Soul-Team-Work + a Movie Pitch

What does our soul-pur­pose look like when man­i­fest­ed as mun­dane action? The ques­tion remains open, unmapped. We only know what we are by express­ing what we are. Soul work requires human inter­ac­tions that allow our souls to come more ful­ly into phys­i­cal expres­sion, by con­nect­ing and ampli­fy­ing the shared sig­nal of Spir­it, as receiv­er-trans­mit­ters. Find­ing the Oth­ers means not only find­ing souls we can con­nect to; it means more ful­ly con­nect­ing to those souls we have already locat­ed in ordi­nary space­time, but not yet forged a link to in Eternity.

If you read or lis­tened to 16 Maps of Hell, you know I have want­ed to make movies ever since I was a lone­ly, horny ado­les­cent in my attic room. You also know that dri­ve got all tan­gled up with an enti­ty-bred desire to be part of a satan­ic sys­tem (Hol­ly­wood), and that, in more recent years, I have tried to extri­cate, or extin­guish, that desire from my psy­che and set­tle for being a goatherd and chick­en-roost builder. But, like the mon­ster in a B‑movie, the dream of cre­at­ing sur­ro­gate real­i­ties keeps com­ing back to haunt and hound me. Is there a way to trans­form and redeem it, I am now won­der­ing, by splic­ing it with soul-group-work? Is there a bridge between the fall­en tem­po­ral world and the eter­nal spir­i­tu­al realms? Isn’t that exact­ly what the soul is meant to be?

Test­ing these waters, mov­ing intre­pid­ly across a mine­field of ances­tral enti­ties, I am now recruit­ing read­ers for a script first writ­ten back in 2012, when I was liv­ing in Esto­nia, now called The Light of Dead Stars. (The orig­i­nal title was the Phil K Dick­ian “(I Will Always Be) The One I Nev­er Was.) I was struck recent­ly how this script is unlike any of my oth­er scripts — that it seems to be suf­fused with an oth­er­world­ly qual­i­ty. Inspired, I have been shar­ing it with a select few read­ers, with an eye towards devel­op­ing it in some form (stage, radio, film, or series of short films). It involves a false­ly-awak­ened spir­i­tu­al sleek­er (& pot smok­er) who winds up as an acci­den­tal ser­i­al mur­der­er when every woman he touch­es dies on him. (This was before I knew about what John de Ruiter was up to with the women, before he had announced his Call­ing, and a cou­ple of years before one of the women died.)

The script is a com­e­dy, sort of, a sur­re­al crime psy­chodra­ma, and a qua­si-sci­fi mys­tery. Full syn­op­sis here. If you’d like to read a por­tion of the script and join this project, let me know.

In oth­er news, the Sat­ur­day SWEEP meets (at 12 pm UK time) con­tin­ue as a very small but tight group (rough­ly the same 5–7 par­tic­i­pants each week) that is becom­ing more and more of a work­ing “par­ty” due to the con­sis­ten­cy and com­mit­ment of the atten­dants. It is open to new­com­ers but so far, you aren’t com­ing. The few of you who have reached out with inter­est, fell silent soon after, and so have not made it in. Appar­ent­ly, peo­ple are afraid! But of what, is not so clear.

Now the group is up and run­ning, we are tak­ing on some real-life thorny enti­ty-issues. The many pot­holes and pit­falls of being a spir­i­tu­al seek­er suf­fer­ing from soul loss and mis­sion creep in a enti­ty-infest­ed soci­ety, beset on every side by char­la­tans, sor­cer­ers, and sex­u­al preda­tors try­ing to fleece you and cast­ing lots for your inter­nal organs while promis­ing you the world. If you aren’t mad as hell and swear­ing not to take it any­more, then you have prob­a­bly already suc­cumbed to the adver­tis­ing and don’t even know it.

The Sat SWEEP meet­ings offer an oppor­tu­ni­ty to expe­ri­ence some inten­sive soul-group-work pro­cess­ing, to con­front some of these demons, inner and out­er, in real-time, with a group of car­ing and com­mit­ted par­tic­i­pants, and to come out the oth­er side just a lit­tle bit clear­er, clean­er, and lean­er than before.

How­ev­er: only intre­pid, bold, and hon­est souls with a fierce com­mit­ment to change need apply. Oth­er­wise, don’t waste my or your time. It’s like the old adage about old age: SWEEP meets are not for sissies.

More info here.