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Hey guys,

I am very much an intuitive reader, i.e. I read what my intuition leads me to read.  I've gobbled up things from Tolkien's writing to writing on spirituality/philosophy, etc.

In the last half-year there are two books which I've read which have heavily shaped me.  They are great books for opening your horizon to new thoughts, if you have been used to very religiously rigid parameters.

The first book is called, "The Biology of Transcendence" by Joseph Chilton Pearce.  He is also the author of the book, "The Crack in the Cosmic Egg".  You may be able to get it online from the publisher if you go to http://www.innertraditions.com, but I picked it up at Chapters in Canada.  
Essentially, this book shows you how the human spirit is intricately linked with our biology.  The most interesting idea in it is about the development of the frontal lobes as structures where we can operate separate from our reality-based perceptions, much like we see "enlightened people" doing.  The book blew me away because it is so full of comparisons to the words of Jesus (Pearce uses him as a model throughout as the ideal enlightened being) and the biological evidence that has emerged recently.

The second book is called "The Jesus Mysteries" by Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy.  This book is for those who want to see the value of Christianity as a metaphor.  If not, then this book will seriously test one's faith.  The authors, with stunning (and I mean STUNNING...must be about 5000 footnotes in the back to refer to!) diligent research and very good flow/direction, go through the entire Jesus story and the history of the developing church to show how evidence suggests that it was just a modification of the perennial dieing/resurrecting God-man who in Egypt was known as Osiris, and in Greece was known as Dyonysis.  The book really makes you think, and is very well presented.

Anyway, if you've already read it and would like to add feedback, please do, or if you haven't and have additional questions, if you post here I'll tell you more.


Happy reading!

Graeme

eHey guys,
I'm net to this forum, this section seems like a very good place to share writing.  This poem is from a book I've published, thought I'd share it to get some feedback (and free advertising! lol).

It's called "Despair":


There is no hope -

I am an empty vessel,

My sails are torn and tattered,

My oars have been lost in the water

Far behind.


The wood is cracked all about me,

And slowly the water is filling in;

I am sinking

Deeper, deeper

Into a sea of despair.

Battered by defeat,

I see no reason to stay afloat.

I have seen the calm beneath,

Where things float by

Peacefully,

And the storm cannot reach me;

Where the sun is a phantom light.

So quiet down there;

Why not go?

For there, time forgets me,

And the unseen things of this world

Will build upon me

A monument of a former time now forgotten.

What am I but a ship,

Alone,

Floating without direction,

Just one of many in an endless sea,

Doomed to sink like the others.

Why should I hope

To come to the land I seek

When there is no wind,

And my entirety is falling apart?

But I cannot forget the crafter

Who built the boat

With care for every detail,

Who set me upon the water

When I left his dock.

I cannot remember his parting words,

For I was asleep when I left;

And then I awoke on the sea

Far away.

I had only the birds to guide me,

And only the rare islands of happiness

In the sea of sorrow

Brought me sustenance,

That I might go on

Further

To where I am led.

Yet with each day,

I see the sun over the water,

And far off,

I know there is land.

Not just an island with limits,

Which will sustain me only for a time,

But which will sustain me endlessly,

For all time,

In ways which I can only dream of.

In the darkness

When the water pours in,

I think to sink myself

In the dolorous depths;

But then morning comes,

And I cannot believe how foolish I was:

For the sunrise

Is so beautiful

That hope returns from its hibernation

And walks inside me again.

How strange indeed

That at times the dark can be so thick,

So great

That the sun is forgotten.

I must remember,

That a storm has but a season,

But the sun ever burns;

My spirit never sleeps,

Even when the soul weeps.