Going Within (2 page)

But here I would be on a bare stage with nothing to present but myself, the knowledge I had gleaned over the years, and my thoughts on esoteric, far-out concepts, based on strong personal experience.

And now, here I stood. I felt naked and vulnerable before the crowd of people, except for the twenty-five-page security blanket of a speech clutched in my hands. I looked out at them as they settled and hushed. Suddenly I knew I would lose this audience if I referred to that speech even once.

So I made a decision. After acknowledging their applause, I put the speech down on the table behind me. I took another deep breath, and stood, waiting. The room became very still, currents of silent energy hovering, waiting. With my eyes wide open, I meditated, asking for help. I knew I had guides and teachers. They might reside in an unseen dimension but they were nevertheless very real to me. I allowed myself to believe that I was aligning, with them and with a spiritual dimension that could see me through whatever was required to make pragmatic sense to everyone in the audience.

Many, many thoughts went through my mind in what was, in fact, a very brief time, but in that time, power seemed to flow into me and through me. I began to feel imbued with confidence. It was a glorious feeling. Not arrogant but richly confident.

Feeling relaxed, centered, and certain, somewhere in my being, that nothing could go wrong, I knew I would be able to keep a hard-edged grip on the esoteric material. I actually began to experience a new vibration of harmony in my body as well. My
sense of urgency left me. With the relaxation came a feeling of humor, a lightness of heart. I felt no worry, no tension, as though I was floating in the warmth of friends. I thought of other situations in my life when I had been tense, anxious, and even downright terrified. If only I had known about meditating for help from a dimension of spirituality. It would have been so much easier and more productive.

More than anything else, I felt no sense of time, as though I would be living the entire weekend as a whole, that the clock would not matter at all, that I would be experiencing an inner time. Yet, I was aware that I would cover each area of material within reasonable time parameters, that I would call lunch breaks (and kidney breaks) at appropriate intervals, that I would pace myself and the people with me so that we would all gain from the experience. In short, I felt a new professional trust.

I would be able to extend the joy of live communication to include the mysteries of spiritual realms. Together we would pursue those dimensions and trust that our motivations were based on that ever-deepening quest to know self.

There have been a few times in my acting and performing career when I have felt such a keen sense of harmonious elation. These were times when the energy flow was so rich, so full, so
total
, that I could simply “go” with the security of what was happening, and completely surrender to the sheer joy of what I was doing.

That is exactly what happened at that first seminar, and, with variations, continued to happen through the year of seminars that followed.

Something else happened. I realized that people were coming because each person wanted to connect with his or her own higher power and they felt there was more to their potential for this connection than they had been able to reach alone. They knew that working together with large groups could accelerate the process because the energy in the room was intensified. Thus I became aware that there was a new movement growing; that people wanted to work together, share together, investigate together, and heal themselves together. For far too long they had felt isolated in their conflicts. If we were going to improve ourselves and the world, we would have to learn to love, respect, and work together in order to achieve that goal.

As I traveled the country I found that thousands of people were opening up and surrendering to their own internal spiritual power, the power that lay waiting for them to access and enjoy in each other.

People had grown wary of giving their power to outside gurus and teachers and were ready to reassume their own internal authority, to work within themselves.

They knew
they
were going to have to do the work, that I was not a guru or a teacher, that I could
only share experience, gently lead and suggest, relate what I had done and what I had gained from it, in the hope that that would help them to find their own strengths. They knew that I was attempting to find, my way just as they were finding theirs.

Never in all my years of public life had I met such intelligent and courageous people. People from all walks of life—doctors, scientists, psychiatrists, home-makers, business executives, even politicians. All were stretching their vistas of truth. They had come, undaunted by raised eyebrows, snickers, and sometimes downright ridicule—each one seemed to have experienced the colorful family dramas that apparently accompany every self-search. They seemed glad, indeed delighted, to be able to talk freely about their beliefs, their doubts, their traumas, their questions, and their triumphs. One man said he was learning to fly an airplane because he was taking himself more lightly!

Each of the seminars produced hundreds of stories, each a real-life drama, nor were any feelings held back. I was amazed, and I felt gifted, and grateful for the trust we were able to exchange.

We laughed together about the reactions of friends and family, some of whom did not always understand, and soon it was clear that nothing demeaning or tragic could really happen, other than serving as a catalyst for a very rich vein of metaphysical humor to be mined by Johnny Carson and comics everywhere.
We did not care. The world needed some fresh laughs anyway.

People came bearing crystals, books, handmade presents, candy, carrot cake, even frankincense and myrrh, a wonderful combined incense. Gifts, for me and for each other. At first I had a problem accepting such gifts, feeling that the people were giving their power to me, but one of the great lessons was not only to learn to accept love and expressions of it even from strangers, but to look at how arrogant it was of me to believe that my power was in danger of usurping theirs!

