The Result of the Vision of Christ

The Result of the Vision of Christ
Emotional Trauma and School
Sex and Emotional Trauma
Adolescence and Emotional Trauma
God, Friends, and the Opposite Sex
Correct Thinking
Types of Thought
Scripture and The Miracle Inside My Mind
The Equation of Thought
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In Memory of My Beautiful Mother,

Lucille Marie Morrone

January 28, 1919-May 3, 2014










Copyright 2014 by Apex Business Services, Inc.  Printed in the United States


All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission from the publisher, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.


Apex Publishing

P.O. Box 5445

San Jose, Ca. 95150


ISBN 978-0-9744603-1-4


10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1







 Table of Contents






Chapter One


     The Hospital

         The First Vision

         The Second Vision


     Chapter Two



          The Journal

          The Coach and the Player

          The Chess Tournament

          The Powerful Impression


Chapter Three


      The Room

          The Equation of Thought

The Lava and the Smoke

            The Lizard

            The Blame for Thoughts

            The Blame for Feelings

            Good Feelings

            Types of Thought

            1-4 Thought


            Types of Pictures

            A New Door is opened


            Eclectic Knowledge

            Christian Principals and PTSD


Chapter Four


            Correct Thinking

            Creating Pictures

            The Chain of Thought

            I was aware of the lizard

            It’s 1977 and THIS IS BORING!

            The Metal Weight

            The Controlled Anger

            The Shovel

            Giving advice and “you”

            Physical Thought


            The View of the Mountain


            The Diagram of Thought Segments

            Positive Affirmations


            The Concept of the Sphere

            The Call to Action



Chapter Five                   



            San Jose State University

            The Mental Explosion

            The Diagram of the Test

            The Diagram of the Sphere

            The Diagram of The Equation of Thought

            The Part of Me I Always Hated

            The Existential Idea

    1+ 2 = 4

                   The Desk

                   The Shores of my life

                   Luke 6:27 to 6:49


All Bible quotes are from the confraternity edition of the Bible.

























     The age of two taught me three things I could never forget. The first is that loneliness can cause physical pain; the second is that being with the wrong people can be worse than being alone; the third is that if something terrible happens, it’s possible to become inspired. I learned this lesson because in the early 1960’s, at the age of two, I was hospitalized with encephalitis, left alone for several days, and traumatized by a medical test. After the terrifying medical test, I had a vision of Christ. He stood above my head and talked to me. He said that something special was going to happen inside my mind. When I returned home, I suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and only God knew it. Throughout childhood, the traumatic memories festered, and as an adolescent, in 1975, the terrifying medical experiences caused feelings from the hospital to explode inside my mind. The emotions tormented me day and night. It was as if at the age of seventeen, I was once again two years old, experiencing the terror of the hospital, except this time I could never leave. However, as the emotions emerged, the memories of Christ followed. It was like a fight between good and evil. A struggle between sanity and insanity took place inside my mind! This book documents how, inspired by Christ, I took less than three years to figure out how to overcome the emotional illness, and for the glory of God, blasted it out of my consciousness.




L.A. Morrone, 2015

















Chapter One


      Chapter one describes the hospital and how I got into the mess of having mental demons. I tell about experiences that get stuck in the head, change all others, and dictate how the simplest of things will be seen until the day you die. I describe thoughts that become forgotten, yet remain present; thoughts that are unseen, yet relevant, overlooked, yet of utmost importance; like the circuitry of a machine, these thoughts become components of the mind, part of a cruel and grotesque anatomy that determines a good life or a ruined one.

     The hospital experiences described below echoed back at me in my mind, but my memory of the experiences sifted out slowly, like the sand of an hourglass. With the help of Christ I stood above the experiences and obtained the memory. I fought long and hard for this precious memory. It's scary to think about what my life would be like without this memory. Without this memory, I'd probably be on drugs, or dead. 













                The Hospital



     At the age of nineteen, the trauma from the age of two slowly focused in my mind. On May 17, 1977, I wrote in my journal: “I gave my all at that hospital. I was scared, then horrified; then I was terrified, worse and worse. I gave my all, but couldn’t take it. I was beyond terrified. Every muscle, my whole body was into it. No one thought to tell me what was happening…”


     I remembered suffering from encephalitis at the age of two and being left alone in the hospital.  My first day in the hospital was like a dog’s first day at the pound. It was a cold, bland building. I was among strangers, wondering if I’d ever see anyone I loved again. I knew my mother would return, or so I kept telling myself, but the thought that maybe she wouldn’t was painful. This was the beginning of the lava, the fiery ball on my forehead. I had nothing to do but think thoughts that would get me into trouble. I was tense with worry, so much worry and fear that the feelings hurt. I cried and cried and cried, but couldn’t absorb the feelings—like a river clogged by falling trees, the feelings backed up, and sat on my forehead.

     The gasps for air between my cries filled my lungs with the cold, antiseptic smells of the hospital, as the nurses, like prison guards, walked by, and routinely observed my tearful pleas for attention. Nothing from my past could prepare me for the isolation and lack of warmth. My hands felt like they were falling asleep, and tingled and tingled, until they ached. The nurses occasionally held them, which made them feel better, but they would say they didn’t have time. They had a lot to do and holding my hands for as long as I needed wasn’t possible. So they left me crying, which drove them nuts hearing me all day. I was pissing people off and making things difficult, and the nurses were keeping score. There was a competition concerning which nurse would get stuck holding my hands. I felt guilty for selfishly requiring too much attention. A better child wouldn’t have done that to them.

     If this was all that happened, I might have been okay, but one day I was taken and rushed into an examination room. The feelings of the first day were intensified—more fear, more anxiety—the feelings backed up, and burned on my forehead. I thought I saw my mother for an instant, like a brief flash of hope—but the people were strangers in uniforms, and as appealing as the antiseptic smell of the hospital. I understood nothing, only that there was a flurry of orchestrated, robotic movement. I distrusted these people with every inch of my body. They touched me without introducing themselves and put wires on my head. They didn’t tell me anything and didn’t explain what they were doing or even speak to me. I couldn’t figure out what was happening. The feelings of the first day amplified—more fear, more anxiety—the feelings grew larger, and burned on my forehead.

     My feelings felt foreign, unfamiliar, like they weren’t mine. I’d never felt anything like it before. They weren’t a part of me, but my forehead. They sat on my forehead and ached, but why? No amount of logic could stop the feelings; they were my weakness, a failing. After all, it really wasn’t all that scary. It was just some strangers touching me, nothing to be concerned about. A reasonable person would breeze through this. I told myself I didn’t have to be scared, and that everything would be okay. If I could only survive what was happening, I’d see my mother again. It was stupid to think she wouldn’t return. But, the uncertainty was emotionally anguishing. Maybe she’d show up, but what if she didn’t?

     It was as if within me was a cement wall. The wall separated what I knew from what I knew I didn’t know. I was stuck on the wrong side of the wall without all I knew I didn’t know. It was like forgetting someone’s name. You know the name, but can’t recall it. The other side of the wall would explain everything and prove all was well. I sensed another self on the other side of the wall. In this self, my mother would never leave. In this self, my mother never left. It seemed true, but the self was on the other side. I felt stupid for my side of the wall. I couldn’t get to the good side of the wall with everything needed to survive. All I needed to know was on the other side.


     If I only knew what they were doing to me! There was a pressure in my lower back. They seemed to be sticking something in me, slow but steady, but I couldn’t tell for sure, nor could I tell anything for sure. Everything was on the other side of the wall. I begged for my mother to come save me.

     Before I go any further in the description, I’d like to point out that my mom was actually there. Unfortunately, for a two year old, out of sight is as good as not being there. Seeing her for an instant wasn’t good enough. It is very important in situations like this to always maintain a position where you can be seen. Physical contact like holding hands would be best. Years later my mother told the story of being in the room, but unfortunately, a specialist came to talk to her. The specialist explained that a child my age had just died down the hall of encephalitis and they needed to find out how far the illness had gotten into my brain. Hearing this, she walked out of the room and fainted in the hallway. So now I continue the description…

     It was at this point the worse thing that I’ve ever experienced happened. Begging for my mother to come save me, I looked to the side and saw her walk away. The loving image of my mother shattered into fragments of resentment, betrayal, abandonment, anger, and hatred. I couldn’t trust her! She stabbed me in the back! I thought I was forsaken, and that she no longer cared for me—I’d never see her again! I felt an all-encompassing void—like I was falling off a cliff and grasping upward for life. It was as if the sadness of a lifetime was compressed into a few brief moments.  However, through the dread, I declared I would survive! I’d make it alone! In my minds eye, I was strong, and could stand above the powerful emotions!  The hidden self came to mind. But unfortunately, I began to reason. I thought since she abandoned me, I wouldn’t be seeing her anymore. Since I wouldn’t be seeing her anymore, she was dead! The conclusion that she died exploded in front of my mind like a mushroom cloud. This was the birth of the smoke, the feeling of utter hopelessness and no reason to live. Dead were the chances of a familiar caress between the mechanical touch of strangers. Dead were the chances of ripping the wires off my head and escaping. Dead was the ambition to push forward and not let go. Dead was control over my body. I could see my eye sockets shaking. It felt like being in a crashing container box with no control--smashing, banging, and tumbling down, down, down… Everything was chaotic but the thought of her death--my body and mind focused on the only thing to be sure of: She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. The doctor repeatedly shouted, “It’s almost over, it’s almost over,” but I had no control over what he did. I couldn’t take myself out of the hospital. His voice was loud like thunder, but I could only watch with no understanding. I couldn’t remove the wires from my head. The painful tingling in my hands spread to my entire body—as if a thousand needles poked every inch of skin—my vision blurred, and the room got darker and darker as the doctor’s screams grew fainter and fainter, and my consciousness felt like it shifted from the room and burst into a numb, vacant state of abject absence—for a moment the slate had been cleaned.

     Afterward, I remained alone like the charred remnant of a destroyed world, staring upward, trying to comprehend the isolation, poverty, and emptiness. I noticed I was conscious, and felt surprised, because when the room dimmed, I appeared to have stopped thinking, as if I no longer existed.  I had seen myself fall, give up, and lose everything, and was intrigued that there was still thought in my mind. I reasoned that a floor existed when it seemed there was none, and it served as a safety net, and caught me. This floor was my thoughts. The image of a king came to mind. The king had lost everything, yet he was okay. I thought if he could lose everything, and be okay, perhaps I could also. I reasoned there might be hope.

     I reasoned that my only hope was for God to bring my mother back to life. I prayed harder than I could ever again pray. I begged God to bring her back to life. “Bring her back, and I’ll do anything you want,” I pleaded.  I repeated this promise over and over. There was no self-determination. Everything depended upon God, nothing upon me. I was broken, waiting to be fixed. Several moments passed, and my mother popped into the room like a jolt of love: praising, consoling, supporting. It was a miracle!  I won the lottery!  I could never again feel such joy!  While she was with me, things were great, but then she left. I was again alone with my thoughts—but now I struggled with both the fear of the hospital and the memory of the test. The memory of the test vibrated like noise blasting my ears—ALONE, ABANDONED, MOTHER DEAD! ALONE, ABANDONED, MOTHER DEAD! ALONE, ABANDONED, MOTHER DEAD! I shouted inside my mind, “Shut if of, shut it off!” But no, the torment was there and wouldn’t leave—MOTHER DEAD! MOTHER DEAD! MOTHER DEAD! MOTHER DEAD! The memory was like a separate thing, apart from me—it roamed the battlefield of my mind like a monster—DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD! DEAD!

     I wished for time with my mother, so she could make everything okay. She could explain what happened, and end the fear. But no, I was alone as before, only now haunted by what happened—and not up to fighting both the fear of the hospital and the memory of the test.

     I reasoned that what happened didn’t happen. My mother never died! Although this was true, the thoughts were in my head.  The awful feeling was lodged in my forehead like an unwanted intruder. It weighed upon me like holding a dumbbell above my head without having anywhere to set it down. I held, held, and held, but where do I put it to rest? There wasn’t anywhere, so I blamed myself.

     “I made big mistake,” I thought.


   At this point in my description of what happened, I’d like to point out that a two year old is a thinking person and you can’t put their mind on a shelf and forget them. The thoughts of a two year old can be profound, but the two year old has fewer ways of articulating them. They may have no way of communicating what’s on their mind. I believe a two year old can think like an adult in that an adult will mix truth with emotion to create faulty conclusions, like superstitions. Adults believe in prayer. Adults don’t know everything. Adults become scared. Adults will abhor thoughts concerning sexuality and religion, and deny them. So below, you'll see that as a two year old, I began several habitual thought patterns that would become a big problem. A child believing he lost his mother would be as traumatic as an adult losing the whole world—It’d be like being fabulously rich one day and in abject poverty the next. Shunning these thoughts was to demonstrate a common error in human thinking, the idea that some thoughts are inferior, and therefore, should be ostracized. As an adolescent, shunning thoughts became second nature and dominated my personality. Later in this book, you’ll see that as an adolescent, I was able to understand the harm denial created, and this allowed me to unlock the torment. If I could have stopped thinking as an adolescent, I might have been in less trouble, but like a two year old, my mind couldn’t be put away like a physical possession… So now I continue the description of the hospital experience... Slowly the consequence of my thoughts sunk in. My mother never abandoned me, but the terrifying feelings were stuck in my head.  I couldn’t stop thinking about her death. The more I tried to avoid the thoughts, the more I thought them. I wished to redo the regretful moment and not think she was dead—I had committed a horrid, sinful act! Unfortunately, I couldn’t go back and redeem myself. A thought can’t be taken back! I continued to think too much. I believed thoughts could come true. It was an epiphany. The thoughts of her death would make it more likely that she would in fact die. Thinking something can make it happen. It’s to want it. It’s like a prayer. A prayer is a thought repeated over and over. The feelings lodged in my forehead were a prayer for death. THEY COULD KILL MY MOTHER. It seemed so, of course it was true--the logic was clear! If not, why do people pray? To continue to think these thoughts would be unspeakably evil! I wished to un-think the thoughts—there existence was proof that I had failed. I was distraught with disappointment in myself. The shame exploded and engulfed my myopic, self-righteous view of the world. My senses were devoured, as if by a cloud of dust. I could no longer hear, or see, or touch, or smell, or taste. All that mattered was that I had thought the wrong thing.  

     I didn’t distinguish between the medical test and my thoughts. The medical test, a memory, became my thoughts. Like feelings of love, joy, and security, the feelings of terror became a part of me. Like decaying leaves and debris become a part of soil, my thoughts became an aspect of me. I was bad because the test was bad. I pitted the truth—she didn’t die—against the thoughts of her death. It was as if there was a verbal brawl between the fact that she didn’t die, and the truth that I thought she did. “She didn’t die,” I thought. “How could you think she did?” This was the worse act of my life! I could never tell anyone I did this. I asked myself, “What kind of bad person would think his mother was dead?” I couldn’t live with these thoughts. It was as if I was in a life raft and there was no room for the thoughts that mistakenly believed she died. I was committed to destroy the thoughts. Each conclusion nailed down the verdict: “If it weren’t for my evil, stupid thoughts, I wouldn’t be suffering as if she died. I wouldn’t be tired, and unable to deal with the feelings. Without my thoughts, I’d be able to withstand the fear of the hospital. It’s all my fault.” 

     The self-hatred created what I would later call the lizard. I was the lizard! It was me, trying to survive, trying to last, through the most horrible moments of my life. “A good person wouldn’t think his mother was dead,” I thought. I damned myself. I denied myself. I defended honor. “It’s my stupid thoughts that got me into this mess,” I reasoned. I was ashamed before God. I repeated over and over and over, “Didn’t think it, didn’t think it.” I shoved the regrettable thoughts out of my mind, thinking they’d go away, but the feelings pushed back, and vibrated inside my consciousness. I pushed them out again, and once more, they returned. And so, within the room of my mind, began the fight inside myself, which allowed the seeds of the adolescent crucible to germinate. This battle is documented in my journal, which describes how the feelings mutated, and almost destroyed my life.

     The rest of the hospital stay, I was afraid to be awake. I was afraid I might see something terrifying. Sleeping was an escape from the place. At first sleeping worked, but in time, it became more difficult. When I’d wake up, I was alone; and every moment, I felt the lava and the smoke. “Didn’t think it, didn’t think it,” I’d repeat. I shoved the feelings away, and replaced them with the thought that she returned. “Oh no, not me, I could never think such a thing,” I assured myself.  I yearned for things to be the way they used to be.

     My mother visited off and on. I believed there was a correlation between my thoughts and when she returned. She seemed to return when I believed strong enough that she would. When she wasn’t there, I blamed myself for not thinking right. I was terrified of the thoughts of the test; thinking the thoughts would cause her to stay away, or worse. When I thought of her death, I felt like she’d die—it seemed like avoiding the thoughts allowed her to return.

    I became very tired of the fear, and the intense, uncontrollable, exaggerated emotions of the hospital. I was tired of yearning for security, and telling myself everything would be okay.  I remembered before the hospital, when everything seemed to be okay, and vowed to never again be alone without my mother. This was a yearning like going without water, and imagining what it would be like to finally drink—I idolized her—she was the perfect mother. No one could have a better mother. This image was branded into my consciousness. This image existed with the lava and the smoke. And there they sat in my mind, like the sun, the moon, and the stars; and the lizard stood watch, and allowed no one to enter.




 The First Vision


     It was during this time that I had a vision. I was looking up at the sky and saw shapes in the clouds. I began seeing things in the clouds. I saw an amphitheater.  I saw a small building that held the writings of the greatest thinkers in the world.  There were scholars standing around this building. They came to converse and talk about their knowledge and discoveries. 


     I saw three podiums. Three men stood in debate. The victor would become the supreme ruler of the civilization. The man on the left was the most formidable, powerful man in the civilization. The man in the center was also very powerful. The man on the right was a successful commoner, who had risen in financial wealth. The man on the left and the man in the center viewed each other as their serious competition. The man on the right wasn’t regarded as having a chance of success. There was a jury of wise men who would oversee the discussion, and determine their leader. The man on the left and the man in the center turned to each other, and verbally attacked each other. The discussion was very heated, and within minutes each of them had lost his composure.  There was a verbal brawl. The wise men were shocked. They called an emergency conference for a brief discussion. Suddenly, there was only one choice. Suddenly, the choice was not between three, but one. The man on the right was the only one who could now become the supreme ruler. Without speaking a word, he had won the debate. He was the ultimate supreme ruler.


     The ultimate supreme ruler owned everything. He owned the land. He owned the businesses. He owned the cattle and fruit and clothes. He owned even the people. He reasoned that the value of owning everything is valueless. He gave every family the dwelling they lived in. And then, he reasoned the value of owning the people is valueless. This raised a particular problem. The past rulers and their militia had all subjugated the people. There were two factions in the population. If the people were freed, they’d kill each other. The ultimate supreme ruler then called the militia into the innermost sections of the city. The people became anxious with fear. The previous rulers used the militia to enslave them. This new ruler was calling the militia in closer to have a tighter grip on their lives. For what evil purpose could this be?


     The ultimate supreme ruler waited until the military had a full grip on the civilization. He then used one of the greatest political postulates to come out of his rule: The militia could be used not to subjugate the people, but to protect them. Knowing the two factions would fight if they were freed, the militia would be used to protect the people from themselves. With the militia’s tight grip on the civilization, the people were freed and were safe from each other! Everyone was full of love and joy!


     One day the ultimate supreme ruler was standing near a cliff overlooking a beautiful beach. He noticed an inlet and how the contours of the water conformed to the shape of the land. He then thought of one of the greatest economic ideas in the history of the world. He concluded that given a plane of water adjacent to a plane of land, the removal of planned areas of land would cause the water to follow. The water would conform to the shape of the land. He then instructed his people to remove areas of land adjacent to the water. To the amazement and thrill of all, the water followed and conformed to the shape of the land. Using this concept, the people built huge waterways that reached deep into the most remote areas of the civilization. The waterways acted like veins supplying life support to every inch of the civilization. The civilization prospered and became the strongest economic power in the history of the world. Goods and services were quickly and efficiently delivered using the great system of waterways.


     The ultimate supreme ruler was 57 years old. He had never been married. He respected the rights of his people, so he didn’t take the wife of another. Instead, he chose a young 17-year-old woman to marry. She was very slim. She had long, straight, black hair, and very dark skin. Her face was petite and beautiful. She was devoted to him.


     He placed his warn and wrinkled hand on her thin, supple waist. His arm slowly moved around her body. Her eyes were like small, dark beams that glowed only onto him. Looking at her was like taking a journey to a land of wish fulfillment. Every urge was addressed; every urge was fulfilled. Touching her opened his senses to a waterfall of pleasure that he never new existed. Every kiss, every caress, every touch, every moment was greater and more sensual than could be imagined. Her breasts were like living works of art, covered with silk, and soaked in honey. Her thin, luscious legs were like pillars chiseled by the greatest craftsmen, and designed by a great genius. Her shoulders were like rolling hills that touched his soul. Her neck was like a fountain of sweet fruits. Her face was more beautiful than the sun, the moon, and the stars. This woman gave him all the pleasure a woman was meant to give. Being with her fulfilled all the desires and fantasies any man could imagine…One morning, he awoke after a wonderful night of being with her. He was standing outside his body. At first, he wasn’t sure what to make of it, but then, he realized he had died. His wife was there, yet he couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t be with her. He couldn’t talk to her. He would never again experience the ecstasy of her body. A great, deep sadness came over him, a huge, moaning sorrow. He realized his whole life was spent on work. He never had a family. He never had children. He had only just begun to enjoy his wife. He realized he had missed so much! He considered coming back. Maybe he could enter the body of a newborn. Maybe he could once again meet with his wife who he loved so much! But no, he thought. How would she know it was him? And he would be so young, and she so old. It wouldn’t work. He stayed for a few days while the entire civilization was in deep mourning. They paraded his body through the streets. People followed the body moaning in pain. Never in the history of the world was a leader more loved. After a few days, he left the earth. He traveled to a place people never go. He saw the souls of many, and where they rested. He came to a great ballroom where many souls partied, but realized such a place wasn’t for him. He kept going further and further until he found a nice place. It was a small room. Transparent. With a small desk. But he could look down and see the earth, and watch his people.


     The ultimate supreme ruler’s wife assumed the duties as ruler of the greatest civilization in the history of the world. For forty years she ruled, and the civilization prospered. People from all over the world traveled to the civilization to trade, and marvel at its wonders. The greatest poets, scientists, artists, craftsmen, and thinkers all lived in this civilization. One day a great flood came. The entire civilization was destroyed. All remnants of the civilization were forever lost to the bottom of the ocean. The name of the ultimate supreme ruler was erased from the earth. It was as if he was never born. The ultimate supreme ruler’s wife died along with all the people in the civilization. She came to him. When she arrived at his room, she danced like a glowing dolphin, swimming in the sea. She was so happy to be reunited with him! There in that room, at a place where you can look down and see the world, they dwelled together for 8,000 years.


     The ultimate supreme ruler did a lot of studying. He loved wisdom. He became known as one of the most learned people in the universe. Sometimes great events would occur on earth, and people would ask if he’d like to travel and watch closer. He’d say no, he was happy where he was. The earth years seemed to go by incredibly fast. First one century, and then the next, would pass. It was hard to comprehend how 8,000 years could pass by, but once it did, it was just another fact. The “now” of this century is the same as the “now” of the first, second, third, and so on.


     There is no motion within consciousness. Or at least, the motion that exists is at an extremely reduced rate of speed. On earth, motion is an intricate part of daily life, and therefore, time effects people everyday. When physical motion doesn’t exist, the conscious mind perceives time differently. Time is something that happens somewhere else. Time is observed. Watching time is like watching a fish swim in a bowl. You can see the fish, understand how it’s living, but not live in the water.


