Entering the GREAT HALL of the “Akasha”

I was around twenty-one years old, just arrived to Japan from Miami via Israel. It would still be a few years before I was off to the Himalaya. I was walking through an old, underground shopping arcade when I stumbled upon an exotic goods shop. The scents attracted me and I ambled in. An old man approached me introducing himself to me as the Jupiter King. He told me of the magic in the place as he showed me around with a twinkle in his eye. He knew he had me hooked from my expression. I was soaking it all in.

At some point in our conversation he told me of a vault of mysteries that could only be accessed through the mind. He said that this vault went by many names, including the Akashic Records. He told me that any knowledge I sought could be had in this place and suggested a particular meditation that would guide me to the gates. He was light, and mischievous, but there was no guile. I took him at his word and that very evening I tried the ritual meditation that he suggested, never for a moment forgetting his parting warning as I was leaving the shop.

Remember! Be polite to the Guardian. Ask for permission to enter and always, always, always close the doors behind you!

Details of the ritual aside, for that would make this story far too unwieldy, suffice it to say that from within said meditation I did indeed meet a Guardian and I was indeed polite as I asked for entrance into the magnificent palace before my mind’s eye. Access was easily granted and the door opened as gently as the thought that pushed it. It also closed without a sound leaving me to marvel at the interior, the tapestries, the contents on the tables and bookshelves. And more doors, leading to more rooms. A longer story, indeed, but venture through those doors I did, closing each behind me as I went. And in each room I beheld a different color, a different scent – a different intelligence and what I brought out with me, because yes, I was told in no uncertain terms that I was free to bring with me all that I might. Just close the doors behind me and leave the rest as I found it.

For four years I traveled to that place, on and off, and what I learned was this:

  • I learned that through my body and mind I could summon up an energy, something akin to increasing my natural BTUs. How many joules did I wield? I don’t know, but learn to wield them I did. How was this energy put to use, you ask? Another answer for another piece.
  • I learned that through particular breathing patterns I could make my physical body light and levitate where I sat. This was funny and intriguing, but I had little interest.
  • I learned that there were maps of existence that could be read and that would take me to any destination I fancied. I’d had a fantastic hankering for Atlantis once upon a time, but I did not use the knowledge to check upon that miracle.
  • I learned that a man could be a master of himself, and that in said mastery came fierce responsibility and power. With such power one might move mountains, governments, yea anything at all. What I did with that is again answer for another question entirely

There is more. Much more. But the point of my story is this. It is the biggest learning I received.

Once upon a time, around four years into my experimentation in the library, in the palace, a funny question entered my mind. For years I had approached the Guardian thoughtfully, considerately, always even-tempered, always careful. Never once had I left a door open. never once had I left anything at all disturbed. And then the thought entered my mind space ever so subtly.

What would happen after all if I were to leave a door open?

And so it is that very evening, it must have been 2am when I wrapped up the meditation, left the palace and bid the Guardian farewell and kind thanks. The Guardian himself made no mention of it to me that I had left the front door wide open. No one said a word. Indeed, I felt nothing at all and drifted off into a sound, sound, dreamless sleep.


It was 5:30 am when I awoke to the pressure of my bookshelf encased around me. Lucky the shelves themselves and the books upon them had seen fit to remove themselves first lest I’d be crushed under their weight. As it is, I awoke into a lonely coffin-like embrace. And good thing, too, for all the shattered glass I found around me a minute later when I pushed the thing off of me – I should surely have been impaled!

The curtains were billowing in the early morning cold. It was winter January 17th, I believe. The air-conditioner wall unit had been ripped off its supports and thrown through the sliding glass doors of the veranda. A bit of panic began to sweep in. I looked around for a towel or something to wrap myself in to get out of this chaos. I was naked, having taken to meditating without clothes for all the heat I generated. My feet found the floor, the glass found my feet! I ignored it as I made my way through the twilight-zone twisted door frame that was my bedroom entrance, and the equally twisted hallway beyond to get myself outside this haunted place.

And when I opened the door it was anything but what I expected. My city was on fire. Everywhere, smoke and panicking people. I thought perhaps N. Korea had launched missiles in the night until a neighbor came to me to enlighten me in my confusion.

Earthquake! Earthquake!

I had just survived the Great Hanshin Earthquake of 1995 which killed 6000 people around me.

Yeah, maybe it was just a coincidence. I sure don’t wanna take responsibility for that calamity. But I’ll never be so nonchalant about closing doors to the record hall again.