An enthusiastic veteran of a Gateway Voyage recently dubbed the magical place where she’d had one unforgettable adventure after another—“Hogwarts for adults.”
“It’s like going to Hogwarts on steroids, actually,” she added, speaking in a video about her experiences over six days at The Monroe Institute. TMI is known as the world’s leading residential center dedicated to nothing less than “the global awakening of humanity.” It operates from one basic premise: “You are more than your physical body.”
Like Hogwarts, it remains under-the radar for the “muggles” of this world—Harry Potter-speak for the majority of humans tethered to limiting beliefs and unaware of a skill set that empowers its users. J. K. Rowlings’ fictional Hogwarts staff teaches students the secret arts of wizardry and witchcraft. Founder Bob Monroe’s institute introduces real grownups to something arguably even more magical—the expansion of human consciousness—their own, in particular.
Monroe’s explorations via his countless out-of-body experiences, or OBEs. from the 1950s until his passing in 1995, led to a philosophy based on his awareness of our limitless potential. His research and development of the audio-guidance technology called Hemi-Sync uses binaural frequencies sent to the brain via headphones. This invention has enabled tens of thousands of others to “travel” outward and inward beyond the limits of the physical realm.
After an OBE in my twenties (described in an earlier post) I welcomed Bob Monroe’s first of three books, detailing his exposure to different dimensions or levels of consciousness. So, I was aware, early on, of the creation of the institute and the steady stream of visiting physicists, doctors, engineers, university professors, and the like. I ordered and used hemi-sync tapes, and later, CDs, for creative writing workshops, pain management, relaxation and meditation, aware as time passed of the range of programs for people from all walks of life.
No longer able to resist a firsthand experience, I signed up for the Gateway Voyage in 2013. Despite the mandate that participants were to come with no expectations, I found myself secretly hoping for an encounter with my mate who had crossed over 18 months before. Would he be along on this adventure with me? In Charlottesville, Virginia I boarded the shuttle that picks up arriving participants and transports them to the institute.
Already on board was a trainer from Japan, asleep in the rear. The only other passenger was a man named Dallas, registered for one of the advanced courses. He revealed that he’d co-created a grief and hospice program at the Zen Center in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I mentioned having lived there in the early 70s, during my husband’s first teaching assignment. What did he teach, he asked. Psychology, I told him. He looked at me intently.
“Dr. Peter Benson?” he asked.
My jaw dropped. I answered, yes. And in an instance of beautiful synchronicity, suddenly Pete was in the shuttle with us as this total stranger delighted in telling me
how he’d sat in the front row to hear one of the best lecturers he had as an undergraduate, recalling in detail his youthful prof’s full head of blond hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and his energetic style. He asked what he currently was doing. I told him he’d made his transition 18 months before.
“Oh, you’re still raw then,” he said. “Took me six years to heal from my wife’s passing.”
Creating the grief center was his way to help those suffering a loss, as he had. No coincidences, we agreed. The Universe had given me Peter’s thumbs-up in the most playful way possible.
What I discovered in the first days of the residency was an ingrained resistance to believing that anything I encountered was more than a product of my imagination. I’ve already posted about a wise woman called Ariadne who kept reappearing as if to check in on my responses at different levels. And thanks to a cosmic nudge, in a very real sense, she followed me home!
When I was guided to Level 27, where participants are apt to reunite with loved ones, I expected I’d simply “imagine” Peter there. Instead, someone I’d known decades before greeted me on my brief initial visit. He eagerly thanked me for sending a heartfelt letter to him at the end of his earthly life and for comforting his wife after his passing! I wish I could say I responded cordially. I was, to put it mildly, “royally pissed” that he’d shown up instead of Peter, who was nowhere in sight!
Aware of the reason for my dismay, the friend sympathized, then went on to say that I was to put the very kind of vibration contained in my letter to him into my other writing. Told me that doing so would influence future events. I sheepishly thanked him for his counsel. Looking back, I suspect I’d have dismissed any encounter with Peter at that point as nothing more than my imagination working overtime. I needed more validations related to other experiences in my CHEC unit to trust that the later meetings were the real deal.
The beauty in individuals called to experience the Gateway Voyage is their openness and trust in every group member’s experience, each one as unique and welcome as the next. During shared meals and conversations—both during my Gateway Voyage and a New Year’s program in 2014—I felt fortunate to be with such special people. They felt like long-lost friends. Revisiting journal entries, I’m stunned by the richness of it all and eager to return.
In a state of higher vibration, for example, while walking outside in nature during a Silent Universe exercise, each leaf, each rock, every single thing was vibrantly conscious—as aware of me as I was of it. Whether a sudden, surprising transformation into orb form—with a friend in Minnesota telepathically communicating with me in orb form as well—or the peak experience I had, recognizing every soul I’ve ever known in a line that appeared to stretch back forever, it was awe-inspiring.
So, why am I sharing this? Because I know that someone’s meant to do more than read my post. It will be one or more of you, intuitively prompted to take this further. Maybe to click on the institute website or the video tribute to TMI’s Hogwarts-like magic. Someone may tuck the info away, and only later, in a moment of clarity or spontaneity, simply know, “I’m meant to go.”
Neurosurgeon and author Eben Alexander, who spent time at TMI after his near-death-experience writes, “Thinking that the physical world is all that matters is like shutting oneself in a small closet and imagining that there is nothing else beyond it.”
I think of Harry Potter, leaving his closet under the stairs to be empowered beyond his wildest imagining. And Bob Monroe, opening a door to limitless possibilities, for those following his lead and moving through it to expanded consciousness. What’s more, with no unruly broomsticks required!