     A messenger from God approached the ultimate supreme ruler. He was asked to be reborn. It was optional because there were two others’ capable of doing what needed to be done. There are other planets that humans inhabit, and he was surprised that he was asked to return to the earth. He thought about how his name had been erased from the earth, and how no one knew he existed. This was why God was giving him first chance. He asked if his wife could return with him, and the request was accepted. He decided to return.


     He needed to prepare for his work on earth. He needed to overcome something so people would know who he was. He needed to overcome great things. He was given a book to study. This book came from a different part of the universe than the earth. He studied very hard, because he’d have to recall the information after he was born. This is a difficult task, but if he failed, his mission on earth would fail. He learned about 1-2 thought. He learned about 1-4 thought. He learned the relationship between 1-2 thought and 1-4 thought. He learned how to produce memory.


     There was a search for a birthplace. There was a search for a body. The Soviet Union was an option, but was rejected. When it was time to be born, he walked to the earth with another gentleman who would precede him in birth. Before they reached the earth, his wife hurriedly approached. She was to be born after him, and had not yet set off to the earth. She was upset. She explained that she would be born deaf. She pleaded with him to talk to someone, and get it changed. He said he had no time, because he was about to be born. She replied that she would therefore, not return. She would wait for him where they resided for 8,000 years. There would be a replacement for her.


     He stood at the field of souls, a place where souls stand before they descend into the body. He saw many souls descend. They looked like glowing fish, majestically spiraling downward—one after the other, like balls of light, falling to the earth. When it was his time, he slowly went down into the body. He thought about all his knowledge. The intelligentsia of the universe respected him for his great knowledge and wisdom. He became worried about becoming obscure. No more respect, no more admiration, suddenly lost in a sea of humanity! What if something goes wrong and he’s stuck down there? As he entered the body, his knowledge and memory faded. His knowledge and memory slowly separated from him, and drifted away. He panicked. He tried harder and harder to remember who he was. He felt a great psychic pain. He regretted being born. Over and over and over with all his psychic energy he repeated that he was a king. But suddenly it was over. He had forgotten. He looked up and saw a dim light in the middle of two dark shafts. He had been born. 





              The Second Vision


     There was another vision. This was a vision I would think about much more often. This was a vision that would inspire me to overcome the emotional scars. This was the energy that held me up during my weakest moments. This was the energy that allowed me to be weak, yet strong, young, yet old, ignorant, yet wise. This was a vision of Christ. At first, Christ looked like a cartoon figure walking toward me, five feet above my head. As he got closer, he was flesh and blood. He looked to be about 19 or 20 years old. Christ said I would overcome the emotional scars. Christ’s words fell like a soft, consistent rain; gentle, yet powerful, like the waves of a tranquil sea; I felt his power. While asleep, the rays of his thoughts gently stroked my mind. While awake, staring into his eyes, his thoughts soothed me.

     Christ showed me the future. He was with me confronting the emotional scars. He supported my thoughts, my mind, like a tree stake, he held my up, as if I was strong. I was empowered, bolstered; his thoughts were in my head. He breathed pure reason into the veins of my consciousness. “What will happen inside your mind is very important,” Christ said. “People will study your life.” Although the hospital was a lonely, terrifying, and sterile place, Christ comforted me, stared into me, and I stared back. He said God stopped the illness from entering my brain. “That which will seem against you, will be for you,” he said.

     Christ showed me many wonderful things. I was so excited. I couldn’t wait for the future! But then he said he was leaving, and wouldn’t return in my lifetime. But before he left he wanted to prove who he was and leave me a sign so I wouldn’t forget. He reached down and touched me on the right side. There was a flash of light. I felt a rush of positive feelings like I was special and nothing could take it away. And then he seemed to change. He didn’t seem so nice anymore. A sour look showed on his face. I felt confused because he had seemed so nice. I didn’t expect this. He warned that if I didn’t overcome the emotional scars, none of the wonderful things would happen. He was very stern and serious, warning over and over that failure would change everything. And then, before he vanished, he said, “At first you must suffer.” And that was it. I was again left alone.



     Perhaps witnessing Christ’s consciousness gave me the yardstick in which, in later years, I could judge my own. Correct consciousness was imprinted upon my being; I felt it, saw it, and was possessed by it. There was always a burning light, no matter how bad things were, because the glow of Christ’s consciousness was in me.

     After I got home from the hospital, I remembered the desperate cries for someone to be with me. I remembered the nurses saying they wished they had time. I remembered thinking my mother was dead. The memories echoed like a distant, faint noise inside my mind. “She came back, she came back,” I’d repeat. I clung to this memory like a desperate swimmer clutching a rope during a storm at sea. “Oh no, I could never have thought she was dead,” I’d assure myself.  My mother told me to admit the bad experiences at the hospital. She said if I denied my feelings, something terrible would happen. But she said these words like an afterthought, like she didn’t know what was happening inside me; besides, I was incapable of expressing the emotions, and due to Christ’s visit, I figured the rules didn’t apply to me. I felt special and denied that Christ spoke of suffering.

      As time went by, and the distant memory drifted farther and farther into the past, I was faced with the task of denying what I no longer remembered. This meant denying more and more things, and each denial caused the noise to increase, and vibrate more violently through my thoughts…I would either become a mental survivalist, or my life would be over. 




Chapter Two


Age Seventeen 

High School Graduation Picture 1977


The future looks bright today,

although I know,

the world is to decay.

The future looks bright today,

although I know,

Satan is coming to play.




     Fifteen years after the medical examination room, I had forgotten it, and barely remembered the hospital. I had survived childhood and made it to the age of seventeen, and was a student in High School looking forward to the rest of my life. The hospital was like an old possession stashed in the attic and hardly remembered, and wasn’t a part of my life. I had moved on, or, so it seemed. Unfortunately, the passage of time, the emergence of adolescence, and the years of denial opened the door to the attic, and allowed the terrifying emotions to rush back into my world and take on a life of their own, like demons, and become mind- controlling. THEY RETURNED LIKE THE GHOSTS OF A HORROR MOVIE. They behaved as if I had returned to the medical examination room, and there was no convincing them otherwise. I had no control of them. I tried to gain control, but the feelings were too strong. Several powerful images protruded into my mind; I named one smoke because it blinded me to any hope in the world; and another I named lava because it capriciously popped onto my forehead and burned like fire. Below, I document that although I forgot the medical examination room, the terror returned and slowly ruined my life. Many difficult moments are described. Yes, the images and feelings from the age of two were forgotten, but they were nonetheless present, and I began to make decisions based upon them and react to them. Sounds crazy, but, due to Christ’s influence, I was able to stand above the wall of feelings and intruding thoughts, and figure out how to overcome the emotional scars. I didn’t get therapy and didn’t take drugs. I only had the vision of a better future solidly fixed in my mind. I hope that by studying this book, your mind will become illuminated, as my mind was freed by the power of the universe; and, I hope that you will begin a journey of self-discovery, and become closer to God.

     On Jan. 13, 1976, fifteen years after the hospital test, I wrote: “I can’t think. It’s because of the emotional scar from Christine—I think. I can’t remember things—especially not in school. My mind feels like a cloth singed by a hot red iron. There’s a smoldering log stuck in the front part of my mind. It burns and burns in front of my eyes…”

     The hospital test was long forgotten, but the images, feelings, and thoughts, like an old movie replaying over and over, chronically projected into my consciousness. The fifteen years of denying the fear and terror festered in my mind and burned on my forehead, just like the feelings backed up onto my forehead at the age of two. The pain felt like it was getting worse and worse, and seemed like a physical substance. I thought about getting a knife and cutting it out of my head. I worried that if the pain got any worse, I’d have to kill myself.

     I went on to write:  “…I GUESS IT’S MY FAULT. But it hurts. I’m trying to feel better, but it doesn’t work. It’s almost like God wants me to suffer. It’s like God wants the thorns of my life to come up and poke me. So they’ll hurt more. So I will bleed. So my wounds will become infected and gangrene will set in. So I will hurt—I have hurt. I have hurt to the deepest soul.”

     It became difficult to interact with people. Sometimes when I looked at them or thought about them, the pain intensified. I didn’t know what thought or action would cause the feelings to worsen. I thought if I could win a girl who jilted me, Christine, or get another girlfriend, the pain would go away.  It seemed like if I had a girlfriend, all my problems would be solved.  I tried to get another girlfriend, but was unsuccessful. I pushed everyone who wanted to be my friend away, and looked for friendship with those who would reject me. I grew more and more despondent as one after another, my advances were shunned:


     “Another girl has evaporated in front of me. Who will be the next? This one seemed so sure, the surest of them all! Yet she turned out to be as cold as the coldest—or maybe not that bad, but still she poked into my life, and tore into my mind—and now she’s gone—just like Christine.”


       I became more and more confused, and thought God said he’d find me a girlfriend. When the girl didn’t come, I felt betrayed. This brought on feelings from the hospital; only then I thought it was God who had abandoned me, God who had stabbed me in the back and God who had forsaken me! I thought God lied. I couldn’t understand how he could lie. I reasoned I couldn’t rely on anyone, not even God. That was the day I became a mental survivalist.


    How did I overcome the emotional trauma? Keep reading and I’ll explain!


     After leaving the hospital, the traumatic feelings never left my mind, and as time passed, as the shade of memory dimmed, I saw the hospital differently every few years, like riding down a road and seeing a mountain from different angles every few miles. I saw the hospital differently at age three than at age six, differently at age nine, differently at age twelve, and so on… At the age of seventeen, the several views exploded into a frightening image, recreating the experience in my mind. I was once again at the hospital, experiencing the test.  It had taken fifteen years for the feelings to go full circle. At first, there was some success in denying the feelings, then, slowly, I gave up more important things, and finally, it was taking everything. The smoldering log stuck in the front part of my mind was immovable, like a solid object, and was like a separate thing, apart from me. The molten log couldn’t be denied, for it lived and thrived independently of my thoughts. It lived by its rules, not mine. It wouldn’t leave me alone. No longer did it inflame because of personal relationships—it exploded on a whim, or no whim, for no reason. Its presence was the norm—it had infested my mind like a demon.




     How did this happen?  The hospital was like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. Like a physical pain, the longer it was there the more it demanded attention. Like a toothache that starts slowly, the throbbing pain became less and less bearable, and at the age of seventeen, I became obsessed with avoiding it. I desperately wanted to think about something else. It seemed like it was my fault that I couldn’t stop thinking about the feelings.  It seemed like I must have done something wrong, but I didn’t remember the hospital.

      “It’s my fault, it’s my fault,” I thought. “I’m guilty, okay, I’m guilty, but, for what? What did I do?”

     I felt the emotions of believing my mother was dead, but didn’t remember the thoughts behind the feelings. I justified the guilt by thinking about God and how I mustn’t be good enough. I was Catholic, and thought as a good warrior against evil I was supposed to give my life to God; but the thought of priesthood made me sick to my stomach. Giving my life to God would be like throwing my life away. I figured Satan was making me feel this way, and Satan was thinking my thoughts. That’s why on July 30, 1975, I wrote, “Whose thoughts are in my head, are they mine? Or, is my mind being crushed as if it was stuck between two stone pillars?”

     God stirred up hospital feelings, like begging for my mother to come back to life. On Aug. 2, 1977, I wrote, “I didn’t want to take a chance on being bad. I needed to be good. I became religious. ‘God’ was the feelings from the hospital of my mother coming back…”


     Looking back, I was in a real mess because there weren’t any good choices and no decision allowed me to avoid the feelings. I wanted to grow-up, assert and define myself, and break free from old ways of thinking and the malaise of my thoughts. I was an adolescent, isn’t that’s what they do? Unfortunately, I hadn’t done the roadwork needed to get to adolescence. I hadn’t faced childhood. I hadn’t faced the thoughts and feelings from the hospital. As an adolescent, how could I face the hospital when I no longer remembered it? How could I admit thinking my mother was dead when I didn’t consciously know I thought it? How could I face the terror when I didn’t remember it? Everything was buried deep in my thoughts. Instead of memory, there was guilt.  The lack of memory allowed the terror to be confused with Satan.  I feared Satan as I feared being alone in the hospital.  Although twisted and not valid, there was logic to the thought. On July 30, 1975, feeling the weight of the guilt, I wrote, “…Enough with it! Let not the devil betray me once more, and make me believe my thoughts are my own...” 


     Images and feelings from the hospital popped up in my head and lingered in my mind as if they belonged to someone else. I made room for them but kept a safe distance, navigating in the least scary, most safe, least painful direction possible, taking care not to step too close or the wrong way.  I was terrified of my thoughts. “Go away!” I’d think. “I’m not thinking that,” I’d assure myself. But they were present. In each moment, more and more, they consumed me. In order to avoid the feelings I began to make decisions based upon when they might pop up or how not to think them. There was an unraveling of sound reasoning and one act to avoid lead to another, which led to one lie and the next, and another and another, like tumbling down a hill faster and faster.

     I thought Satan was thinking my thoughts, therefore I wasn’t thinking God’s, and therefore I was guilty of an unspeakable crime. The feeling of being alone and abandoned in the hospital burned on my forehead, and I toyed with the idea of getting a knife and cutting it out.


     I felt the pain on my forehead without knowing whether it was mental or physical. It wasn’t always easy to know from where things came. Did a sound come from my mind or the world? From where did hatred come? From where love? Anger? What I saw got confused with what popped up in my head. I saw myself between two worlds, each valid and each separate, yet both related. I touched, heard, saw, tasted, and smelled not knowing whether it happened in the world or in my mind. Did I like her? Did I hate him? Did I think it or did someone else?


     Desperate, I made the decision to fight the torment and through necessity became a mental survivalist.  I believed that feelings come from thoughts and concluded that my thoughts could change and that I could overcome them. So the battle for survival began.

     So as you continue reading, I ask you to ask yourself a question. How did an adolescent know how to overcome what I overcame? How did someone with no help figure out on the one hand, and then overcome with the other, such powerful emotional scars? Well, I’d like you to remember the vision of Christ. The vision of Christ was a part of the hospital experience, forgotten along with it, yet burning inside me. There is something about the vision that was visible to me like the tip of a great Ice burg is visible in the sea. There was a remnant, a sign of the vision that I looked at as I wrote the journal. Please keep this in mind in every word you are about to read. Deep in my memory was the hospital, but active in my life was the vision of Christ; look for it, for the vision is there in my words and in what is written below. This is why what happened inside my mind is a miracle.


     You may ask yourself what does becoming a mental survivalist and overcoming the above trials and inner demons have to do with you. Well, I think it’s got a lot to do with you. You may face related or similar challenges of different degrees in your life. You may need to become a mental survivalist yourself to survive. You may know someone who has similar challenges. Learning about me can help you understand yourself and other people.



The Journal



     Below, I share poems and excerpts from my personal journal that prove what happened inside my mind. I also inserted relevant writings and commentary between the journal entries.  The journal documents that it took approximately 2 ½ years to overcome the fire and describes the techniques I used to do it.




                                                                                             Jan. 20, 1976




To be or not

To be?


To realize

what you are

and believe in it.



     It’s possible something else besides me is thinking when I’m writing. It’s very hard to tell though, because if there is, it works through me. So as I can almost think it’s me (or visa-versa). It’s highly possible it’s me, but the only thing is that a lot of my most beautiful writing comes as if I’m remembering it.  It pops into my head much like you’d suddenly forget you didn’t bring your keys—it’s in that manner. At least it seems to be. The whole thing is very difficult to determine. I could be utilizing my subconscious mind at times. It also could be God helping me.

     It could be that I’m being dictated to in my sleep, and don’t remember. I do at times remember loud micro-phonic voices in my mind as I sleep. They tell me stories, and once I remember being taught a little psychology. But it’s hard to determine. It could be myself playing tricks on me! I believe at times when I write the spirit of God helps me.   


         The tree in the backyard is talking to me. It shows

         me a photo of a man with dark, olive colored skin.

         The face is old. Long wrinkles flow down from his eyes.

         He is balding. “This is you,” says the tree.


         I’m floating underwater. I hear a micro-phonic voice.

         The voice flows through me. It is understood that I will learn.

         I slowly emerge up through the water. I see the air.

         I see the clouds. Ten feet from the surface.

I begin to feel a burning pain. I can hold my breath no longer.

         I hear a loud noise, like a vibrating motor.

         I’m awaking…but then, I stop. I’m suspended in myself.

         The vibrating motor buzzes back and forth on my forehead.

         I can’t breath. This goes on for a few minutes, maybe longer.

         I then awake. I’m very tired. There is a depressing feeling,

         it’s like sandpaper rubbing against my forehead.



  Feb. 3, 1976


     It feels like a log stuck in the front part of my mind. It hurts super bad. It’s like a log burning and smoldering in front of my head. It blocks my eyes so I can’t see.

     People think I’m stupid. Today I was so messed up I couldn’t think. That’s why I’m not doing good in school. I can’t listen. The feelings sit like physical objects anchored to my mind. They appear to be matter, not thought. I can’t think of anything but my love for Christine.  My love for her seems to have become inflamed—possibly because of the poems I’m writing. I got my feelings out and now they won’t leave. Teachers think I’m stupid. I’m going to show those bastards who aren’t smarter than me! I must not defeat myself. My only enemy (God?) is myself, if I don’t do what I’m capable of doing—anything.



                  How do I express the dreams I see tonight?

                  How do I express the stars above tonight?

                  How do I express the tears I shed tonight?

                  Willowing whispers tonight—in that I may

                  see tonight, greater dreams than I once

                  dreamt—greater hope than I once hoped.

                  Greater stars tonight, I hope I see.


                  What dam within can stop this feeling

                  within? What strength within can make

                  me feel no more? I don’t know. I wish there was

                  a strength. But it seems if there is, it

                  never shows. Never helps. Never gives.


                  The river flows—this retched thing of my

                  pitiful self. This power I cannot control, this

                  feeling that is mine—my love for those who

don’t love me. My care for those who don’t care for me. How can I stop loving? It hurts so bad. It takes all my mind—it gives nothing back—it never does.






                  Who is there is my darkened corner?

                  Is it my lover?

                  Who else could it be?

                  For who else could bring me so low?


                  Who is there in my highest palace?

                  Is it my lover?

                  Who else could it be?

                  For who else could bring me so high?


                  What else could make me feel so

                  low, yet make me feel so high? For in my

                  lowness I’m seeking solace from my lack of

                  highness. My lack of my loved one.




     I wanted to become a writer, and was doing a lot of writing. Expressing feelings was like opening the door to a lion’s cage. I let the lion out, but couldn’t put it back in.


My virtue seems

to be a valley in

the dark—it’s there

but I can’t see it.


I see it, and

Satan fears,

and Satan spreads

this fear on me like butter.


     Thoughts appeared like a rabbit out of a sleeve, and I’d write them down and make poetry. Unfortunately, behind the poetry lingered ugly feelings. I shared my mind with these things like someone running in a maze of hallways, never knowing when I’d encounter them, or when I could escape them.


     God won’t help me. I’ve got to survive this myself. I’m going out for track. I don’t know if I’ll be able to take the emotional pressure, but I’m going to try. I’m going to push myself. I didn’t go out for football because of the emotional problems. It’s time I don’t run from them. The way I’m going, in time I won’t be able to take the pain. The pain seems to be intensifying as I get older.

      I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m not going to let the world defeat me. I’m not going to end up in an insane asylum, or dead.  I’m going to fight this thing. I’m going to solve my problems. Emotions come from thoughts—that means I can defeat them. The emotions are my thoughts. I’ll have to grow stronger and not think the way I do. If I can change my thinking, I can change my thoughts, and therefore, my emotions. Somehow I must believe I can do it—somehow I must.

     I figured that feelings come from thoughts; therefore, the molten feeling was created by my thoughts—it appeared that some sort of incorrect way of thinking created bad feelings in me. I pleaded with myself to somehow figure out how to change my way of thinking, saving me from a ruined life. Also, I couldn’t trust in God. Sitting around waiting for God to save me was too risky, and so far hadn’t worked. I was through with God as far as I could see, at least when it depended upon depending. Surviving the feelings meant doing all the work myself.  These were my thoughts, not God’s, and he doesn’t run for me, bike for me, play chess for me, or think for me. All these things I do for myself. Going out for track was an important decision, unlike with football, where I figured relinquishing control would allow the ball to fall into my hands. Running track reversed the tumble, and increased physical and social activity. The physical and social activity was like mental exercise.


The Coach and the Prayer


     …In the description of the hospital experience, I spoke about prayer and superstition and how these and similar ways of thinking are related to the thoughts of a two year old. I said that at the age of two I had begun several dangerous thought patterns in that I believed thoughts could come true. To think a thought, I concluded, was to want the thought. To think about victory, is to want victory. To think of death is to want it, and so on…

     Everyday we hear about a coach who wears a shirt or piece of jewelry for good luck, or a ballplayer doing the same, attributing significance to objects otherwise of no significance, creating a relationship and giving value to an object that has no relationship and no value to the goal at hand. This is a way of thinking that is common for people. A perfume present during a notable experience will be remembered and noticed when smelled again. A person from the past will create feelings that have no relationship to the person at hand. 

     How much more powerful will be a thought contemplated at an early, vulnerable age? A thought in the future that is comparable to this thought will stir great emotions, for it will be treated as similar or the same as the original. The coach who keeps the good luck charm is thinking similar to the traumatized, associating two unrelated things, one victory, and the other an inanimate object. So when I stated:  “…My love for her seems to have become inflamed,” I was associating two unrelated things, the trauma from the hospital and the interest in a girlfriend. I was thinking like a coach or athlete associating victory with a sock, ring, or any number of mostly unrelated things.


     This thought process acted in me reflexively, not consciously. So as I thought like a coach or athlete, I sunk deeper and deeper into trouble as more and more powerful thoughts and feelings were related to those of the present moment.  I sunk deeper and deeper into the quicksand of the past.


     The traumatic thoughts from the past acted like a prayer because they were dwelled upon, meditated upon, over and over, albeit, like the throbbing of an aching wound. Consequently, this begs the question, “What kind of person would think such a thought? And repeatedly, for that matter!” Well, it’s logical to conclude that a person of less virtue would, since of course, the thoughts are undesirable, and if not immoral, the thoughts are socially unacceptable. So here I am again, rhetorically speaking, and here are the traumatized, thinking like a child and believing some thoughts are good and some are bad, which causes gilt by association.


     And so you can see the difficult hurdles before me as I launched my attack against the torment. It was these things and much more that I had to visualize, conceptualize, and conquer! Please understand that clinging to an object or thought becomes habitual. For me, changing the habitual thinking required understanding the process that created the dangerous thought patterns and lashing out at the traumatic thoughts infesting me. This meant growing out of my comfort zone and standing up for greater ideals and correct thinking.




  The Chess Tournament



     During this most difficult time, I had a memory to draw strength upon. It involved thoughts and the power of God. In the eight grade, I went undefeated at the Santa Clara Valley Chess Tournament without having played for a year.

     Every year the junior high schools of Santa Clara Valley had a chess tournament. The previous year, I practiced chess everyday after school for two or three hours. I studied chess books, and played the best player I could find everyday. One player on my chess team, named Peter, I could never beat. My teacher, Mr. Miller, brought together an excellent team, and we won the championship. Unfortunately, I under-performed terribly, and lost several games. Mr. Miller dropped me off that day and I could sense his disappointment in me. I allowed self-doubt to take hold, and the feelings of the hospital distracted me, and ruined my concentration. The feelings weren’t extremely powerful at this point, but they were still a distraction capable of ruining my play.

