An Explosion of Consciousness
Keith Joseph Chouinard
I experienced the Boston Marathon Bombing, the night before it happened, within a ‘psychic’ flash of vision. At the moment the vision occurred, I was in my kitchen, starting to stand up, as one of my friends walked into the room.
It was as if I, myself, exploded.
I stated to my friend, “I felt what seemed like a bomb go off. Yet I don’t know if it was somewhere right now, or if it is coming”. I wasn’t clear on what I had just experienced. I knew enough to know that it was not a creation of my own imagination and mind, but rather something from outside of me that connected to the core of my being for some reason.
I sat back down, feeling as if a bomb had just exploded within me.
I sat back down in my chair in the kitchen and allowed myself to breathe. I knew if I lost myself in the “what if’s” and “what do I do’s”, my senses would become more confused within what I had just experienced. I allowed myself the space to ‘let be’, to know that, if indeed I was supposed to do something, if I could do something, I would be guided by spirit to do so. I would see through to ‘the way’.
I had just experienced a sensory explosion of trauma and pain throughout my entire being. I was not sure what I had just seen. It came as fast as the explosion itself. What I saw exploded within me. It was the explosion itself.
Imagine yourself at a movie theater watching an extremely traumatic motion picture movie, that normally lasts for a couple of hours. Now imagine witnessing and seeing the movie all within a mere flash of a moment; seeing, feeling, reacting, within the effects of the movie, all within a fraction of a second; seeing the images, each frame of the movie, each scene of the movie playing out in front of you, but instead of playing out with your emotions over the time span of an hour or two, it hits you all at the same moment in time. It is an explosion of consciousness.
After you have given yourself some space to start to comprehend how that would feel, what it would be like, how you yourself would deal with it, consider the following: Imagine now that the film is being played, as normal, through the computerized projector behind you. The images are being projected from behind you onto the screen in front of you. There may be people all around you, watching this movie, as well. What you, yourself, see and feel from this movie, is your own experience of the movie. Though, you may also experience the feelings and reactions of others within the movie theater with you. That, as well, is woven into the fabric of the tapestry of your experience.
Now start to fathom the concept - that the film, the movie that is being played through the projector, is a multidimensional living/moving projection of time/space. This play of life unfolding is not a movie, it is not playing out in front of you, it is playing out within and all around you. It is as if the movie projector itself is within you. It is the alchemy of you. It is as real as you are. For some people, lost in illusions and allusion, it is more real than they can comprehend they are.
Do you realize that your dreams at night, that seem like they are an hour or so of time, are actually only mere moments of time? Our abilities of processing information is much different than many assume.
Within dreams states you normally are not conscious of the actual span of time. Within lucid dreams you realize you are conscious enough that you are dreaming, that you may have abilities to tweak and alter the dreams you are having. Some people mistake the abilities of lucid dreaming for what is known as a psychic vision.
The clarity of psychic visions can depend on the material within the person’s consciousness and sub-consciousness, their experiences and emotions that are used to form the content, images and sensations of the vision. The more clearly conscious a person is, the more they can see the actual vision without their own emotions or imagery blocking what is being seen into. They have to transcend their own projections to see. It is like learning to stop looking, so that you can see. When you learn to actually see, you become the one who is the seer.
Later that night
Later that night my friend made a random comment that he wished he could go to The Boston Marathon the next morning. My first reaction to myself was, “Why in the hell would he want to go there, and deal with the crowd of people, just to watch people run a race.” He stated that one of these years he would organize that day off to do it.
My reaction to him felt odd to me. I knew crowds of people can be a bit much for me, since I sense so much around people at times. I, myself, knew people that were going to be in the race. I was confused to my reaction to his comment. But I pushed the feeling of my reaction to him aside as fast as I entertained the peculiarity of it. Something did not feel right, but I did not comprehend what it was.
Being guided into clearer consciousness is not always about “doing something”, but rather often seems to just be about being. Fully being conscious, within societies that often have no desire to deal with the responsibilities of what it means to be truly conscious, is often a task of sheer will power in of itself.
I have had what others call: ‘psychic visions’ my whole life. Sometimes the more I see, the more I think I know; and the more I indeed do know, the more I realize how much I do not see, nor do I know. Dealing with the realities of it all as well, is not something that society and our cult-ure truly holds space for.
