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The Man that Fathomed the Subconscious

Don Reichmann was a brilliant boy. But in elementary school his results were unstable. Sometimes his grades were very high, sometimes very low. People could not find out why. At any rate he managed to get into high-school with meager accomplishments. Then one day, in the school library, he found a book on the workings of the right and left brain hemispheres. His attention was gripped. He red the book tens of times, neglecting his other work. His teachers warned him that this could not go on. He understood that, and decided to do his best and make a career as a psychologist specializing in the right brain side, the subconscious. Finally he had something to live for! An intelligent friend at school had many discussions with him, and they learned a lot from each other. The only trouble, Don found, was that John was a Jesus freak, always telling people the gospel.

Don had such good results that he received a scholarship for Harvard. He stopped corresponding with John, because the climate at Harvard had made him a confirmed atheist. His study career at Harvard was brilliant. He almost always had A's. At the time of graduation for his Bachelor's he received a medal for highest grades in the psychology department for which he was called a second time on the stage. Particular mention was made of his Honor's thesis. From there on he went to Princeton, where he had an even more splendid career as a Master's student, of course all paid for by hefty scholarships. His record was so good that he received an invitation to study at Oxford in England. There he was promoted to Doctor because of a scintillating dissertation on the role of the workings of the right brain in the lying of criminals. The right brain, so he wrote, governs the nonverbal communication of the body. It is diffused all through the body. To a good eye liars give themselves away through their eyes and other body language.

To make a long story short, Don managed to get a job at the C.I.A. headquarters as an adviser. The problem was that Don never trusted anybody entirely, because he had such a keen eye that he detected that everybody radiates some measure of guilt. People smile, but he saw they do not mean it altogether. They smile with the conscious mind, but the subconscious gives the lie away. They wear a mask, a facade, a veneer of civilization. He also had trouble finding a partner. He just could not fall in love. He found that the left brain hemispheres of women were too shallow, and they failed to experience the wonderful depth of their femininity in the right brain. I have enough in myself, he proclaimed proudly, and went on to write a book over the conscious understanding of the subconscious mind. The book became a best seller.

Now it happened that one of his superiors never dared look straight into his face. This caused suspicion in Don's mind and he started shadowing him. His efforts paid off. He unmasked his boss as a spy. Don was honored greatly for this. However, he grew increasingly dissatisfied with his life. Then one day he broke the news to his superiors, to their dismay. He was going to give up his job. He wanted to go to India to study the subconscious in relation to paranormal phenomena. They tried to dissuade him, but he was adamant about it. The intellectual climate of atheism had left his soul totally thirsty.

Since he had inherited quite an amount of money he could afford to put his plans into effect. Traveling to India, he was convinced his inquiries were going to be a huge success; even better than his first book. After journeying extensively and looking for study material, Don finally witnessed a paranormal activity. He had ingratiated himself with some Hindus and they had invited him to a religious ceremony. There he saw a man dancing in trance. He had a kind of helmet on his head made of stone and weighing over one hundred kilos, He was dancing as if it were made out of feathers. Normally it would break your neck in a second. Don was deeply impressed, but tried to remain objective. He was not planning to become a Hindu. He wanted to stay scientific about it all.

Then one day Don meets a guru by the name of Rastinbraba Maharaj. This man teaches that one must empty one's mind. On the first occasion the guru puts his hand on his forehead, and he sees the most beautiful colors and experiences peace never felt before. Again Don is touched greatly.

But after sometime he observes that some initiates go crazy. My goodness, Don thinks, they go stark raving bonkers. They can't even distinguish between a tree and themselves. Everything is one, OM, Brahma. Their emptied minds are somehow filled with the most horrible things from somewhere. He voices his concern to the guru. But he answers that they had not followed his advice exactly, or that it was their karma.

A little later Don finds out how the guru lives in luxury off`the gifts and adulation of his followers and how he is worshipped in the streets as a god. If he were truly sincere, Don says to himself, he would honor and help his poor fellow men. But he doesn't care a hoot about them. He just says that their karma brings their misery upon them. He is an exploiter, despite all his powers. He preaches abstinence, yet accumulates riches. Don leaves the guru and goes hiking. On a mountain top he breaks down. He has seen so much misery. As a psychologist he saw crooks, and now he sees poverty, affliction, treachery, even diabolical effects of meditation. At a certain moment he cries out aloud in the loneliness of the mountain: "Mommy, mama mia, mother, help me! I remember your love now above all things. Your breasts fed me. Your arms comforted me. Oh for the love of a mother! Could you but solace me in this hour of need. The subconscious is a pit of miry clay, full of snakes and demons. I have sunk in it, while trying to get to terms with it. Who will get me out! Oh blessed ignorance of those minds that know nothing of this all!" Then he calms down a bit and goes on thinking. The more one truly becomes wise, the more no nonsense, no bullshit learning one acquires the more pain one opens one's mind up to. Now my pain is so acute, it is hardly bearable. The Western mind overaccentuates rationality, and is generally shallow in its right brain activity. The Eastern mind stresses the emptiness of the conscious mind, and so opens the soul's door to a treacherous, demonic game. "It is one hell," he now shouts,"of despondency! Who will set me free from this nightmare, this blackest night. When I remember you, o mother," and again he calms down," I just know this hell is not meant to be." Then he remembers a song she used to sing, in German, for she knew several languages.

Du bist die Liebe, der treue Heiland;

Du bist die Liebe, du liebst auch mich.

D'rum sag ich's noch einmal, du bist die Liebe;

Du bist die Liebe, du liebst auch mich.

(Thou art Love, the faithful Savior;

Thou art Love, thou lovest also me.

Therefore I say it again, thou art Love;

Thou art Love, thou lovest also me).

This was just a song she knew, but now he saw it all. He also remembered John, the preaching nuisance. And then he breaks down in tears. He keeps sobbing and deep shocks convulse his body, and soul and spirit, with deep tremors. Then and there he kneels down and says aloud,"Oh God, you are righteous, and I am wicked. In all my sounding out of the depths of the human mind, I denied my own sins. Now I see that also I am filled with corruption, to the deepest bottoms of my subconscious mind. I used my expertise, subconsciously, to judge everybody, and pretended to myself that I only was good. However, only you, oh God, are Love. Only you are truly good. You gave your Son to die for my sins. Please, accept my heart's repentance! Forgive my grandiloquence, my terrible pride, my fornication, meas culpas, meas maximas culpas. Please, o God, forgive me!" Don returned to the States and looked John up. He told him he had found the Lord. John embraced him enthusiastically. But he was not the only one to be glad. In the heavens, and the heaven of heavens, the angels rejoiced and praised God, their Creator.

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