     The next year, I stopped playing chess. I didn’t play a single day after that terrible experience.  Mr. Miller used to watch me from his classroom playing football after school. When it came time for the annual tournament, Mr. Miller asked if I’d still like to participate. The team wasn’t as strong this year, and he needed to recruit players. I reluctantly agreed to come along. Mr. Miller had a belief in me. He was my math teacher and knew that although I wasn’t the best math student, I always tried. He admired this.

    When we showed up to the tournament, there was another team that seemed better. They mouthed-off a little and it pissed me off. I remembered the previous year and how the feelings devoured my ability to concentrate. I became angry, and when the feelings returned, I shouted inside my mind, “Damn you, bastard! In the name of Christ, be gone!” At the chess table, as I played game after game after game that weekend, I fought two battles, one against the chess opponent, and one against the emotions. Thinking five to six moves ahead, with countless variations of board positions, thoughts entering consciousness were dealt blows of anger. “Damn you. Damn you. Damn you!!!! You aren’t getting me this year, bastard!”  My mind appeared freed and clear; I thought like lightning. I felt old inside, like I wasn’t really a junior high school student. I kept a picture in my mind that I was a great chess player. Thoughts contradicting this were shot down with a barrage of hatred.

     The last game of the day would determine which school won the tournament, the wise guys, or Hoover. I was to play an opponent who had beaten Peter, the classmate who I had never beaten. Mr. Miller turned to me and told me this guy’s brother had just written a book on chess, and he had already beaten Peter, but I should do the best I can.

     It was Sunday afternoon. I had already spent Saturday playing grueling hours of chess, and all morning Sunday. It was getting tiring. I sat down that afternoon fighting to maintain anger. Move after move passed, then an hour and more. We fought deadlocked. Mr. Miller was stunned that I could play for so long and so many games against quality players, and still not be beaten. Finally, the opponent made a mistake! I seized upon it! I was winning! My opponent stood up and offered me a draw! Mr. Haro, another instructor, advised me if I accepted, Hoover would win the championship, but I would only take fourth in individual competition. I told Mr. Haro that I didn’t come to personally win, but for the team to win. He smiled, and I accepted the draw that gave Hoover the championship! Mr. Miller clapped with joy and hugged me. He kept repeating over and over, “He’s been playing football all year! He hasn’t played for a year!” He kept pounding his fist on a table, as if to convince everyone who couldn’t believe it. Mr. Miller said I was going to have a great future! One day afterward, Mr. Miller looked at me with a stunned look on his face, and said, “Louis, there is something in you!”

     I came away from this experience believing there wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. It was a sarcastic feeling remembering Mr. Miller’s words and seeing myself at the age of seventeen.

     There was another experience that made me believe I could overcome the obstacle. In the fourth grade, in catechism class, I wrote a poem. It went something like this:


There is only one road, yet many are traveled.

There is only one Heaven, but many are described.

There is only one God, but many are worshipped.

All this and more is made possible by the different interpretations of the Bible.


     My teacher stood in front of the class and looked at what I had written. Her face turned white as if she had seen a ghost. Over and over she said, “I can’t believe a fourth grader wrote this!” She went to the nuns and showed them the poem. The nuns came to my house and told my mom I shouldn’t be living where I was living. I remember standing outside the house and seeing my mother telling them to leave.

     At the age of seventeen, these memories were glimmers of hope that seemed far, far away. Telling someone about the problem was not possible. To tell someone of the problem would be admitting I thought my mother was dead. I would kill myself before I did that. I was alone with only what was inside to help.  And so I wrote “…I’m going to show those bastards who aren’t smarter than me! “ (A teacher had insinuated that I was stupid).

     I was alone, but I believed in myself.  I was in a war that meant life or death. The emotional scars were worsening. Several years had passed, and the intensity of feelings heightened because of Christine. I predicted the feelings would intensify, every year, until I’d succumb. It was from this isolated vantage point, cornered, with no good choices, I launched my attack against the torment.


Feb. 19, 1976


     I’ve always been able to analyze myself and pinpoint where emotional problems began. Sometimes years after they started. But this one seems to be quite baffling. Almost like it popped up from nowhere. It could come from being self-centered.

     About two months ago, I asked “I Ching,” a book written thousands of years ago, about my feelings (The book is like astrology or an ouja board. You throw two sided objects and get answers.) It said something like: Great fortune and luck. It talked about  fire burning and seemed to be pretty accurate to my case.


     Do not cry about the life you have lost, rather cheer the life that is coming. Don’t utter a word about age. For what seems to be a quarter- century is only a moment. And a moment is forever what your life is.

     Thinking about a quarter-century being only a moment soothes my consciousness. It’s as if my soul has roots that grow into a spring of deep thought. This type of thought seems to be linked to the first vision. Without this type of thought, I probably wouldn’t have overcome the emotional scars.


Feb. 21, 1976


     I must learn to face my challenges straight on. If they’re much larger than me, I must admit it.  I must be honest with myself, as to not lie, not imagine of her, and not make things worse.

     There are pictures created by my thoughts. I can’t hide them. If there is a weakness in me, like being afraid, I mustn’t feel guilty, or attempt to hide it. I must admit the exact picture my thoughts are creating of the obstacle. Then, working at my truest self, I must attempt to overcome.

     I’m playing a game I didn’t choose to play, but I guess I’ll have to play it. No choice!

     I’m telling myself what I need to do. It’s as if one part of me is teaching the other part what to do.


Feb. 22, 1976


     I’m not really doing all that well, but compared to as bad as it would get before, it seems I’m doing good. I’ve now transformed my feelings for Christine onto another girl and think of her as if she is Christine. It’s depressing. I think of her day and night and can’t get her out of my head. I know the feelings for this girl aren’t the feelings for Christine, but can’t stop myself. It’s like a powerful gravitational force. It’s as if I’ve been involved and loving her for years, but I don’t even know her. I’ve got to find a way out of it.  I suppose it comes from shear desire, but I’ve never been able to escape these things, not until a severe depression afterwards.

     In track, I’m doing really great! They call me the Italian Stallion. I’m the fastest guy in the school. I think the pain I suffer while running will help me formulate pictures in my mind so I can use them with Christine. Feeling pain makes you believe you can’t run faster. All I want to do is believe I can run faster, although the pain is present. In this way, I’m overcoming doubt, and possibly, it’ll help me overcome Christine. The goal isn’t necessarily to run faster (although I want to), it’s to believe I can run faster, and naturally, if I believe I’ll run faster, I WILL RUN FASTER. I know it!

     Whether the picture is of overcoming the emotional scars, or, of running faster, it’s still a mental picture. Very possibly, by formulating mental pictures of overcoming pain and running faster, I was practicing the skills necessary to overcome the emotional scars.


   Feb. 23, 1976


     I would rather die straightforwardly by my thoughts, than live a life of following unknown thoughts (emotions.)


     I was sick of making decisions based upon emotions, and vowed to live or die based upon conscious thoughts.

  Feb. 26, 1976


     Everything must be judged from within. If I succeed with a mind controlled by emotions, I lose. If I don’t succeed with a clear mind, I win.

     I’m setting a standard that allows me to judge my mental condition. This is a source of strength. Consciousness must be guided like a ship with a rudder. If not, it drifts helplessly.


 The Powerful Impression


March 6, 1976


     Yesterday I showed up for track practice and time trials and was standing in the middle of the football field inside the track, and powerful feelings came over me.  It was like a heavy weight swooped down and landed on my forehead. My attitude went from optimism to dread in about one second, as if I was lying on the ground without a hope in the world, when actually I was just standing there. I felt like bursting into tears and crying my eyes out, but why? And then I was supposed to run track, and it was like I felt guilty for ignoring the feeling and didn’t like to look at anyone. They might be smiling or want me to smile. They all seemed to have smiles painted on their faces, insinuating that life was wonderful, but it was difficult to avoid eye contact and not look weird, and so when I smiled, I felt like a phony liar.


     This experience left a powerful impression on me because I didn’t start out feeling terrible. It was like a flu that strikes suddenly and with powerful shivers. One moment you feel okay, the next your body shakes with a high temperature; no warning, no time to tell anyone you’d better go home because you’re sick. I was stuck in the middle of the track field, trying to act normal.

     Seeing people interact, seeing them smile, created an intense feeling of isolation. They seemed happy, and the more happy they appeared, the more out of place I felt. They seemed to associate with ease; their interactions were effortless. But for me, my social relations seemed labored and complicated. Smiles were planned, but seeing one was offensive, for a smile expected something in return, something I couldn’t give, such as a meeting of the minds—or, the acknowledgement that life was wonderful.


     The fun of track isn’t nearly worth suffering every week the most dreadful feeling I’ve ever felt in my life, especially when it is voluntary, and only a stupid race is at stake. I get nervous which causes the feelings to come; I try to avoid the feelings, but there is nowhere to hide.


March 7, 1976


     I’m faced with a terrible, dreadful decision. I wish I didn’t have to make it, but I do. To cast myself into the horridness of horridness, or to banish myself from it. I’m thinking about quitting track because of the horrible feelings. I know I don’t want to experience the horridness, but on the other hand, I don’t want to be a coward. Wouldn’t that be giving up? Besides, quitting football didn’t help. I wish the whole thing would become oblivious.

     I quit football to avoid the nervous feelings before the game, the butterflies, and the burning lava on my forehead. I figured it would be too much and it was better to deal with my problems than the distraction of football. I’ve only got so much energy. Things haven’t worked out so well since now a lot of people are mad and a lot of people who liked me now don’t. I was popular on the football team. A lot of girls paid attention to me and now they ignore me. People look at me and snicker. I didn’t realize the negative reaction, nor the erroneous ideas about being in the stands cheering rather than on the field. I let the school down and I’m known as giving up an opportunity to be the star running back, like I’m yellow or something. Sometimes I dream about what it would have been like to run for the touchdowns. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I threw it away.  There’s no bright side to this. My coach saw me the other day and looked at me with sadness, and said, “Louis, I could have made a star out of you.”


March 10, 1976


     I’ve decided to stay with track. It’s Wednesday, and Friday is the track meet. I don’t know how I’m going to do. I guess I’ll have to wait and see.

     This was a very important decision. If I didn’t stay with track, I might still have overcome the emotional scars, but it probably would have been harder.


March 12, 1976


     Today was the track meet. I did totally fantastic as far as the feelings! I felt pretty much uninfluenced! As far as the races go, I did okay. But the big thing is that I had a clear mind! Knowing that time is non-existent helped me in my victory. I suppose mostly it was God just letting me win.


June 1, 1976


     This game I’m playing quite forcefully is terrible and ruthless. I’m being made to see something that others can’t see, but it hurts so bad. I have no choice. I must play the game, or kill myself!  Why me?  Why Me? It’s ruthless and merciless. It waits until I make mistakes, and then without mercy a molten needle presses against my forehead.

     Sometimes it happens when I look at someone special but I can’t control when. If I want to ask a girl out it’ll happen. Walking into a crowded gym and feeling like everyone is staring will make the fire come, or, the nervousness before a football game or track meet. But I never know. Sometimes I think right. Sometimes I out-think it, and avoid the fire. But a mistake will cost, that’s for sure. I don’t know what to say, I have to say something. If I don’t say anything they’ll make fun of me. Saying the right things makes people like me, if not they think I’m weird. They’ll laugh and there’s the fire.  If I think correctly the fire doesn’t come, and people like me. I can play billiards or bowling or whatever. I’m good at things when I think right. People like me. I don’t tell them about the fire, besides, if I did, it would come.

     Sometimes I sit at the dinner table with a knife, visualizing the act of cutting out my forehead. It’s a last resort for sure, only to be done if nothing else works, but how long do I wait? I’ve been thinking about it more and more, and the more I think it the more everyday it seems. I’m holding out, but no amount of effort or attempts at positive thinking seems to work.



June 7, 1976


     I’m not sure if there is God. I’m not sure if God exists.

God is a liar.

     Just as I believed my mother abandoned me, I believed God abandoned me by not keeping his word. Each passing day without the replacement girlfriend confirmed this.



June 10, 1976


     Nothing’s glad, everything’s sad. Nothing’s right, everything’s wrong. My writing looks bad. I have no job. I don’t know when I’m going to get a car. I’ve got nothing to live for. Everything looks stripped of anything good. If it doesn’t change, I don’t know if I’m going to make it. God I know has abandoned me.  If God exists, he’s not a personal God. I’ve got no chance for anything. You sow what you reap. I can’t help it because I’ve always got these depressing thoughts in my head because of Christine. I pray with the depressing thoughts on my mind, and what I pray for doesn’t happen, but the depressing thoughts do.




     Well I asked God to prove he existed tonight (after having cried miserably for the third time in the last two days) and he did. I prayed that he show me a sign, and as I prayed, the picture on the wall beside my bed became detached on one side, and began rocking back and forth, making a creaking sound. I feel a lot better now, and have a source of comfort that I needed so deeply. Thank God!!!

     As I kneeled and prayed, head bowed onto the bed, the picture on the wall suddenly rocked back and forth. This gave me the inspiration to fight on.


Chapter Three


  The Room





…The gasps for air between my cries filled my lungs with the cold, antiseptic smells of the hospital, as the nurses, like prison guards, walked by, and routinely observed my tearful pleas for attention …I found myself being wheeled into an examination room…the people were strangers…If I only knew what they were doing to me! The lack of knowledge was a great psychic pain. There was a pressure in my lower back. They seemed to be sticking something in me. I watched the numbing terror and questioned if the fear was justified…I didn’t distinguish between the medical test and my thoughts. The medical test, a memory, became my thoughts…


 …The Hospital, 1961



     I was two years old when I was placed in the examination room. At the age of seventeen, the experience was either going to destroy me, or I was going to rise above it. Things had gotten ugly. The memories were not only bothering me, they were tormenting me. I had no choice but to become a mental survivalist.

     When I was battling the memories, I did a lot of self-examination, and kept a journal. I didn’t talk to anyone and didn’t seek help. But I had the journal. I talked to myself in the journal. In the journal, I told myself what to do in order to save my life. So here, in chapter three, I share personal writings, and examine them. The writings were written to help explain what happened, and describe the effect of the powerful emotional scars. The traumatic feelings and thoughts were a part of me, but not me. They were a part of my consciousness, but not my consciousness—like a hand is human, but not a human being. In a way it was like the traumatic experiences happened to someone else, but unfortunately, the person was inside my head. I was both the antagonist, and the protagonist, and took part in a type of battle inside myself. 

     The protagonist in me wrote about his experiences with the antagonist in these writings. The antagonist was a child, but unfortunately, the child was dangerous. The child wasn’t just a cute little boy. He was a traumatized child. A child that would get what it wanted, even if that meant ruining my life. It’s like if someone is drowning and you try and save them. They can end up pulling you under the water. In this case, the child in me was pulling me under the water. In a way, I was its host, and it was feeding off me. I was a parasite, feeding off myself. I was me fighting for and against me. It’s like the foundation of a building supporting the apex of a building. If there is a problem with the foundation, there’s a problem with the apex. If things go wrong early in life, like at age two, by the time you get older, things only get worse. To fix the apex, you’ve got to fix the foundation. To fix yourself at age seventeen, you’ve got to fix what went wrong at the age of two.

     Studying these writings provides insight into how thoughts from the hospital, fifteen years earlier, affected my thinking at the age of seventeen. As I overcame Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, I got very good at looking at my consciousness. I’d examine my consciousness like it was a separate thing. Looking at the feelings was like looking up to the sky and seeing massive bodies, similar to looking up to the sky and seeing the sun, the moon, and the stars. I lived with these things whether I liked it or not, and had to deal with them every moment. So I got very familiar with them and how to deal with the problem.

       Have you ever been tired of where you are? Maybe it’s a classroom, a friend’s house, home, or a waiting room. It could be anywhere. It could be an open field, the wilderness, or the downtown of a large city.  It doesn’t matter, if you’re tired of where you’re at, and don’t leave, you’re feeling a special feeling. You’re feeling the way I felt when I had Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I couldn’t leave my feelings. I couldn’t leave my experiences and thoughts. I couldn’t leave myself. When I had PTSD, it wasn’t as easy as standing up and walking away. It’s not easy to walk away from yourself, in fact, it’s impossible. That’s why I wrote the following:  


     My eyes are the portholes to the world.  Seeing is like standing in a room and looking out to the world.  But unfortunately, I can’t go outside.  I must remain inside.  There is nowhere to rest, escape, or vacation.  I’m in and can’t get out.  This is it.  This is my destination. I’m behind the walls.

     I can lose myself by concentrating on something.  I can see a sports game, watch a movie, go for a bike ride—lots of things, but it always comes down to the truth.  I always return here, to myself, looking out the portholes to the world. 


   Before I thought myself out of mental illness, I often felt like I was stuck inside a room, staring at a wall. I could spend days staring at it.  The worse the feelings were, the closer the walls of the emotions came, and when the feelings were really, really powerful, I felt devastated. Powerful memories echoed back through my senses, creating the illusion that I was once again alone in the hospital. I was once again a crying child.  I was once again wondering if I really needed to feel so bad. Like at the hospital, I didn’t distinguish between the medical test and my thoughts. The medical test, a memory, became my thoughts. I was stuck with the feelings and thoughts. They wouldn’t leave. Resistance was futile. I was forced to wait it out until the feelings left. Unfortunately, that could be several days, and in the mean time, I was left with bad grades in school, awkward social situations, and not feeling very good about myself.     

     The traumatic thoughts echoed back through my senses like a curse. They felt like physical matter lodged inside my head. A familiar sight, sound, taste, touch, or smell was like a door to the past, and haunted me like a recurring nightmare. That’s why I wrote sarcastically about senses. The senses were the enemy:


     The bustle of the city is a monotonous conspiracy: car noises, random chatter, radios, TV’s, animals and ambulances. It’s a constant flow. It’s so repetitive that the senses are taken for granted; they blur together, change, and disappear. In time, the bustle is heard, but not noticed, seen, but not discerned. This is so with every sense. In time, it is overlooked and perceived differently.


     Tomorrow takes away a part of today.


    The senses of sound, sight, and touch paradoxically confine because they define. A part of the senses are lost to the past. They are misplaced in the complexities of the mind and become like walls, limiting the world, revealing only a part of reality and denying the rest. I can only see what I’m allowed to, hear what I’m allowed to hear, and feel what I’m allowed to feel. In time, what defines is dominated by what is overlooked rather than what is noticed and perceived…


     I sense the chains.

     Wherever I go, the senses follow. To taste is to touch and see and smell. You hear and taste, like the crunching sound of chewing. If it doesn’t look or smell right, you won’t taste it. Or, if a place doesn’t smell good, you won’t go there. Taste and smell are like seeing, hearing, and feeling—like walls, they confine because they define.

     But, there are five inner senses. With them, I see more than I see, hear more than I hear, and feel more than I feel. Similar to the impressions of the city, the senses linked to powerful memories define the world. They’re always present, like the street noise of urban sprawl. They’re monotonous, often ignored and overlooked; so common, they’re taken for granted. Like the impressions of the city, they blend together, change, and aren’t discerned. But unlike the vibrations of the city, the senses linked to powerful memories dangerously mutate and increase in power. They aren’t an innocuous flow of activity. They become askew, open the door to the past, and lock you in like an incarcerated slave; and wherever you go, they follow.

      From the five inner senses, the misplaced parts return to reek vengeance on day-to-day life. You can only look out the portholes, and imagine freedom from the room.




     Senses are taken for granted. Experiencing a sensation, any sensation, is a profound experience. The blue sky above the city is an incredible sight, yet how often do we take a moment to marvel? Experiencing the five senses is important, but because they’re always there, we often don’t think about them. The same thing happens inside our minds. We have feelings, thoughts, and memories that are there for so long, we fail to notice them! I thought myself out of mental illness because I examined the sky inside my mind, and realized that I had been reacting to things I had overlooked.


     Painful thoughts and emotions are easy to avoid, difficult to accept, and are ostracized. The stronger the desire to reject, the larger the rift between the feelings and what is confronted, the more PTSD festers, and gains influence over our thoughts.  That’s why I wrote the following:


     The mind is its ecosystem, and our thoughts are its sustenance.  It’s the other kind of sense.  People are afraid to talk about it. It’s avoided, misunderstood, and shunned.  It quietly and secretly exists, making the mind its home, and pushing aside the self. People feel uncomfortable with it, but in the enclosed, dark areas of our thoughts, it breathes and flourishes, and thrives like a lizard basking in the summer sun.


     Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder occurs because of an emotional injury, a cut or tear in consciousness, a wound that screams to be noticed like a physical ailment. It’s not a physical injury, but it’s an injury none-the-less. The pain echoes through the senses—PTSD jumped uncontrollably into my mind and became real like seeing, smelling, touching, tasting, or hearing.  It became a part of my environment like street noise.  I lived with the interference for many years, but in time, it interfered more and more, and caused powerful depression.


The Equation of Thought


      The Equation of Thought occurs in the mind due to emotional trauma and represents a mathematical expression that can be graphed. Using the minds eye and visualizing the graph exercises the mind, gets stagnant thoughts moving, and increases stability, strength, and confidence. Below, some of the preliminary ideas concerning the equation are described. In this book, under the heading, Types of Thoughts, several other thoughts that are included in the equation are listed.

      Thinking 1-2 thought is to see yourself as separate from your thoughts. The thoughts of the medical examination weren't who I was. They became a part of me, but my sense of self, the ONE, was separate from them, the TWO. The recollection of the doctors putting wires on my head is 1-2 thought. My sense of self, the ONE, was separate from the traumatic thoughts, the TWO. The traumatic thoughts happened to me. I watched the thoughts like watching a football game, the wind blow, or anything else. The horrible experience wasn’t me, it was just an experience fate put me in. Think of the worse thing that ever happened to you. The experience isn’t you; it’s just something that happened to you. It doesn’t define you. Only your conscious decisions define you. Overcoming emotional trauma is big on personal responsibility. I began to improve when I decided I couldn’t depend on anyone, not even God.  I could only depend on the ability God gave me. No one will do for you what you need to do for yourself. Once traumatized, it’s all about you and your thoughts. Society is a distraction.

     The number ONE represents “I am,” self-awareness--the bare naked self stripped of thoughts, feelings, senses, and memories. In relationship to emotional trauma, the TWO represents thoughts, feelings, memories, and senses frozen in the mind, the part of an experience that’s stuck in the head. Concentrating upon 1-2 thought and visualizing the ONE with the TWO constructively exercises the mind and gets the stuck parts moving again, prompting memories and insights. 1-2 thought is the most important thought in the equation, the thought that all others are built upon, the thought worth fighting for! I love 1-2 thought because it saved me from a horrible life! You’ll see in my journal that when I realized the importance of 1-2 thought I became very excited. I had a tool to fight the fire.

     Thinking 1-2 thought is to live in the now and face the moment. Think of reading these words. Acknowledge yourself, and then acknowledge how you feel. Acknowledge that you see these words. Acknowledge where you are as you read these words. Acknowledge thoughts as you read these words. Remember reading other books. This is 1-2 thought. True, it isn’t traumatic thought, but it is still 1-2 thought. It is healthy thought.  You may laugh and say it’s too simple, so what? Well, I’d respond, how complicated is it to put one step before the next? How hard is it to put one foot on the ground, and then the next? Simple, but what if you couldn’t? It’s nice to have your feet on the ground. It is simple to take a cup, fill it with water, and drink. What if you couldn’t? Thinking 1-2 thought, for me, felt like drinking crystal clean water. How about breathing? For me, thinking 1-2 thought was like stepping out of a stagnant room, and breathing fresh air. In my journal I wrote:


“…Conscious life is a string of microscopically attached ‘nows.’ Whatever is bothering you, it once was in the present moment. That is a very powerful thing this moment has in common with then. You can cry and cry and cry, but if you don’t face this moment, this most powerful of all ‘nows,’ you’ll never solve your problem. You’ll never solve the ‘now,’ then.”