There are many times I know things that I cannot fathom how I know.
The next morning it happened.
The next morning I awoke and quickly got dressed to go out into the gardens in the back yard. I had an intent on spending the entire day out there. I wanted to ground my awareness and my connection to the Earth, within a day of working within the earthen ground itself.
At times my senses can be a whirlwind of activity, and that morning I was in full swing of seeing and sensing things I was not comprehending. I did not want to comprehend them. I was doing everything in my power to not pay attention to the world of people out there. I attempted to focus within myself, and my connection to the gardening that I was trying to accomplish.
I kept seeing flashes of things within my mind. I felt a death of a little boy, and I tried to block it. I told myself it wasn’t real. I didn’t want to feel that pain. I didn’t want to be aware of that pain.
I saw a flash of the face of a woman. I kept seeing the flash as if it were a picture in my mind. I could not block out the image of the woman. She looked much like someone I knew who was difficult to be around. I kept reacting within my emotions to the image, and my reactions to the thought of this person that I know who is difficult to be around. I kept asking myself why I was seeing this woman again, but I would not listen to any response. I just kept trying to block out what I was seeing. I did not want to deal with this. I did not know how to deal with this.
The image of the little boy was tucked deep inside of me. He resonated with the little boy in me. The pain I felt, when I saw his image, resonated with the pain of the little boy in me. Any thoughts of him, stayed much deeper in me than the images of the woman that kept flashing at me, as if from a newscast.
It got to the point that I could not garden. I had to go inside the house to distract myself and get a drink of water.
The TV was on as I walked in the house. The news of what had happened at The Boston Marathon was all over the news. My heart sank deeper than it already was. My consciousness cried out inside of myself, for the depths of the tragedies of people, and what we all go through, as we play out the drama of the karma of our incarnations.
It was all real.
The little boy was real. The woman was real. The images I saw flashing within my mind turned out to be the photos the news kept flashing when they knew who was killed. The photo of the woman I kept seeing flashing in my mind, indeed looked much like the other woman I knew.
Though, I was not seeing the woman that I knew, who had always been rude to me. I was actually seeing another apparently very nice woman, who had just been killed. The pain of what I was experiencing, and having a hard time comprehending, was real and was blending with the pain of my experiences with the other woman.
I suddenly realized that all that I was blocking from my consciousness was real. I was not just having an episode of imagination.
I have dealt with things like this my entire life. I have dealt with other people’s reactions to me, when I deal with these sorts of experiences.
Often if someone is not able to comprehend you, within their mind they believe it is you that does not make sense. Their own cognitive dissonance takes over to protect themselves from their own lack of comprehension. Their own sense of reality is in danger.
I have often learned not to speak, not to express myself, not to tell what I am sensing due to the ramifications if I do. I am also learning to speak, learning to dare speak the truths of what I, and others, see, and experience within life.
The Week After -
I spent the week after struggling to avoid the news, and at the same time to watch it to better understand what I was seeing and sensing.
I did not comprehend why I was seeing so many things that seemed to relate to this horrible tragedy. I seemed to know things already, when they were discussed on the news. I did not comprehend if the things I already knew were because I saw them within my visions of the bombing the night before, or if there were other reasons. Did I see the bombing when I was a small child as well? Why did I seem to know things around the bombing itself?
I spent the week pretty much in seclusion, opting to cancel any plans I had with other people, and just tried to ground my energies by working in my gardens as much as I could. It was spring time, and my gardens take over the entire yard. It is a big process each year to get them ready for the upcoming seasons. They are a grounding meditation process for me.
I kept seeing and feeling things that were not my feelings, nor having to do with me.
When the news reports showed the photos of the two young men that appeared to be behind the atrocity, I stopped and stared at the photos of the older brother, having feelings and thoughts run through me, that I did not understand. His name. When they spoke his name, it echoed within my mind. His name. Why did his name sound so familiar? Why did he look like someone I had met before? That face. It was as if I could see his face talking to me, as if he was standing right next to me. His face haunted me. His name haunted me. I did not want him to haunt me.
