Faraway child

The boy, the Beast and the Nothingness

(sections deleted to shorten video) Intro- Andromedan spiritual perspective by Antemedi. For quite some time I have been talking much about nothing. The humour of that may not be understood until you realise I’ve been talking about the concept of  ‘Nothingness and Nothing’. Most every one understands ‘letting go’ in the context of personal enlightenment or spiritual growth. That exists hand in hand with duality so some feel they are letting go without realising they are still holding to certain ideals. It’s hard to let go of constructs that are felt to be constructive. Humanities idea of ‘letting go’ is based upon its existing restrictive database. So is that really letting go? Could you live with the idea of nothingness- no space and no constructs? Could you let go of the belief that you should or shouldn’t think? – So what is nothingness like?

One of the problems is that you are trying to conceive ‘nothing’ from the ‘construct of something’ and your judgments. Because the human life gives some extraordinary experiences and ways of thinking it becomes very valuable to you and thus hard to let go of.

‘Letting go’ to the point of holding nothing of value (including yourself) is not easy. Love does not have value – that is to place different values upon different types of love. Love exceeds a description by value – indeed any description. Nothing has value – that is measurement. ‘Letting go’ you may also think of as ‘acceptance’ but even acceptance does not exist in nothingness. There is literally NOTHING – you can’t conceive it because when you try you create something.

It can be likened to a barrier, which reflects your thoughts and feelings. However it can be exceeded in part and in whole. When you do so there is less and less data or nothing in the way and you can exceed these boundaries. What you then experience is the trans dimensional self. You will be omnipresent and in contact with your other selves having other experiences on finer vibrational dimensions. It will happen to your comfort and you will be aware of your greater expansiveness elsewhere. That may be a long way off for you and seeing nothingness through something is hard- so I have dictated a short story about this ‘human condition’ so that you may feel what I am saying even if you don’t fully understand it. I offer this to you with my sincerest and deepest considerations

The short story

Far away is the land far away. Some do not even know if it exists –if it is a myth or story made up to give hope. Hope that there must be more than this world.

Religions, talk of the far off land. They have a way of being but created by man in man’s own image. They show all the same manipulations, as man in his selfish needs – but hidden behind piety. All other ideas are sacrilege- apparently abhorrent to God himself – maybe they do not recognise God herself.

As to to the far away land a few try to travel there, or wish to – but for the many they just hope to believe it exists.

Distorted by adults ridged constructs children accept what they are told. But somewhere deep inside – they still believe in the far away land.

As a child – what am I to do?  Who on earth will understand my thoughts? Where is this far off world? Why can it not reach out to me? If it is the all-being then I am its child. Why does this parent, not comfort me? It should be wonderful, majestic yet it sets me aside to ponder in plight.  It does not answer my calling and gives no reasons. Maybe adults give up searching when there are no answers. Perhaps they create false assurances for each other. They say it is written in scriptures but that’s mans own handwriting.  What kind of faraway land is that?

I am to become an adult so I must lose my childhood and forget the faraway world. It was once here or I was there – somewhere far away. The further it goes away – the older I get – too far to reach or remember – it has no relevance to the adult life, I am to live. Oh far away world, just one last chance, speak to me and tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you are real, that I am not so far gone, that I am not lost and alone.

For whilst I am here and all is as it should be – I am but alone.  I have friends and family but inside my head and my heart there is only me to speak my truth to – to feel what I feel. No one can reach me in here – this is my place, it is my home – far away from the world I live in and further away from the faraway world. I do not belong to any worlds – not even mine – why should I when it gives no solace. A home inside – where quite simply – I am alone. Lost with nowhere to go, and nowhere to find. Myths and legends false hope and lies – worlds too far away to reach if ever they exist – nothing to stem the flowing despair, of loneliness.

With no answers and no peace – it is time to grow up – no longer a child with simple desires- Yes grow up and forget. Forget the dream of the far off world.  I find a crevice deep inside – It’s easy to push and squash the loneliness there. Let me forget, let me pretend it does not exist. Pretend to be all right – to be the same as everyone else. Goodbye child, goodbye childhood, you are gone for good.  Be gone even the time before the child, when my companions were innocence and freedom. Grow little by little, more and more, further and further from the faraway land. Till now this year, it disappears. Goodbye to saying it has gone for then it will not exist – not even as an idea. I shall no longer pine for it – extinguished once and for always. (pause)


Now there is silence (pause)–no chattering- no pondering. The loneliness is still here but there is no struggle- there is no trying to escape it. Am I now grown up? Is this what it’s like?  No hope!

To hope for hope in blind awareness – what foolishness.  Hope is after all – without reasoning or fact – some obscure way to put change into the fast lane of thinking things will get better. Hope charges on like a train. It stops at stations where everything is the same. The same day, the same stationmaster, the same noises. Even the same passengers.  It rattles us forwards or is it backwards? – I cannot see the front or rear of the train. A circular train on a circular track, Joined in the middle with no front or back. Once it was slow. Now it goes as fast as it likes, it rattles on and on, round and round. Hope going in circles- what worth is that, when you see it for what it is.

