This is an epic love story and thriller that takes place over many lifetimes and depicts the hero’s journey to enlightenment. Orfeo and Carina are Twin Flames, souls that have been together since the beginning of time, and they are merged in Consciousness. At one point, Orfeo can’t find Carina, so he returns to the earth-realm to find her. After many lifetimes, they are reunited, and Orfeo learns that it was him that was lost, not her. She makes him aware of the battle of consciousness that is taking place between the forces of Light (the Resistance) and the Dark forces, led by the Master, whom they believe is attempting to obstruct humankind’s path to Consciousness and imprison them in the earth-realm. After many plot twists, Orfeo learns about the true nature of reality. He then tries to share this truth with Carina, who can’t accept it because she believes that he’s been brainwashed by the Master. This impasse jeopardizes their eternal love and return to Consciousness.
|Product dimensions:||5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.78(d)|
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Floating ... dismembered ... fragments of thoughts contained in no thing ... just Being. Orfeo was lying down on a comfortable bed, propped up with cushions in which the scent and stench of many others had settled, maintaining a balance with the fragrant plumes of incense-like smoke that lingered in the air. There was no time here, and here, there was no place, only an oblivion that comforted him, that recalled a distant memory of a similar no-thing where there was no here, no place, and no thought. Any feeble attempt toward a coherent thought dissolved into the no-thingness of this no place that was not here and not there, just oblivion.
An olive-hued hand lovingly caressed his head, attempting to arouse him back to this other place that seemed even less real than nowhere. The hand held a pipe to his mouth, as a mother would lovingly offer the nipple of her engorged breast to her infant, offering the elixir of oblivion. He envisioned a large, luscious breast pressed onto his face, and the nipple teasingly rubbed on his lips. Like the infant, there was no thought or contemplation of whether to imbibe. There was only the stimulus of a mother's love offering life and a reflex that only knew yes. Orfeo's lips surrounded the nipple and forcefully sucked in that fragrant nourishment. The aroma of sweet flowers with hints of burning maple syrup filled his body with the love that he had been seeking since time immemorial. Oblivion — it was so comforting; he was like a baby wrapped in its mother's arms with so much love and warmth. He recalled having felt this feeling before but didn't remember the circumstances. There was only oblivion.
Orfeo felt his body being jostled more and more violently. This was certainly not the loving caresses he had grown accustomed to as intermezzos to the grand symphony that was composing itself in the nothingness of nowhere. He could not cogitate but was aware that there was a struggle taking place between the two dimensions of his oblivion and that lesser reality that others unwittingly called reality. His consciousness was the rope in a tug-o-war, and like the rope, he was disengaged and dispassionate. There was an understanding below the level of rationalization that it was all indeed contained within the oblivion. There was the vague image, almost dreamlike, of being hauled from the depths of a dark ocean like an oil tanker that had sunk to the bottom. There were vague thoughts arising and sinking back to the depths, momentary images that urgently seemed to be asking for recognition, breaths taken that seemed to be arising from elsewhere. Oblivion was such a powerful ally. There was no struggle on her part. She was not pushing or pulling. Rather, there were gentle caresses beckoning Orfeo to dive deeper into her womb, where he was coddled and bathed in a warm, fragrant elixir that was life itself. He settled into her, and everything again fell away.
Just before he entered into her loving embrace, he had a vision. It was a vision he knew very well, one that often came to him in his sleep. He was walking in a vast desert. The sun was sweltering, and the sand was red and hot like molten lava. He was weary, and for some reason, he was crying. Each tear boiled as it rolled down his cheek and scalded him. The pain was insufferable, yet he endured and continued.
The pain of the desert began to fade as he descended into the sweet, warm darkness of oblivion's all-encompassing arms. He returned to floating in her warm womb until he again felt a counterforce drawing him out. Out of the no-thingness there were incoherent sounds, fragments of his name, a sensation of icy liquid pouring over his body that was completely dissociated from the chills and shaking that seemed to be taking place elsewhere. He began to hear his deep breathing and echoes of his name, and he became aware that there was a body that was being drawn and held in a seated position. The gentle caress of oblivion seemed further away, beckoning him to return to her, but the outside forces were too great. The images coalesced into faces that seemed familiar, and he recognized that the voices calling the name Orfeo were in fact calling him, trying to get his attention. He was now back among the dream-walkers.
He recognized Mark, his friend, and Judy, his lover. She was standing behind Mark against the wall, crying. He began to understand the theatrical piece being enacted, but he had forgotten his lines. He felt that he had lines to read at this juncture in the performance but was paralyzed. The spectacle went on, as was mandated. He wondered if his colleagues were improvising until he regained his composure and got back on track with his lines.
