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My friend Heidi sent me this today. She is a good friend of William Bagley, who is somehow the Source of this Story. I have never met him, but through Heidi I know Mr.Bagley and I have a common Passion: He calls it Physical Immortality and I call it Life Everlasting; because it really is a question of living so fully in the Now and fully in Love and Light that immortality (of the body) happens as a Natural Consequence to this Eternal Now. It's a "Bonus", so to speak! : )

Heidi also knowsthat this Subject matter happens to my very favorite topic !

I will give you more to read about this "Whole Thing" very soon. (I have a lot of it written already, but I have to organize it a little. So... come back soon again to read even more "off the beaten path" -way off! ... : ) Thoughts / Insights about REAL TRUTHS , that has been "hiding" in plain sight for so long!...

I do get the feeling that Bagley wrote this Story "as a Story", but quite frankly; it could very well be based on some Real Life Story, he heard from someone!

I know people, who visit Immortals every year! One of these people is Leonard Orr, one of the first, and most famous of the group of people, who has devoted their whole life to wake up this Cosmic Truth and Understanding of "how it is possible" .In terms of Physics so simple, so it is laughable, but in terms of braking away from our System of Slavery -also popularly called "The World" (by Jesus , in His "Neck of the Woods" and Times ) Later called "The Establishment"and /or "The Mainstream".... ahhhh there's more names to this lour own Prodigal Son Story!... But make no mistake, this being so simple that a child can understand it, doesn't make it to a piece of cake to attain quite yet at this point of our Common Agreement of "what Life Is"!.... On the other hand; we'll never get there, unless we who can see the TRUTH about this very Topic don't start sharing our Knowledge more and more and, engaging more and more people as they get their curiosity awakened about this all, so to speak.

Maybe some of you -maybe YOU- will catch on and grasp the Truth /REALITY of these Cosmic "Secrets".

Enjoy and amaze!

 

"He had heard that somewhere in the Himalayas there was a person who had lived 360 years. He had heard of such legends before and easily discounted them. But this one has struck him differently. It was partly the bits of story about this person that had a ring of truth. It was partly that he was at a juncture in his own life where it felt more revelant that someone could have attained something not so usual. He also had some extra money and time. He was tired of investigating the usual stories that made the news. He was tired to reporting on another scandal, another scam, another illicit affair that seemingly afronted family values. He was tired of digging up dirt on yet another politician. He was jaded from all this and felt, like many of his generation, rather cynical about finding anyone who might be a genuine hero. Yet by chance when investigating a crisis in India, he met a person who was visiting a religious festival in India. He was from a remote village in the Himalayas, somewhere west of Nepal, pretty far from even what maps usually cover well. The person seemed peaceful enough, had a glow to his eyes. He talked of his family, his beloved wife that he missed a lot, how she could not come with him this time, but maybe next time she would, after some family matters were taken care of. There was something pedestrian about his concerns. He did not go much into Shiva and Shakti, Atman and Brahman, and all the usual things of Hindu spirituality. Nor did he negate those things with the more dynamic Buddhist model. It seemed like he lived quite happily simply in his village and only rarely left, mainly for this one festival which happened about every four years. He would stay with some relatives and catch them up on life in his village. This did not take long either, because life rolled along pretty much the same from year to year there. But in the conversations, the reporter had, the villager mentioned an immortal, someone who had attained soruba samadhi. It was a mastery of pranayama, a deep concentration, and movement of prana into a central spinal channel, and a holding in a space somewhere between time and eternity such that the body participated in the enlightenment and not merely the mind only. It was a deeper level of mind that is healed then, because the body reflects the subconscious mind and what it holds. When this layer of mind is cured, the body does not age and die.
It seemed that the village quietly practiced what this immortal taught and a few of them were shifting as well. Some still aged and died, though the average lifespan of the village was somewhere around 120 years. A few of them were moving past 150 years old. They were not afraid of aging and dying. They were not striving for immortality either. They were in agreement that it was an important evolutionary direction and consented to the healing that would allow this to happen.
The immortal would, from time to time, come down from his mountain hut and teach a few exercises. There was nothing too extraordinary about his teachings. He would show a yoga asana from time to time or show a way of breathing or some combination. It seemed that what he taught was relevant to what was needed to be heard. Perhaps this was what made his teaching different from the more mass produced ways of working with the body. There was no routine to memorize and follow, but a sensitivity and mindfulness, some precision in how to hold the body, and a willingness to shift emotionally as a result of the kriya.
The villager looked at the reporter, asked him if he wanted to try something. The reporter could tell that the villager noticed something and recalled something taught by the immortal, consented to the healing that the asana promised. Very shortly he cried deeply, which surprised him a lot, and released something about a divorce which happened to him some five years ago. He noticed that he tried to be too strong and walled up these feelings. He realized he hurt a lot from having lost her and did not try hard enough to make it work. He saw how he let her slip away and pretended that all the problems were hers, but that she was only trying to deal with the things that were coming up. He could feel a shell dropping away in the kriya. The world started feeling more colorful and beautiful again, like it was in his childhood, in its better times. Some wonder came back. He wanted to learn more. The villager insisted that he did not know all that much and suggested the reporter come for a visit to his village and perhaps journey to meet the immortal.

