Seeking Jordan will be available in hardcover March 15, 2016. You can pre-order it now from or Barnes & Noble.

Archives: Channeling Jordan

The Purpose of Self

To understand what self is, we must first know the purpose of self. Why are there seven billion “selves” on this planet? They are all here for one reason: to learn. To gather experience and wisdom for the whole. The whole can only evolve and grow as each self observes, remembers, acts, and learns.

Just as bees have mandibles, wings, and legs for the sole purpose of gathering pollen, all the properties of self derive from its purpose. To learn, each self must observe experience, remember experience, organize experience (into categories and higher order conclusions called wisdom), and choose mental and physical actions (focusing awareness and deciding what to do).

No learning can happen without engaging each property of the self. No wisdom tradition can find truth through a single aspect of self. As each self learns, the whole becomes god.

The Fog of Days

This is the land of zero visibility. We see only the immediate—to the next problem, the next solution. And the moments of struggle and solving spill one into another. Gathering like a lowland mist that hangs close to the ground and makes it impossible to see in any direction.

The fog of days is made from problems and solutions. From fixing what is broken in front of us. And running to the next broken thing, the next remedy. The fog of days doesn’t lift. It lays in the forks and crossroads, covering all but the next step.

There is no way to see except to climb. Above the answers and the plans. Up where there is no next thing. Where there is only the breath. Where the hills are rutted with the random paths of animals. Where the ridges and gullies could lead anywhere.

The Lessons

There is nothing done to us. There is nothing taken, nothing broken, nothing stained. What happens, no matter how sad or painful, is just the color, the motif of this moment in life. The moment has its purpose, what long ago we agreed to, what we needed to fully use our days.

There is nothing done to us that wasn’t necessary for the lesson we came to learn. The life we had planned or wanted is no more than a source of necessary disappointment. The love we expected, looked for, becomes no more than a turn down some empty road, weeds and branches choking the way.

In the darkness, the place where we never thought we’d arrive comes like a sudden warning, like a dog barking in a lonely farmyard. The place feels wrong, as if we were the victim of something. But despite its strangeness, it was our own plan. It is what we needed to know, to feel, to embrace.


The violence goes on. Taking our children. All over the world. For profit, for revenge, for a rite of passage. For belief, or in the name of god. It is made from the myth of belonging and not belonging. Of family vs. strangers; of the good people and the different ones. The different ones are specters of evil. The different ones can be killed. Driven. Used. They die invisibly. They make up the nightly body count, each demise a measure of success.

The violence goes on—as if we were not all part of “the whole.” As if we were not here learning to love. As if killers would not have to learn to be victims. It is passed on, our violence merely deepening the amnesia. Helping to forget what’s all around: The sound, like a constant wind, of souls trying to be heard.