The God in the Machine – Steve Beckow

Blue Angel by Pamela Matthews Visionary Art


The God in the Machine
April 12, 2019 By Steve Beckow

When I returned to my body after having been on the astral plane in 1977, I slithered into this apparatus that was almost like a wet suit.

I tapped against it and it felt like India rubber. I wondered, what can this be?

Suddenly it dawned on me that this thing I was slithering into was in fact my body.

Oh! And who am β€œI” then? β€œI” am the spirit who was on the astral planes until now, in a lucid dream.


Then, as I was contemplating, it was as if a Hoover vacuum cleaner began sucking me in. My attention shifted from being sensorily inside this wet suit of a body to gradually being sensorily outside.

Because I was watching something tragic on the other side, I’d been wailing. Feelings have much more rein on the spirit side of life, I found.

When my attention transferred to the outside of my physical body, the wailing became a whimper. That showed me conclusively how emotionally non-conductive the human body is.

Be that as it may, what I was seeing and experiencing meant – again conclusively – that I was not my body. The body could die for all the difference it made to me then. I was independent of it; in fact I operated it, drove it like a car.

It’s me inside – the Babushka-doll spirit, the soul and all its bodies, call it whatever you like – that pulls all the levers and directs the show. I’d rather be outside my body, quite frankly, but this is where I’m apparently needed.

Nowadays we’d distinguish between the third-dimensional physical body and the fourth-dimensional astral spirit. But then I just thought of it as β€œI.”

The body is the ultimate robot, avatar, genie in the bottle. It takes the blows and the falls.

It takes the ultimate hit at the time of death. I just step outside it and carry on into a world more loving and blissful than we can imagine. I give it no more thought than the car I park to pick up the groceries.

At no point since then have I feared death.

Manner of death? Yes. Death itself? No.

That’s the impact of one minute of seeing that I am not my body, one minute of distinguishing between me and it. Looking at things from the astral, fourth-dimensional level, I am the spirit operator of the body, the god in the machine.
πŸ’™ 🌿 🌺 🌿 πŸ’œ
Gratitude & Appreciation to all artists ~ Credit given where this is known. Any queries, please contact me, Shekinah

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.