He took a helicopter to land in the village. He was getting older and he did not want to hike the lost distances involved in getting there. Even so, the copter had to refuel three times before getting to the location. The pilot said he would come back in three months as agreed. Each refueling stop felt further away from civilization. Although the village was actually not that far away from civilization when you measured the distance on a map, it felt this way psychologically. Other places were literally farther away, but felt more conneced to civilization. He could feel the energies shift as he went deeper into the territory where the village was. At first he dismissed his feeling, as he had always done in his life, but with each refueling stop he could feel the energy strong. It felt palpable, tangible, physical. He would even call it real. He could already understand why the villager slightly frowned when the reporter had talked about the Hindu belief that the world is maya, illusion, or a shadow puppet dance. He could feel that the physical world felt even more real to these villagers. With every kriya that they moved through, the colors were brighter, the sounds richer, and the heart more happy. Ordinary love between a man and a woman became the dance of shiva and shakti simply by being what it was meant to be. It was ecstatic and ordinary. Stirring oatmeal in the morning and chopping firewood became intimacies of love and connections to life. The reporter saw how there was a sense of escape in many religions that pointed to life somewhere else. Some heaven, some other dimension, some other planet, some internal head space, but never here and now, never when you wiggle your feet in the mud or stick your tongue out to catch raindrops on a stormy day. The villagers were inhabiting their bodies. They felt at home here on Earth. The reporter could feel that he was the alien visitor because he had alienated so much.

The village was not too far from a few battles that were happening in Afghanistan. Inspite of the official version of the story, which located the battles further west or even denied the battle was happening at all, the gunshots and explosions were sometimes heard about a days hike from the village westward. The reporter realized that the battles were still very far away and felt the sounds of the battle were coming from another world. The peace of the village was not merely the absence of conflict, it was a presence of something. It seemed to absorb the sounds of the battle, contain them in some way. The reporter realized that the gunshots were not really very loud either. It was only by contrast with an immense natural silence that they were felt. The noisy rumble of the cities he had lived in would have easily muffled these gunshoots even a few blocks away.

The gunshots made him a little nervous and so he automatically and habitually stuck a cigarette in his mouth. The villagers quietly noticed this act and gave it some profound attention. They did not judge, though some surprise and curiousity came from some. They did not say anything. But the reporter could feel a sense of violation, how the cigarette smoking did not fit the integrity of this space, this world, this environment, this natural order. It did not make any sense to smoke his cigarette and use a toxiic substance to calm a toxic event. Not when the peace was strong and nourishing all around. He could feel something akin to an ogranic shame inside his body about his habit. He found it was not hard to drop his addiction in this energy and presence. He felt he was aligning with himself and with life, honoring something simple and basic. It felt insane to do otherwise. He was surprised at how pale all his rationalizations were in this space. He had cleverly turned the tables on many who tried to convince him to quit. Yet without saying anything, the villagers helped him drop it away completely. If he was attempted, the feeling of violation stopped him from indulging. There was a knowing that it would do no good to smoke. And so he did not. He wondered if all unwholesome habits could be dropped this easily and simply.

