humans would be divided between the forces
of darkness and armies of light. They envisioned this war as a real physical conflict, fast and bloody, and for those who
knew it was coming, only one decision was important: be on the correct side when the fighting began.

Yet simultaneously, just as with the other landmark turns in human history, I could see beyond the Fear and retrenchment to
the actual Birth Visions of those involved. Clearly everyone on both sides of the polarization had come into the physical
dimension intending that this polarization not be so intense. We wanted a smooth transition from the old materialistic worldview
to the new spiritual one, and we wanted a transformation in which the best of the older traditions would be recognized and
integrated into the new world that was emerging.

I could clearly see that this growing belligerence was an aberration, coming not from intention, but from the Fear. Our original
vision was that the ethics of human society would be maintained at the same time that each person could be fully liberated
and the environment protected; and that economic creativity would be at once conserved and transformed by introducing an overriding
spiritual purpose. And further, that this spiritual purpose could descend fully into the world and initiate a utopia in a
way that symbolically fulfilled the end-times Scriptures.

My awareness amplified even further, and just as when I had watched Maya’s Birth Vision, I could almost glimpse this higher
spiritual understanding, the full picture of where human history was intended to go from here, how we could achieve this reconciliation
of views and go on to fulfill our human destiny. Then,
as before, my head began to spin, and I lost concentration; I couldn’t reach the level of energy needed to grasp it.

The vision began to disappear, and I strained to hold on, seeing the current situation one last time. Clearly, without the
mediating influence of the World Vision, the polarization of Fear would continue to accelerate. I could see the two sides
hardening, their feelings intensifying, as both began to think the other to be not just wrong, but hideous, venal… in league
with the devil himself.

A
fter a moment of dizziness and a sense of rapid movement, I looked around and saw Wil beside me. He glanced my way, then gazed
out at the dark gray environment, a concerned expression on his face. We had traveled to a new location.

“Were you able to see my vision of history?” I asked.

He looked at me again and nodded. “What we just saw was a new spiritual interpretation of history, somewhat specific to your
cultural view, but amazingly revealing. I’ve never seen anything like that before. This has to be part of the Tenth—a clear
view of the human quest as seen in the Afterlife. We’re understanding that everyone is born with a positive intention, trying
to bring more of the knowledge contained in the Afterlife into the physical. All of us! History has been a long process of
awakening. When we are born into the physical, of course, we run into this problem of going unconscious and having to be socialized
and trained in the cultural reality of the day. After that, all we can remember are these gut feelings, these intuitions,
to do certain things. But we constantly have to fight the Fear. Often the Fear is so great we fail to follow through with
what we intended, or we distort it somehow. But everyone, and I mean everyone, comes in with the best of intentions.”

“So you think a serial killer, for instance, really came here to do something good?”

“Yes, originally. All killing is a rage and lashing out that is a way of overcoming an inner sense of Fear and helplessness.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Aren’t some people just inherently bad?”

“No, they just go crazy in the Fear and make horrible mistakes. And, ultimately, they must bear the full responsibility of
these mistakes. But what has to be understood is that horrible acts are caused, in part, by our very tendency to assume that
some people are naturally evil. That’s the mistaken view that fuels the polarization. Both sides can’t believe humans can
act the way they do without being intrinsically no good, and so they increasingly dehumanize and alienate each other, which
increases the Fear and brings out the worst in everyone.” He seemed distracted again, looking away.

“Each side thinks the other is involved in a conspiracy of the greatest sort,” he added, “the embodiment of all that’s negative.”

I noticed he was looking out toward the distance again, and when I followed his eyes, and also focused on the environment,
I began to pick up an ominous sense of darkness and foreboding.

“I think,” he continued, “that we can’t bring in the World Vision, or resolve the polarization, until we understand the real
nature of evil and the actual reality of Hell.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

He glanced at me one more time, then gazed out again into the dull gray. “Because Hell is exactly where we are.”

AN NNER HELL

A
chill surged through my body as I looked out on the gray environment. The ominous feeling I perceived earlier was turning
into a clear sense of alienation and despair.

“Have you been here before?” I asked Wil.

“Only to the edge,” he replied. “Never out here in the middle. Do you feel how cold it is?”

