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An Ia Story: One Thread in the Tapestry of Consciousness

by s.a. stanley

400 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #01-0427; ISBN 1-55369-025-7; US$31.00, C$35.95, EUR25.50, £18.00

From living a limited reality to recognizing our places in the tapestry of consciousness: this story is an account of discovering and living the greatness that lies within each of us.

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about the book      about the author      excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book     An Ia Story: One Thread in The Tapestry of Consciousness is a genuine account of the discovery and manifestation of the greatness that lies within each of us. It was written to raise questions, not answer them. How does someone's life change when she whole-heartedly commits to surrender her suffering and instead chooses to live life as a gift? What price will she pay? What will be required of her? How difficult will it be to live this commitment? What benefits will be derived from living one's life as a gift?     This account begins in a simple linear fashion with no shiny wrapping or pretty bows. The readers are slowly drawn beyond intellectual comprehension to a world of Spiritual dimension and intrigue as they follow the author on her arduous journey to expanded consciousness. An Ia Story is a catalyst that affords readers the opportunity to find tools essential for their own successful journey; it encourages them to discover their own greatness - to acknowledge their places within the Tapestry of Consciousness.     Although our individual journeys to living a conscious life are unique, there are certain commonalities: surrendering the ego-self, leaving fear behind, loving ourselves, trusting in our own innate capacities, and discovering our own divinity. The author's raw honesty reveals these commonalities and the nature of the unique path she was required to follow to extricate herself from limitation and live her greatness. Her odyssey demonstrates that everything we need to complete our journey is provided, step-by-step, along the way.     The author's insights are plentiful and phenomenal. As a youngster, the author yearned to understand herself: What made her think and act as she did? What caused her sadness, anger and pain? Why did she feel alienated and alone? What would she have to do to change? As the scrupulously candid account unfolds, it becomes clear that there is nothing in regard to understanding oneself that is out of reach - nothing. We discover that in the author's search to know her True Self, and to live her life as a gift, she unravels the truth of who we all are.

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About the Author      Each one of us is much greater and more powerful than can be physically seen or intellectually understood. The author is neither her accomplishments nor her deeds. She is not who she was at birth or who she was as a teen, or who she was when she began to write down the bones of this story. As we all are, she is a "work in progress."     The author relates, "I am not who I was an hour ago, yesterday, last week or last year. In searching, searching, searching, in stepping beyond my beliefs about myself and my life, in stripping myself naked, exposed to the world, I merely came to know who, in fact, I am not. My continued pursuit to find a reliable sense of self first took me through the valley of the shadow of death and then led me into Awareness: Awareness being a dimension onto itself. Anyone who lives life consciously is ever changing, ever expanding, moving continually more deeply into Awareness."     How can you know the author? Only through knowing yourself. If you desire to know the author, begin to look within yourself and search until you find the truth of your own greatness. Then you will know her. Then you will know who we all are - intricate, elegant threads composing the Tapestry of Consciousness.