He found that the village had no meat dishes for food. He went to the one place where guests could eat meals. There was no menu, but there were some choices. He still was not used to the language. The cook smiled and said, "Trust me." Very shortly four dishes came. One had a legume, some kind of bean. Another had some green vegetables which seemed lightly steamed, but still crunchy to the taste. Another had a small amount of grain. Another had some fruit. Only the beans were thoroughly cooked, the other dishes were heated. Very little flavoring. There was a kind of fermented liquid like vinegar, but somewhat sweeter. He found that pouring this on the beans and letting it sit for a while (he was learning from copying the villagers) allowed the beans to digest more easily. No gas. He also chewed more slowly and found his hunger was never as much as he thought it was. His taste buds seemed to come back to life. He found that he just liked eating the vegetables straight, simply prepared, with no spices at all, save the "enzyme brew" as he came to call it.
He felt stronger. He noticed his body cleansing itself, purging toxins from eating too much food, too much spices, and generally overworking his body. He found his body liked eating less food, liked to cleanse, and only wanted proteins when it was done with cleansing. He found that vegetable food was enough. No meat, no dairy, no eggs, nothing from the animal realm. Even though some books said that people in the mountains needed to eat meat to be healthy, he found the healthiest people he had seen among these vegan villagers. But it was not merely that they did not eat anything animal, it was a consciousness about life, food, and spirit. They included their bodies. They lived inside their body.
They did not plan to go elsewhere. They trusted that life would give them what they needed. They did not crave more than this. They fed on the beauty of the world that surrounded them. Their houses were woven into the landscape. The village was almost hidden because of how it blended in. The houses were cave like, with only the windows, doors, and chimneys showing.

He noticed that the chimneys were rarely used and commented on this. The answer he got was about "Tumo heat yoga". It seemed that these budding immortals practiced "whatever works" and did not care whether the method in question was Hindu, Buddhist, Taoist, Christian, Islamic, Jewish, or Sufi. Those divisions meant nothing to them. What works was all that mattered. They were used to methods that worked fast, like the first kriya the reporter had experienced. The method was modified from the original Tibetan, being more streamlined and powerful, but the borrowing was still noticeable. He felt three of them do "breath of fire" in a cold house and soon it was warm again. They said that they were learning to "bring their heat" with them and let go of relying on chimneys and stoves. They said that they had nothing against them and on very cold winters still found them useful or when someone was sick. Some recipes still needed cooking and the stoves would be good for this too.

The reporter did get sick once, catching a virus that the villagers were immune to. He generated a fever. The villagers came and lay hands upon him. He could feel warm energy flow through them. They came in groups of four, each holding the same places. Every two hours another group of four would come. A woman came with an herbal broth. Something warming like ginger was in it, but was more from the local region. It was a little salty. He noticed that most of their food was not salty. One villager said that everything has its place, the body knows how to balance everything if we listen, you need salt now, because you are sweating a lot of it, the other herbs will help the body do what it is already doing. In a short while, he was well again. Actually, better than well, better than he had felt in a very long time. Having an illness was a special blessing in this village. It was an opportunity to deeply heal. He had heard of illnesses being gifts, but thought it was a pie in the sky wishful thinking, but in this village it was simply real, it had something to do with what the body wants and what the body does. The body was a beautiful mystery, more than clothes you cast off your soul, more like something we inhabit like a home. The body plugged into life.

The reporter could feel himself changing. He was crying all kinds of neglected tears and feeling strangely happier. He could feel himself plugged into the landscape, at last at home in the world. He could feel the rain, wind, sun, sky, air, lakes, birds, animals, and plants. He could feel a physical oneness with it all. It did not feel shadowy, but more real than ever before. He could see that he was a ghost wandering around a world he barely touched, but now he was in a material world imbued with the sacred. Every rock was sacred. All was Divine. It was not in any nebulous pantheistic way, but concrete. It was not a philosophy. It did not need to be argued. It needed to be felt. The philosophy was okay. It explained it okay. But it was like a ghost reporting about what nonghosts feel. He had resurrected back into his body, into life his life in the body. He felt his body as a home for the first time.

He finally travelled with one of the villagers to meet the immortal. He was much like the villagers. The reporter could tell that the immortal did not stand apart from the villagers, but was strangely with them all the time. He prefered aloneness and silence. He was smiling peacefully and "breathing" when the reporter came to see him. The reporter was getting more sensitive each day. He could feel the immortal "running energy" through his body. He learned a lot in this moment just respectfully and silently noticing what the immortal was doing. Every breath mattered. It was relaxed, conscious, and full. There was a rhythm, but it never got robotic or habitual. It always had intention inside, yet there was no strain in trying to do something. Every breath with a complete act without failure. Nothing was left behind undone. There was a playful quality and a disciplined quality gently merged together. He looked more ecstatic than the wildest party animal he had ever saw.