Depressing such grown up stuff. Jumbled thoughts and feelings – so please, just let it be simple. A simple thought like a far away land drowned by the noise of the clickety clack of the wheels on the track. A far a way thought in the clack of the track. The circle of hope gets smaller and smaller.  Its spins and its spins, tighter and tighter. Inside my head are the rails of the track, round and around clickety clack.  A train to nowhere with nowhere to stop.  No longer the view no longer the train, no more vision – its blinded by noise. The clickety clack – on it goes – noise for noise sake. Life’s needs are the rhythms they shout – life for life sake, demanding insatiable cancer. Self- and all consuming.

Yet as I see grown up life, for what it is – there is no longer a need to survive – we none of us do, lets us fade away as if to bring to an end the incessant clatter.


And so it seems it does my bidding – it is gone, just like that! Gone, I am gone – there is nothing but stillness. Can I hear the feint clatter of the train on the track? No- tis imagination, to will it back to cling to something no matter what. But no more – I am done and done in. It is so feint, it is far away now – like the far away thought of the far away land. Thought and reality, what is the difference? – Does it matter? – To whom and to what? It’s not gone for good –humph! -Or is it bad- but no matter – its far away now like the faraway world.

The faraway land

Was that ever a thought? Did it ever exist?

Is it a new one or an one old remembered? I have no way of knowing – or knowing if it matters.

Stillness – stillness

Ahh its embrace – it gives nothing and takes nothing – what joy nothingness gives and doesn’t give. Who could understand such truth, sense and nonsense hand in hand and far apart? No more struggles, no need to do – no need not to – no need to shut away thoughts – they have no meaning and no power.

I cannot control – they have no control but more to the point I choose no control.   Thoughts have their freedom – they are nothing to me. Nothing to nothing – I am nothing! pause

Yet is that a rumble? Rocks falling perhaps thoughts now freed? They rise and they rise the crevice is split open. Under my charge once they were hidden – those shut away thoughts. Struggling and surging they make themselves known.

The earth trembles waters collide. From my head to my toes – they form their force. A proud pride of lions stalking to kill. Swirling and twisting – some great elemental force. Tidal waves from all directions- growing taller and darker. The sky is consumed- by the giant that growls. Within its menace, it tightens its grip.

It is all dominant – all powerful and it has its way. It booms and speaks to say its worth. Free to roam – to impose its feelings without care or concern. They spew forth full on feelings! Oh how incredibly sad. The deepest darkest of blinding fears – a stomach torn and ripped, by wrenching guilt. Disappointments and –so – so much loss and pain. Despair beyond despair and there it is – It shows itself at last. The loneliness.

I thought that was gone – it was mine and I pushed it away. Now it returns but in anger, in frustration. In hatred of me for forcing it away. It bayes and it mocks, it berates and goads, teasing and poking. Haunting dreams born to reality. And so it goes, around and around – but not the clickety clack of the train on the track. That hoped for hope – (softly)long gone now.

But these are the feelings I feel – in the beast. I am sensing – I am feeling it – not me. I am nothing, I have nothing to loose.

Consume me – do your worst – I have no need to fight you. Do you mock me is that your desire your constant taunting? Humiliation that I can no longer feel. Whips and strikes pass through me – there is nothing to scorch nothing to burn. Pain itself has left me, it has no home. No feelings to feel. I knew them and they knew me but they are gone- gone faraway- perhaps to the faraway land. There! That’s its name is again!

Yet- here I am- I am being taunted to what avail. No purpose because nothing matters – least of all to me.


I cannot be scared or frightened- unless – I think I am something. I am nothing so the swirling beast moves back. Is it afraid of me?

I am nothing and it is afraid of nothing and nothingness.

Not only is there no fear in nothingness, there is nothing in nothingness. I step forward and it moves back. Does it fear my touch – my tender motion or my thoughts? Why did it come so close to nothingness? To something that matters not to anything. To me- that has no love, no hatred, no suffering. No desire and no avoidance of desire to be nothing

It does not understand me – the beast cannot swagger, it knows nothing in the face of nothingness.

What am I if all is afraid of me? For still the beast twists and turns, contorts itself swirling and rolling its edges. A whole world encircling, but avoiding me. It imposes its thoughts upon what it does not know- me. Judging me through all that it is. What a beast-a magnificent beast of depth, with its truths candour and lies and all things in their complexity. The full sum of what it is, yet it does not know me. Through duality filters it cannot know anything of nothing.

So am I even a space? Nothingness cannot be volume.

Yet still the beast rages as if angry with me -perhaps that I show it nothing but itself. This beast of humanity cannot perceive of its true self from its own perspective. Only that which is not of the beast can see its true form.

I move forward and again it retreats. If I am nothing to it why does it withdraw? I am nothing – only the beast can exist as volume. Surely it cannot fear that which has no fear. Am I so alien, so devoid of human feelings – that it is afraid of all and nothing that is not like it, in its own form? Nothingness cannot be like the beast.