I would be in my gardens, and feel so much anger coming from the air itself. I was feeling the energy of reactivity all around me that was not mine. So much hatred from others was building up all around me. I tried to work with the energy, to hold light and love, and let the anger and hatred dissolve and ascend within the energy of love.
The reactive anger I was feeling was coming from the society at large all around. It was as if the energetic entirety of the population of the state of Massachusetts was in my back yard. Those people were not in my gardens with me, yet the energy of their reactivity, as they dealt with the drama that was unfolding, was so thick in the air it was deafening. The pain and suffering was becoming everyone’s trauma.
It seemed as if I spent more time going in and out of the house from the gardens than I actually spent in the gardens. I could not deal with being outside in the gardens, within the thickness of the air. I could not deal with being in the house and hearing the echo of everything I was feeling.
It was as if I could hear, what I imagined to be, black hawk helicopters flying all around me. Was I imagining them? I kept looking in the air, to see if I could see them above me. They were not above me, but it was as if they were within me. At the same time I felt as if I was in a boat, and I was just so confused. I was more confused, than my own confusion. I was feeling the confusion of someone else.
Why was I seeing and hearing helicopters? Why was I seeing a boat, as if it was a boat that had spent time on the ocean and not on the local pond in town? Was I seriously seeing and feeling the confusion and pain of the younger brother, who was being searched for?
What was I seeing? Why was I seeing it? I don’t think I wanted to know; I don’t think I knew how to comprehend what I seemed to know. It is hard enough dealing with these things, but knowing that society itself does not openly hold space for these realities, that I have experienced my whole life, makes it seem like the world is on/within your shoulders. We live within a society that does not know how to hold space for these truths, a society that would, and often does, harm others, by judging them insane, when it is the society that does not comprehend.
I am actually writing this so that I can see it more clearly. It has taken me a long time to be able to deal with the realities of this, to be able to address it in writing.
When you experience something so extreme that you need to write it out, to be able to consciously see what you have experienced, so you are not subjugated to it, it can bring freedom of consciousness to you, as well as those that may read and resonate with it.
It is the ascension of consciousness of society itself, of the collective consciousness of all, that is in process.
Over the week I would realize by seeing the news, that helicopters had been flown all over the Boston area, looking for the young man still at large. His brother, the one whose name just kept echoing in my head, had already been shot and killed.
The news told how it was as if the city itself was under a state of siege, just as I had been feeling in my gardens all week.
I would see on the news, that the younger brother was finally found hiding in a boat.
The next week, things started to feel so much better to me. I had space to breathe and not feel as much of the thickness of the reactivity of anger and hatred oozing from the air itself.
I was still confused as to why the older brother’s name kept ringing in my head, when it was mentioned on TV. The newscasts claimed, that there was talk that the bombers originally considered creating the bombs from fireworks.
Fireworks went off.
When I heard the word ‘fireworks’, it was as if fireworks went off within my consciousness. Why did that now make sense to me? Why did so much now start to make sense to me? It was making sense, but I did not comprehend how and why it was making sense. It was more than the fact that I saw the bombing the night before in a flash. I sensed and felt that there was more to this than what I had seen the night before. Was it that I saw this from my childhood? How much more did I know, that I was not conscious that I knew?
Seeing into ones subconscious/unconscious brings the unconscious conscious. It literally casts light into the darkness of the collective consciousness, of all of us.
I heard reports about the older brother and who he was, and even that supposedly he had stopped boxing because he didn’t believe in hurting others. How could that be true if he had committed such a horrible crime to others? Yet, why did I already seem to have heard before that he had stopped boxing for those reasons? Why did I seem to have awareness of him beyond what was in the news, as if some part of me already knew certain things? So many things I heard on the news stood out to me in ways I did not know how to comprehend.
Was I ready to comprehend them? Was I ready to deal with the reactivity of others regarding all this? Was I ready to deal with my own reactivity to this?
I dealt with the emotions of trying to figure out what I truly did know. Why did I know these things, and what, if anything, was I supposed to do about it?
Then the pieces of all the things that seemed to trigger reactions from me started to fill out a puzzle within my mind.
The puzzle pieces started to fit together into bigger chunks.
