Lars Muhl - The Seer: Volume I of The O Manuscript: The Scandinavian Bestseller

A BOUT THE A UTHOR

Lars Muhl was born in Aarhus in 1950. He attended The Royal Academy of Music, Aarhus (Det Jyske Musikkonservatorium) from 1974 to 1976. For many years, he was a successful singer-songwriter first as a band member, and then from 1986 as a solo artist. In 1996, he was awarded the WCMs Songwriters Million Certificate.

The author has had a great interest in spirituality from a very young age, and, concurrently with his music, he studied the worlds religions and esoteric knowledge. Then, in 1996, he was struck down by an unexplained illness, which neither doctors nor alternative therapists could diagnose. This was the start of a completely new existence and the beginning of that quest he has so grippingly described in The Seer. In 1999 Lars Muhl decided to leave music to concentrate fully on his spiritual interests.

Lars Muhl has studied Aramaic, the language of Jesus, and has spent many years writing and lecturing on spirituality throughout the world. In 2003 he started Hearts and Hands, a non-profit and apolitical aid organization based on the voluntary work of various therapists. The aim is to help people who are suffering from life crises such as cancer and stress-related illnesses. In 2009 Lars Muhl and his wife Githa Ben-David founded the Gilalai Institute for Energy and Consciousness.

T HE S EER

VOLUME I OF THE MANUSCRIPT

LARS MUHL

Thanks to all who made this book possible.

Dedication:

This book is for You.

I will show you that which no eye has seen,

no ear has heard, no hand has touched,

and no human heart has conceived.

Yeshua, The Gospel of Thomas

It was an ice-cold day in February. The kind of day when Copenhagen Central Station is anything but inviting. I dragged my suitcases up the stairs to get out of the chilling wind from the platform and quite deliberately ignored the beggars and the down-and-outs squatting on old newspapers and waving their blue coffee-pots at the passers-by. My own budget was more than over the limit, and, furthermore, I felt dizzy. I felt nauseated. I wasnt myself at all. Had I misunderstood something, since I lost my balance to such a frightening degree? And then, just now, when I was about to embark on what was probably the most important journey of my life.

I drank a bottle of mineral water at the cafeteria and found a corner where I could sit relatively undisturbed in order to recover. I had a couple of hours before the night train for Cologne was scheduled to depart. In spite of how far I thought I had come, I still sat there and felt like a totally abandoned novice. I had tried unsuccessfully to sell the account of my journey to a major newspaper just two days earlier. But how were they to know that a train journey to southern Spain could be more exotic in this day and age, than an aeroplane trip to the Antarctic Continent, simply because it takes longer? They knew better at the DSB travel agency. It was the first trip of this kind that they had sold for several years.

Are you sure? the woman asked wonderingly and slightly curious as I booked the ticket.

I chose not to start a major explanation about my having stopped flying many years ago, but couldnt help smiling at the paradox that I was about to begin a 48-hour train journey to Spain, in principle, in order to fly. Well, not by plane, but still

The characteristic greasy smell of todays special: meat, cabbage, gravy and potatoes, mixed with too much smoke and nicotine, made my stomach turn and I had to concentrate in order not to be sick. I was cold in spite of the heat, had sweat on my forehead, and I shivered so much that I had to hold on to the bottle with both hands. I drank some water and tried to think about something else.

But arent you Lars Muhl? A far too optimistic voice cut through the noise from the plates and cutlery. I looked up and nodded automatically. A man handed me a paper napkin and a pen: Could I please have your autograph?

He smiled at the girl standing next to him, who seemed to be his daughter. I was just about to be sick. Beads of sweat trailed down my face as I grabbed the pen and wrote my name while getting up from my seat. I then ran as fast as I could towards the toilet.

When I got back, the man and his daughter had disappeared. It was the first autograph I had written for ages. A middle-aged woman who was hanging on to a strong beer at the neighbouring table scowled disapprovingly at me through a black eye and I could almost hear her thinking: Who the hell do you think you are? Well, I would really like to know that myself. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the present situation. But somehow, my thoughts automatically went back. Back to the day when my career as a singer categorically ended, and my present journey started. Back to all that went before the NOW.

I had always known that a person is more than his or her mere personality. I had always known that the real person is to be found somewhere behind all the defences and the protective shields of titles, careers and jobs. I had always been aware that no matter how well-known, how rich and how celebrated you are, there arent enough fans, money and attention in the world to close the gap and ease the pain which all the hullabaloo carries with it. I have always known that, notwithstanding your living conditions and social position, ultimately, all this seems strangely illusory, seen in the perspective of eternity.

Since childhood I have been familiar with another reality. From my tenth to my twelfth year, each evening before I fell asleep, I had some unfamiliar and painful kundalini experiences, with the result that I hardly slept at all during this period. Since I wasnt able to share these experiences with anyone I became more and more introverted and unable to function. I found social situations difficult to handle and did badly at school. However, this didnt stop me reading on my own. When I was 15 years old I received the sufi-mystic Hazrat Inayat Khans book Gayan, Vadan, Nirtan by mail. I dont know who sent it. But the book was a revelation and inspired me to read other books by Khan. The problem was, however, that what I read and studied all somehow connected to my knowledge of the other reality and thus stood out in sharp contrast to all my school learning. When finally I left the school in 1966 to throw myself into the intensity of life as a musician, I was hoping that this, once and for all, would cut out the reality which had made me so damned lonely and which no one else seemed to care about.

My attempt seemed to succeed, when destiny brought the band I was playing in to Israel in 1969, where we were supposed to tour for a couple of months. We played for soldiers at the army summer camps, for students at the universities and for young people at the clubs and the discotheques. Drugs were more or less compulsory but unfortunately also banned in Israel at the time.

Thus, when we were arrested with cannabis and amphetamine during a raid on our hotel, we were forced to spend about a week in the notorious remand prison in Jaffa just outside Tel Aviv. It thus took a stone bench to sleep on, a cold water tap to wash by, a hole in the middle of the cell for the necessary relief and a very primitive form of communication between prisoners and guards, to wake me from my magic sleep.

During one of the exercise rounds one of my fellow prisoners showed me the holes in the ground measuring two by two metres, where they kept the insane, the murderers and the rapists, each in his hole with an iron grid over his head: in the daytime a burning oven, at night an icy refrigerator. Each time a prisoner passed by and spat or threw a rock at the miserable creatures, they reacted with inarticulate and hysterical howls and an infernal noise from their shackles, which they banged against the iron grids. It was hard to accept at almost the same time as the American astronaut Armstrong put his foot on the moon with the words: One small step for man one giant leap for mankind. I for one didnt understand it. What did it mean? Was this a cosmic joke or how civilized men catered for the ultimate duality dividing life into black and white, heaven and hell.