Introducing Blue©by Jack Schimmelman

The Blue Pearl by Endre BaloghUsed with permission.

On the morning of January 1, 1987 I started to see cobalt blue oval circles of light. Everywhere. When this experience first started I went to a few close friends to tell them about it. I was confused. One told me about a spiritual tradition of the blue pearl. That helped. My world changed. Out of nowhere. I wasn’t particularly spiritual, although I have always had a curiosity about the nature of reality. I grew up a junk food aficionado; pizza being my Ph.D.; burned the candle from all ends and thought sensuality was the be all and end all. I wasn’t living the life of a monk tucked away in the Himalayas searching for the secret of life. I was surviving in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn.

Although they never disappeared, the frequency of these blue lights has increased exponentially since I moved to my present home, an island off the coast of Massachusetts. I am going through an intense transformation that perhaps is shared by others. It’s difficult to describe, but imagine your energy feeling so powerful that your biology can hardly tolerate it. Add to that, a long-standing, painful chronic illness, then you might begin to understand the enormous contradiction I am presently living.

Many of us feel buffeted by forces beyond our control, thus we are helpless and angry and constantly reacting. I understand why one could feel that way given the constant reminders of how we mutilate each other both spontaneously and in more organized ventures such as war in its myriad of calamity; how we are dedicated to destroying the habitat in which we live; an elegant, beautiful home that can appear from a distance to be a blue pearl. Some would call humans

primitive and ignorant because of those circumstances. Others would assign to us an heroic status that we choose to incarnate in the midst of life-threatening chaos. Many would say that we have no choice. We live when we live and play the hand dealt to us. That also requires courage. I suggest rather than be transfixed by brutal images projected by our media, to look into the eyes of the nearest infant. To remember why you love and are loved.

I have grown to intimately know the consciousness that manifests as these blue lights. They are benevolent and only wish to help. Nevertheless, they are committed to not intervene in our evolution. They respect our process.

I unfurl my

BlueI curve before an eternal pool into which I dive. When I feel safe in a blue clear lagoon, I see friends swimming beside me. I never expect them. I don’t know them. They are cobalt blue circles of light of all sizes bright as the sun within my heart. At first I am fascinated by the spectacle presented to me. Then I want to know who or what they are. I want to understand more with my brain. I need to catch up to my soul. I rise from my mind no longer asleep in black whirlpools. The cacophony of suffering is calm. My friends, my blue circles, witness earth’s essence.

I awake through a liquid mirror. I energetically wash myself and think I have it made. I swear that these lights are celebrating, laughing, getting drunk. This is my alpha and omega. This journey would dwarf all paths that I had previously walked.

Once 10 years soared as I sat 3 times a week in classes with a medium, a channeler of spirit. A very nice woman, in her 30s who was shocked by her ability to be the vessel through which an astonishing energy would manifest upon her going into what she described as a light trance. At the time I was creating a theatre piece and as an afterthought an actress in my ensemble recommended I go sit with a medium she knew. When I attended my first class (and class is the only way to describe these gatherings), I was very skeptical. There were 10 other people in a tiny Greenwich Village studio, all assembled around this young unassuming woman. As she went into her trance, I looked behind her neck to perhaps find vertical strings emanating from her back and someone, somewhere, pulling them. Then I thought that

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maybe it was a magic trick, but during the 100s of times I attended these very special classes I never found the source of trickery. The source (sauce) was within. Shortly after I began sitting with this young woman who looked like Diane Keaton, I gave into the incredible feeling that would fill my body every time spirit would speak. A spirit named Mary showered us with infinite love that elevated our breath.

The room softens. Mary enters. She merges with our heart and soul. The atmosphere is charged with unconditional love. Students unwrap from their sleep. Her curriculum is daily life. Her lesson is simple.

Accept What Is.

On the first day of my profound buoyancy, I awoke to find an illuminated rainbow hanging in front of me. At first I thought it was light streaming through my bedroom window in my rickety Brighton Beach cottage, but then I realized that my French louvers were shut tight leaving the room in darkness. When I left the room I expected this “optical illusion” to disappear. However, when I came back to my bedroom it was still shimmering in the same spot as when I had left. This time I had a chance to inspect this small rainbow from all angles. It was magical. Then it disappeared.

One hour later cobalt blue light circles appeared to me. Somewhat oval shaped. They were bright. I went outside and saw them in trees, on the beach; prancing on the ocean, dancing on the backs of people, even circling the moon. As time raced through my biology, these lights were my constant companion. Sometimes they were so bright in the darkness of my home, I had to shut my eyes for fear of being blinded. One night while sitting with my pure white, green eyed cat on my dilapidated couch in the darkness of my living room, I was delighted by a blue dancing display celebrating in front of my television, which was turned off. They were neon bright, unbearably charging the air. They hurt my eyes. I shouted out for them to stop(!) and they disappeared only to return the next day in the cold, January day. In class I asked Mary who or what these lights were and she told me that they were my resonance; that they were conscious beings, that they were me. Hard to believe. Harder to understand.

So life continued. Employed, loved, unloved, lonely, not lonely, unemployed, sad, happy, healthy, sick, everything the same as before with one difference. These intense oval shaped cobalt blue lights were everywhere. They were my ocean. My pool of reflection. They are my destination.

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In a moment of time in a moment of space I walk down a black Island road on the other side of midnight. I pray for guidance. Suddenly upon my heart’s command, neon blue ovals stand side by side at the intersection of being and joy. They light the sandy terrain, beautiful silhouettes appearing from roots of despair. I follow these laughing lights; assured that pleasure awaits my appearance.

My house was down the road, 2 miles from the final, midnight ferry and I never would have arrived home safely in that hot summer night if not for jubilant light. As I write about this now on the precipice of sickly, old age, the scent of island summers returns. My friends never depart. They/WE endure.

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