I started exploring spirituality at a very young age. By the time I was six years old, I was already on a quest to find out where we went after we died. I had begun experiencing premonitions and ESP (extra-sensory perception), which was a very popular concept in the 1970s.
When I was 12, I learned lucid dreaming as a way to awaken my consciousness. I read every book I could find at the library on dreams, paranormal phenomena, astral projection, life after death, past lives, spirit guides, and more.
Looking back now, I realize I always felt this life was some kind of dream and that my real consciousness was somewhere else, having this dream.
At 15, I started astral projecting. Knowing my consciousness could exist outside my body only further cemented my belief that we are spiritual energy living in a human construct.
That’s when things started to unravel, and not in a good way. For two years I eagerly dedicated my free time to lucid dreaming and astral projection. I would come home from school and immediately take a nap so I could lucid dream. I was projecting three to four nights a week.
I marinated in consciousness. I encountered other beings while astral projecting. I was living in a whole other world that didn’t involve being Erin—the human girl in high school studying biology and geometry. That life began to bore me. I wanted to explore the cosmos and consciousness, because it was vastly more interesting to me.
In essence, I started to unplug myself from the matrix and reconnect with my soul—my consciousness. I didn’t want to be in a physical body. I wanted to be in my energetic body.
But this had harmful effects. I slept far more than a person should. I developed panic disorder and anxiety. I was checking out of my life as often as possible and going on spiritual journeys that felt more real than my human reality.
The more I moved away from my human life, the harder it became to live in this world. I would look at other people and see them as asleep. They seemed to have no idea that this place wasn’t real—that it was just a projection or simulation.
I would ask my friends, “Don’t you see that the body you’re in is just a shell? Don’t you realize we’re in an illusion? Don’t you want to know who you really are?” Most of them looked at me like I was riding the crazy train to the loony bin.
Life started to feel fractured. I lost the ability to function in society and became agoraphobic.
That’s when I had a conversation with a good friend who had also been on a strong spiritual journey. I told him what was happening to me and that I didn’t know what to do.
This is what he said:
“You’re right about consciousness and this life being largely an illusion. But guess what? You signed up to be here, in a physical body, to have a human experience—and now you’re trying to change the nature of the deal. Your physical body and your physical mind are not equipped to wake up while you’re still plugged in. It’s like taking a regulator out of your mouth while scuba diving underwater and expecting to breathe. Of course it’s going to be painful. Of course you’re going to lose your mind. You cannot breathe water.”
The analogy made sense to me. I asked, “So what am I supposed to do? Forget I’m a spirit having a human experience? How am I supposed to ignore what I know?”
He replied, “You’re not going to forget. You’re going to plug back into your human existence and play the game you signed up for. You’re going to follow the human rules: eat, breathe, sleep, get a job, have a family. This will bring you back to equilibrium. And when you’re done playing in the human playground, you’ll go back to the ether and you can be pure consciousness there. Quit trying to hack the program or you’ll go insane.”
He reminded me that I was in a physical body, and that my soul had to vibrate at a frequency that could be contained by it.
So that’s what I did. I plugged back in.
What did that look like?
On a metaphorical level, I stopped trying to take the regulator out of my mouth. I explored the “ocean” of life that I had come to Earth to see. Instead of trying to prove water wasn’t really water, I focused on what the ocean was trying to show me.
I focused on my studies, my relationships, getting a job, and having a family. I didn’t stop exploring and studying consciousness and spirituality, but I did it from inside the matrix instead of trying to wake up while still in a human body.
I came to recognize that the human experience is a gift—something to be cherished and explored in and of itself, not something to push aside or awaken from.
We will spend far more of our existence in the ether, outside of physical reality. So while we are here, I now understand the value of really being here. There are things we can only experience inside this simulation. You chose to be in physical reality—so be here.
I was able to successfully plug back into the matrix and stop losing my mind. I hope that if you are experiencing something similar as you explore consciousness, you remember not to take that regulator out of your mouth. Drowning won’t help your physical or spiritual self.