I nodded as a movement caught my eye. “What is that?”

Wil shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

A swirling mass of energy seemed to be moving in our direction.

“It must be another soul group,” I said.

As they came closer, I tried to focus on their thoughts, feeling an even greater sense of alienation, even anger. I tried
to shrug it off, open up more.

“Wait,” I vaguely heard Wil say. “You’re not strong enough.” But it was too late. I was suddenly pulled into an intense blackness
and then beyond it into a large town of some kind. In terror
I looked around, struggling to keep my wits, and realized that the architecture indicated the nineteenth century. I was standing
on a street corner full of people walking by, and in the distance was the raised dome of a capitol building. At first I thought
I was actually in the nineteenth century, but several aspects of the reality were wrong: the horizon faded out to a strange
gray color, and the sky was olive green, similar to the sky above the office construction that Williams had created when he
was avoiding the realization that he had died.

Then I became aware of four men watching me from the opposite street corner. An icy-cold feeling swept my body. All were well
dressed and one cocked his head and took a puff from a large cigar. Another checked a watch and returned it to his vest pocket.
Their look was sophisticated but menacing.

“Anyone who has raised their ire is a friend of mine,” a low voice spoke from behind me.

I turned to see a large, barrel-shaped man, also well dressed and wearing a wide-brimmed felt hat, walking toward me. His
face seemed familiar; I had seen him before. But where?

“Don’t mind them,” he added. “They’re not so hard to outsmart.”

I stared at his tall, stooped posture and shifting eyes, then remembered who he was. He had been the commander of the federal
troops I had seen in the visions of the nineteenth-century war, the one who had refused to see Maya and had ordered the battle
against the Native people to begin. This town was a construction, I thought. He must have re-created his later life situation
in order to avoid realizing he was dead.

“This is not real,” I blurted. “You’re… uh… deceased.”

He seemed to ignore my statement. “So what have you done to piss off that bunch of jackals?”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Oh yes, you’ve done something. I know that look they’re giving you. They think they run this town, you know. In fact, they
think they can run the whole world.” He shook his head. “These people never trust fate. They think they’re responsible for
seeing that the future turns out exactly as they plan. Everything. Economic development, governments, the flow of money, even
the relative value of world currencies. All of which is not a bad idea, really. God knows the world is full of peons and idiots,
who will ruin everything if left to their own devices. The people have to be herded and controlled as much as possible, and
if one can make a little money along the way, why not?

“But these nuts tried to run me. Of course, I’m too smart for them. I’ve always been too smart for them. So what did you do?”

“Listen,” I said. “Try to understand. None of this is real.”

“Hey,” he replied, “I would suggest that you take me into your confidence. If they’re against you, I’m the only friend you
have.”

I looked away, but I could tell he was still eyeing me suspiciously.

“They’re treacherous people,” he went on. “They’ll never forgive you. Take my situation, for example. All they wanted was
to use my military experience to quash the Indians and open up their lands. But I was onto them. I knew they couldn’t be trusted,
that I would have to look out for myself.” He gave me a wry look. “It’s harder for them to use you and throw you away if you’re
a war hero, right? After the war I sold myself to the public. That way, these characters had to play ball with
me
. But let me tell you: never underestimate these people. They are capable of anything!”

He backed away from me a moment, as if pondering my appearance.

“In fact,” he added, “they may have sent you as a spy.”

At a loss as to what to do, I started to walk away.

“You bastard!” he yelled. “I was right.”

I saw him reach into a pocket and pull a short knife. Petrified, I forced my body to move, running down the street and into
an alleyway, his footsteps heavy behind me. On the right was a door, partially open. I ran through it and slid the bolt into
the locked position. My next breath drew in the heavy odor of opium. Around me were dozens of people, their faces staring
absently up at me. Were they real, I wondered, or part of the constructed illusion? Most quickly turned back to their muted
conversation and hookah pipes, so I started to walk through the dirty mattresses and sofas to another door.

“I know you,” a woman slurred. She was leaning against the wall by the door, her head hanging forward as if too heavy for
her neck. “I went to your school.”

I looked at her in confusion for a moment, then remembered the young girl in my high school who had suffered from repeated
episodes of depression and drug use. Resisting all intervention, she had finally overdosed and died.

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