The immortal opened his eyes and greeted the reporter. There was no "air of being a guru". The immortal was not an authority in the sense of wanting to be obeyed or needing to be obeyed or obeying is what you should do. There was a simple human energy to the immortal, perhaps more of this simple energy because he was in the body and being alive as a human. He spoke a matter of factly about what it meant to be immortal and how to do it, and how to shift into soruba samadhi, what the process, what to eliminate, and what to realize. He spoke with the same kind of knowingness that a plumber has about pipes or a brick layer about bricks.
The reporter could see that all the years of religious, political, and philsophical education or conditioning made it hard to hear the simple messages that the immortal was giving. Although some of the asanas seemed complex, the essential point was simple. There are knots in the physical body that hold emotions. The asanas unblock them. You feel the emotion. You let it move to completion and you are done. The asanas assist breath and sometimes a mantra or sound will assist the process too. The reporter courageously asked what his faults were. The immortal said that there are two kinds of faults. Ones that block the process and ones that do not block the process. He said that you do not really have to pay attention to the faults that do not block the process, because the process will eliminate them. One day you will simply notice that they are gone. The faults that block the process do not need attention either, if you do the process, you will meet them and eliminate them as you refine your method. In other words, just do the methods.

The reporter was curious why the immortal was still practicing if he had already attained. The immortal smiled and said, "There is always more." The reporter understood that the realization of an immortal is alive like life. It is not a frozen realization or a trophy you can put on the wall and admire. It is more like a plant that still needs watering and attending but is already mature. Much to the surprise of the reporter, the immortal was fascinated with technology and wanted some things to improve the village. He felt that good technology is about "efficiency", about improving and streamlining effort to produce the most results for the least amount of time and energy. The reporter used his radio and made some calls, got some supplies, and made a gift to the village that fit what the immortal envisioned. A few solar panels appeared, some electric lights, and an electric pump all got woven into the village. The reporter realized that the village did not charge money for his stay among them. They said if anyone makes it to their village, they are welcome to stay. However, at some point in time they expected a person to help till the fields or otherwise work to keep the give and take balanced. Everyone helps each other here. The work is not hard. It does not take too long each day. The second half of the day is almost always free, except during harvest season where everyone is expected to work very hard so that the winter rest is possible. The reporter did not mind. It felt good to work this way.

One time he was very sore and was pushing himself very hard to help. The villagers noticed this and said, "Just rest and come back when you are feeling better". He laid down and did his Tumo heat practice, and within an hour he felt better and came back, and did more work more easily than if he just pushed through the work and tortured himself, and usually when he pushed through he made more mistakes. The villagers rarely needed to rest. They were used to the labor and found it easy. But if they needed to rest, they would. There was a common sense to their values. He found the values very healing and very body honoring.

He had a few talks with the immortal. They did not last very long. The immortal said he was learning on a another level. He was learning through the body. The learning was beyond words and theories. But words were okay too, as long as they did not substitute for the deeper living process. Words could help.The reporter got really fired up about "physical immortal philosophy" and was having a lot of heady realizations. All the philosophies of the world started to feel pale, just a lot of words woven together, but not body learning. The immortal listened intently as he talked about all he had learned. The immortal nodded and said, "You are learning it in your body. Yes! Yes!". He smiled. End of story. One time the reporter was talking on his radio and got stumped when a person said, "Why live forever in the body?" He asked the immortal why he chose to live forever in the body and the immortal responded, "I love life. Take it day by day. I get healthier and more energy each day. Cannot die. Why make it happen artificially?"

The reporter stayed for six months and knew, in his body, that he had to leave. He was tempted to live in this village forever, but knew he had to go and be a part of his own life, mission, and world. The villagers smiled and pointed to his heart, "Always connected, we are." When he checked in with the immortal, he expressed some worry about losing what he had gained. The immortal smiled, "It is inside your body. You cannot lose it." He then added, "The village is not the whole world. You are always welcome back when you need to rest."

