Portrait Andrew Terker

An Internet site poses an exceptional challenge for me. Most readers only see the words on this page and the images that accompany these words. If you are sensitive enough, you may perceive the energy behind the words. “You must pick up humans where they are” I am told. “You must present them with things they know in order to bring them a little bit further to the world of energy so that they can begin to perceive the changes they will need in the times coming.” Still then, communication is exceptionally difficult and slow. Often, the experience is very demoralizing, for humans often appear to need time to open up to the perception of energy.

Most of my life I have felt I am a sort of “sleeper,” waiting for something that will happen in the future. My inner experiences are so different from those that other human beings have. The most vivid experience of my childhood was, for example, a meeting between Robert Kennedy and Anatoly Dobrynin in Washington during the Cuban missile crisis in 1962. The “problem” with the memory is that I wasn’t there physically but rather over a hundred miles away. I still remember every detail of the meeting, even every nuance in the two negotiators’ voices as they tried to avert a Third World War.

Why was the meeting so important to me?

Peace was achieved, at least for some time. That was much more important to me than any personal details of my life then or ever since. I spent most of the time in my teen years focused on national and world politics. It was a very dangerous age, as the two superpowers threatened each other with nuclear war.

Other teenagers played baseball, were interested in girls and developed acne. I listened to the radio for hours, read the newspapers and went to political speeches when I could, so that I experienced the president or presidential candidates close up. When John F. Kennedy died, I spent a week in my room in mourning. I only went out for meals. School was closed for that week in respect for the man we had hoped would save the world. I was never the same after his death. Most of the hope I had for humanity left me then. When Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy were then assassinated, the rest of my hope left. I was desperate.

How could I have “experienced” a meeting at which I was not physically present?

Such meetings were normal to me. I experienced myself as an energy being that was simply there when it mattered. I seemed to know what was going on in the streets of Moscow and San Francisco, as I grew up not far from New York City.

I spend a good part of most days observing people in cafés, restaurants, in parks and on the street. I love to see how they are “constructed,” for I have a kind of “x-ray vision.” I am able to see deep into the body, not only in the organs and tissues but also into the energetic makeup of the physical being. When I do so, I observe the way the people establish and maintain illusions. I have always had access to their thoughts, especially thoughts they are not consciously aware of.

Humans have a kind of blueprint. You might call this the “construction plan.” If you ever ask humans what made them the way they are, the question shocks them. The most likely answers are: “God,” “my parents” or “I don’t know.” Almost no one wants to know that it is all according to plan and that the human him- or herself is the author of this plan. Almost no one wants to even envision that kind and depth of responsibility.

I suppose that many human beings would consider me to have been an autistic child that became more adapted to “normal human modes” over time and somehow integrated into society. At least, I managed to get several university degrees including a Ph.D. in Linguistics and became a tenured professor in the same field. Tenure depressed me, however, and I left the university after 12 years.

I prefer freedom.

For example, when I write texts I do not like keeping my style the same in any way but prefer to vary. Sometimes I like American English, at other times British English. Sometimes Shelley influences me when I write in English. At other times it is Poe or even Shakespeare. I write in a number of languages. Languages have always come easily to me. Using languages is like using clothes for me; you can take off one set and put another on. I do something that I consider rather unique when I write in a given language. I simply let another writer from the past or the present take over my hands and enjoy what happens. It’s still my text, though.

How can I do this?

I have never had the feeling of having a fixed personality. In my relationships with others I do nonetheless attempt to keep something there that the others can recognize in every meeting with me, for I know no one else like me. I simply have access to everyone who ever was, is, or who will be. For you, to even think this way may be strange. But, for me it is as normal as eating breakfast or waking up.

All of these beings are inside me, and I have access to them. I can either consider myself strange or enjoy the experience. The latter is what I choose. It makes life far more pleasant.

Information?

Well, it simply is there, because among other things, I have access to other beings within myself. There are those who come from other places. When I say that, I don’t mean from Zambia or Zanzibar. I mean from other planets, even from other stars. It makes life more interesting and exciting, to say the least. Transporting this interest and excitement to other human beings is not so easy, however, because many are more afraid of what I experience than truly interested.

For, I do not really experience boundaries between me and other beings. Most human beings spend a lot of time not only establishing boundaries but also making them stronger. The boundaries are what make humans ill. However, humans demand having them and are rarely willing to give them up. On the other side of the boundaries is what all humans are looking for, secretly or overtly: God.



I will never reach other humans with words alone.

They must experience the energy, and they must want this energy. They must want the openings that it brings. It feels like a game of patience for me, waiting until people are open enough to experience what they truly want and also waiting until they are desperate enough for a deep change. So far, it has been mostly desperation that has driven humans to change. Very few search for change willingly.

Whether we like it or not, change is upon us. My time as a “sleeper” is coming to a close.

Andrew Terker