The older brother’s face felt familiar, because it felt like I had met him many months before. His name sounded familiar, because I had this strange memory of seeing his name on what I thought I remembered was a credit card that he had handed to me. He was trying to purchase something at a store I was helping in. I remembered his name, because to me it was a very different name for a man. At least it was a very different name for a man from the little town I lived in.
The mental image of me holding onto his credit card and looking at his name on it is emblazoned within my mind. I can see his credit card in my hand. I can see his credit card sitting on the counter as he continued talking. It is strange to me how long I held it, how long his credit card sat on the counter, before he finally took it back. His name on his card is an echo in my memories. I remember commenting on his name, and how unusual it seemed to me. I remember his reaction to me, for stating what I said.
There is confusion within my memories of the credit card. Was it declined? Or did I have an issue getting it through the first time, but it went through the second. I have memories of feeling embarrassment for him that it seemed to be declining. I have memories of him asking the woman with him for her card, or cash. I have a very odd memory of him making an off-hand comment, asking if she had a public library card to use, as if that would work. I have memories of thinking: ‘What does he mean by using a library card’. I have memories of her looking odd at him for that comment. I have memories of his credit card with a couple slips of credit card machine paper lying on the counter. Did the credit card machine print them off saying “declined” on them? Even if they were declined, they went through the credit card system. I remember seeing two small bags on the counter, one for each of their purchases. I vaguely remember what they each bought, that I put in their bags. I remember using two bags, since I really couldn’t tell if they were together or not. They seemed to be purchasing separately.
What seemed like memories kept coming back to me. I had to keep asking myself: “Are these true, or am I making this stuff up?” All my strange reactions from things I had seen or heard, kept making sense now, as the puzzle pieces seemed to fit together.
The story I was seeing was that the older brother came into a store I was at. I struck up a conversation with him, and he responded in interest to the things I started to discuss. I mentioned that I often see spirits around people, and have had psychic visions my whole life. He was very intrigued and wanted to know more.
I freely mentioned my abilities, since the store supported these types of awareness.
I told him various things about my life, about my beliefs. The woman who was with him told me that he used to be a very good boxer but stopped because he felt it was wrong to hurt others. He commented that she liked to tell everyone that story.
I told him about some of my visions and how my childhood was very difficult due to them. He mentioned to the woman with him that he should bring his younger brother in to meet me sometime, and that possibly I could help him, since his younger brother had certain issues that might be similar.
To me it felt like his younger brother might have issues with his energetic boundaries. For some reason I felt a connection to his younger brother, and I hadn’t even met him. It felt like his younger brother might be lost within what he was sensing, and the boundaries of what that meant for him and his future. I was told that he had issues with his dreams. I asked if his brother had dreams about the loss of his freedom. If I recall clearly, I asked if it had to do with a loss of his own control, and freedom over his life.
He seemed a bit irritated with my comments of what I thought I sensed about his brother’s dreams. For some reason I felt like I was hammering home my question and almost demanding that that was the truth, no matter what his reply to me was. He told me the dreams had nothing to do with what I said. He claimed that they had a sort of alien, extraterrestrial nature, to them. He changed the subject right after that, as if closing a door in my face, as I was confused as to what I, myself, was saying and why I was so adamant about it.
He continued looking around the store while making small talk. The woman with him looked like she must have been a girlfriend or someone close to him, though at the same time it almost felt like she was his sister or just a friend. Their connection did not make that much sense to me.
He went on to tell me that he and his brother were going to be in the Boston Marathon. I quickly thought: “Oh, are you going to run?”, though, I didn’t say it out loud.
Something about him and his brother running in the Boston Marathon didn’t make sense to my senses. I couldn’t ‘see’ them running a marathon. Granted, he seemed in shape, and I hadn’t a clue who his brother was, other than what I had already sensed about him. It just in a very odd way didn’t make sense to me that they would be running in the marathon. It didn’t make sense, and I knew it wasn’t true.
As quickly as all those thoughts triggered through my mind, he went on to explain: “Well, we are not running in it, we are setting off fireworks for it. We are giving a gift to the local community, well the whole world really, since it is a world-wide event.”
He stated: “You will hear about it on the news.”
