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The Bubble Rule von Binnings, Clement (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 26.10.2015
  • Verlag: BookBaby
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The Bubble Rule

Somewhere in the Book of Psalms it says, 'But the meek shall inherit the earth; and shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace.' Somewhere in my mind, I hear myself asking, Is that even possible? Who are the meek anyway? What power, if any, do they possess over the growing hordes of Weapon-wielding maniacs proliferating on our planet today? The dysfunctional yogi What happens when a soulless mob boss in India experiences the awakening of his conscience? He must silence it. What happens when it speaks to him in his own voice from the mouth of a five-year-old boy he is convinced is real? He vows to root the child out and eliminate him from the planet. What happens when that child is a fully enlightened spiritual master? That child, Grover, is not only a menace to him, but to the evil ways of mankind. What happens when that mob boss is one of the wealthiest, most powerful business magnates in the world? He, Duryodhana Talwar, will use every resource at his disposal to get him. It is unfortunate for Dr. Luc Fontainebleau that he is snared by Talwar's trap and must fight to save his mind from being encapsulated in this archenemy's bubble. How will his girlfriend Lola, a true angel through the storms, respond? How will her son Grover respond? How will Luc respond? And finally, how will Duryodhana respond when he ultimately meets his nemesis in the field of Kurukshtetra? Find out in this metaphysical thriller.


    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: none
    Seitenzahl: 397
    Erscheinungsdatum: 26.10.2015
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9781483559148
    Verlag: BookBaby
    Größe: 429kBytes
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The Bubble Rule

Prologue I wonder if it's like this on other planets where sentient beings have evolved, that it is their nature like ours to violate the laws of nature, to choose discordance over harmony with the life systems that support them, to so alter their ecosystems until the planet can no longer support their existence. We appear to be hurriedly setting the stage upon which we will view our own looming extinction, a phenomenon as certain to happen as is the next fiery rise of the sun at dawn. If indeed this is happening in a universe governed by immutable laws, it must be necessary, this mad assault upon the animal kingdom, this assault upon our very selves - it must be a necessary part of the process by which we ultimately slay the animal within us. It must be necessary for us to stare directly into this blaze of reality, to experience the burn of our own animal mortality upon our retinae and to be blinded by it if we are to see beyond human vision. Whether we burn like mountain goats overtaken by a lava flow or fossilize in the mantle, or whether we wither like rose buds that fail to blossom in the spring or ride the air to the forest floor like yellowed leaves from an autumn cottonwood, we will transcend solidity and find ourselves bodiless, for that is the nature of our souls. Our ignorance of this fact condemns us to ego-centered lives where "survival of the fittest" propels the rape and pillage of all nature's gifts thereby creating the setting for our greatest lesson. Hail to the Masters who have already learned, to the Seers whose light illuminates a different way, to all those whose example gives us another choice. This is what my experiences with Lola and Grover and now Duryodhana Talwar have me contemplating. My name is Luc Fontainebleau. I've been interviewing people and chronicling the events of the last nine months, ever since Hurricane Katrina - my therapy, you know. I heard that's helpful. So much has happened in the last year and a half, I feel compelled to cut and paste all these scribblings into some form of coherence, to create a story so I can look at it like I'm reading someone else's, so that I might see into it differently, to feel it and not feel it at the same time, to try to make some sense of it, to fully learn the lessons it has to teach so that I won't blow the same bubbles of illusion all over again, so that I won't have to relive the pain of their popping. As I sit down to write this, I am looking at pages written by a man who wound himself around me like a python around a bobcat. I still can't fathom how his journal became mine, but it did and I'm grateful. I've been poring through it over and over trying to incorporate his story into my own, because it is necessary. His initial entry explains why he started it and why he felt compelled to record every happening, every encounter and conversation of every day and his thoughts about them. For him, it wasn't therapy. It was to be his story, not mine. How ironic that I, of all people, would be his author. This man took an ax to the hard drive of my brain. What I have discovered between these leather covers are big chunks from the shatter, and with the help of others who were there, I'm repairing the damage. Associations of memory are happening. Helping this process is my daily practice of meditation. And even though I'm not that good at it yet, it's offering up profound insights, not least of which is that events and impressions recorded and stowed away in the archives of our subconscious minds are indeed accessible. I've learned that there is a state of superconscious awareness where every experience is stored for later viewing. Problem is - it's hard to get there. As we all do, I create my own storms. Indeed, I created my own "Katrina". When she blew ashore, the only refuge I could find was deep in the roots of

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