     It’s common for people to talk about living in the now. People say things like, “The power of now.” Well, for me, I ask, which now? Is it the now of this moment or the now of fifteen years ago? Perhaps you’ll laugh at my question, claiming that, of course, it’s the now of this moment that they mean. Well, I’d like you to know that I overcame the emotional scars due in no small part to having a profound respect for the now of yesterday. I fought very hard to get to the now of yesterday. Another question is, “Why is it that anyone even mentions the importance of living in the now?” Well, I believe it’s because people don’t live in this moment, but are stuck in the now of the past! So the more important question, and one that will be answered in this book, is, “How to move from the now of the past to the now of this moment, and vice versa?”


     The moment includes every traumatic experience of your life. The moment waits for acknowledgement, for without it, you’ll never become whole, you’ll never become all you could have become. It’s through the moment that the vibrations of emotional trauma move through the mind. The vibrations of emotional trauma create the Equation of Thought, and 1-2 thought is part of the Equation. Self-awareness is the ONE. Feelings, thoughts, memories, and senses are the TWO. Visualizing the ONE with the TWO creates 1-2 thought and constructively exercises the mind!


     In relationship to emotional trauma, 1-2 thought is pure, clear, and concise—the first cube in the building blocks of thought and the most important thought in the Equation. 1-4 thought is the second cube in the building blocks of thought. 1-4 thought is the vibration of emotional trauma influencing present moment thinking.  Usually when this happens, we don’t acknowledge the 1-4 thought because facing it causes pain or discomfort. It’s easier to push it away and try to forget it. Unfortunately, it’s easy to blame ourselves for the traumatic feelings because they linger and become a part of our self-image, and we allow them to define who we are. For me, I was ashamed of the traumatic thoughts and feelings and denied them for so long that I lost track of them:




     Looking through the portholes to the world, the sky is blue, the sun is warm, and everything seems perfect.  It’s a beautiful, sunny day. But in the mind there is the echo, the street noise.

     The lizard (traumatic thought) moves where it pleases.

     You mistake the noise for something different.  It’s a cold stare from a friend, a missed opportunity, or a failed relationship, anything but the truth.  This is 1-4 thought, the second cube in the building blocks of thought. 

     1-4 thought is two thoughts combined. (The number four represents two thoughts, perceptions, memories, observations, or senses falsely combined to appear as one.)  The present moment is influenced by the inner noise (past thought), creating a new perspective, 1-4 thought. 

     1-4 thought breeds 1-4 thought, and accumulates like fungus on the walls.  What is has changed.   Warm seems cold, cold seems warm. A cold day comforts the mind.

     This is depressing.

     Depression sits in the mind like an old, worn sofa in the middle of a freshly painted room.  The sofa isn’t easily removed.  In order to remove the sofa, both past and present thoughts must be identified, and simultaneously concentrated upon.  Doing so will dislodge the thoughts, and release the energy that created the 1-4 thought.



    To destroy the echo, one must gaze into consciousness, and remember its origins, but victory means more than just remembering. This is an athletic event, a competitive struggle—you must confront yourself, and the reason the echo exists. This is questioning who you are, and who you want to be. All assumptions must be carefully examined. Does righteousness enslave your mind? Do you assume some thoughts are good, and some bad? Should some thoughts be avoided? Think carefully. It’s possible to avoid a thought and not know it.

     An assumption is like a person who moves into your house, taking it for granted that they have the right to tell you what to do, but sometimes what they say isn’t nice, and can ruin your life. An assumption can get into your head and settle what you’ll become for the rest of your life. But, what right does an assumption have? An idea has only as much power given it! A thought is only important if we believe it. Never assume you aren’t capable. Look at me! The thoughts were batting me down, but I stood up and questioned them. I didn’t believe in the bad thoughts, I believed in myself. I overcame the powerful emotional scars because I questioned the assumption that I couldn’t! NO ONE WOULD HAVE THOUGHT I COULD HAVE OVERCOME THE EMOTIONAL SCARS USING ONLY MY THOUGHTS AND IDEAS! Look at all the miserable people in society who think there’s no hope! Maybe they need to stop and believe! So I say, strip away assumptions, remove the suppositions, and reveal the thoughts beneath conclusions, ideas, and beliefs. Know what you think and why! See the sky anew! Don’t assume what the stars look like, stare up and examine! I believe that doing so saved my life!

     Why do you believe in God? Have you never thought about why? Children often believe in God, and as an adult, forget why, or never knew why to begin with.  Knowing why can free you to decide to believe. I think questioning why you believe, even if it means realizing you don’t, is very important. Not knowing why there is a belief is like a virus taking up space in a computer—sooner or later, the inefficiency will harm you. 

      A thought isn’t like a piece of furniture. You can’t decide it’s ugly and remove it. But to avoid a thought, you must think it. Yes, think it! Sure, it’s on your mind, but unwillingly. Willingly include the thought in your mind. Decide to think it. Go ahead, step aside and make room. The trauma depends on resistance to survive, so when it’s embraced, it loses power. To avoid a thought is to draw it closer, and make sure it never leaves. Freedom from a thought is to hold it, judge it on merit, and decide its value. For example, I overcame the terror of the hospital by telling myself to shut up and let me feel the pain. There was nothing morally wrong with feeling the pain. The pain was my thoughts, and my thoughts didn’t need moral scrutiny. My thoughts were home inside, and didn’t have to prove anything. I needed to overcome the moral assumption that my thoughts were bad to leave the room. I needed to remove the needless ingredient from the old recipe, and destroy the virus—I needed to examine the inner sky, and criticize what I took for granted.

     To love God is to judge the thought on merit, and willingly decide to love. God doesn’t want to be worshipped because of guilt, shame, vanity, or ignorance. God doesn’t want to be worshipped like the false idol in the story of Moses.  If you’re ambivalent about how you feel about God, it’s best to admit the feeling. Thoughts and feelings must be free to explore, for if not, the devotion is counterfeit, and prevents communion with God.



     Looking at consciousness is like gazing up to the stars. The vista is so massive, it’s intimidating, but slowly, the truth reveals itself and insights appear like shooting stars. Overcoming emotional trauma is time- consuming work, but very rewarding. It’ll return everything you invest and more. The more you look, the more you’ll see, and luckily, the sky is always in you:


     You’re always looking out the portholes. Wherever you go, the memory follows. Being stuck with the noise is what will help you overcome: you can’t leave the room.  You must face your face; the emotions show up wherever your legs take you.  The faster you walk, the quicker they follow; whomever you’re with, the feelings pop-up. There’s no chair to sit in and escape. All exits lead to the sky inside your mind.


     The inability to escape the bad feelings is horrible, but on the bright side, the more noise something makes, the easier it is to identify the source. If something is a mild irritant, it’s easy to overlook, but if it’s really loud, you can follow the sound and confront it! There is a silver lining. I believe that if I wasn’t miserable because of the horrible feelings at the age of seventeen, I may not have been motivated to overcome them. I was fortunate because at a different age, later in life, the task may have been more difficult.

The first time 1-4 thought was seen in my mind as two separate thoughts was in July of 1976. I was looking at an image of insecurity and compared it to the feelings of infatuation I felt for a classmate. The thought of her brought to mind the image of insecurity, which I found tormenting. I compared the image to the feelings of infatuation, and showed myself that they weren’t the same thing and pointed out the differences. The image stopped popping up when I thought of her! I felt freed! It was a great epiphany! A habitual thought pattern had changed, and I proved that the emotions could be defeated with ideas. I had experienced pure, clear, and concise thought! Everything changed, my world expanded, and I felt emboldened and in control. I looked at myself anew, and questioned senses, beliefs, memories, and conclusions. The vista seemed closer, like I could embrace the stars!



The July 1976 journal entry…



July 11, 1976


     It appears that without a picture in front of my mind of what I’m doing, my mind is a scatterbrain.

     It appears that I’m now over Christine, because four or five days ago, I suffered a severe depression over her. During this state, I thought the correct base thoughts, and nullified the depression. It was gone! It hasn’t come back in any amount to worry about. Christine feelings were in front of my mind. I also felt insecure. I compared the two feelings. One was obviously from Christine; the other was obvious insecurity. I pointed out the differences in the feelings. I acknowledged both feelings simultaneously. The Christine feelings separated from the insecurity feelings! Christine doesn’t follow the insecurity feelings anymore, and I no longer think about her all the time!

     As stated above, this was a very important moment for me. For the first time, I improved; a new door was opened—I proved I could overcome the emotional scars with my thoughts.

     One depressing aspect of this whole thing is that I’m still insecure. I’m highly insecure. Deeply insecure. So insecure that the pain returns. Maybe not as before, because I’m over Christine, but the pain is still  there. It’s possible I’ll grow out of it, and I hope I do. Maybe if the right things happen to me. I’ve got to find some way of strengthening myself. But the problem is, it’s me! The pain is me.       





Thoughts were alienated from feelings, feelings from thoughts, and thoughts from thoughts. You’ll see that in my journal; but every time I brought one part together with the next, it was one of the most special, wonderful experiences of my life. The echo contained different parts of me—separate things, like stars and planets: 


 You then turn to the echo. It isn’t just 1-4 thought; no, it’s compressed thought. It’s thought piled onto thought. This thought has accumulated like dirt on grimy walls. There are years and years of grime.  This is much more than 1-4 thought.   But, it’s the same principle—thoughts confused, on and on and on as far as you can gaze into the universe. It is a daunting sight.  It seems unfathomable—no one could travel so far. 


   The years of denying the medical exam sat painfully in my mind. I could feel the pain, if, in my minds eye I looked toward, or anywhere near it. By admitting to myself that the feelings were present, I inched closer to the truth, and improved, but seeing the traumatic emotions didn’t remove them:


     The grime is difficult to look at.  Look at the grime, and pain comes.  Look away from the grime, and the pain is easier to handle.  This substance seems physical.  It’s as if you’re standing at the rim of a volcano.  The heat of the stirring lava burns if you look too close.  There is no mystery why this grime has been avoided.  The grime is like lava and causes excruciating pain. How long has this volcano been avoided?  How long has it been stirring in the mind?  There is no answer, only the vastness of the universe. 


     Once experiencing 1-2 thought, I wanted more. It’s like taking a vacation and experiencing fresh air, or feeling what it’s like to walk around without ten-pound weights strapped around the ankles. The idea that someday I could experience life without the torment was exciting and the July 1976 experience of the ONE acknowledging the TWO proved it. The emotional trauma never left my mind and habitually influenced my thoughts, but hidden in my thoughts was the ONE and the TWO. I knew it was so, but seeing the 1-2 thought in relationship to the 1-4 thought was like tediously untangling a ball of yarn. The more I experienced 1-2 thought, the more eager for it I became, but it was elusive:


     The moment the 1-2 thought was separated from the 1-4 thought, the room inside my mind moved closer to the truth. But the truth is like an animal darting in front of me, forever avoiding my grasp. The truth is close, but always far. The truth owns a poker face, and doesn’t show its hand. And there is more.  There is a substance entering and exiting the mind, like smoke covering my eyes. The smoke is soothing and more desirable than the lava, for although a dull ache, it’s not agony.


     At the age of seventeen, I had forgotten the hospital and the medical examination. I had forgotten why I felt the pain, which became very frustrating. You’ll see in the journal that I sought to confront the pain. I thought about failed relationships, problems with parents, brothers, and bad experiences.  Nothing grabbed. Nothing made sense. I thought it must be something deep into the past, far, far away—an experience long forgotten, but screaming to be told. That’s why I wrote the following:


     There is no escaping the room.  The feelings will scream whether denied or embraced, acknowledged or shunned.   The question is, how to embrace something unknown?  How to kiss lips long forgotten—hug someone who is no longer there?  Trembling in frustration, desiring to be free, I stood below the stars, and felt the awesome power of the universe.  This was the battle of the minds!


     Below, I describe the mindset that allowed me to overcome Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder:


     The first idea to consider is your approach to the problem. One can look at an elephant and see many different things.  You can see crevices and dry terrain, a snake, or an elephant, all depending upon where you are: too close, at an angle, or at a distance. Additionally, you can be hanging on a cliff in an isolated area of Mount Everest and approach the issue with paralyzing fear, or relish a great challenge.  I viewed overcoming my problems in a constructive way. I viewed overcoming my problems as a challenge from God. You can too. You must accept the challenge.  I was called to overcome Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The duel is a type of athletic event, a competition, a sport.  The challenge is similar to skiing, boxing, mountain climbing, or a chess match.  In all contests, you have an opponent, yourself, and the victor is the one that overcomes the other.

     The winner over Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is the one who overcomes both the inner world, with thoughts and feelings, and the outer world, with people. In both worlds, stimuli, influences, are touching the senses, and entering the conscious mind.  Visualize both worlds. Visualizing them is very important because both worlds are a powerful influence, and capable of ruining a life. You must respect both worlds.  Respecting both worlds is your ticket to enter the playing field.


     Think carefully about people because personal relationships are like a window into the mind. Relationships are formed for a reason. If everyone seems against you, maybe you are against yourself. Remember, time doesn’t heal emotional wounds, but the assumption that it does will leave you standing in a crowded room and feeling alone. People will say it happened a long time ago, so get over it. After all, they feel okay, shouldn’t you? You’re left alone like a person sunk at the bottom of the sea, unable to share the sights, feelings, and thoughts. Only you know how you feel, and you must respect that. You must stake your claim in your ocean, and proclaim it as a part of your life, regardless that no one else can see it.


     It’s easy to become angry because what happens with your thoughts gets confused with what is happening in the world. People don’t understand and think you’re weird.  They seldom help because they’ve got their own problems, and can’t help themselves. Do you think people should be sympathetic just because you’ve been traumatized? They too have been traumatized. Often the traumatized are the least understanding because they’re alienated from feelings and so can’t recognize yours. Often their smile is a facade and they lash out at you because you remind them of themselves. It’s frustrating, but forgive them. It isn’t their fault. Forgiving is practice for forgiving yourself; forgiving is important to end the anger. The moment I forgave myself for what I felt and thought was one of the most important moments in my life.  Remember:      


     “For if you forgive men their offenses, you’re heavenly Father will also forgive you your offenses. But if you do not forgive men, neither will your Father forgive you your offenses.” Mathew 6:14-15


     Whether or not you know why the feelings are present, acknowledge them.  I started out not knowing why I had the feelings, and later, discovered why. If you already know what caused the feelings, consider that an advantage. Each time a feeling is acknowledged, and you recall the cause, or possible causes, more emotions will appear. This happened to me over and over and over, and I kept fighting. The enemy, the powerful experience that created the emotions, is hiding behind memories and thoughts. It may become frustrating, but be strong. Have faith in God. There is an end.  Get ready for an onslaught of feelings, but don’t worry, in the end, you’ll win. This is a sport. In this sport, like in other sports, the best way to avoid injury is to stop worrying about getting hurt.

     Ask God for assistance. Ask Christ for help: “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; and he who seeks, finds; and to him who knocks, it shall be opened…” Mathew 7:7-8

     Skiing down a steep hill is both exhilarating and frightening.  Concentrating on the snow directly in front and overcoming each obstacle cuts down the degree of fear, and makes the slope seem less steep.  Instead of one huge obstacle, you have several small, more easily manageable obstacles. In this same way, you must approach Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in steps. Each moment is a challenge and there will be many small victories. You won’t beat it in a day. Don’t expect to. It will be like walking down a flight of stairs, one step at a time. Twenty times you’ll step down on a flight of stairs, not just once.  Slowly, you’ll discover yourself. 

    Viewing the obstacle in a constructive way, accepting the challenge, and acknowledging the feelings is the mind set which allows you to proceed.  You are now like a boxer stepping out into the ring, the skier standing at the ridge, or a chess champ sitting at the table. It will take perseverance, tenacity, and all the strength you can muster. One promise of the mind is that you will have the strength to overcome anything inside it. You’ll come to realize this, but I tell you beforehand, you’ve already beaten your opponent.  Never forget.


     In the CD, “YANNI LIVE AT THE ACROPOLIS,” Yanni says that if one person thinks a great thought, we all can think it, because we are all the same. I think this book has great thoughts, because these thoughts saved my life. Below, I discuss further the mindset that allowed me to overcome the emotional scars:


     1. View the illness in a constructive way. Remember the snake, crevices and dry terrain, and the elephant. Step back, gather your thoughts, and see the problem in your minds eye in as many different ways as possible. Choose the most advantages way of looking at it. Below is a poem I wrote:


                  Who is there is my darkened corner?

                  Is it my lover?

                  Who else could it be?

                  For who else could bring me so low?


                  Who is there in my highest palace?

                  Is it my lover?

                  Who else could it be?

                  For who else could bring me so high?


                  What else could make me feel so

                  low, yet make me feel so high? For in my

                  lowness I’m seeking solace from my lack of

                  highness. My lack of my loved one.


     The trauma creates bad feelings, but it also produces good feelings. Without the bad feelings, how can you appreciate the good feelings? Without the bad feelings, there may not be the good feelings. Take the good with the bad. I saw emotional trauma as an opportunity. It was an opportunity to experience something I couldn’t have by any other way. I saw the moon, and thought it was worth reaching for. It was a challenge.


         2. Accept the Challenge. Once viewing the problem constructively, you must accept the challenge. Without accepting the challenge, there is no chance of overcoming emotional trauma. You can see a hill, and decide it’s too difficult to walk up. If that’s your attitude, you’ll never climb it.


         3. Acknowledge feelings. Acknowledge as many feelings as possible even if you don’t know why they exist. Subsequently, when a feeling returns, identify it. In your mind, point it out, and say, “This was the same one as yesterday!” Or, “This is the same one as last week!”  Remember as many times you’ve felt it as possible: “I remember it then, and then, and then and then.” The more times the better. The feeling doesn’t have to involve depression. It could be any feeling, such as self-doubt, or a feeling of sadness or happiness. Any feeling needs to be acknowledged. When it returns, it needs to be identified. It becomes a sport, and you’re the competition. Remember, identify, identify, identify. Be diligent. Don’t let a feeling pass you by! Like any sport, if you don’t take it seriously, you won’t be good at it.


     We can’t always control what problems we have, but we can control how to react to them. Whether it’s a problem with an acquaintance, personal relationship, or depression, we can choose from where we see the problem. We can hold are heads up, or hold them down, based upon a decision to push forward or become a victim. It’s easy to be depressed about famines, earthquakes, the weather, wars, and the like, as if they have something to do with what pops up in the head. Or, it’s easy to become distracted by petty, minor things. Either way, as stated above, depending upon the angle, one can see a snake, crevices and dry terrain, or an elephant. Although the mind is promoting depression, we can step back and look from a different angle. We can accept the challenge and acknowledge it, and admit that the sound is coming from inside.

    People will smugly proclaim that science says I’m wrong. They’ll say that the depressed should be spoken to with kindness and compassion and not told to decide to feel better. Well, sorry. Decide to feel better. Read this book and you’ll see that you should decide to feel better and you can. Expect more and you’ll claim a better future. Be the student that requests more lessons, not less, because you know you can achieve great things. Don’t be talked down to like a school child given less work. 

     When a problem is acknowledged it’s seen differently.  Emotions are often seen the same way for years because they aren’t carefully looked at. Acknowledging the feelings changes the mental images, and therefore, the inner relationships. Acknowledging a traumatic emotion allows it to become familiar and less intimidating. You’ll get to know it and even expect it. You’ll learn under which situations the emotion pops up, and be prepared. Acknowledging the emotions may be the one thing needed to gain power over them. Additionally, if emotions aren’t acknowledged, chances are, other problems aren’t either, like those involving personal relationships. That’s why it’s important to practice the acknowledgement of problems in both the inner and the outer worlds.

     Once acknowledging emotions, the slow and steady step toward yourself begins…In my journal you’ll see how I sought to acknowledge emotions, and this was an initial step to recovery. 



         The Lava and the Smoke


     The lava and the smoke were two awful demons that followed wherever I went. They were apart from me, yet me. Sometimes they’d roar with intensity, occasionally with a whimper, but always they threatened to flare-up, change my mood, and wreak havoc. I was scared of them, but in time, concluded that I had to face them before they destroyed my life. Before I overcame them, I questioned why they existed. I examined them and searched for answers. I reasoned that they were my thoughts; therefore, my thoughts could overcome them. That’s why I wrote the following:


     Are the lava and the smoke a symptom or a disease? Are they because of a problem, or the problem itself?  Is there a physical entity that causes this pain? Should I get a knife and cut them out of my head? The smoke rolls about from one part of the head to another, sits on the forehead, and covers the eyes. The lava capriciously pops into the mind.    

     This is a battle of thoughts! If thoughts create them, ideas can overcome them.  Delusion isn’t a friend, and truth isn’t the enemy. A feeling shouldn’t be judged based upon how good it feels, rather, how genuine. Sometimes a bad feeling is good. Sometimes a sad feeling, confronted, feels good. The lava and the smoke! What caused them? Sitting on top of this pile of dung, I don’t know, but continue the search, like an astronomer scanning the stars...


     There was a relationship between the lava and the smoke. They were created due to emotional pain. From the emotional injury, the lava, came the reaction to the pain, the smoke. The emotional injury was an unwelcome visitor, sharing my mind, requesting polite respect, accommodation, and service. It asked the question, “Will you offer me something?” It expected to be treated like a special person, a favorite visitor, or a best friend. It sat meekly, waiting for my response.  The disappointment that it had arrived, the smoke, lingered for as long as the lava wasn’t treated as a respected, honored, and worthwhile part of me. Until I accepted the lava, the injury, the smoke lingered like a cloud over my life. I had to accept my thoughts. I had to think the unthinkable. That which I denied had to be treated with love.

     If you’ve been emotionally traumatized, sit down with your visitor. Talk with your visitor. Give the visitor everything it wants. You’ll find that the visitor isn’t so bad, and everything it requests is what you’ve been longing to give. In time, you’ll realize the pain isn’t the visitor’s fault, and invite the visitor to stay; you’ll realize the difference between a bad experience and the reaction to it; you’ll distinguish the difference between the cut and the cause. It’s okay to feel bad. Hate the experience, not yourself. The visitor will become one of the most loved, important parts of your life. 

     “…My thoughts were home inside. I could think anything and it was worthwhile—God doesn’t make junk thoughts. Previously shunned thoughts were gathered around the altar, like children during a Sunday Mass, and told they were valued and loved. I loved these thoughts more than any thought in my mind.”  Excerpt from chapter five.


  The Lizard


      The lizard is a common demon that I believe lives inside almost everyone to one extent or the other. It found a home inside me because I made moral judgments and righteously placed blame for my thoughts and feelings.

     The lizard was born in me at the age of two, and by the time I was seventeen, it had grown large and dominated everything important to me, threatening to ruin my life. The Lizard was me, me at a different time of my life, but me none-the-less. The most important feeling was the lizard because it encapsulated who I was, and therefore, who I am.  I suspect that most people can identify certain aspects of the lizard inside themselves.

     Born of self-rejection and hatred, the lizard was powerful thoughts of insecurity and inadequacy. The lizard avoided the lava and the smoke. To the lizard, not all my thoughts and feelings were welcome—some were vile and repugnant—to be shunned, pushed aside and forgotten—they belonged to the dark, bad side of me. They weren’t socially acceptable and shouldn’t be discussed. They were an ugly secret. The lizard rejected the truth, thinking that denial would create reality. It built walls, created a façade, sacrificed, and lied. It smugly and arrogantly thought it could pull off the perfect denial, and get away with it.