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Excerpts

    On the way to visit the Smithsonian one day, a phrase from a song, "Whatever I do, I do for you," began to resound through my head. This was unquestionably a message that needed translation, so I began to decode it. First, I asked if the message meant that I was supposed to do something for someone. The response was a psychic slap across the face, "try again." So, I tried again and again, only to hear each time that I was wrong. Finally, I broke the code. The message was that whatever happens, it is done for me. The message indicated that everything in my life was put there for a reason, affording me the lessons I needed to advance spiritually. Nothing was a coincidence. Nothing! This felt beyond even my Higher Self in operation. Confused, I asked, "What are you doing for me? And who are you, that you speak in the first person?" My questions went unanswered.
    Arriving at the museum, my intent was to visit an exhibit on old growth forests. The exhibit was tucked in a corner of the second floor, and took some effort to find. Upon arriving, I looked around for a moment, bewildered, while I began to inwardly vibrate so intensely I felt I might disappear. The moment I collected myself, my attention was drawn to a video playing in the middle of the area. I watched closely. The camera panned across an ancient forest in the Pacific Northwest in the process of being clear-cut. As one tree fell, and then another and another, I was suddenly energetically drawn into the event. Like a hologram on the screen, I witnessed all the trees in existence toppling to the ground - Mother Earth completely destroyed! My heart cried out. I was the only one who saw this holocaust; the rest of the audience retained their placid demeanor. When I refocused my attention, I was instantly redrawn into the experience. This time, hysteria overcame me. I bolted for the stairs, out the museum and down the mall, toward the setting sun. The incident throbbed in my head. The Earth Mother was raped, devastated - gone forever! As the song had indicated, this message had been given to me for a reason. I was reluctant to understand why it was being shown to me or who was doing the showing. I wanted this agonizing prophecy erased from my awareness.
    I ran until I was out of breath, landing in front of a tent far down the mall. The hum of the generator lighting the tent distracted me out of my horror. The light was too dim to see clearly the pamphlets strewn across the counter, but my attention was drawn to a middle-aged man attending the tent. I attracted his attention as well. It was tough to tell which of us found the other more puzzling. When I finally inquired about his purpose for being there, he replied that he was a Vietnam veteran and he was there because men had yet to heal from their war experiences. I knew there was something about war that was being conveyed to me. Was I unwilling to understand? Or was I unable to understand?
    I headed toward the Vietnam War Memorial with the idea of further observing the soldiers that made their way there. As I neared the monument, a statue of Albert Einstein caught my eye. I stood on a street corner distractedly torn between the two. I chose the war memorial. Before I could move, however, a force literally stepped inside my shoes, turned me around and delivered me, willy-nilly, straightaway across the street to Einstein. All I could manage to do was breathe as I stood staring at the scene before me.
    The bronze Einstein was casually dressed and half-reclining on three semi-circular cement steps, his head bent forward as if lost in a daydream. The statue appeared unfinished, as if the creator had more defining to do. Beyond Einstein's feet the Universe expanded out on what could have been a small circular dance floor. I studied him in the shelter of surrounding trees, out of the view of other onlookers. His gaze appeared to go nowhere. When the last observer moved on, I read the marker and learned that significant astronomical events during Einstein's life had been commemorated on the Universe dance floor. After reading the information, my brain exploded with questions. The more I contemplated the questions, the more riled I became and the more I challenged the information given on the signage, indignantly hearing myself claim, "How do they know that?" At the same time I asked, "Well, what do I know?"
    I was exhausted. It was dark and I had already been warned by a police officer about the risks of traipsing around Washington D. C. unescorted, but momentarily, something unidentifiable kept me detained. The longer I stood there, the more I realized that I was being directed to step onto the dance floor. That meant stepping out of the shelter of the trees and into a shower of floodlights. I opted to leave. Before I could take a step, I was immobilized. Then, with no time to wonder what was taking place, a sudden, insatiable urge to make eye contact with Albert overpowered me.
    As if possessed, I cautiously looked around to see if anyone else was nearby. Momentarily assured, I quickly stepped forward into the illuminated circle hoping to complete whatever was being required of me with great haste. Before I could concern myself with fears of being apprehended for my misconduct, my eyes were drawn directly to Albert's. I was not satisfied to merely see them; suddenly I had to see into them. With no time to ask myself what that meant, my feet began to shuffle about, here and there upon the Universe - the strangest sort of dance - looking up into Einstein's eyes every time my feet landed on a different cosmic event marked on the circle. My need to make "real" eye contact possessed me. I positioned my feet and looked into his eyes, repositioned my feet and looked into his eyes, again and again, an otherworldly determination keeping me in motion. Suddenly, it happened! I was gazing, telescope-style, directly into the hollow pupils of Einstein's eyes.
    The return gaze felt like a bolt of pure energy. It penetrated into the depths of my vision. As my gaze converged with Einstein's, I was drawn into a realm of consciousness far beyond the realm of imagination. My feet no longer seemed to touch anything; I felt impaled, suspended by his gaze. Here, without any sophisticated technology whatsoever, I was experiencing the cosmos. I did not know if I was moving into it or it was moving into me. I was in a state somewhere between no longer existing and being all of existence. The words, "Akashic Records," pervaded my consciousness.
    Eventually, the chatter of approaching tourists thrust me back into linear reality. I retreated again into the seclusion of the surrounding trees. Dazed and disbelieving, my only impulse was to return to my hotel; yet the demand for confirmation overrode my inclination. When the tourists departed, I returned to the cosmic dance floor with determination, stepping and gazing, over and over, until I relocated the power spot. I experienced for a second time a connection to infinite consciousness. Einstein-style. Time was lost to me, once again, as I became transfixed by this "other" reality, until the babble of voices also again drew me back into linear existence. Confirmation accomplished, I now felt like an appliance whose surge protector had failed.
    Although well after dark, I proceeded to walk the entire distance to my hotel in Arlington, Virginia, feeling turned inside out and ruminating until my brain felt like a firecracker. Question after question ignited in my mind. The most disturbing was, "Why me? Who am I to be worthy of such an inviolate encounter?" I had little knowledge of Albert Einstein, other than he had been a famous scientist and had developed the theory of relativity. John had talked of the Akashic Records on a number of occasions. To my recollection, it was a vast cosmic library holding all the thoughts, actions and events that has ever taken place in all of existence. Most mind-boggling, John claimed that everyone has access to this library in the sky. Now, in the midst of my confusion, I believed him. The longer I was back in the limitations of the physical, the more I attempted to define the encounter. I needed to have a comfortable relationship with it, as well as with Albert. I believed that the affinity created between us defied explanation. Further, I deduced that he was now a mentor who would assist me in understanding "what is." I wanted to share all of this with someone. Who would understand? Who could relate? Who would not think me mad? Or a self-possessed braggart?
    In my naiveté, the truth eluded me. Through this cosmic experience I was being prepared for the gift of what Einstein's genius had missed; I was being shown how to avoid the same mistake that Einstein, himself, had made during his embodiment. My knowledge to me was as plutonium was to Einstein. Only pure intent, maintaining my focus on a greater purpose, one that functions outside of the human dimension, could prevent me from misusing the power into which I was tapping. Until I reached a place of solid maturity, that is, freed myself from the hold that my past had on both me and my understanding of who I am - until I could manifest my true identity - I remained in grave danger of doing so.
    And now I was back in the air, appearing to be returning to island to continue forward with my Peace Corps duties, but really being delivered to where further lessons were waiting. I was just as confused in regard to where all of this was leading, as I was confused about the events themselves. From the tumor transporting me stateside, to dealing with John, to Something saying goodbye, to a cherry blossom in autumn, to being bombarded with images of men and war, to seeing the world destroyed, to Einstein's bestowal of cosmic consciousness - how were all these events connected? I understood that when something was "given to me" I was ready for it, but actually assimilating these new experiences seemed preposterous. I only knew that I was functioning on overload, deeply exhausted and solely desired to return to island for solitude and rest, and then get on with my life. Getting on with my life, however, was not what was in store for me, for my life no longer belonged to me. I had turned my life over to something greater the moment I had agreed to let the world see me for who I really am. I had not escaped death. I would be continuing to die, that is to die in order to live - live my life as a gift.

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Catalogue Information

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