at last the final insight is mine...
I want you to know the first insight right away: it is the power of coincidence or 'synergy.' More and more people will grow to a point where 'coincidence' is recognised consciously. For instance more and more spiritually aware bookbrowsers will have noticed the recent coincidence of a number of follow up books appearing overnight next to my bestseller. Many will have consciously seen the connection between Sellstons Prophecy and Sellstons2: The Cosmic ps. However it seems that millions have not yet reached the evolutionary stage to convert the connection and buy the follow ups. And so I must once again set off in search of yet more insights to try to bring about the cosmic shift and also shift the remaindered copies.
I must begin by climbing a vast and lonely mountain: the massive warehoused pile of unsold Sellstons2. I climb all day and finally make camp on a small ridge of Sellstons Prophecy Experiential Guides. I am approached by an old man. Together we sit and he teaches me to meditate, to help my plight. He teaches me that everything I see is really one. Ah only one remaindered copy left, that would be nice. Then I feel the vibration pulsing through me. But wait its really the whole pile caving in. At its core is a highly unstable unsold mass of The Shambalah Shambles by my dear evolved wife Barbie Dangerfield and its given way. I must find some other way to shift the pile.
And so I board a fully laden cargo plane headed for the developing world. Perhaps I can make a shift there: enlightenment by UPS. I must say a farewell to my dear Barbie. Two thousand miles out and we plummet towards the sea. Hours later I find myself on the deserted shoreline of a lost uncharted island. I lie there awhile, another washed up ex psychotherapist unable to share any intimacy with another human being, far from my beloved study.
And there, written crudely upon a rock was the final insight I sought. It said that some would reach such a pitch of spiritual evolution that they would disappear from the earth. This would happen when the spiritually advanced reached critical mass. For me though it said I had not reached critical mass but, because of too many potboiling followups I had reached a critical mess. The best I could hope for was to vanish into a woodbuilt mansion in Montana with a large study where I would be invisible to all of my critics. The horror of this insight sent me howling into the wind, calling again and again for my beloved Barbie so very far away.