He finally uttered, in the hoarse voice of one who had been brought back from the dead, "Where am I?" There was a long pause punctuated by Judy's sobbing. Were those his lines, or had he inadvertently awakened within another play? His body was too weak to move, but his gaze wandered the room searching for clues.
He saw Ai on her knees, her radiantly nude, olive-hued body gracefully picking up everything that had been knocked over onto the worn tapestry near the bed. She was a lovely, exotic Asian woman who had the capacity to transform into a goddess. She had been his steadfast, loyal, and reliable companion who accompanied him, as Beatrice accompanied Dante, to the gates of oblivion. Ai was also crying but for an altogether different reason than Judy. She was saddened that Orfeo's journey into the void had been so explosively interrupted. She could not comprehend why anyone would assault Orfeo so violently. For Ai, this was as much of a crime as taking a baby from her mother.
Ai understood her role and was a master. Some would call her a prostitute, but anyone who really cared to understand would know that would be the equivalent of calling a nursing mother a pumping station. There was much more than met the eye. Her pear-shaped, almost black eyes, seductive touch, perky breasts, and luxurious vagina were merely in service of higher purpose. Ai, whose name meant "love and affection" in Japanese, was merely a portal, and the true masters, as she clearly was, were humble, because they had the awareness that they were simply the vessels that facilitated the voyage to and from other realms. This was a sacred calling that came to very few.
Orfeo slowly began to recognize the theatrical piece he was in and the role to which he had been assigned. He desired to comfort Ai for a brief moment but knew that that was not part of the play, and such improvisation would be quite disruptive. Orfeo's eyes fleetingly made contact with Ai's, and everything was understood. He could now fully engage in his character and only hope that his role was favorably mentioned in the reviews.
A day later, after sleeping for what appeared to be an entire day, he did not actually feel thirst but simply could not stop drinking. Judy was in the kitchen and offered him some tea and breakfast. He had not eaten for three to four days. He was starving, but he knew that he had to introduce food back into his system very slowly in order to avoid any subsequent nausea, vomiting, and cramps. He accepted the tea, thanked her, and sat.
He felt that he should hug her and apologize again for what happened, but he knew that it was pointless at this juncture. Judy was no longer crying and appeared strong and resolute. She looked deeply into his eyes as though she had arrived at some profound knowledge that made everything clear to her. He met her eyes with his but could not sustain the direct eye contact. He again had that disconcerting feeling that he was in a play and had forgotten his lines. Orfeo wondered if he was really cut out for this role, in light of the fact that he was always forgetting his lines. Nonetheless, he surmised that the show had to go on, and he simply had to improvise as best he could.
Judy's voice was soft when she said, "Orfeo, I love you so much, but I just can't do this anymore." Silence. There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
"Whenever you disappear like that, I feel myself dying. Even worse, it starts every time you even step out to buy cigarettes, because I fear that you'll disappear again."
"Cigarettes." He hadn't thought of it yet, but he desperately needed one now. He was about to get up for a smoke but had the sense to know that this was not the right time. He focused and gave his full attention to this woman, who he loved so much in his own seemingly pathetic way and whose love for him, he knew from cold, hard fact, was unfathomable. He didn't recall ever having loved like that and was totally impressed that she could do it, at least up until this act of the play, so faithfully and unconditionally.
"I love you so much," she said again, "but I just can't continue giving and giving without getting anything back."
He started to interject to say that this was not true, but she gave him an icy stare, which instantly conveyed, "Stop bullshitting me, and stop bullshitting yourself! Just stop!" That look stopped him, mouth open, dead in his tracks.
"Also," she continued, "I can't just sit back and watch you destroy yourself with the drugs that you do. I just can't anymore." Orfeo knew that the fact that she had not brought up Ai meant that this was much more serious than he had considered. He now knew for certain that this was the end of the line for their relationship. Yes, he did love her, but despite this, he felt that all the words at this point were superfluous.
Her speech was more pressured and agitated now. "Orfeo, you were gone for a week! Each time you disappear for longer and longer periods. What are you looking for? What are you running away from?" At this point, her words just faded away. He wanted to get up, thank her for her indulgence, take a bow, and gracefully walk out. It wasn't because he didn't care. In fact, he cared for her more than he could ever express, and even if he were able to express it, she could never believe it. However, he did not have the answers for her, or for himself.
Yes, Orfeo was looking for something that he knew was all-important, but he didn't know what it was or where to begin. He also knew that it would never go over very well to say to her, "Listen, babe, I love you so much, but there's something else that is much more important than you. You could never match up to it. Moreover, this is not something that you can help me with, so please be understanding and give me some space." How would that sound? he wondered.