The reporter went back to his world. It felt a little more insane than before. He could feel the disconnect between body and mind in nearly everyone he met. He could feel how they had bought into death as the final disconnect. There were wars blowing up bodies and yet no one seemed to really like having bodies. Even so, they would cry at funerals. When he had enough of this, he had another knowing in his body, and decided to come back to the village, to live there. He brought a lot of things with him, everything he could for that matter. He brought solar panels, satellite uplinks, and books. They were well received and well used. The village adopted quickly to his gifts. The villagers learned to navigate the internet pretty fast. They seemed to share their learning among themselves. What one learned, all learned. A few others would come to be with them. Some came because the reporter had written articles about "Immortality and Loving the Earth". A small greenhouse appeared to help start the plants early before the winter cold ended. The body wisdom seemd to create the village. People just knew where to build and how to build. Very little discussion was needed.

The reporter came to visit the immortal more often when he came back. He did not feel a need to have question by then. He just came and sat with the immortal. He found others would do this often as well. One time he saw the immortal, "Flash in and out." The immortal would suddenly look transparent. His body could be seen through, and then it would be "solid" again. A few times, he would completely disappear and reappear. When the reporter asked what was happening, he got a curious answer. The villagers have been watching movies through the internet and saw "Star Trek". The immortal said it was a very good show, especially without the commercials. He said he had learned about the "teleporter" from the show. But he noticed that all the technology was "externalized". There was a belief that the body could not learn how to do its own teleportation. Yet inside the body are "molecular machines" that can do what bigger machines can do. If a microchip can run a whole computer, why cannot the genetic machinery of each cell learn how to do what machines can do? This was an answer that the reporter did not expect. Not only did immortal talk for more than a few sentences, but he also mentioned both learning and Star Trek. The thoughts were speculative and modern, yet seemed less theoretical one day when the immortal did teleport a few miles away and waved at the villagers from a nearby hill. The immortal would also sometimes levitate and fly across the sky. When asked how he did this, he said, "Mastering prana, focusing thought intention, trusting life."

The battles came very close to the village one day. A number of the people, including the reporter and the immortal (this word was meant less literally be then, because two other villagers had now lived to 180 and showed no signs of approaching death and therefore were considered immortals too, both of them claimed they had soruba samadhi) went down to the battlefied after the fighting was over. They laid hands on the wounded and revived many of them. Some of them asked whose side they were on and if they believed in Allah. The villagers said, "We are on the side of life and believe in the One". This seemed to be enough for the fallen soldier, though he noticed that the villagers were healing the bodies of both sides of the battle. The villagers had healed them enough so that they could go home. Three of the soldiers, two from one side and one from the other, were taken to the village because they were near death. Once again, four villagers came at a time and continued to "send energy" until they were well. One of them chose to stay in the village, left and came back with his family. The other two respected the village wish that they do not fight each other until they moved beyond a certain distant mountain. They actually made peace with each other and both of them quit fighting.
There was a "body wisdom", a kind of cellular resonance, that made the toughest prejudice feel different and more able to be released. It had to do with "evolution", of outgrowing old ways, learning in harmony with all of the same species and even more. The reporter could feel the soldiers feeling it, feeling its unspoken code, and needing to honor it. The reporter found later that both of them renounced hatred and fighting. One became a doctor and the other became an herbalist. They became email pals and kept up correspondence. They both tried to navigate for peaceful solutions in their respective countries. They did not succeed too much in changing the policies of their governments, but were successful in keeping the village outside the boundaries of their battles. Every now and then, a wounded soldier would find his or her way to the village and be healed. They would usually choose to stay. The village was slowly growing. It eventually even had its own helicopter. It came as a gift from an officer who got healed. The officer eventually retired to the village later in his life. The copter allowed trade for supplies. Even with more interaction with the world, the village seemed to keep its identity. It was because of the body and their unity in body connection and body learning.

The reporter asked the immortal, "Will the world change?" The immortal smiled and said, "Yes, it will and it must. Just a matter of time." The reporter could feel the truth of this. It came back again to this body learning and body connection. He saw how people changed around the village energy and the village energy changed around the immortal. It was a slow, gentle, natural evolution. One day, the immortal said, "Time to go," his body radiated an immense light. When asked why and where he was going, "Flower must bloom. I am into the heart of all beings." His body disappeared, though stories appeared of him appearing before many people in their time of need. The reporter was slight sad about this. The villagers brought a fruit dish and put some candles on it. They were singing "Happy Birthday". He realized it was his 120th birthday...

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You can reach William Bagley by sending him an e-mail:

tanran@mind.net I am sure, he would appreciate some Feed back!

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