The
Long Road Home

Hello beautiful Shambra family, I’d like to share my story of healing, realization, and embodiment.

For many years before any awakening, I already knew unconditional love for all. I could feel it deeply and could share it freely with others. But there was one place I never allowed that love to rest: within myself.

I spent many years with my partner, “holding space” for her and believing that if I loved deeply enough, patiently enough, consistently enough, somehow I could help her heal. Looking back, I understand now that it was never my responsibility to heal another person, nor was it truly possible. But at the time, I continued giving and allowing my energy to be drained away, hoping things would change. 

Over the years, the weight of it slowly crushed me. I fell into severe depression. Mental breakdowns came again and again, until eventually I could barely function. I wanted to play with my son, but I couldn’t even get up off the couch. My energy was so depleted that I felt crippled. Eventually, my partner left me for another person. And still, despite everything, I forgave her and wanted her to succeed in life.

I had spent so many years trying to hold space for her healing. In many ways, she did come to terms with parts of herself, but in the end, I had also become woven into her trauma. The relationship left deep wounds inside me.

After she left in May 2023, something in me finally broke open completely. For six weeks, I cried for eight to ten hours a day. It felt as though everything I had held inside for years was pouring out of me.

Eventually, once the intensity eased enough, I began feeling the urge to release more than just emotion. I started cleaning the property where I lived. Trailer load after trailer load of garbage, clutter, and years of accumulated baggage left the land. Six full trailer loads in total.

It felt symbolic without me even fully realizing it at the time. I was clearing the property, clearing my body, and clearing my mind. When I finally hauled away the last load, something shifted.

That night I had vivid dreams, and when I woke the next morning, I could feel something opening inside me again. Feeling itself had returned. Energy began moving through my body in a way I hadn’t felt in years. I started seeing synchronistic numbers again and began sitting in silence for hours every day.

The only spiritual books I had ever really read were Drunvalo Melchizedek’s works on sacred geometry and entering the heart space. I didn’t truly understand it, but something about it called me. I tried the heart space meditation, and though it didn’t fully resonate, I became determined to understand what entering the heart truly meant. 

Eventually, I left the property entirely because I no longer felt comfortable there. My mother took care of my son for a while so I could be alone and figure out what was happening to me. I knew I couldn’t stay broken forever. My son needed me, and I refused to abandon that responsibility. 

So, I committed completely.

For weeks, I lay flat on my back on the living room floor for eight or more hours at a time with my eyes closed, trying to understand what entering the heart space actually was. Then one day, an idea came to me. 

I imagined that everything I saw, heard, felt, and experienced was being projected onto a screen. I saw myself as the projector, and my focus became separating the projector from the screen itself. 

For several days I practiced this. Then, something happened – I actually felt distance between myself and the screen. I turned ninety degrees away from the constant visuals. For the first time in twenty-five years, instead of images, I saw pure blackness. It was completely new. 

I floated into the blackness, drifting farther and farther away from the screen until it became small in the distance behind me. Then ahead of me, I noticed a child sitting on a kitchen chair, his knees pulled tightly to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, sobbing.

I flew toward him and knelt down, gently touching his shoulders. I told him that I was there for him, that I loved him unconditionally, and that everything was going to be okay. Eventually he lowered his knees, looked up at me, and smiled. Then he climbed down from the chair and began peacefully playing on the floor with Legos and train tracks. 

Somewhere inside, I instinctively knew my work there was complete. I turned and noticed a dull white light far off in the distance. When I approached it, I saw that the light was surrounded by hundreds of dark swirling entities. They resembled shadowy ghost-like forms, black figures spiraling around the light so densely that they almost completely obscured it.

There was no fear. I simply knew I needed to surround and hold the entire swarm in a bubble of unconditional love. I have no idea how long I remained in that state, whether 30 minutes or two hours. Time no longer seemed relevant. I just stayed until everything felt loved and one by one, the entities dissolved, disappeared, or integrated – whatever word best describes it. At the time, I had no spiritual framework for any of this. I only knew what instinctively felt right. 

Eventually, all that remained was a radiant white light in the shape of a human figure. I flew toward it, we embraced and then merged. 

At that point, I felt complete, believing that whatever healing needed to happen had been accomplished. So, after having isolated myself for months, I decided to try being around people again. I arranged to meet a few people for coffee, including a woman who worked as a healer, and with whom I shared a small portion of my story. 

I still had no understanding of energetic feeding or the energy virus described in the Sexual Energy School. So I didn’t realize that the same dynamic I had experienced for years with my partner was now happening in reverse. During our short conversation, I unintentionally began feeding on this woman’s energy. 

When she stepped away briefly and returned, she refused to come near me, apologizing from a distance. While I understood her discomfort instinctively, I didn’t yet understand why it was happening. That moment made it clear to me that I wasn’t ready to return to the world yet, so I went back into silence. 

The next day, I repeated the same meditation process of separating from the projector screen, this time backing out not only from thought, but deeper still, as though I was backing out of consciousness itself. 

This time, observing my masculine self, I realized there was still discomfort with myself, so I began exploring self-intimacy until genuine comfort and acceptance emerged. Then I backed out again.