In company with a thousand strangers, people openly trusted in spiritual sharing and talked freely about their heretofore closely guarded secrets. They knew no trust would be betrayed. We meditated together. On inner personal levels we contacted departed loved ones together. We talked about fear, evil, how to learn to love more unconditionally—and always there was the trust in ourselves and one another.

They came with pillows to use when sitting on the floor, with notepaper, and with open hearts. We learned early on to understand the theory of power present when three or more people gathered in the name of universal Divine Energy. Perhaps it was the cosmic triad—one for mind, one for body, one for spirit. In any case, the more people there were, the more each person’s inner power was increased. Sometimes the energy in the room was so intense it could
actually be seen by the “sensitives” attending. If there were one thousand individual souls working with nonfragmented, focused intention in the same room, the power of that collective-soul energy became one colossal vibration.

There were many beginners who had never meditated or visualized in their lives. The more advanced people often learned a great deal from the beginners because they were so pure and uneducated about metaphysics. One can become as intellectually arrogant about spirituality as about empirical science.

So everyone worked together to allow themselves to let go. I discouraged note-taking, and tape recorders were not allowed, not only because it disturbed others but because such techniques blocked the process of absorbing the information through the heart and the feelings. These devices focused on the mind instead, which was in direct opposition to what we were attempting to achieve—a wholeness of concentration that included body, mind, and spirit. At first I’d notice a momentary expression of panic when people had to put down their pads and pencils, but soon their faces became less strained, more relaxed, and ultimately full of wonder about what they were feeling in themselves.

After a question-and-answer period during which people realized they had many problems in common and which allowed them to get to know one another, I guided a collective meditation, using natural sound effects of birds, bubbly flowing streams, soft breezes,
crystals gently tinkling, and music that promoted a feeling of well-being and peace.

These collective meditations, some lasting as long as two hours, were often deeply cathartic for many people (including myself), because we were making contact with a very personal essence that I can only describe as being connected to the Divine. When that connection is felt, the result opens floodgates of insight and well-being. Emotional catharsis is in itself a practical aid to solving personal problems and reducing stress.

The study of spirituality and metaphysics, therefore, is motivated by extremely pragmatic considerations, particularly with respect to improving one’s performance in life, and hence one’s feeling of well-being. Emotional catharsis can also create a climate for clarity of thought, enabling one to confront complex problems, both internal and external, allowing priorities to emerge that can then be resolved, or at least put into perspective. Such a study is not at all an exercise in fantasy—at least not in my experience. Going within, touching one’s inner self, holds solutions for many people for whom nothing else seems to work. And going within in a collective environment carries with it an extraordinary power, because everyone is working and meditating with the same intention; there is no fragmentation of focus. Each individual in the room trusts that there is a higher power in himself or herself as well as in everyone
else. As a result, the process of connecting with that power is accelerated.

There we’d be, in the Grand Ballroom of some hotel in a large city, at the center of urban plastic and concrete. Next door the Shriners might be having a convention.

We were so silent that often someone from outside would open a door and peer in, wondering if the Grand Ballroom was indeed occupied. In meditation, our people were absorbed, enthralled in the exploration of themselves, coming to terms with and clearing out whatever they needed to in their lives.

I’d ask them to picture themselves with someone they felt had hurt them more than any other, then to go deep into the soul level of communication and ask that person why the hurt had been necessary. Nearly everyone got an “answer.” And apparently the answers were of such significance that most people allowed themselves to weep openly about that hurtful experience for the first time in their lives. On some soul level they were talking to the person in question. People thus confronted their own anger, their feelings of abandonment, rejection, and loneliness. And through the courage of confrontation they became more illumined, clearer about their personal motivations.

They all wanted to talk, to share their internal experiences. Problems held in common with others opened up areas for animated discussions with one another. (Indeed, many friendships were sparked by
these seminars, and later cemented into lasting relationships.)

The stories that people related were astonishing in their frankness. One woman told the group she had understood and forgiven a man who had raped her. A man understood why his father had beaten him. A young woman understood and forgave her mother for abandoning her at the age of seven. The stories and personal dramas were touching, alarming, funny—and the resolutions infinitely satisfying. People trusted the concept that they could indeed clear out their emotional pain by going within themselves. They trusted the idea that on that same deep soul level they could connect with the soul of another human being. Soon they saw that the clearing had everything to do with how
they
perceived the problem and nothing to do with the person whom they had previously perceived to have inflicted pain upon them.

Sometimes, while guiding the meditations, I would proceed involuntarily to clear out some of my own pain. Whenever that happened, I found myself crying, having lost my control in the collective experience. I had as much to clear as everybody else and it was temptingly easy to flow into the collective energy because it was so powerfully accessible. But I could not afford to lose myself without losing the group. So I found that I needed to do my own clearing privately, alone, either in my room during lunch break or at night when I was finished with the seminar.