I stood there confused. I was hearing so much from him that didn’t really make sense to me. I was hearing him say things, but I was sensing opposite things. My thoughts were speeding up as I was thinking: The Boston Marathon is during the day. Fireworks in the day time? Do people set off fireworks in the day time? Can you see them in the daytime? How can they ‘gift’ something like that to the city? That would cost a huge amount of money. Where would they get that kind of money to create a big display of fireworks?
What he was saying, did not makes sense with what I was sensing.
As I was trying to comprehend what he was saying about the fireworks, the woman with him asked him: “You are still going to do that? I thought you decided not to.”
I listened to him, but my senses could not make sense, that he could be speaking the truth. He came across as honest and sincere, though at the same time, it felt like he was lying. It was obvious to me that he was hiding things. I do my best not to ‘look into people’ out of respect for their privacy.
There were many things about him that did not measure up.
Strangely he seemed very good looking, yet at the same time there was something about him that was quietly disturbing in a potentially very ugly way. He felt like he could be dangerous, but I decided maybe it was just because he had been a boxer before. Possibly I was just seeing the aggression from when he used to box. I wanted to give him the benefit of not judging him, and I figured he was none of my business anyway.
He asked me more about the visions I have had in my life, and if they all came true.
It was like he was testing me for some reason. As if I might see something in particular.
He asked me about reincarnation, and my thoughts on that. He didn’t seem to appreciate some of the things I stated about reincarnation and karma. He didn’t seem to believe some of the things I stated. But I am used to that, so it didn’t matter to me.
He asked me if I could see spirits around him. I told him that I normally need the right boundaries to do that. I need to be grounded and feel safe myself, to be able, or willing, to do it. I stated that if I do see something, sometimes it is more than people want to deal with.
I started to ‘look’ to ‘see’ if I could sense spirits around him. Part of me felt like I should not look into him. There felt like danger. It seemed that he was testing me for some reason. I stepped back within myself to find space for my own being. I stepped back to breathe.
He didn’t seem to put too much merit into some of the things I said about myself. It felt like he didn’t believe I had some of the experiences that I claimed to have. It seemed like he wanted me to perform some magic trick for him, to prove myself to him. I certainly know that we cannot prove consciousness to another. One’s own abilities of being conscious comes from within themselves. It is a common reaction to me from others.
To this day I question, that as I stepped back into my own being, if a protective spirit appeared in front of me, to veil me, and to block what I was starting to see into from him.
If my memory is correct. If I am not adding to it with my imagination to make sense of all these images, thoughts and feelings, I stood back for a few moments and observed him and the woman that was with him.
The memory, real or not, that I have that comes next, comes as if from a dream state within me. It comes as if from another state of ego other than mine. It is a memory of hearing a voice, my voice, a voice through me, or directly in front of me possibly, speaking to him.
The voice is telling him that he is going to die soon. He will die if he continues with his plans. He may die regardless to his plans. He is going to die sooner than he thinks. His younger brother may or may not die, but he does not have to die. He can help him, so he does not die, if he so chooses.
The voice I hear is offering reasoning. The voice is offering compassion. The voice I hear is attempting to hold the space of light, within a realm of darkness. The voice seems beyond me.
The voice I hear in return, the voice from the older brother, is not concerned about the younger brother’s future. For some reason he himself, thinks he knows best. For some reason he is putting himself before his younger brother. Yet at the same time, it appears he thinks he is offering a gift to others. He believes his gift will help humanity to see what is going on in the world. He thinks he can help bring an awakening to freedom. He does not see he is awakening to the freedom of death. He does not comprehend that death and destruction only creates death and destruction.
Within these images and sounds, I do not see the reasoning of the older brother. Possibly, there truly is no reasoning. Possibly, there is only unconscious darkness. Possibly I was being protected/blocked from seeing something much more sinister with him.
I do know that there is a hypnotic trance of illusions that has cast a spell on the cult-ures of the societies of the world, that they have allowed themselves to be subjugated to.
The current economic paradigm of society seems bent on destroying society itself, all in an effort to save the economic paradigm that is cannibalizing the society that it claims to be in support of.
Like the snake that devours its tail and thus itself, when I look into this, these memories, these possible imaginations of realities, the synchronicity of this and my life, tells me that all this is saner than the illusions of the world around me.