Despite his urge to bolt, he sat patiently and tried to appear as contrite, compassionate, and understanding as possible. She had given so much of herself to him over the years, and in his own way, he loved her dearly. Allowing her to get everything off her chest was the least he could do, no matter how painful it was. He considered for a moment how considerate the character he was playing could be during moments like this and how an audience would be able to sympathize with him.
"Are you listening to a word I'm saying?" she pleaded.
"Yes, love," he replied, "I'm hearing every word and am so sorry I put you through all of this. It was never my intention to hurt you, and I definitely don't want to hurt you anymore. I agree that I should leave, give you peace, and really try to get my shit together." Wow, he thought, those were really great lines.
Orfeo definitely felt the change. This had been the thirteenth or fourteenth time he had entered the earth-realm, and each time was more difficult. First, there was the issue of time in the earth-realm. He had to endure a human lifetime before being able to return to Consciousness and then, based on clues he had pieced together, select another time-space to enter where he would hopefully find Carina.
The trouble was time. In the state of Consciousness, his domain for so many eternities, time did not exist. It was only a mental construct. He had forgotten that in the earth-realm, time took form and was palpable, measurable; moreover, it had to be navigated, endured.
Second was the issue of engagement. He was born into a family and had to play the game until he was old enough to venture on his own or run away in order to embark on his mission to find his love. At first, Orfeo was cold and calculated in his purpose, but slowly, he encountered hurdles that had to be overcome. He experienced the love of his earth mother, father, and siblings. They had no clue that they were simply spending a brief moment in this earth-realm for an experience before returning to Consciousness and then, for as long as it was necessary, repeating this process until they had learned the required lessons from their earthly voyages. For them, this was it — reality, life — and their "family" was limited to what they called mother, father, sister, and brother. Hence, they clung with dear life to these illusory attachments. Although this earthly love was less than a shadow of the love he shared with Carina, he still was able to feel these emotions of familial love and, more and more, found it difficult to tear himself away so cold-heartedly.
The third complication that Orfeo had not accounted for, and that he recognized to be the greatest hurdle, was that each time he entered, he had this foggy feeling and could not precisely recall his mission, his only purpose for entering the earth-realm and what he, in fact, believed to be the only purpose of his existence. At first, he would have absolutely no recollection that he had "entered" from elsewhere into the earth-realm. He would then have flashes of memory, sometimes in the form of dreams or feelings of déja vu, which would alert him that there was something else at play. Little by little, although it had been taking longer and longer, he would remember. This was quite disconcerting.
In the first few entries, there was total recall even while in utero. After a few more, recall began taking place at later and later ages. During his last attempt, it was not until his thirties that he woke up to his purpose. This distressed Orfeo tremendously. Thirty years wasted! He began to deduce that he was developing a form of dementia that worsened, not so much with age, as was the case with Alzheimer's dementia, but rather with every "entry" into the earth-realm, each departure from Consciousness. He now began to understand why earthbound humans seemed so clueless about the truth of their Being, that they were infinite and were, in fact, Consciousness. They were suffering from a devastating affliction that took their precious memories of who they really were and from whence they came. It now made sense. They were likely returning for their quota of human experiences and, unsuspectingly, were developing progressive dementia until there was total amnesia about anything other than the human experience. The horror!
This led to another major complication. During the time that it would take Orfeo to wake up and realize his purpose for being in this earthbound form, he started to form relationships and fall into a career. In one recent incarnation, he awakened to find himself married with children. It would then take him years to find the courage to leave this family behind and again resume his mission to find Carina.
These departures from loved ones, careers, and attachments began to take their toll and would lead to bouts of major depression. He could never forget the look in the tearful eyes of his children, asking in their innocent way why he was abandoning them and where he was going. How could he explain to his wife, with whom he had shared most of his adult human life, that he loved her immensely but that there was someone else for whom he had a greater love that overshadowed her — a higher mission that he had to complete? Their faces would come to him and haunt him in his sleep. He began to feel schizophrenic, torn, and more and more, a failure in two significant respects: as a partner, father, friend, child, and his mission to find Carina.
Excerpted from "The Twin Flames, the Master, and the Game"
Copyright © 2017 Richard Lanoix, MD.
Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
I can’t remember the last time I read a book and months later I was still thinking about it. Thank you, Dr. Lanoix for making such formidable subject so entertaining. I for one, feel more enlightened, and I’m looking forward to reading it again.
Nothing is as it seems. I loved Orfeo’s journey of love, light and darkness. Wonderful read!