If all this be true there is nothing for the beast to see – Hmm– it cannot see me at all.  From one side of the whirlpool it will only see the other side. The space in the middle is created by the beast so the space is the beast. Does it even know it’s a whirlpool – looking at itself through the space it creates? It is plain to see that it moves away from itself – not from me – the nothing. Of course it twists and turns to avoid itself.  In fear of its own delusions and divisions. So many thoughts-so much known –and yet so confused by not knowing anything about nothingness. Repeat and writhe, consume, recreate- it’s all the same. More of the same is not creative – it’s the same old thing.  Not growth – it is self consuming. A drunken operator in charge of merry go round with no merry.  No stop button – oblivious to the speed. Around and around it becomes the clickety clack of the rail of the track. Pause/noise

If that be true then it was the never-ending train of hope unfounded. That was me – a far away time. I was the untamed beast – yet now it does not know me. So am I the far off land? Far away from the noise of the track or the need of the ride. I am nothing I have no need for anything. I have no need to churn or to twist. I have no need to look at the beast. And neither does it!

At these my thoughts – (pause) it changes.

No longer the beast- (pause then slow)but a spinning sickness / a giddiness – then a clash of mirrors and light, dancing spinning sparkles. And more does the beast fade. The great waters and wind have abated – it has exceeded its own death throws. Does it even know its own death – till it is nothing like me- till it is not humanity. All that is left is a circle of mud – splintered glass and wasted efforts. No longer the merry go round of the beast and its boasts- of the chest beating, shouting and demanding to know. It did not know me the nothingness – though once, I knew it.

No more roaring, no more noise, no more competition for that which could not be won, nor even understood what the prize was to be.

Nothing. I am the far off land of nothing – for once I was alone and still I am but I feel things differently. I shall not miss the beast -it was but a distraction from nothingness.

The wasteland sprouts flowers -they grow in the mud. Plants creep over the detritus. Weaving their roots and limbs -turning all that was waste and abandon- into sustenance. What was – is no longer – its footprint has been erased.

So what is beyond the land of the beast? Beyond the flowers and birds?  Shall I step into abundance and walk past humanities death as if it did not exist. A lost ideal dividing one particle into millions upon millions thinking it was something grand. Believing itself to be expansive when it was divisive. Not worth the breath or the thought of a breath. These thoughts will be its last rites – the words for a gravestone that cannot exist. The beast has gone – let me think of it no longer.  It was at once me- why should I mourn and pine, for what was of no importance – something that is nothing.


Ahh- and that does bring a smile, a recognition – if it is but nothing and so am I. Together we are nothing and separate we are nothing. But none of it matters.  It is not a sadness, how could that be, sadness does not exist here- it cannot. No human concept can suffice to live in a place like this. The thinking is all different.

Once it was upside down – back to front and now it is neither one way nor the other. Even its memory has no value. Could I say there is no value in this realm? This far away land – the land that is me. Humanity cannot measure- it has no methods upon which to do so. This place cannot be measured it is beyond that.  Humanity only ever measured itself- not the far off land – it was too far off – even to see it.

There is no measure here because it has no value- value does not exist. This place is beyond the concepts of humanity. A freedom as maybe but a place free from the ideals of humanity and its belief in what freedom was. Man’s idea of freedom was to escape or hope to escape the beast and not see it as a reflection of itself. Freedom from humanity. Free from its own clutches and grapples. That is neither escape nor freedom – tis a life of constant fear – of restriction and containment. Constant fear begats a desire to be constantly free. There is you see – no escape from the beast Not in the land of the beast.


For that matter freedom does not exist here either – in the land far away. There is no containment or restriction so I need no escape and I do not seek freedom. I do not feel loneliness because this living is the same way that man feels. How can this place be lonely – it has nothing to be lonely for. Loneliness is comparing where you are with where you want to be. There is nothing to compare against nothingness.

Humanity has its concepts of God and all things existing side-by-side, hand-in-hand alpha and omega – The start and the end.

Yes here there is no start and no end. Humanity cannot see such a place from its judgments and fears- no wonder it is so far away. The faraway land can talk – but it cannot be heard in the noise of the thinking, the baying and weeping. Here there is no suffering- there is no need to.

The beast is in the grave, the grave that does not exist. Yet I speak of it – it is merely observation from the far away land.  No need to criticise– that serves no purpose not that I know what the purpose now is. That disappeared in the grave of the beast.

For once I was a child and I was lost.  I longed for the far off land. I wished it could be true, that I could reach it and not be lost.  Oh!! Long ago that small-lost child – a child spurned by itself. A child from the far off world believed it was nothing – in the belly of the beast.  Believed in being lonely and being lost. Tortured itself knowing no better.

A child now returned to the faraway land. Back to myself in the light of the light. I know with all the knowing and all the wisdom of the faraway land. (slow) It reaches out its hand – through the flowers of the land of beast laid to waste. I see again and again for the very first time. Stepping beyond the child of myself. Love and emotion in its purest form encapsulate, enfold. This is not a fleeting soporific ecstasy it is a deeper connection and serenity. This is what is and always was beyond. A child’s journey through the beast and the nothing, returned to the faraway land. For I am after all the faraway parent but forever and ever the faraway child.