As we hold space, the space of consciousness, we become fully conscious in the process.
Holding space for the consciousness of ourselves.
I had already lived a life of many strange experiences. I have had what people call ‘psychic visions’ my whole life. I would see things within visions, that would then later play out in front of me - or within the world itself - as I deal with all that I sense.
As a small child, I had occasions where I saw into most of my life ahead in visions. Much of what I did not see, ahead, was because I was traumatized by what I was seeing in the visions - and I tried to look away from the visions. I tried to look away from my own being.
As a small child I saw into a life I would have of others not comprehending me. I saw ahead that others would disbelieve, not be able to comprehend, the visions I myself experienced. I saw that others would mistreat me, because they would know no better. I foresaw that others would judge my life, and attempt to block and control my own consciousness, with their own lack of comprehension.
I experience profound times in which I am literally walking through the experiences, I have already seen happen when I was a child. I had seen many world events unfold in my visions as a child. For as a child, I had visions of seeing myself watching the world news, on television, throughout my life, seeing those events unfold.
In my visions from childhood, not only did I see myself at various states of my life, but, I felt and experienced many, if not all of the feelings and traumas I was to go through, before they happened in the physical world. I had a first hand introduction to many if not all of the ego states of consciousness, that I myself would live and grow through. I saw myself within visions at various ages of my life, and could not comprehend how I would become that man. I could not fully fathom who that man was. I was not happy with that man. That man was not happy. He was in deep trauma and pain. Then I started to see into what appeared to be my past lives, or at least other lives that have come before me, that teach me from the experiences of their lives.
As a small child I foresaw and felt, the emotional and psychological trauma I would experience within my life, before I even had to endure it.
I suffered pre-post traumatic stress disorder, because I could not see a way through the trauma. Not only could others not hold space for the truths of my experiences, they did not know how to hold space for the truths, of who they truly were and are.
We are at a cross roads, and it is all coming around again.
Society is learning to hold space for these truths, that all of us deal with. The ascension of consciousness, of society and the human race, is transcending the illusions and outright lies - that have controlled us all.
My closest friends have come to understand my experiences as best they can. My friends experience for themselves, the realities of the events, as they witness me first hand, learning to comprehend what I experience in front of them. I have friends that seem to remember knowing me within their past lives as well.
I have met many friends that have psychic experiences themselves. I am well aware I am not alone. I am no more special than another, though many are not conscious of how special they truly are at the core of their being. How could they, when society itself - does not hold space for this?
I know many may not accept these things right away, or ever. I know many will attempt to abuse me within their own lack of comprehension. I feel their abuse, regardless to my speaking or not. I comprehend the repercussions of cognitive dissonance. They do not know who they truly are, themselves, as they exist within illusionary lives. Forgiveness and love, is the only sane response to have.
It has been suggested that I wait before I allow others to read these things. Some may consider I am plying for acceptance, or somehow cashing in on the attention of the trial. It has taken me this long to deal with all that I experienced regarding these events.
In writing these things down I have learned to better see what I, myself, experienced, and the ramifications of what that means.
It would appear that the woman with the older brother apparently knew more than she herself was capable of dealing with, within a relationship she seemed to have no control of.
The younger brother faces the death penalty, because he knew no better, because he listened to the guidance of his older brother - that knew no better. Could I have helped the younger brother, if I was given a chance?
Many cannot comprehend why they did these horrible crimes. Within a one dimensional thought structure, the motives are lost if a person cannot comprehend that the perpetrators thought they were doing the right thing. It takes the space of consciousness, of a multidimensional state of consciousness, to grasp that they knew no better and thought, for some reason, that they were doing the right thing.
To transcend and overcome these things, to limit or stop them from happening again with others, we need to comprehend and address their sense of reasoning, to bring light to reasoning, so others can see and know better.
There is no sense to senselessness, though there is a path that is taken to get to that place of lacking reasoning.
We hold space for what is a war crime, and what is not a war crime, yet many fail to recognize - that all war is a crime. Society will continue to bring horrors to its doorsteps, until society learns to hold space for the ascension of consciousness.
How can we expect people to speak their truths, if we cannot trust society to not harm us - when we do?