     The lizard was paradoxical. It blamed the self, but denied the self. It deflected criticism and responsibility, but righteously assigned guilt. It was resolved to win, but was willing to lose everything. It loved, but hated. It was timid, but angry. The lizard was a crying child, managing what it could, forsaking what it couldn’t, justifying why black was white. Looking at the lizard at the age of seventeen, struggling with the puzzle, was like looking through a fragmented prism, and seeing parts of myself scattered throughout time and space. I put the parts, screaming and crying, back together, but they habitually avoided me, fleeing from my thoughts and feelings.

     Whenever there is self-hatred, emotional pain, fear, insecurity, and self-doubt, the lizard can grow, gain strength, and thrive. The lizard matures with the warm rays of denial, and in time, its lies appear justified; in time, the lizard pushes aside reality, and thrives in the mind like a misplaced reptile bathing in the heat of the sun; it’s never happy and never belongs, but feels satisfied; in time, wrong seems right, and right seems wrong; in time, its hateful and angry thoughts dominate the mind.  


     In the world, the lizard is self-righteous. To the lizard, its truth is truth. Its God is God. To believe differently is to be sentenced to hell. Vengeance flows through its veins. It doesn’t seek compassion, but justice. It speaks of love but acts with hatred. It speaks of inclusion but is obsessed with differences. It quotes scripture, but only its scripture, and ignores the rest. It sees the truth, but only the part that serves a predetermined, self-serving end.  


      For me, the lizard began in one moment, almost invisibly, with a simple lie and childish thinking. It wasn’t caused by something complex, but something simple; so juvenile, it was the thoughts of a two year old. Unfortunately, with every year, the hatred grew and the lies became more profound.  In time, the lizard began to consume everything, and I became obsessed with it.  You’ll see in my journal that if I didn’t overcome the lizard, it would have destroyed my life.



  The Blame for Thoughts


     It’s easy to blame yourself for your thoughts, because, after all, they’re your thoughts. I often felt the way described below:


     A good person wouldn’t have the evil thoughts. Something has been done to bring the evil into the room. No one else can enter here, so the fault is the one who is.  Other people don’t experience the lava and smoke.  Their lives are free.  They associate with ease.  It’s better to conceal the lava and smoke—this is a dirty secret. It’s better they never know. Why tell anyone of the evil within?  Why let anyone know?  Why degrade yourself?  It’s hard enough to make a friend. 


     I blamed myself for my thoughts, and didn’t trust myself to think the right thoughts. I didn’t respect my thoughts, and feared that at any moment, I could be thinking something bad. The inward alienation created feelings of distrust toward other people:


    This is like being in a fish tank looking out to the world. Notice the way people live, laugh, and associate—they seem so foreign. Your reality isn’t a part of theirs. They can’t imagine what’s happening inside you.   


     A thought can’t be taken back. Once you think you’ve been abandoned, you can’t take away the feelings, even if it was untrue. You can’t change a thought anymore than what happened two seconds ago.  If you’re two years old, and thinking wrong things, who can save you? Who can ever know you’re in trouble? No one may even notice until years later, and at that point, they’re grabbing at shadows. They’ll justify your behavior with ideas of chemical imbalances, or fancy sounding diseases. The only thing helped is the observer’s ego; but you’re still in trouble, with no help in sight. In fact, you may be in more trouble, because then they fill you with justifications, and worse yet, drugs. But luckily, I didn’t tell anyone I was in trouble. They couldn’t harm me. I’m not saying people shouldn’t take their medication. I know nothing about drugs, but I do know about thoughts. I had to deal with my thoughts to solve my problem.


      It’s difficult to know when to laugh, when to smile, when to speak, and what to say. What are they thinking? Your words fall on distrustful, self-serving ears—you speak your piece, but your piece isn’t a part of the whole.


     I felt alienated, but believed in perseverance, the strength in knowing I had myself, and would never give up. As long as I believed in myself and didn’t give up, there was hope. I was incapable of admitting to people what was happening, but was able to slowly reveal the thoughts and feelings to myself. Once I began to make advances against the thoughts and feelings, I was encouraged and wanted more. I saw 1-4 thought as something that could be defeated, and would be defeated—it was only a matter of time. In addition to feeling alienated from people, I felt separated from God. The inward alienation was taking over every facet of my life: 


     If there was a God, there wouldn’t be this evil. God isn’t in the room. God either doesn’t exist or has left.  No one can help.  No one. 


     Although I felt like God had abandoned me, I sensed that he actually hadn’t. It was just that I had to do certain things for myself that only I could.  Only I could change the way I thought and reacted to my thoughts.  My thoughts were my responsibility. I had to decide to change, because only I could. God wouldn’t decide for me. God wouldn’t do for me what I had to do for myself. God gave me the ability to think, and I had to use it. I had to stop waiting for God to save me, and save myself. There’s only a certain amount that God will do for you.

     I realized that I shouldn’t deny having a thought anymore than lie about having a physical possession. Thoughts are possessions, too. Although I wasn’t honest with people concerning my inner problems, I could be honest with myself. I only needed to be honest with myself. The problem was inside, and only those inside needed to know. Only Christ needed to know. Only God needed to know. I acknowledged the most painful and undesirable thoughts inside me. Only then could I please God and make constructive changes. Remember John 8:32 “…and you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”

     I didn’t have faith that God would think for me. I gave up on that. Thinking was my job; however, I had faith that Christ would help me think. I had faith that Christ would provide the strength so that I could think. With God’s help, I was able to think. With God’s help, you can think, too. No matter the emotional obstacle, God can help you react differently to your thoughts. I created a mental image of Christ helping me think. I saw it in my minds eye, and stared at it. This helped me change the way I reacted to my thoughts. If you’re depressed, Christ can help you think constructively, and the way you react to the depression will change. If you suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Christ can help you overcome it. If you’re confronted with 1-4 thought, Christ can help you understand it. If you have a mental disorder, create a mental image of Christ helping you, and he will. Read my journal and you’ll see that it’s possible. Remember, “I can do all things in him who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13


      What happened inside my mind was between God and me. I didn’t need other people to solve my problems—sure, maybe, if the right person came along and knew everything to say, they could have helped—but for me, it wasn’t in the cards; and besides, my problems seemed too embarrassing to discuss. No one will like you for having a mental problem. No one will say, “What a fun person, he’s depressed.” Or, “What an interesting person, he has powerful mood swings.”

     People feel uncomfortable around those with emotional problems. People avoid you like someone who needs to bathe, and you wonder why the conversation is cut short as they walk away. Society shuns the feelings in the same way the individual shuns himself. Fortunately, I didn’t need to talk about my problems. I needed to think about my problems. I needed to open up to myself and allow my thoughts to reveal what was happening inside me. With Christ’s help, I was able to do this.

     As stated previously, I blamed myself for my thoughts. It was okay to blame myself because they were my thoughts; but, with Christ’s help, I learned to accept the blame. I learned to love my enemy. I learned to stop shunning myself for my thoughts. I realized that guilt for thoughts is counter-productive. If a thought is deemed unacceptable, think it all the more and it’ll lose its power. Don’t be fooled into thinking that condemning a thought will make it go away. Remember Christ’s great words: “But I say to you, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who persecute and calumniate you.” Mathew 6:44      

     Remember the golden rule and apply it inside your mind: “Therefore all that you wish men to do to you, even so do you also to them: for this is the Law and the Prophets.”  Mathew 7:12 Treat yourself the way you want others to treat you. Treat yourself with respect, caring, and love. Be kind. Don’t be vengeful. Listen, and take seriously what you hear.

     The Bible teaches that Christ cured illnesses: “Now when it was evening, they brought to him many who were possessed, and he cast out the spirits with a word, and cured all who were sick…” Mathew 8:16 Christ can help you just like he helped me. A word was used to cast out the spirits. A word represents a thought. With the help of Christ, thoughts can be used to change dangerous thought patterns that ruin lives!

     Previously, I mentioned The Equation of Thought. I was able to visualize the equation because I accepted the blame for my thoughts. This allowed me to succeed against the dangerous thought patterns that created the lava, smoke, and lizard. Christ helped me to visualize the equation.


       “…And great crowds came to him, bringing with them the dumb, the blind, the lame, and the maimed, and many others; and they set them down at his feet, and he cured them; so that the crowds marveled to see the dumb speak, the lame walk, and the blind see…” Mathew 15:29-31


     Read my journal and I believe you’ll marvel at the way Christ helped me think. You’ll marvel at my thoughts, and realize that Christ can help you, too.




  The Blame for Feelings


     The following is part of a poem I earlier shared about feelings:


                   What dam within can stop this feeling

                  within? What strength within can make

                  me feel no more? I don’t know. I wish there was

                  a strength. But it seems if there is, it

                  never shows. Never helps. Never gives.


                  The river flows—this retched thing of my

                  pitiful self. This power I cannot control, this

                  feeling that is mine—my love for those who

don’t love me. My care for those who don’t care for me.


     How can you stop a feeling? I overcame the emotional scars because I realized a feeling wasn’t the genesis. A thought creates the feeling. To destroy the feeling, confront what creates it, confront the thought. Confronting the thought allows the feeling to dissipate, and provides opportunity for decision: Decide to think the thought that creates the feeling, or, decide not to. I can remember and feel the terror of when I was two years old, identify the thoughts that created the terror, and decide to think them, or, decide not to. I create thought, my body doesn’t; I create feelings, not chemical imbalances. On February 3, 1976, at the age of seventeen, I wrote and thought something I’ll always thank God for allowing me to think, because this thought saved my life. Without this thought, I’d have nothing:

     “Emotions come from thoughts—that means I can defeat them. The emotions are my thoughts. I’ll have to grow stronger and not think the way I do. If I can change my thinking, I can change my thoughts, and therefore, my emotions.”

     Reduce the feeling to thought. To locate the thought behind the feeling is to grab the steering wheel, and take control. The term chemical imbalance is a slogan for defeatism—it’s like saying alcoholism is a disease, therefore, legitimizing weak behavior. When alcoholism is referred to as a disease, no one’s at fault, no one’s responsible, no one’s to blame. Everything is okay because it’s comfortable. But believing in a chemical imbalance won’t solve the problem, nor, free the soul.

     To have denied responsibility for thoughts, regardless of the highs and lows, and how the torment behaved, would have meant slavery, or worse. The emotions I suffered from behaved like chemicals, looked like chemicals, and felt like chemicals—they seemed like physical matter—but it was illusionary, and nonetheless, they were thoughts. That which quacks like a duck, walks like a duck, and looks like a duck, isn’t always a duck. In my journal, I wrote: “…To have abdicated responsibility for the emotions in an esoteric explanation of what creates thought, would have meant failure. I create thought. My body does not…”






Good Feelings


     I went through highs and lows. I’d think I had my enemy defeated and was a success. I’d think I was almost there, only to realize my thoughts deceived me. That’s why I wrote:


     There are moments of joy that give days of exhilaration and satisfaction.  Yes, the lava is here because of a disappointing relationship; it’s all been solved, the problem is over!  Joy!  Everything seems wonderful!

     After a few days, the lizard is back on the windowsill of the room, smirking and chuckling, the lava and the smoke right behind. It gets very, very depressing, as if the lizard is saying, “Ha, ha, you thought you got away!”  You are thrown like an animal back into the room.  The lava burns, and smoke covers the eyes. Everything is lost, and nothing makes sense. After a few days, maybe, you’ll begin to feel better.


     When I was fighting the mental obstacle, I’d often feel very good. Sometimes days would go by when my spirits were up. In time, I began to distrust good feelings. A feeling was a feeling, therefore, deceptive and potentially harmful. A feeling was the enemy whether it appeared as friend or foe, for counting on a feeling lead to depression. I learned to despise good feelings more than I hated bad feelings. It was better to willingly suffer than unwillingly feel elation. Hanging out with a bad friend was worse than no friend at all. Why take the sugar if you’re only being deceived? By questioning good feelings, I was confronting lies and opening doors. Sometimes feeling good is counter-productive. That’s why to find the truth, I’d often look for the opposite of what I previously looked for. Instead of seeking what felt pleasurable, I’d seek what felt uncomfortable. That’s why I wrote:


     But every defeat brought opportunity. Every defeat taught a lesson about the enemy. Every defeat opened a door to the truth, and taught me about myself. To be victorious, I paraded fear and pain about the room in unparalleled bravado. I welcomed the smoke.  I greeted the lava.  I invited the lizard to come and play in the room!  I looked for the feelings and thoughts previously avoided. If a thought was painful, I looked for it. If a thought was scary, I thought about it. I reversed the thinking process. I shouted inside my mind, “Instead of hiding, seek; instead of seeking, hide!”  It became a puzzle, a game!







 Types of Thought


     There are always different ways of looking at something, but there are only so many ways of looking at a thought or feeling in relationship to emotional trauma. If traumatized, it’s as if a part of you freezes at a moment in time, and everything else is viewed in relationship to the trauma.  In this case, there is a finite amount of thought in the mind. The most important is 1-2 thought, or base thought. This is the exact thought you are thinking this moment, or any moment. The second most important is 1-4 thought. This is base thought influenced by thought. Thoughts influencing base thought can be 1-2, 1-4, 1-8, 1-16, 1-32, or 1-64 thought. Childhood emotional trauma is like riding a bike past a mountain. If you are traumatized at the age of two, at the age of five, you don’t forget, but look at the mountain differently. The mountain is in the distance; you see the trauma from a different angle. This different, distant view of the mountain is 1-4 thought. During different stages of life, you view the mountain differently. At age eight, the mountain is farther away than at age five. This creates 1-8 thought. Age eleven brings on a different view; this is 1-16 thought. Age fourteen brings on 1-32 thought. At the age of seventeen, you’ve completely forgotten the mountain; it’s unseen, but as real as stone. This is 1-64 thought. It’s like whispering a secret to a friend, who whispers it to another, and the other whispers it to another, and so on, six times. The last friend understands the sky is falling, but the first friend whispered that the sky was blue. Only in this case, the first friend whispered something awful, and the situation gets uglier. Anytime a feeling influences thought, the individual is experiencing 1-4 thought. The feeling could be from an original experience, therefore, 1-2 thought, or it could be a feeling from a different view of the mountain, thus, 1-4, 1-8, 1-16, 1-32, or 1-64 thought. Each stage of life, approximately every three years during childhood and young adulthood, brings on a different view of the mountain, and experiences the mountain uniquely, doubling the emotions, because as the new view emerges, the old is retained. It’s as if the thoughts are reproduced liked molecules in a Petri dish. Therefore, the second number changes from 2 to 4, 4 to 8, 8 to 16, 16 to 32, and 32 to 64. This can be graphed, and represents the mathematical expression called The Equation of Thought. 1-64 thought is extremely dangerous. Senses and feelings from the original experience pop in and out of consciousness, causing confusion and disorientation. The person may hallucinate.


1-4 Thought


     The relationship between trauma and thought is very important. Seeing how common thoughts react to feelings of trauma is to view the second most important thought, 1-4 thought. Each thought that reacts to the trauma is 1-4 thought. By identifying the 1-4 thought, and concentrating upon 1-2 thought, the individual begins the road to recovery. As an adolescent, I searched for 1-4 thought throughout my life. I searched for 1-4 thought from the age of two, through adolescence.  When 1-4 thought was located, I concentrated upon 1-2 thought. As I located the 1-4 thought and concentrated upon 1-2 thought, energy was released, and more 1-2 thought was created. This made me healthier.

     You’ll see in my journal that when a feeling was present, the type of 1-4 thought was identified. It could have been 1-2, 1-4, 1-8, 1-16, 1-32 or 1-64 thought. As I identified the type of 1-4 thought, and concentrated upon 1-2 thought, the feelings were shaved away, until, I got to the essence, the vivid memory of the trauma.

     Remember, the relationship between any two thoughts is 1-4 thought. A feeling influencing thought creates 1-4 thought. The following diagram is a depiction of the first cube in the building blocks of thought, 1-2 thought, confronted with different forms of thought, creating 1-4 thought. The second column of thoughts, with the different numbered blocks, represents different feelings or thoughts. As an adolescent, I searched for 1-4 thought, identified what kind, and overcame it.


     As an adolescent, I saw the above diagram in my mind. I acknowledged feelings and identified from which part of my past they originated.  Once doing this, I concentrated upon thoughts in the now and 1-2 thought, and looked at the emotions.  This brought to mind additional 1-2 thought, and allowed me to overcome the feelings. Concentrating upon 1-2 thought changed the way I reacted to the traumatic emotions, and allowed me to permanently improve. You too can make permanent changes in your thinking by concentrating upon 1-2 thought. Try it, you’ll like it. Just acknowledge yourself, the ONE, and your feelings, the TWO.

     This can be related to relationships in the world because prejudice is similar to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and 1-4 thought in that a single idea or image is fixed in the mind and appears immovable. It’s possible to overcome the erroneous thinking, just like I overcame Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, by examining the thoughts, thinking of other times they were thought, and confronting them. As stated above, “…Anytime a feeling influences thought, the individual is experiencing 1-4 thought. The feeling could be from an original experience, therefore, 1-2 thought, or it could be a feeling from a different view of the mountain, thus, 1-4, 1-8, 1-16, 1-32, or 1-64 thought.” Freeing yourself from habitual thinking comes by concentrating upon 1-2 thought, and looking at and confronting the related experience and experiences that caused it. And by the way, that’s how I overcame the emotional scars!






     Thought is like soil. Present moment thought, 1-2 thought, is like topsoil. The sedimentary layer below the 1-2 thought is 1-4 thought. The layer below 1-4 thought is 1-8 thought. The layer below 1-8 thought is 1-16 thought, and below 1-16 thought is 1-32 thought, and below 1-32 thought is 1-64 thought. It’s possible to dig, as if with a shovel, down into the layers of thought. This was done with feelings, as explained above in the descriptions of 1-4 thought, and controlled anger. Feelings were removed to get closer and closer to the thought beneath them. Finally, after removing layer upon layer of thought, I came to the age of two, and the vivid memory of the trauma.

     When topsoil is removed, the layer below becomes the base thought, the 1-2 thought. As stated above, “The controlled anger removed the stuck, unfelt feelings associated with the girl, one of several layers of thought that clouded my mind…” When the most recent layer of thought was removed, the layer below became the base thought. The weight had lifted because the total amount of thought was reduced. Below the base thought, what was originally 1-8 thought, was now 1-4 thought. Below that, what was once 1-16 thought, was now 1-8 thought, and so on. As I became healthier, the dominant thoughts in my mind were centered from earlier and earlier periods, because I shaved off, and bypassed, layer upon layer of thought. Looking at thoughts like soil is another way of visualizing The Equation of Thought. 


  Types of Pictures


     A 1-2 picture is a clear mental picture. Think of a dog. Your mind makes a mental image of it. Look at this image. See the furry face and whiskers. This is a 1-2 picture. If an image of a cat were imposed upon the image of the dog, the image of the dog would be fuzzy. This would be a 1-4 picture. If an image of a bird were imposed on the image of the dog and cat, this would be a 1-8 picture. An additional image creating more distortion would cause a 1-16 picture. Yet another picture on top would create a 1-32 picture. One more picture superimposed would greatly distort the original, creating something completely different. The dog image may become a lizard, snake, or anything imaginable.  

     When an unknown picture enters the mind, something special happens. Your mind is trying to tell you about yourself. Don’t run from the picture, but remember the image. Identify the image and watch as it pops up during different moments of the day. Remember when it pops up, and determine under which circumstances it comes. Anticipate its return under similar circumstances. Wait for its return. Accept it as a part of yourself. This will strengthen the psyche and allow your mind to give more hints concerning why it’s there. In time, memories will pop up concerning why the image exists, and you’ll become closer to yourself.  Remember, to deny the image is to deny yourself, become confused, and be a slave of the picture. I learned to love the images, and in return, was able to overcome the pain that created them. Keep in mind that there will be a finite amount of images and that in the end the solution is simple. In my journal I wrote a poem, and I want to include part of it here: 


The devastation caused

                           seems so much more profound

                           knowing that such simplicity can wreak

                           such havoc.


     Looking at consciousness and seeing 1-64 thought is like viewing a star cluster in the night sky. Upon close scrutiny, one star, 1-2 thought, can be distinguished. The relationship between the base thought and the other thought in the cluster is 1-4 thought. Viewing the 1-2 thought, concentrate on the 1-4 thought relationship (1-2 thought to 1-32 thought) within the 1-64 thought cluster. This creates memory and insights. Additionally, in a five star cluster, 1-32 thought, distinguishing one star means seeing a 1-4 thought relationship between 1-2 thought and 1-16 thought. In a four star cluster, 1-16 thought, distinguishing one star means seeing a 1-4 thought relationship between 1-2 thought and 1-8 thought. In a three star cluster, 1-8 thought, distinguishing one star means seeing a 1-4 thought relationship between 1-2 thought and 1-4 thought. Distinguishing one star in a binary star means seeing the relationship between 1-4 thought and 1-2 thought. This may sound complicated, but it isn’t. The relationship between two stuck feelings is 1-4 thought. If you know what one of the feelings is, concentrate on both simultaneously. This causes memory.



     Time out for a journal entry…


A New Door Is Opened


July 13, 1976



     I believe I may have solved, or have remembered, or have figured out, or something, the reason the pain is present. Say about first grade—one big thing I remember about those early years—I couldn’t understand why other people didn’t feel God like I did. In the front part of my mind I felt God as a living reality. The exact place the insecurity or pain thoughts accumulate and form in me! Tonight, after thinking of that, I thought the thoughts I used to think, and created the feeling of God I used to know in the front part of my mind. The pain left! I’m not sure whether these thoughts of God—in which faith is needed to produce—are needed by some innate fact, or, if they resulted from a childhood experience in which I consulted God, and got the thoughts mixed up. I think I probably consulted God and got the thoughts mixed up for the following reason: These thoughts, these faith thoughts, are in the front part of my mind. Why in the front part like all my other emotional feelings? It appears that when I was very young, I had a very bad emotional experience. I consulted God about it, and had faith. The emotional scar from this experience was very strong, and always with me. But, because I had faith in God—or had thoughts of God—I had a source of comfort that allowed me to live with the pain. Somehow, the thoughts from the bad experience were forgotten. This experience, I believe, was most likely to have happened when I was around two or three years old, and I believe I could quite possible know it! Most likely, it happened when I almost died in the hospital of encephalitis. Imagine…a poor helpless kid thrown into the hospital! Separated from his mother, from his father, from his family. In a foreign room with foreign people. The problem is…if it was this experience, I don’t really remember much. I remember a little, that is all. But one thing I know—what would a little kid miss most? His mother?

     This was another very important realization. I could see something going on in my mind, and it made sense. The puzzle of the feelings was slowly being solved.






     I can’t say for sure, but it’s possible I wouldn’t have overcome the illness without the journal I kept. I used to write an entry and refer back to it months and years later. Expressing thoughts and feelings, whether it is to a person, a journal, or an inanimate object is vital to overcoming Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Sometimes there are things that are difficult to admit or share with another person, but can be expressed in a journal. This was definitely the case with me. I never would have shared with a person what I shared with my journal.

     I believe it’s healthy to express yourself in writing. The more clear and concise the writing, the better, because this gets the mind used to thinking in a healthy, organized way.


Eclectic Knowledge



     The term Eclectic Knowledge is used by the intelligentsia of the universe to describe knowledge that is derived from civilizations from different planets. One civilization from one planet may have 20% of the knowledge needed to solve a problem. Another civilization may have the other 80%. Eclectic Knowledge brings the knowledge together to solve a problem. The study of how different thoughts interact involves Eclectic Knowledge.

     The first vision, which is described at the beginning of this book, briefly touches upon Eclectic Knowledge. The Ultimate Supreme Ruler is given a book to study. This book was provided by the intelligentsia of the universe. I believe my inspiration was often the sense that the knowledge of how to overcome the emotional scars came from the intelligentsia of the universe. This knowledge provided strength because it provided hope. This knowledge provided inner stability in the same way a driver would feel secure about knowing the way home during a powerful storm.

