Imagination
By
Hossca Harrison
 

Imagination, what is it? How does it work? From where does it come? Intriguing and pertinent questions for one seeking to understand imagination. It reminds me of a person I met in 1984. He was a playwright from Hollywood who flew to Seattle and took a ferry to Vashon Island to speak with Jonah. He only had one question, “What is imagination?” Jonah spoke for over an hour, talking about imagination, starting with the statement he has made many times over the years, “Ye cannot imagine that which ye have not experienced.” 
 
The playwright said, “Wow, you have opened a floodgate of information flowing into my brain.” 
 
When Jonah left, Rebecca, the playwright, and I visited for about an hour. I learned as much as the playwright about a question I had not thought to ask.
 
Imagination is the energy of thoughts, visions, and experiences as a soul, human, with a link to your ancestral lineage. You cannot imagine that which ye have not experienced. How can this be? A question asked of Jonah over the years. One such person asked about an imagined vision of a terrible battle seeing their children slaughtered. Today, they have a deep fear of losing their children even though they try to convince themself it was simply their imagination.
 
Jonah has taught you are more than a single person; you are the accumulation of all your lives and your ancestors. As a singular person, you hold every event, joy, or trauma within your memories, within your imagination. This includes every dream you have ever had, in this life, a past or future life, and your ancestral lineage. Could imagination be the energy that brings these memories to the surface?
 
If one were to see energy, they would see imagination as an etherical cloud. This etherical cloud has no boundaries of time or space. One can draw on imagination to experience past and future time impregnated with memories of your physical ancestral lineage. That is a lot of imagination, both positive and negative. When Jonah says you cannot imagine that which you have not experienced, the experienced part is the undivided part of you, who you are, who you have been, and who you will be.
 
Imagination, when empowered, turns into reality, your reality. Imagination needs wisdom, guidance, and choice.
 
What about phobias? Could phobias be a product of past memories, your imagination? Some of the most prevalent phobias are achluophobia, fear of darkness; arachnophobia, fear of spiders; atychiphobia, fear of failure; poinephobia, fear of punishment; or aerophobia, fear of flying.
 
I can identify with aerophobia, fear of flying. In 1991 I had a very powerful dream being a passenger flying on a commercial jet. As we were coming in for a landing, I looked out the window and saw a green field with children playing, thinking to myself, what a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining, and the grass was bright green, then suddenly the jet tilted to the right and took a nosedive, crashing into the field in a ball of fire. As the fire raced through the disintegrating cabin, within a split second, I woke up in a deep sweat. A few months after the dream, I was on a flight landing in Denver when we hit extreme turbulence. Everyone was holding tight onto their seat, watching in terror as some of the overhead bins popped open, spilling their contents. I was sitting there, re-experiencing the vision of the jet crash in my dream. I looked out the window and saw an open field when suddenly, I remembered the field in my dream was green. This field was brown. Immediately I was able to release my fear, knowing we were not going to crash.
 
When I returned home, I decided to talk to Jonah about this dream putting it to rest so I could again enjoy flying. Jonah explained there was going to be a crash into a green field. I would be on that flight, but not in body, but out of body to assist one I had a soul connection with but had never physically met in this life. The following year on March 3, 1991, a flight from Denver to Colorado Springs crashed into a park with green fields. The flight was coming in for a landing when suddenly it rolled to the right and pitched nose down, hitting the ground at 245 mph. Had I not healed my aerophobia, where would my imagination have taken me? Could I have used my imagination to create this event physically, but on another flight? Thoughts do create, emotions create, and imagination creates.
 
Imagination needs wisdom. Just because we can imagine something does not mean we need to create it or create it before its time. Jonah once stated creating something out of time creates a reality out of sync with the heart, turning the reality into pain.
 
Questions, questions, and more questions.
 
Did authors such as Aldous Huxley or George Orwell use their imagination? Did they tap into the future? Were they from the future? Did they use their imagination to warn the world? Has the world turned a blind eye to their messages?
 
Are we as an earth community playing out the imaginations of past lives and ancestral lineage? 
 
Are we as an earth community playing a repeat of this time? Are we as an earth community choosing a repeat of this time, seeking a different outcome? Is this our time to make different choices?
 
Suppose time is an illusion, of which many scientists and physicists agree. Could we as an earth community experience time from A to Z repeatedly, each time making different choices, experiencing different outcomes, and different realities? What if each time we make the same choice?
 
Is our illusion part of our imagination? Could the Great Initiation be coming into a personal completion of A to Z, this time moving out of the illusion? Each person has the power of their own choice. It is very easy to follow the mass choice and re-experience the same outcome over and over. What power we have in our imagination. It offers us the ability to view both sides of the same coin. Could the Great Initiation be about each making a personal choice from the heart, even when many in our circle of family and friends are shouting, “No, make the same choice?” 
 
As Rebecca, the playwright, and I finished our visit, the playwright said, “Wow, just wow, you have bent my mind, now I must go and write a play on what I have just learned. Perhaps the play is the outline of our life?”

 
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
 
William Shakespeare