     Oops! I mentioned the Ultimate Supreme Ruler! The mention of him has a powerful affect on me. I often think about the Ultimate Supreme Ruler. Regardless of whether he was real or not, he has been an influence in my life, and has taught me things. Read the story. There is a part of the description of the vision that often plays inside my mind, like a popular song, with a tune that repeats over and over. I’ll share it below:


     “He stood at the field of souls, a place where souls stand before they descend into the body. He saw many souls descend. They looked like glowing fish majestically spiraling downward—one after the other, like balls of light falling to the earth.”


     I feel uplifted when I think about this. The memory of standing at the field of souls and looking down on the world, like an astronaut viewing the breathtaking earth is intensely invigorating.  One thing about the Ultimate Supreme Ruler is that when he lived, he wasn’t a religious person. But in the end, he did the right thing. He did what some religious people wouldn’t do. He realized the futility of material things, and focused on helping people. He didn’t do anything for personal gain, or a reward in heaven; consequently, he became a great king. God respected this. God placed him high among the angels. The idea of a nonreligious person being placed high in the mind of God has a lot of meaning to me.




Christian Principals and PTSD


     Christian principles are linked to overcoming Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The number one, in the Equation of Thought, represents the most powerful thing inside us:

“But,” said Moses to God, “when I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ if they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what am I to tell them?” God replied, “I am who am.” Then he added, “This is what you shall tell the Israelites: I AM sent me to you.” Exodus 3:13 to 3:14


     Christ spoke of inner cleanliness, which to me is the most important reason to overcome emotional trauma, because it’ll make you a better person and bring you closer to God: “Woe to you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! Because you clean the outside of the cup and the dish, but within they are full of robbery and uncleanness. Thou blind Pharisee! Clean first the inside of the cup and of the dish, that the outside too may be clean.” Mathew 23:25 to 23:26


     Christ spoke of children, and I relate it to the child within:  And sitting down, he called the Twelve and said to them, “If any man wishes to be first, he shall be last of all, and servant of all.” And he took a little child, and set him in their midst, and taking him into his arms, he said to them, “Whoever receives one such little child for my sake, receives me; and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.” Mark 9:34 to 9:36


     And they were bringing little children to him that he might touch them; but the disciples rebuked those who brought them. But when Jesus saw them, he was indignant, and said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for of such is the kingdom of God. Amen I say to you, whoever does not accept the Kingdom of God as a little child will not enter it.” And he put his arms about them, and laying his hands upon them, he began to bless them.  Mark 10:13 to 10:16


     I speak of the danger of moral righteousness and the need to be humble to see your errors and improve yourself. Christ said: “But many who are first now will be last, and many who are last now will be first.” Mark 10:31

In the Gospel of Luke, Christ said: “Do not judge and you shall not be judged; do not condemn, and you shall not be condemned. Forgive, and you shall be forgiven…” I had to stop judging, stop condemning, and forgive myself to overcome the childhood trauma.


     While writing this book, I thought about the story of Moses. I felt inspired by Moses. Moses walked across the desert, and in a sense, I walked across the desert in my mind. Moses freed the Jews, and I freed myself for the glory of God. God talked to Moses. I picked up an old family Bible given to me by my mother; it dated back to the early seventies. I didn’t know where in the Bible to find the story of Moses. I figured it was in the Old Testament, so it would be somewhere in the beginning. I placed my thumb on the thick book toward the front, and opened it.  I opened the Bible to the book of Exodus, and the exact pages I’d been interested reading. “…I Am sent me to you,” were the words I read. Throughout this book, I included Bible quotes where I felt inspired to place them. I hope the reader, like me, is also inspired by the great words of the Bible.


      The following upside down pyramid demonstrates the Christian principal that the greatest among us will be the servant of all. The single circle represents 1-2 thought. Above the 1-2 thought is 1-4 thought. Above the 1-4 thought is 1-8 thought. The next group of circles would represent 1-16 thought. Above the 1-16 thought would be 1-32 thought. Above the 1-32 thought would be 1-64 thought. The greatest thought, 1-2 thought, stands alone at the bottom, and holds up the other thought. By concentrating upon 1-2 thought, an individual can transform the other thought into 1-2 thought. With the strength of 1-2 thought, the person can survive the other thought.

     The first among us shall be the servant of all. The greatest people are those who do the most to serve humankind, and so it is inside; the greatest thought is the one that serves the mind, and allows an individual to overcome Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The greatest people are those who are like a bridge to other people and nations. They allow different cultures to share in thought for the betterment of humankind. And so it is within, the greatest thought, 1-2 thought, allows different parts of the mind to communicate.



Chapter Four

Correct Thinking


     It’s your spiritual duty to diligently observe thoughts and seek improvement. The pursuit of inner improvement isn’t a luxury, but a necessity. In my case, I believe, it meant a good life, or a ruined one. It’s scary to think about where I’d be if I hadn’t realized I needed to think differently, and hadn’t gotten on the road to correct thinking. Correct thinking must be exercised like muscles—correct thinking is every bit as important, even more important, than physical exercise. You go to the gym and work out, well, you also must work out inside your mind!  What good is a person with a mind that is full of flawed thinking? What good is a physically fit body, with a mind that is full of misconceptions and erroneous conclusions? Will bulging muscles save you from your thoughts? Bulging muscles would have done nothing for me. Will running a mile save you from yourself? I don’t think so. Only your mind can save you. Only your thoughts can save you from yourself.  Only the power of self-determination can create change. Fight for a better state of mind! Previously, I shared a poem I wrote during a very low moment of my life. I want to share it again here:


To be or not

To be?


To realize

what you are

and believe in it.


     Sometimes you need a gut check. You need to reach down deep inside and gather the strength that comes from knowing who you are. Know who you are. Know from where you come. If nothing else, you’re human, like me. If I overcame a horrible mental torment, you can too! You can take charge, and create your future! You can stand above problems, and get on the road to correct thinking.


     Correct thinking involves 1-2 thought, a thought process uninfluenced by 1-4 thought. Correct thinking involves thinking with thoughts, not emotions. Below, I’ve listed twelve points to remember. This list isn’t meant to be conclusive, but only a sample of the way to looking at things.


1.   Consider emotions, but dont make emotions the determining factor of a decision. The unbridled emotion has become our enemy. Of course it isnt smart to make a decision solely on them.

2.   Identify the different views of the mountain when looking at a feeling and recall other times you felt the same. Remember how the feeling was felt during different times of your life. This is a very important concept, part of the package of ideas that allowed me to overcome the emotional scars. I feel invigorated when I think about this concept.

3.   Identify thoughts that influence thought and view consciousness like gazing up to the nights sky. See consciousness in your minds eye and make note of the details. Make sure you know why you think what you think, and feel what you feel.

4.   Never judge a feeling based upon how good or bad it feels, rather judge it upon how genuine it is. Never judge yourself based upon how you feel. What matters is how you think, not how you feel. In time, I got tired of good feelings and despised them more than sad feelings. Hanging out with a dishonest friend is worse than no friend at all.

5.   Remain diligent. Im not saying to be paranoid about thoughts, but try to keep an open mind and always consider other views. To be fixed on one way of thinking is a sure sign that you may have to re-evaluate your position, both in terms of thoughts, and issues in the outer world.

6.   Distrust assumptions. An assumption is like a visitor who moves into your house and tells you what to do. An Assumption can dictate your future and ruin your life. Assuming things will be a certain way and not examining to find out the actual facts is always a danger.

7.   Nothing within can harm you, unless you let it. Analyze condemnation and find its source. Never condemn yourself for a thought. Gain power over thoughts by discovering why they exist.

8.   You cant free yourself from a thought by avoiding it. Just like in #7, dont avoid thoughts, but examine them.

9.   Use anger like a tool, but dont let anger use you. Anger is like fire; it can warm the house or burn it down. The careful use of anger was one of the most powerful things I did. Dont forget what was written about anger under the heading, The Metal Weight. Without anger, I couldnt have gotten far.

10. Keep the light burning and believe in yourself. Recall past successes. To reach a worthwhile goal, whether it is in school, sports, the arts, or any facet of life, is to succeed in the mind, and prove youve got what it takes to overcome emotional trauma.

11. Dont ignore the plate in front of you. The vibrations from emotional trauma travel through the moment, the most powerful of all nows. To face the moment is to face the past because the moment is the sum total of everything that ever happened to you.

12. Look at alternatives and choose the most advantages. In the outer world there are always different choices. In the mind, there are always different ways of looking at the same thoughts. The more choices and the more ways that can be identified, the more opportunity exists. Make the smartest choices and choose the best way of looking at things.


     You’ll see in my journal that these ideas, as well as many others, were used to overcome Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and horrible emotional scars. As my inner world changed, the outer world improved. I overcame self-hatred, and saw the world differently. An influential person that promotes hatred is dangerous, and creates bad luck, misery, and bloodshed. The stronger in thought we become, the weaker they’ll grow, for weeds can’t thrive under a healthy forest. 





Creating Pictures


   As I overcame the mental torment, I often felt like I was at war and the winner would be the one who outsmarted the other. Below, I describe a predicament I was often in and how I dealt with it:


     It’s a beautiful day!  The sky is blue, the birds are singing. It’s warm and comfortable. Inside, I feel sad and dark. The lizard pops into mind. The lava and the smoke are hiding in the corner, soon to emerge. It’s a sad, dreary, depressing, horrific day!

     I stood in the middle of both worlds. The outer world was appealing.  The inner world was horrific.  Which to believe?  Both influenced the mind. Both fed stimulus. I chose to believe in the outer world. I acknowledge the lizard.  This created a picture.  This was very important.

      The act of acknowledgement and subsequent mental picture is a natural mental act. Think, and your mind will create a mental picture. Think of a cat. You should see one in your minds eye.  Think of a dog, a house, or anything, and your mind will create a mental image of it.  I thought of the lizard and acknowledged it.  I then identified the mental picture created by my mind, simulating knowing what it was, just like thinking of a cat and seeing one in my minds eye. The picture didn’t reveal why the lizard was created, but I felt better. The lizard lost its influence and power over my thoughts. It was stopped cold. The lizard was left with no more effect than if I knew what it was.  This made it easier to function with the feelings. I saw the beautiful, sunny day!  I saw the lizard.  I created a picture of the lizard in the sunny day!   

     Creating pictures allowed me to gain control. I chose to concentrate upon the sunny, beautiful day, and not become preoccupied with the lizard!  An emotion that isn’t acknowledged dangerously roams the mind. For me, ignoring emotions would have destroyed my life. I would have been at their mercy, and would have continued to be bullied and pushed around by feelings. I would have grown more and more scared of my emotions, and would have become reclusive, attempting to avoid them. One can dwell on a problem, or face it and look away.  By simulating knowing why the mental images existed, I was able to battle the feelings, take control of my life, and appreciate the sunny day. 


     Acknowledging the feelings and identifying the mental pictures produced inner stability.  By identifying different types of thought, such as 1-2 thought, the origins of the mental pictures were located.  When the lizard made the world look bleak, the relationship between “I am,” and the perception of the world was 1-4 thought, because the perception of the world was clouded by feelings. The correct action was to acknowledge the lizard, acknowledge the bleak world, and identify the feelings and thoughts that led to the depression. This created mental pictures of the lizard, the bleak world, and associated thoughts. This moved my mind from 1-4 thought to 1-2 thought, and created original thoughts in connection to the feelings. This allowed my thoughts to become a choice, regardless of the mental pictures, images, and feelings echoing from the past.  You don’t have to accept emotional condition; you can fight, create pictures, and control your life! Below, I discuss further the idea of creating pictures.







 The Chain of Thought



     The first impression is said to be the most important. If you want to impress someone, make a good first impression: dress right, be courteous, listen etc… If there is a bad impression, the person will look for other things they don’t like. If they don’t like your hair, they’ll look at your shoes and notice they’re dirty, or notice one thing or the other regardless of its validity or value. The point is, they’ll look for other things to criticize and may decide they don’t like you. The same thing happens in the mind with depression. People look for reasons to be depressed, and choose to think about depressing things. There will always be a reason to justify feeling bad. It’s important to examine depression to see if it’s due to a pattern of thought. If so, the depression can be overcome by choosing to think differently. When I was fighting PTSD, I was fortunate to think one of the greatest thoughts I’ve ever thought. I noticed that the feelings formed a horrible mental picture, and this picture was like an immovable object; to deal with the picture was to look for trouble, for dealing with the picture was like falling off a cliff. Above, I discussed acknowledging emotions, and identifying the mental picture created; here, something different was happening. My mind was creating pictures without me knowing it! I only later noticed. I wrote on July 21, 1976, at the age of eighteen:


     “This thing I’m suffering from seems to detach from thought and live on its own. It becomes a mental picture! A picture of what my thoughts projected. Once the picture detaches, I can’t get rid of it. No amount of positive thinking or good thoughts can counteract these powerful mind-controlling pictures. This explains why I suffer days of depression even when I’m trying to feel better. It seems easier to defeat these pictures by leaving them alone and not dealing with them. Instead, create a more favorable picture adjacent to the unfavorable picture and concentrate upon it.”


     Although I didn’t know the thoughts that created the depression, I reasoned I’d take control and create a new picture with conscious thoughts—thoughts I controlled—thoughts more favorable, more optimistic and positive! Having faith in Christ, I created another picture adjacent to the depressing picture, and concentrated upon the new image! This is like overlooking the first impression, and giving someone a second chance! This is changing the thought pattern from looking at depressing things, to looking at optimistic things. This is breaking the chain.

     Choosing to see depressing things leads to depression and worse. So how do we guard ourselves from falling into a dangerous thought pattern? As stated previously:


     “It’s your spiritual duty to diligently observe thoughts and seek improvement. The pursuit of inner improvement isn’t a luxury, but a necessity…Correct thinking must be exercised like muscles—correct thinking is every bit as important, even more important, than physical exercise. You go to the gym and work out, well, you also must work out inside your mind!” 


     Thought is like physical motion. Both the way we move our bodies and the way we think our thoughts become habitual.  Correct thinking is learned the same way sprinting is learned, a golf swing, or physical posture. Dangerous thinking is learned by forming bad habits. When thoughts get out of form, we must adjust thoughts like the golfer adjusts the swing, the sprinter perfects his style, and the person stands straight. We must examine thoughts, and form new, beneficial habits. This is our duty as a member of God’s community, for we were created to think correctly, and to deviate is to move away from God. 



     Below I share an additional part of my journal including the entire July 21, 1976 entry…




July 21, 1976



      When the fire comes the pictures in my mind are disarrayed, foggy, confused, mixed up, and controlled by feelings of insecurity. Now, it’s simple. Once a picture is present in the mind, it has power! It takes more than just thoughts to get rid of the picture. If you’ve got an unfavorable picture in your mind, but want to think good thoughts, you can’t. You’ve got to change the picture. Once you’ve changed the picture, it doesn’t matter. You can think bad thoughts and sustain the good picture, and obtain good results.

     It could be said that the above is utter nonsense. But!!! This thing I’m suffering from seems to detach from thought and live on its own. It becomes a mental picture! A picture of what my thoughts projected. Once the picture detaches, I can’t get rid of it. No amount of positive thinking or good thoughts can counteract these powerful mind-controlling pictures. This explains why I suffer days of depression even when I’m trying to feel better. It seems easier to defeat these pictures by leaving them alone and not dealing with them. Instead, create a more favorable picture adjacent to the unfavorable picture and concentrate upon it. This way the control of my mind is being replaced by something good, rather than something bad!

     I was simulating healthy thought, and by doing so, thinking healthy. This was drawing a line in the sand, and saying, “Okay, you can be over there, but not over here. You are a memory and no more.”

     It was like the pain experienced while running. Are you going to run faster dwelling on the pain, or thinking about something positive? Of course, you’re going to run faster concentrating upon something pleasant. I did the same thing with the emotional scars. I acknowledged the bad feelings, looked away, and concentrated on a positive picture.

     The picture in my mind is extremely important. In fact, it could be everything! But it mustn’t be forgotten that pictures come from thoughts. The picture in my mind portrays my thoughts. But these thoughts seem to detach themselves very easily. That’s why they’re so vicious and dangerous.  I must strengthen.

     I’m sort of confused about it. I guess the real solution is that I’ve got to strengthen. Without strength, I can’t hold any picture! I’m confused and I suppose I sound like it!! It’s just me. That is the problem!!! My thoughts are creating this terrible picture, this fire. If it wasn’t my thoughts, I could defeat it easily. It’s just me. I’m weak. My mind is a battlefield of thoughts and pictures that come from them!!

     I noticed inner weakness, and thought the lack of mental strength allowed thoughts to create painful pictures. I reasoned this could be countered by developing the inner strength to create more favorable pictures.



Aug. 28, 1976


     Last night, I looked out the window, and saw three spiritual beings standing on our neighbor’s roof. They appeared to be trying to figure out how to get in. One of them was cupping his hands, and looking through the roof. I looked inside our living room and saw a warrior twirling a ball and chain. One of the spiritual beings got into the house, and the warrior battled him. The ball smashed the spiritual being in the head, and they fought hand to hand. The spiritual being fled away, and the warrior stopped and noticed I was watching. He then faded away. 

     When I went to sleep, the phone was sitting on the floor next to my head. The receiver bobbled and made a thumping noise. The noise aroused me, and I began to awake. The receiver rose into the air and plopped loudly down on the phone, falling onto the carpet. I looked up and no one was there.

     I got scared. I turned on the light in my room and picked up the Bible. I prayed that what was happening would stop. A fly began to buzz around the room. I swatted at it. Over and over, I attempted to kill the fly, but it evaded my efforts. This went on for a few minutes. I picked up the Bible and began to read. The fly buzzed near my right ear, and down near my shoulder. This startled me. I dropped the Bible and it slammed closed. When I picked up the Bible, the fly fell dead to the carpet.  The fly had flown into the pages of the Bible, and was crushed.

     I hate to say this, but there is an ever-increasing movement of objects—(or things such as) moving in unexplainable ways around me. Strange things are happening. It’s possible it’s not true, but I fear something, or some group of things (spiritual beings), is moving in around me. They know my thoughts. I mustn’t take such game play as “cute” or “clever”…It could be very dangerous. It could be the beginning of many bad things. I must have much faith in God. I mustn’t believe what these beings say. I could get myself into much trouble. That’s all I need.

     Looking up at the window shade, I see Jesus in the perfect profile position. I see this although it is night. I see this with the help of my lamp next to me, and the ceiling light above my head. As I look upon my desk, I also see him. As I look upon my hand, I also see him. As I look upon this notebook, I also see him. Please Jesus, let your will be done, no matter how terrible it may seem.



Sept. 27, 1976


     Upon the drapes in my room, I see Christ. He’s fighting for breath. 


     From the actual journal. The crossed out part says, “I suppose the words I say have more impact than I think. But I suppose when one looks into a mirror he sees only himself. When I read my words I see only myself. No more. God is Holy. God is good. I am not.”





Oct. 22, 1976



     As far as the smoldering pain, blistering like a molten log in front of my head, there hasn’t been any sign of it since the dissipations. But there have been slight signs because of present moment repressing.

4:23 P.M. As there are only a certain amount of true elements in the world, so is there only a fixed amount of true thought in the mind. 

Oct. 27, 1976


     Within the room of my mind I moved from one forgotten memory to the next, seeing them as images and feelings inside my mind. Below, you’ll read how I developed strategies to deal with, and ultimately conquer the trauma.


     My consciousness, and the pictures in my mind, must become like light.  As light contains all colors, so must my pictures contain the fact that: whatever happens, God is responsible; whatever I picture, no matter how skillfully, might not happen; the realization that my thoughts are perfect for any picture I want to create; any repression of thought is harmful, and will act against me; my thoughts mustn’t become stale, and must constantly be changing; every second must be a different chapter; every second must live independently on its own... I must take all factors into consideration: happy, sad, doubt…etc…this is used to create a picture of my situation. Because then, I will naturally “wish,” “think,” of what I want. I don’t even have to be aware that this has happened. These brisk, prompt, unstudied thoughts will create a picture of how I feel, and where I’m at—then everything else will fall in.

     One of the most obvious rules I must live by is, “In Wisdom.” I must be “In Wisdom.”  “In Wisdom” is a non-emotional state where the separateness of the mind and the outer world are realized. Yet their “oneness” is also realized. This is achieved by creating clear pictures of everything conscious in the mind.

     In Christianity, the Holy Spirit guides the Christian. This is his “Wisdom.” In praying, the Holy Spirit shows the person the above-mentioned things. The Christian may not be aware of it—and in fact may live his life praying by these rules, and not even know it. That’s okay, but for me, I must know what I’m doing to fight the pain. If I don’t follow these rules, then certainly, I’ll either murder myself, or become insane. I’ve already been thinking about what kind of knife to use. I’ve even thought about getting a knife and cutting the pain out of my forehead. It’s a stupid idea that the more you think it, over and over and over, the better it sounds, but right now I think it’s still in the stupid stage.

     I fail in faith because I choose to worship idols, instead of reality. Emotions aren’t reality. Consciousness can never become (in pictures) more than it is. When pictures are placed in the correct relation to each other, their power can be used. No picture should rise above the realization of self, “I am.” The correct relationship between “I am,” and the picture, must be discovered.  A 1-4 picture is like having two layers of soil, and only seeing one. The correct thing is to see two layers of soil, which would mean acknowledging two 1-2 pictures. A 1-4 picture means there’s a repression. Something is causing the mind to cover up one layer of soil. By creating a 1-4 picture, you are repressing without even knowing it.

     The biggest mistake I make when dealing with a picture (such as the lava, smoke, or lizard) is not put it in perspective. I make the mistake of reacting to a picture or feeling with a past emotion or image. This compounds the problem and creates a new picture, which is a 1-4 picture. What I must do is acknowledge the picture or feeling, which creates new thoughts in relationship to the diseased picture. This is 1-2 thought, healthy thought. Doing this, I’m reacting to the feelings and images in the now.

     I am now at this moment seeing the pictures in my mind protruding into consciousness. I haven’t identified all the pictures, but three of them, the lava, smoke, and lizard, have been identified. This realization, this awareness, is 1-2 thought. I acknowledge myself, the one, and acknowledge whatever else, the two. The picture in my mind of a girl, influenced by the protruding entities, creates a 1-4 picture. This would be like standing in front of two layers of sedimentary soil, but only seeing one, or mistaking two friends as the same person, or showing prejudice to one because of another. When this happens, I treat the pictures, images, and feelings with 1-2 thought. This way I’m treating the diseased picture with a healthy picture. One of the two layers of soil is acknowledged, and not confused as the other. I acknowledge the girl, for example, as being separate from the image. One layer of soil, the girl, is illuminated and seen in the minds eye as separate. It’s like getting stagnating water moving. The water sits stale, but when the 1-2 pictures are introduced, more and more 1-2 pictures pop up, and the water gets moving faster and faster. Whether it’s in the mind or in the world, the proper way to think of it is 1-2. It doesn’t matter if you love it. It’s still a 1-2. This is being, or at least part of being, “In Wisdom.”

     The relationship between a girl and an image confused with her is 1-4 thought. For example, in July, I showed myself that Christine wasn’t the feelings inside me and they separated. Since then, the thought of Christine no longer follows the feelings of insecurity, the lizard. If an additional image or feeling influences the 1-4 thought, this creates 1-8 thought. Another feeling or picture added on creates 1-16 thought. Another added to the 1-16 thought creates 1-32 thought. Once you’ve got 1-32 thought and confuse it with something else, you’ve got 1-64 thought. The thoughts build up inside creating more and more pressure, which means a bigger and bigger state of confusion. If the problem involves 1-64 thought and you’re an adolescent, the trauma occurred at an early age because it takes time for one form of thought to change into another. You’ve got to be careful because the image of a friend may be influenced by 1-32 thought at the outset, meaning you’re dealing with 1-64 thought the moment they catch your fancy.

      Stop and think! Would you deny the table and chairs in the room? If you walk into the kitchen, and see the table, will you deny the table? Will you deny the chairs? If not, if you don’t deny what is seen with your eyes, then why would you deny the images and thoughts inside your mind?

      Acknowledging the feelings and also the outer situation is dealing with reality, and creating a different picture. A picture of the pictures! This is very important. The mistake I made the day of time trials was to react to the smoke, the feelings of depression, with past feelings, not present moment thought. I should have identified the smoke and pictured myself in the middle of the track field. This would have stabilized the situation.


     The bad feelings (repressions) are like a slithery lizard, crawling in my mind.



I was aware of the Lizard


     At the age of eighteen, I was aware of the lizard, but had a false sense of security. I didn’t realize how powerful the lizard was. The fire on my forehead and smoke covering my eyes were terrible, and got most of the attention, but the war would be won or lost based upon how I handled the lizard. The lizard was thinking behind my back. With the lizard, it wasn’t just a matter of facing a horrible experience; it was a matter of out-thinking a hateful, conniving entity inside me.  It had a process and a strategy, and the winner would be the one that outsmarted the other.  As stated above, the lizard wanted to win, but was willing to lose everything. Unfortunately, that meant it was willing to destroy itself and me along with it. It wouldn’t budge. It wouldn’t give up its traditions, principles, and beliefs. It was its way or the highway. It cut a deal to block change.  As time passed, I thought I was doing better because I was able to think reasonably well. The emotions didn’t explode like before. I remembered the January 1976 entry, when I wrote: “There’s a smoldering log stuck in the front part of my mind. It burns and burns in front of my eyes.” Compared to that, I seemed to have improved.  I had a girlfriend named Linda, and although our relationship wasn’t going well, my mind appeared to be somewhat clear.


     I was taking biology and was the top student in my teacher’s three classes. In class, the feelings jabbed, poked, and interfered with my thoughts. It was like someone constantly screaming and pulling on my clothes. I couldn’t avoid the feelings. I fought to concentrate. I had faith in Christ. I acknowledged the lava. When I acknowledged the lava, my mind made a mental image of it, and although I didn’t know why it was there, I was able to function. The act of acknowledgement and subsequent mental picture allowed me to see the pain, look away, and listen to the teacher. (My teacher, Mr. Desch, said that good students, like me, were able to visualize the answers to the tests and see them in the minds eye. I visualized the answers, as well as the emotions.)

     As the months passed, I kept thinking the feelings were almost destroyed. But every time I got to the next mental landmark, there was further to go. It was like a bottomless pit of emotion. I became tired, but there was nowhere to rest. There was no chair to sit in, and avoid the pain; as long as I was awake, I was in pain.

     In biology, it was difficult to sustain the momentum and discipline. I sank down, reacted to the emotions with past thoughts, and became depressed. The feelings of the smoke emerged. Previously, I had believed that I had all I needed to overcome the emotional scars, but suddenly, “In biology, I have lost my objectives, broken rules, and I’m destroying myself…” (Dec. 17, 1976) The next day, I wrote: “Something has happened after I had seemingly obtained all the needed dissipations. I’m not in good shape…” I got an “F” on my biology test. When the feelings of the smoke emerged, it was as if a thick fog entered my mind. It was difficult to remember anything previously studied.

     I became very frustrated because I couldn’t figure out why the lizard existed. I had worked long and hard, but it seemed I was back where I started. The lizard seemed to be one place in my mind, but then another place, and another, and another, and another. One moment it was associated with Christine, the next biology, another moment girls, football, track, or other students. It was like I was in a house of mirrors. I grabbed for the lizard and my hands came up empty. It seemed to be toying with me, sitting in the distance, smirking, and I was left with an “F” on my biology test. 

     At this point, all my previous “bulls-eyes” seemed like misses. The lizard seemed to be in every memory I had, and it seemed to act against me, and block my memory. I identified when I thought the lizard originated, and it seemed to move behind the next memory, the next reason why it could exist. I wondered how it could do that. I reasoned that I needed a new strategy. I figured that I was thinking too much. I needed actions! I needed to break through the memories.

     I concluded that I needed to show anger toward these feelings. On Dec. 27, 1976, I wrote: “It is hoped I will turn my feelings…into clear pictures, and then into hate and anger ...” I formed a clear picture of the bad feelings. With a clear picture in mind, I’d express anger and hatred. This was a controlled, concentrated anger. I’d go off alone and express the feelings. I’d cry for hours, hit things, and get out all the frustration. I’d vent anger toward Christine, and drain my mind of the feelings. Releasing the feelings was like removing topsoil. The world then looked different. My mind bounced back five to fifteen years in memory to make conclusions. When I analyzed a situation, I scanned years of memory. March 19, 1977: “…I’ve gone back to two years old…My mind has thrown itself to seventh or eight grades!  I’m repressing what I have now discovered.”

     In the game of chess, when one opponent is about to be checkmated, he may sacrifice valuable pieces such as the rook, bishop, or queen in order to delay the checkmate. In the same way, the lizard felt me nudging up against its reality.  It stalled by tossing parts of itself out into my consciousness. I was distracted by these insights, and spent hours and hours reflecting upon them. I went back and forth, back and forth, between this age and that age, one year of school and another.

     Unfortunately, the concentrated crying and controlled anger only took me so far. The lizard’s strategy of tossing out memories was working because I had a lot of memories and insights, but failed to improve emotionally beyond a certain point. The emotions and thoughts were dangling in my consciousness like bats in a cave, but I didn’t know what to do with them.  On March 15, 1977, I wrote: “…I’m down to second grade…” This was true in a literal sense because the emotions, thoughts, sensations, and feelings were the result of digging down to second grade. However, once again, the concentrated crying and controlled anger only took me so far. Insights and memories were popping, but what could I do with them? I was drudging through the years; second grade, third grade, back and forth, back and forth. I was stuck in the mud of information. Nothing was happening. Please read the following insert:


“It’s 1977 and THIS IS BORING!”



     Perhaps the words of this journal now seem heavy. Maybe you question whether you should continue reading. You’ve gone through 1975, 1976, and now it’s 1977. It’s probably beginning to seem like you’re reading much of the same thing over and over and over—boring! Second grade, third grade, eight grade, back and forth, back and forth. This is tedious work! Nothing is happening. It’s time to stop reading and bail out! It’s painful to continue. Now, maybe, you can understand the way I felt. Maybe you can understand why I yearned for a place where I could avoid the pain. But no, there was no place for me. I couldn’t put the book down. I had to push forward because I couldn’t say goodbye to myself.

     But perhaps at this time I was handling it differently.  I wasn’t experiencing such wide swings of emotion. I nonchalantly stated, “I’m still screwed up.” The whole thing was “matter of fact.” I wasn’t depressed. I solemnly accepted the pain. Maybe I kept myself thinking so much that I didn’t have time to be depressed. I was too busy fighting, and as long as I did, I knew there was hope. The most important thing isn’t always where you are, but where you’re going. I was focused on where I was going; therefore, my situation seemed improved. I knew that in the end, I’d leave the room!

     The lizard would cause pain until I solved its puzzle, but success demanded monotonous hard work. This wasn’t about having fun. “Feel the boredom,” I’d tell myself.  It was like being stuck in a small room for years, and you can’t get out! You look at the same walls over and over and over and over and over again. When I began the fight, I didn’t know it’d take so long. It was a good thing I didn’t know the truth! Maybe I never would have tried.

     You the reader can walk out of the room. You can leave, put down the book, and never read it again. But for those caught in this malaise, they must first remove the garbage to open the door. They must first see the walls to leave the room. You the reader become the enemy. You don’t understand. You don’t see it. You think we’re weird.  “Oh, he isn’t that bad!” you’ll say.  I can hear it. I can hear you. That’s what you’re thinking. I know that’s what you’re thinking. You don’t understand. You question why someone should feel bad. You question why someone should have feelings. You’ll say it happened a long time ago, it shouldn’t matter now. You’ll say that we should grow-up!  You can breath so you think we can, but you left the room and we’re left behind.

     To win the “Battle of the Minds,” we must not only overcome the inner world, but the outer: people. We must overcome people and their opinions and thoughts. It becomes difficult to relate to people. It’s as if there’s a glass wall. They swim in their world, and we can’t enter. What they care about seems foreign. What they think about seems foreign. We can pretend to understand, but don’t. We can pretend to belong, but don’t. There is so much inside us that they don’t see. We can’t share ourselves with people who don’t understand. There are two worlds, theirs and ours; theirs seems so perfect, and ours so awful.

     This journal is a part of the world people want to deny. Yes, I say deny—but one other thing: A part of everyone, at one point or the other, one variation or the next—a part of everyone is in us and in this journal. They smugly say it’s not, but it is, and as they deny us, they deny themselves. They’ll say they know nothing of this sort, all the while holding in their own pain. They become our biggest enemy, like the lizard, not even willing to stand beside us or acknowledge us—it’s because they deny the pain they feel inside. So I push forward alone… The tedium of time is very heavy; but I see the vision, I see where I’m going, and will never let go…




     The journal continues…


Dec. 17, 1976


     In biology, I have lost my objectives, broken rules, and I’m destroying myself. Something has happened, and it isn’t good.


Dec. 18, 1976


Something has happened after I had seemingly obtained almost all the needed dissipations. I’m not in good shape, and I feel pretty bad, but I’m not giving up. I got an “F” on my biology test. Mr. Desch wrote on my paper, “What is happening?” He thinks I’m having some sort of personal problem with a girl, or family, or something. When these thoughts grab hold, it’s hard to remember things. It’s like there are weights on my thoughts. I’m stuck in a maze, and can’t remember the answers to the test.


Traveling through space and time…

Consciousness dangles amongst capricious meteors.

The answers to the questions, placed in the

wrong mail slots, scattered across the floor

the disarray is difficult to organize as I step

up to the plate. Thoughts are scrambled, information

hazy…The questions are straightforward, the answers

are found in the maze.


Time is disjointed. Space is disarrayed. Ten feet is

no longer ten feet. Ten feet is six inches, twelve feet,

changing each moment. Time is a moment and an hour.

Time drifts, and jolts to a stop.


     I must never confront something out of me, in an attempt to fulfill something in me. Mr. Desch talks about people who learn something new like they have become more, like they have improved as people, like they’re someone to respect and admire.  Look at me now! But am I less now than before? I know I feel like I’m less, but is it true? Aren’t I the same person now as when I got an “A”? A grade doesn’t define me, although for Mr. Desch it does. It feels like a hundred people are pointing at me, saying, “Look there, he is the one!” It’s like I didn’t get an “F,” it’s like I am an “F.”


     Then he called the crowd to him again, and said to them, “Hear me, all of you, and understand. There is nothing outside a man that, entering into him, can defile him; but the things that come out of a man, these are what defile a man. I f anyone has ears to hear, let him hear.”  Mark 7:14 to 7:16


Dec. 19, 1976


     I’m not sure what’s going on.


Once so sure, once so simple, once so clear…

I’ve returned to the room of darkness.

Brought back like a hunted down slave,

and thrown into the cell. My wrists and ankles

shackled. I lay in darkness, and attempt to

break free once more.


Dec. 25, 1976


     Today is Christmas! Please God, help me do better.


 The Metal Weight


     Twelve years after the hospital, at age fourteen, the feelings sat like a rapidly growing body of stagnant water. With the increasing pressure, there was greater and greater reason to justify why they existed. I became infatuated with a girl, but was rejected by her. I confused the feelings, and thought the hospital emotions belonged to her. Layer upon layer of feelings accumulated like a huge metal weight. Because of the hospital trauma, my mind gathered the feelings for the girl, didn’t express them, and stored them in my mind. The weight of the feelings felt physical, as if they were rolling from side to side on my forehead. When I thought of the girl, I felt the lizard; when I thought of the girl, I felt the smoke; when I thought of the girl, I felt the lava. I was unable to express the heartbreak. 

     At age sixteen, fourteen years after the hospital, I was lost in a maze of feelings. I realized that all the emotions didn’t belong to the girl, but logic didn’t make the feelings leave. Knowing the truth didn’t change the fact that the senses and feelings from the trauma interfered with my thoughts. The depression was like a thick, isolating wall, making a sunny day dark, and a happy moment sad. I reasoned that it was futile to counter depression with thought—that was like moving faster in quicksand. I realized I couldn’t negotiate with depression, nor think myself happy—depression wasn’t reasonable. Depression didn’t care who my parents were, or who loved me, or if I was kind, or gentle, or generous, or intelligent. Depression didn’t give, it took; it didn’t add, it subtracted. There was the sense that trying to feel better was useless—it meant lying, and setting aside my true self—it meant denying who I was.  I wrote the following poem during this time period:


To be or not

To be?


To realize

what you are

and believe in it.


     At the age of eighteen, sixteen years after the trauma, I noticed that memory was linked to the torment. Distant memories were scattered throughout my mind, like clear, well-lit areas inside a thick fog. These memories were images of times long forgotten. They felt detached and distant, like they belonged to someone else. Thinking about the memories was frustrating because they seemed to be in the way—like useless, obsolete clutter in an old closet—they occupied precious space and time in place of newer, simpler, and more worthwhile thoughts. To think about the memories was to become more depressed. I concluded that to make memory valuable, I needed to know what to do with it; otherwise, it was harming me. I reasoned that to dislodge the feelings, I needed more than memory—I needed intelligent actions. I needed confrontation. 

     On December 27, 1976, I wrote in my journal: “It is hoped that I will turn my repressions [repressed feelings and thought] of Christine into clear pictures, and then into fantastic hate and anger…” I realized the expression of anger was needed to break through the metal weight.  I created controlled anger, like firemen setting backfires in a forest fire. I believed the reason for the anger had to be visualized, using memories—if not, the energy would tail off into the galaxies, unguided and lost. Showing anger without visualization and memories would be like a boxer losing composure, and wildly punching. Without visualization and memories, the tears would fall for nothing. In the context of emotional scars, the inverse of trauma is controlled anger.  I kept my composure, and didn’t show anger without concentrating upon why I was angry.  I turned to the feelings and memories and shouted inside my mind, “You want me in the room? DAMN YOU!” I looked again and screamed within myself, “You want me depressed? DAMN YOU!” I remembered the girl, and hated her until I could hate no more. I rested in exhaustion, got up, and hated again. I drained my mind of the feelings for her. I looked at the depression and hated everything about it, and told it so. I cried as long as I could; I cried until I could cry no more. I cried the tears I never cried, let out the feelings I never expressed. I punched a pillow. In time, the controlled crying left patches of clear thinking in my mind. Depression couldn’t grow there, and the lava, smoke, and lizard couldn’t either. Thought seemed clean in this part of my mind.

     The weight of the feelings was reduced. The lava, smoke, and lizard no longer followed the feelings for the girl. The mind recognized the difference between my feelings and me. It is very important to respect the ability of the mind to reprogram itself. The one of The Equation of Thought can react to the two, and in doing so alter the four.



     The controlled anger journal entry with commentary…




Dec. 27, 1976


     I chased the lizard. The lizard hid behind memories. First, it was one place, and then the next, and next, and next. I couldn’t figure out how this could be. I grabbed, and my hands came up empty. Was my mind a house of mirrors? Over and over, I identified the possible source of the lizard, but none proved valid. I had been writing about seemingly profound discoveries, yet now the lizard sat in the distance—as if it was laughing at me. I felt like I was spinning my wheels, and grew depressed. Where were the feelings coming from? I became very frustrated. I had worked long and hard, and it seemed I was back where I started.

     I concluded that a new line of attack was appropriate. Memory wasn’t good enough. The lizard was using old memories like an armored suit. The memories were blocking memory, and hiding the lizard. When I grabbed for the lizard, the lizard moved to the next memory. I needed actions. I needed to break through the memories.  I needed to get angry, and with the force of my thoughts, break through the mental shield!


     It is hoped that I will turn my repressions of Christine into clear pictures, and then into fantastic hate and anger for the…I then exploded into a written tirade. I used foul language, and expressed profound hatred for Christine…  I hate her guts. She screwed me and laughed…I was just a little kid, and she tore me apart…I didn’t know how to handle it. It was against my principles to hate. I was stupid. Instead of hating, I repressed. I hate her now. Feelings aren’t against my principles. The things I did, they were awful! I feel rage when I think of the things I did to avoid hatred and feelings. The things I did were awful and without mercy, terrible and ruthless. A terrible thing was happening, and I was doing awful things to myself.

     I stopped negotiating with the feelings, and used controlled anger to express them. I’d concentrate on a feeling, and express it until I could express it no more. I’d cry for hours, hit things, get all my frustration out, and rest in exhaustion.


  The Controlled Anger




     The controlled anger removed the stuck, unfelt feelings associated with the girl, one of several layers of thought that clouded my mind, and additional memories appeared like shimmering stars—memories from age 5, age 10, age 15, and age 7 almost simultaneously appeared.

      It was as if I was digging and removed the dirt covering my memory. I could see more clearly, and went back and forth, back and forth, from one year to another year, one moment to another, scanning the mind for answers. Unfortunately, the memories provided information, but I reached a plateau from which I couldn’t improve. It was as if the memories blocked progress because they wasted time. It was as if the part of me that didn’t want the truth known gave me something to think about as a distraction. I couldn’t figure out what a memory from age 5 had to do with a memory from age 10, and what these memories had to do with memories from ages 7 and 15. I wrote concerning 1977 journal entries:


    “In the game of chess, when one opponent is about to be checkmated, he may sacrifice valuable pieces such as the rook, bishop, or queen in order to delay the checkmate. In the same way, the lizard felt me nudging up against its reality.  It stalled by tossing parts of itself out into my consciousness. I was distracted by these insights, and spent hours and hours reflecting upon them. I went back and forth, back and forth, between this age and that age, one year of school and another.”


     The controlled anger allowed me to voyage into the deep waters within my memory, and bypass the emotions associated with the girl, but at that point, I still had years and years of pain and denial to confront.  The controlled anger was an important step to recovery, but only an initial step.


     The journal…


Jan. 1, 1977


     I’m making progress. I can now express the pain I feel from Christine in tears! This enables me to feel better afterwards! It’s only a matter of time until all pain will be gone! All I do is concentrate on the pain, and then express it in tears. Then, I do anything else I feel like doing. After awhile, I get it out of me, and feel really good inside.


Jan 4, 1977


     Linda brought up bad memories, and became confused with Christine. I sought through Linda what she couldn’t give, couldn’t possibly give, not even Christine could give. But thoughts of the hospital are like a powerful river driving me to wrong conclusions and thinking, even as I see it happening.


      Without taking action, the thought of Linda would have piled on top of feelings for Christine, creating, so to speak, another layer of soil. Linda would have become the topsoil because she would have been the most recent person to associate with the hospital. As for Christine, our entire relationship consisted mostly of one conversation. That’s right, one conversation! One conversation from years previously cemented the association between the traumatic feelings and Christine!




  The Shovel


     A pivotal allows one form of thought to transform into another: 1-2 thought into 1-4 thought, 1-4 thought into 1-8 thought, 1-8 thought into 1-16 thought, 1-16 thought into 1-32 thought, and 1-32 thought into 1-64 thought. Thoughts for Christine were attaching onto my girlfriend, creating another layer of thought. I saw the relationship with Linda as a valuable tool that would induce memory. As I faced my relationship with Linda, I faced the unresolved, unexpressed thoughts and feelings concerning Christine and the hospital. Linda was a tool, a shovel that allowed me to dig into my past. Linda prompted my mind to re-enact what it did with Christine. As thoughts for Christine transformed into those for Linda, I would catch my mind doing so. This would lead to insight and memory.

     Winning the “Battle of the Minds” was a sport, a competition, an athletic event. The failed relationship with Linda was a tool that allowed me to defeat my enemy. An object is created by the way we perceive it. We can choose to see the elephant, or we can choose to see crevices and dry terrain, or a snake. Remember, “That which will seem against you, will be for you.” 


     “And he who does not take up his cross and follow me, is not worthy of me. He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake, will find it.” Mathew 10:38 to 10:39


Giving Advice and “You.”


     When I was overcoming Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, I had only myself to guide, and I wrote and thought to myself, giving advice, referring to myself as “you.”  Maybe, due to the trauma, I compartmentalized, and the mature me talked to the fragile, underdeveloped me. In the journal, I wrote that “I’m young, yet old; ignorant, yet wise; weak, yet strong. I carry myself closer to the finish line.” Below is a sample of advice I’d give, advice that I believe ultimately saved my life:



     February 7, 1977—“When you acknowledge the presence of the feeling, your mind makes a mental picture of it. Identify this picture. See the picture in relation to other feelings and pictures in your mind. No matter how painful, allow it to take as large amount of consciousness as it wants. Allow this mental picture to grow as large as it desires. When it has taken all the consciousness that it desires, identify what else is there. If you have other feelings and impressions, acknowledge them, and your mind will make a mental picture of them. If you need to cry, cry. The pain may be excruciating.

     Look at the feelings and identify any relation there may be between them. Then, think about the present moment. Conscious life is a string of microscopically attached “nows.” Whatever is bothering you, it once was in the present moment. That is a very powerful thing this moment has in common with then. You can cry and cry and cry, but if you don’t face this moment, this most powerful of all “nows,” you’ll never solve your problem. You’ll never solve the “now,” then.

      At the time of the bad experience, you had a lot of sensations, feelings, and thoughts. Since the majority of them haven’t been identified, you replace them with those of the present moment! Treat your thoughts in the “now” as if they are associated with the identified feelings. Assume memory. Remember not to resist thought that wants to enter. It could be the thought that could solve the whole problem.”


     How did I know how to overcome the emotional problems? How did I know what advice to give myself? In the February 7, 1977 entry, I also wrote: “…I sometimes know things without having any practical experience to know them. Sometimes I hear voices in my sleep teaching psychology.” Was I taught by Christ? Or, did I study the subject before I was born? Or, did I figure out how to overcome the emotional scars? For sure, I didn’t study from a book as I overcame the problems.  I know of no book on earth that has the entire knowledge of what I did. Some books probably have bits and pieces, maybe some books have most the knowledge, but either way, I didn’t study from them. You can be sure of that. I can’t say how I knew, but it’s obvious how I didn’t know, and that was from learning by any normal means.

     I recommend having faith in Christ, and asking him, for I believe regardless of how I knew, Christ wanted me to know, and wanted me to overcome.


     In the Feb. 7, 1977 entry, I wrote about the “funnel to the unconscious mind.” Seeing these dangling emotions, I reasoned that acknowledging them and filling in the unknown memories with thoughts and sensations of the present moment would induce memory. The concept of the “funnel to the unconscious mind” worked, but was tedious and time consuming. I needed another idea.

     On April 5, 1977, I wrote: “Using the concepts associated with the funnel to the unconscious mind, I’ve identified two related feelings: the lava and the smoke.” This lead to the breakthrough I had been looking for! I came to understand that there was a relationship between the two previously identified feelings and simultaneously concentrating upon the lava (the molten log) and the smoke (a depressing image) produced memory! When one feeling came, I searched for the other, and when I located it, traumatic memories popped up. Not just any memories, but memories related to why the feelings and images protruded into my mind. Whenever one feeling was present, the other was always there, languishing alone in the shadows. All I needed was to concentrate on the protruding feeling, let it take all it wanted, and then find the other feeling.  It worked like magic!


     The traumatic memories echoed like noise, but I gradually linked them to past experiences:  April 19, 1977: “…I’m feeling these feelings, I remember them from about four years old.  But!!! I also remember them from Christine.  This is so because my mind acted out what happened in childhood during Christine. Although I remember feeling this way, it does no good. I have to go back and relive the experience. Also, this compounding thing is confusing. One minute I think it’s early childhood, then I think it’s Christine…”


     At the chess tournament, I felt like I was only pretending to be Louis Morrone. Now, more than ever, I felt the sense of another existence. This influence was calling the shots. I did what it told me to do. It rose above the narrow valley of my mind, and referred to myself as “the body.” “The body isn’t cured yet,” it would say. “The body has more work to do,” I would sense. “The body isn’t ready yet,” I’d tell myself. The battle raged on! There was more drudging through the years; back and forth, back and forth, this year, back to that year, over and over and over.



     Then he called the crowd to him again, and said to them, “Hear me, all of you, and understand. There is nothing outside a man that, entering into him, can defile him; but the things that come out of a man, these are what defile a man. I f anyone has ears to hear, let him hear.”  Mark 7:14 to 7:16



     More of the journal…


Feb. 7, 1977


     In the seventh grade, I watched the feelings inside me. I experimented with them, and discovered that these feelings could be transferred from one situation to another. So, I formed a hypothesis. It stated that I could place these feelings into a solid object. I attempted to place these feelings inside an empty can of tennis balls. I concentrated. I told these feelings, looking at them, “You are there, not in me.” I did this until they entered the can. Then they began to come back. I quickly told them they were in the can. They stuck in the can! I got scared. A feeling of panic came upon me, and they all returned. Therefore, a couple years later, I believed I could remove my feelings for Christine by putting the feelings for her somewhere else.

     I don’t remember how I knew how to dissipate. It seemed pretty obvious that I could, sort of like looking at a lamp, and theorizing if you pushed it, it would fall. Maybe it was God. It quite possibly was this “hidden wisdom” I sometimes have.  I sometimes know things without having any practical experience to know them. Sometimes I hear voices in my sleep teaching psychology.

     You have pain in your mind. You don’t know why it’s there, but certain situations seem to arouse it. Just relax. Don’t feel sorry for yourself.  Acknowledge that the pain is present. This may seem simple and obvious, but it’s also profound and powerful. It’s not fun to have unpleasant feelings, so it’s easy to deny them. Perhaps you’ve been avoiding the bad feelings, or making excuses for them. Look at the bad feelings. Face them. Accept them.

     When you acknowledge the presence of the feeling, your mind makes a mental picture of it. Identify this picture. See the picture in relation to other feelings and pictures in your mind. No matter how painful, allow it to take as large amount of consciousness as it wants. Allow this mental picture to grow as large as it desires. When it has taken all the consciousness that it desires, identify what else is there. If you have other feelings and impressions, acknowledge them, and your mind will make a mental picture of them. If you need to cry, cry. The pain may be excruciating.

     Look at the feelings and identify any relation there may be between them. Then, think about the present moment. Conscious life is a string of microscopically attached “nows.” Whatever is bothering you, it once was in the present moment. That is a very powerful thing this moment has in common with then. You can cry and cry and cry, but if you don’t face this moment, this most powerful of all “nows,” you’ll never solve your problem. You’ll never solve the “now,” then.

      At the time of the bad experience, you had a lot of sensations, feelings, and thoughts. Since the majority of them haven’t been identified, you replace them with those of the present moment! Treat your thoughts in the “now,” as if they are associated with the identified feelings. Assume memory. Remember not to resist thought that wants to enter. It could be the thought that could solve the whole problem. What you have created is a funnel to the unconscious mind!



April 5, 1977


     Using the concepts associated with the funnel to the unconscious mind, I’ve identified two related feelings: the lava and the smoke. The lava is an area of pain. The smoke is a general dull, depressing feeling. If you feel the lava, look for the smoke, and when it’s found, memory comes. If you feel the smoke, look for the lava, and when it’s found, memory comes. The base thoughts may be found by concentrating on the area opposite to what is protruding into consciousness.

     Concentrate on the smoke (knowing you are overlooking the lava), and let the smoke take all it wants. Then, (concentrate, concentrate, concentrate) the lava will automatically take its place in the mind. Then, concentrating on the smoke, you look at the lava. There, at this spot in the mind, is your freedom. This is what you are repressing!


April 18, 1977


     It’s funny how my body (my mind) knows the base thoughts, but I don’t.



April 19, 1977


     I’m feeling these feelings—I remember them from about four years old. But!!! I also remember them from age seventeen. This is so because my mind acted out what happened in childhood during age seventeen. Although I remember feeling this way, it does no good. I have to visualize and relive the experience. Also, this compounding is confusing. One minute I think it’s early childhood, but the next, I think it’s age seventeen. I can probably cure the whole thing by dissipating the childhood. Then, I’ll remember myself during age seventeen. But if this doesn’t happen, I’ll have to dissipate both separately.


     Concentrating upon the lava and the smoke paid off…


May 17, 1977


     10:05 P.M. I gave my all at that hospital. I was scared, then horrified; then I was terrified, worse and worse. I gave my all, but couldn’t take it. I was beyond terrified. Every muscle, my whole body was into it. No one thought to tell me what was happening. Perhaps a moment of consideration would have avoided the whole problem.

     The shadowy images of the hospital slowly focused in my mind. Slowly, memories were attached to feelings. Slowly, the scars made sense. This wasn’t just about memory, but about self-understanding. The entities adjacent to my thoughts were present for a logical reason. What was needed was the inner strength to acknowledge what I had been lying about for my whole life. Only the truth would set me free! Unfortunately, no one likes rehashing old problems. It’s boring to think about the past. It isn’t mind stimulating to dwell on muted, infantile thoughts.

     I was wheeled into a room with strangers who could have been space aliens for all I new. They didn’t introduce themselves. They made no effort to be nice. It was like I had been abducted. I didn’t trust them.  They put their hands on me and placed things on my head. The very thought of them was terrifying. The feeling of fear was so intense, it coiled up into a molten ball on my forehead.


                           Hanging from a cliff in terror.

                           Seeing death face to face.

                           This moment will determine if

                           there is a next.

                           This moment will touch all others…


                           I’m holding on as best I can.

                           Each moment is like an hour.

                           Each moment is like a ten pound

                           boulder falling on my face.


     Moment after moment passed, and the molten ball gnawed at me; lodged in my mind, eating me.


                           I was panicking.

                           I new it.

                           I knew maybe everything would be okay,

                           but how could I know for sure?


     I needed more information. I needed to know where my mother was. I needed to know what was happening.

     What is more ignorant than the thoughts of a two year old? Being two, there’s no past to draw upon. Any new situation is bound to arouse concern, because there is so much that is unfamiliar and previously unseen. The more inquisitive, the worse, because the more questions asked, the more unanswered.  The more questions unanswered, the greater the chance of wrong conclusions. 

      I looked to the side and saw my mother walking away. I thought she abandoned me! I’d been betrayed, stabbed in the back! The emotional shock exploded like fire. I was hurled down, my body shaking…I fought back. “I can do it,” I thought. “I can survive.” 

     Here I go again. I ignorantly took the initiative without enough information to carry through till the end. I dared think I could make it without her, but every step of the way I came to a crossroad without the knowledge to know which way to turn … 

     But then I reasoned since my mother abandoned me, I wouldn’t be seeing her anymore; therefore, she was dead!

     A devastatingly wrong conclusion! This thought came not because I closed my eyes, but because I opened them. Unfortunately, when the ignorant see, they may do more harm than good.

     This brought on a second, more powerful explosion of dread. Thoughts were like hand grenades setting off inside my mind—I lost my reason to fight, and fell in despair to a place that only exists in nightmares; no hope; no meaning—a cloud of eternal nothing. The tingling in my hands spread to my entire body—as if a thousand needles poked every inch of skin—but now I was watching, not being.  After several moments, I gained composer as the reality solidified in my mind.  My mother was dead!

     My mother’s death was worse than if it had actually happened. At least if she were truly dead, I could mourn her. But since it happened only in my mind, there would only be more unanswered questions.

     The doctor shouted, “It’s almost over, it’s almost over.”  Over and over he said it. His voice thundered; but no, it had just begun—the pain had just begun. There was nothing left—nothing to live for, nothing to enjoy; with the speed of a flood, all had been lost! This is my Satan.

     I was left with the boredom of dealing with it.

     Tears have been pouring down my eyes. My cheeks are trembling. I wonder where I would be right now, if this hadn’t happened?  I wonder what kind of person I would be, if I had been a person my whole life?  How can I be interested in football, or girls, or cars, or anything? Just thinking is difficult for me. I can’t want. Wanting causes pain. Wanting reminds me of all this.

     I guess for the most part I don’t feel very good because I could have a lot of friends right now, but instead, I barely have any. I’m not involved in any school activities.

     I do realize I can change all that, but these repressions stick like leeches. They’re hard to get out.

     I feel sort of tired. I don’t really feel all that good. My eyes are sore, and my face and head feel funny.

     My mother, years later, reminisced about the specialist telling her that another two year old boy had recently died in the same hospital from the same illness. My mother fainted in the hallway after being told this, and they put her in a hospital bed. We were both in the hospital, in separate rooms! This could explain why I was left alone, although I’ve never asked her. 


Aug. 2, 1977


    In the third grade I became mischievous and liked to fight. But then, the ghost from the past engulfed me—I realized my mother would someday die. Feelings that were dormant for years crept back into mind. But I had forgotten why they were there. When I was “good,” they left. When I was “bad,” they came.

     I didn’t want to take a chance on being bad. I needed to be good. I became religious. “God” was the feelings from the hospital of my mother coming back. I’d say without God, I didn’t want to live. I’d make myself do things—thus pleasing “God.”

     “God” was a buffer; “God” was a cushion from the pain; “God” blocked the pain. “God” seems to be the first form “Mother” changed into. But although this is so, my love for my mother still existed, and a somewhat realistic view of what God was. I loved them separately, yet as one.

     I must dissipate “God.” Pleasing “God” meant doing right for the wrong reason. Pleasing “God” meant pleasing people for the wrong reason.


                  An act has no meaning without the thought behind it.

                  An act is morally hollow,

                  it does not sprout virtue.

                  An act is an object like a rock,

                  a pebble or boulder.

                  Its only meaning is the one associated with it,

                  without the meaning we give the object,

                  it is meaningless.


     Pleasing my mother meant I was good. It protected me from the pain. This kept me from the truth. This made it harder to overcome the emotional scars. This created a mass, an area of dull feeling, an area of non-reality that permeated my being. Sometimes being good is bad.


                  Feelings were present

                  to hide other feelings;

                  pleasing the feelings, obeying “God”

                  created the mass.

                  And now I stand at the doorway.

                  I call “God” out.

                  I call “Mother” out.

                  I say, stop it! You will smother me no more.

                  I will come out and disobey and do what I please.

                  I am not a slave.

                  It’s better to be mischievous and disobedient,

                  dynamic and young,

                  than stunted and muted and obedient.

                  Virtue for the sake of reward is not virtue, but chains.


     “Anyone who curses his father or mother shall be put to death; since he has cursed his father or mother, he has forfeited his life.”  Leviticus 20:9

     Satan’s words can be found in the Bible. God is wisdom, not vengeance; God is love, not murder; see Satan in these words, and acknowledge the unholy deeds committed worldwide because of Satan’s words in Holy Books.


Aug. 4, 1977


     7:45 P.M. I’m pushing hard. I’m trying. I guess it all takes a lot of time. I’m going to be gradually cured.  Nothing is going to happen all at once.

     I just need more memory, more insights. It’s hard. It’s hard when your mind plays tricks on you. Just a few more insights, and I just might have it. It’s just that it’s hard. It’s myself. It’s pain. It’s confusing. I have no one to tell me what to do. I have to figure it out myself. I have to remember second grade, then think the thoughts that I thought at age three. Talk about difficult! In a way, it’s easy to do. Just see the feeling in your mind, name it second. Then, see another feeling in your mind, and name it three years old. Remember yourself thinking those things at about three years old. It’s just that it always doesn’t work. There’s no telling what you’re naming. Besides, if you don’t remember the particular instances that caused the emotions, you’re out of luck, even if you name it the right things (most of the time). You’ve got to go over and over and over the whole thing until something pops up.  When it does pop up, it’s never enough to tell the whole story. It’s weird, when I finally do remember things, it’s like I always remembered them! You’ve got to concentrate. It’s just that you don’t always know what you’re concentrating on.

     I’m gaining memory right now of the hospital. But it’s very slow. Nothing is total. Usually, I just get a slight image of what happened. The image, as I go over and over things, becomes clearer and clearer, until I’m able to relate it to how I’m acting, and was acting.

     The feelings from the test are coming very slowly. I suppose that’s because those are the ones I never wanted to admit. I’ve been working on them for a few months, ever since I remembered the terrible experience of the doctors putting wires on my head. To dissipate, I must remember what happened, and also the feeling…Then, I must relate it to how I’ve let it affect me in the present and the past.

     It seems like sometimes when I gain memory of, say, second grade, it allows memory of the hospital to come. It’s almost like I’m digging, and have to take out the newer before the old!

     In the second grade, the nun gave a lesson on ethics. She said sometimes the moral thing was to lie, and sometimes the immoral thing was to tell the truth. If the Nazi’s knock on the door, it’s immoral to tell the truth about the Jews hiding in the closet.


Aug. 13, 1977


     I created two selves. I’d think it happened to “you.” The pain is in “you.” When something went wrong, like someone not liking me, I’d say it happened to “you,” not me! I’d console myself by saying it happened to “you.” I’ve got to dissipate “you.” “You” enters all parts of my life.


                           I hate you.

                           You are the one who

                           notices my fault.

                           You are the one who exposes

                           the secrets.

                           …Look at the way you dress!

                           Look at the way you walk

                           and talk and play and laugh.

                           You are too familiar. You are me.


     I hated myself for thinking my mother was dead.



Aug. 21, 1977


     I must take full responsibility for my thoughts and what has happened to me.  Everything I did was rational. Everything was for a good reason. I wanted peace of mind like anyone else. I must use 1-2 thought while dissipating. That is the key! 1-2 thought is the key! 1-2 thought is healthy thought, unimpeded by past emotion. 1-2 thought is the most perfect thought!


     It’s important to get to the point in life where you love the thoughts inside you. A 1-2 thought should be loved the same as 1-64 thought, as well as any of the other thoughts. Recognizing that 1-2 thought is the key doesn’t mean ignoring the other forms of thought. Recognizing this means respecting all thoughts, and seeing that with clarity and proper awareness, all forms of thought, all the way through 1-64 thought, are 1-2 thought. You may ask, how can 1-64 thought be 1-2 thought? The reason is that although a thought may carry a lot of baggage, it is still a part of now, a part of the moment, and a part of awareness.  The moment a thought is seen for what it is, in any form it takes, is when it becomes unique to the moment, and is 1-2 thought. Living in the now and seeing two things, three things, four things, five things, or six things simultaneously is a healthy, clear way of thinking. I’m bringing this up now because respecting thoughts became very important to me as I overcame the emotional scars. Later in the journal, you’ll see that as I advanced more and more against the torment, it was the respect for a thought, regardless of its form, that became increasingly important. A society is judged based upon how it takes care of the least individual, and so it was in my mind; respecting the least thoughts, the seemingly unacceptable and reprehensible, was the pathway to overcoming the inner demons. To gloss over a thought, any thought, is to miss an aspect of the self.



Physical Thought


     The practice of physical thought helps train the mind to change the way it reacts to feelings and thoughts, breaking old habits. The practice of physical thought is similar to the concept of The Equation of Thought, but physical thought deals more with feelings, whereas, The Equation of Thought focuses more on thoughts. Before a feeling was completely understood, physical thought was used. When something isn’t understood, you feel it; when something is understood, you know it; thus, physical thought was a way to improve emotional condition before reaching the goal of understanding and visualizing The Equation of Thought.


     To break a mental habit, think of other times you thought the way you’re thinking. Think of other times you felt the way you are feeling. Simultaneously concentrate on these memories. This is physical thought. This isn’t the same as thinking in a predetermined way. This isn’t the same as prejudging. This isn’t the same as not giving someone a second chance.

     As an adolescent, I acknowledged the lizard. I then thought of how I remembered the lizard at the age of fourteen, and at the age of eleven. I acknowledged these memories. I simultaneously concentrated upon the three images. This was creating physical thought.  The road to The Equation of Thought is paved with physical thought.

     Using physical thought is breaking the chain, thinking uniquely, and creating 1-2 thought. This invigorates the mind like physical exercise; it creates a similar feeling as jogging or briskly walking. The concept of physical thought is very important for the average person, for although not traumatized, the average person can overcome lingering, less serious problems. For example, physical thought can help with depression; or, just simply, create a relaxing feeling. There is no reason for alcohol or drugs, just think, and feel relaxed.  It promotes mental stability.  For me, I had many emotions sitting around like stagnant water. By concentrating upon how I felt a feeling during different times of my life, I was getting the thoughts moving again, like unblocking an area of stagnant river water. This felt very good—as if I was performing physical exercise.


     Sometimes the way we think makes us depressed. Comparing and concluding you’re not tall enough, good looking enough, talented enough, etc…is depressing. Remember, it wasn’t one concept that allowed me to defeat the emotional scars, but a symphony. You are special. You were first conceived in the mind of God, and created in his image—you are a miracle, a unique gift to the world—there’s a reason you’re here. Look for the Divine reason, because the search is an empowering, enriching journey. The farther on this journey traveled, the closer you’ll be to God.  On my journey, I traveled through myself, and the farther I went, the stronger I became.

     In my journal, I document days and months of powerful depression. I overcame the depression, angrily blasting it into the universe, with the help of physical thought; but, I never forgot that God wanted me to accept myself for the way he made me, and that there was something intrinsically profound about my faults, as well as my talents. I wrote: “…I accepted the errors, mistakes, and imperfection that formed who I was…”  

     No matter how bad I felt, I believed things could get better. I didn’t want to miss out on the future. It’s like I knew there would be someone who would need me, and so I kept fighting. If you’re depressed, I didn’t want to miss out on helping you. I fought for you. I was fighting to pave the road out of the malaise. I pray that you feel better after reading my words, because if so, I would feel incredibly proud. It would make all the suffering documented in this book worth it. I hold the torch of my experiences, and offer it to the depressed. I swear you can see things differently, just like I did, and in doing so, perceive meaning.






     Post-Traumatic Stress is like a scar on your hand in that you don’t need to remember why the scar is there to know it exists. You can see it and touch it. Post-Traumatic Stress is a mental scar linked to memories and emotions.  To dismiss the value of memory is to never confront it, or the emotions linked to it. It’s to be doomed to forever feeling the pain.

     If you’ve forgotten why the scar exists, you can deduce how the scar was created, based on the characteristics of the scar, and your behavior in relation to it. If you have a deep cut, you know it wasn’t created by cotton candy. It must have been something sharp. Right there, you have a clue why it’s there. Examine the scar further, and there’ll be other clues. To dismiss the value of memories is to close the door of opportunity.

      Actual memory will create chemical changes in the brain and effect mental stability and mental condition. If there is false memory concerning the scar, in time, the memory will be proven incorrect because there won’t be a change in the way you feel. For example, if it’s incorrectly believed the scar is due to reason “A,” reason “A” will be proven false because the powerful emotions linked to the scar, and your relation to them, will remain the same. If reason “A” is correct, there will be permanent changes to the relationship between you and the powerful emotions. The emotions will be seen from a different vantage point. This is a physical relationship, like seeing an object differently as you walk down a street, or with every step down a flight of stairs.

     It’s important to analyze behavior and relate it to memory. Without linking memory to behavior, I would have been enslaved by the traumatic experience, unable to move upon it; the moments that created the scar would have been suspended inside me like an immovable balloon. Memory alone won’t solve the problem, but memory will change mental relationships, create stability, and provide the opportunity to overcome. Memory is like fog lifting from the road. The road might be full of twists, turns, and holes, but with memory, at least you can see.



     There has been court cases where people provide incorrect testimony based upon memory. To me, to dismiss memory on that account would make as much sense as outlawing air travel because of an airline accident; or, outlawing car travel because of traffic deaths. I’d blame the professionals involved in the cases for lack of skill in detecting the witnesses’ confused thought. A memory that doesn’t modify behavior can’t be proven to be true or false; however, a memory that can be proven to have modified a mental state has shown validity. I believe accusations are just accusations; but, a memory that changes a mental state is powerful testimony. Memory allowed me to feel more secure and stable, because I was able to see the reasons for emotions, and link them to the way I felt and acted. Accusations are just accusations, but when the reasons for feelings and attitudes are discovered, permanent changes take place in the mind. If the accuser can’t prove a permanent improvement in their emotional condition due to the memory, the memory should be deemed as untrustworthy.



False Memory


     It’s important to learn everything possible about false memory because the more you know about it the better you’ll be able to recognize actual memory. Keep in mind that it’s possible to have perfect memory of something that was misunderstood. If we have a discussion in the hallway, there could be a misunderstanding. For one thing, I’m looking one way and you’re looking another. I’m facing south, and you’re facing north. Perhaps there is a window behind you, with a blue sky; but behind me, there is a window with grey clouds. I’m looking at a blue sky, and you are looking at grey clouds. Maybe you don’t hear me correctly. You misinterpret what I say. You walk away with a completely different understanding of our interaction than I did. You are upset at what I said when I think everything is understood and the matter is settled. You have perfect memory concerning what happened, but unfortunately, you’ve got perfect, precise, vivid memory of something that was misunderstood. So it’s not just about memory. It’s about relationships and the way we see things. For me, at the age of two, seeing things incorrectly almost destroyed my life.

     The subject of false memory is something that I dealt with while I was overcoming the emotional scars. The moment of emotional impact, of emotional trauma, was seen differently as time passed. I identified the moment of trauma, as 1-2 thought. Approximately every two to three years, I saw the experience differently, and named these different views as 1-4, 18, 1-16, 1-32 and 1-64.

     I overcame the emotional scars by seeing the relationships between traumatic memories and thoughts and relating them to how they affected me in the present moment. I saw how the memory changed from year to year, creating false memory, and saw how the false memories affected me in the present moment. This created understanding and with understanding came stability and strength.

     A false memory can be beneficial. If you don’t have actual memory, a false memory can allow you to cry and vent your feelings, and temporarily feel better. Don’t laugh.  When under the tremendous pressure of PTSD, a day or two of feeling better, even though it isn’t permanent, can help. A false memory can create a sense of well-being. Believing in something, even if it’s untrue, can be better than believing in nothing, and feeling confused. Sometimes it’s better to be happy than right. A good imagination can be more palatable than the truth. In time, when feeling up to it, you can always look at yourself in the mirror and see the truth. No need to see it all at once; it’s okay to peek for a while, and when ready, stand in front and stare. 

     There are a lot of ways of looking at changing memory. One of the most important is The View of the Mountain.


  The View of the Mountain




     As stated previously, Childhood emotional trauma is like traveling past a mountain. If you are traumatized at the age of two, at the age of five, you don’t forget, but look at the mountain differently. At the age of five, the mountain is in the distance—you see the trauma from a different angle. It’s very important to recognize the different views. One view of the mountain might be emotional, another subtle—all views are unique. One view may have entirely, or partially, overcome the trauma. Seeing all the views provides inner stability because the trauma is analyzed in different ways, constructively exercising the mind, and creating physical thought.  It’s like connecting the dots or assembling a puzzle. Once everything is put together, you see the whole experience, and the trauma is remembered vividly. It’s as if a different facet of the experience is deposited in each view of the mountain. By concentrating on the different views simultaneously, you put the experience back together.