In-the-body experiences

While practicing my tools, I am enjoying my first spontaneous in-the-body experiences.

by Scott Kalechstein — 

As I write this, I am in the seventh month of a one-year intuitive training program with a school that teaches psychic and spiritual development. What I am mostly learning there has to do with being grounded in and present to my body. While practicing my tools, I am enjoying my first spontaneous in-the-body experiences. After living most of my life in a disembodied state, it’s refreshing to be dropping in.

“Getting out” used to be the “in” thing in my world. During my teenage years, I had more than a few psychedelic experiences. I liked to think of them as extracurricular field trips, enhancing my study of metaphysics and psychology. There was one trip amongst them that stands out in (what is left of) my memory.

On that day the camera lens in my mind opened wide, and I became ecstatically aware of a big-picture truth: there could never be anything in my life that could ever justify worry or fear. Everything was an illusion, nothing in the world mattered and, in my recognition of that truth, I was freed from the spell of matter.

Gravity may keep my body from soaring, but not my mind and spirit. I was free! I had touched the kingdom of heaven, here and now, and here and now is all there is, was and ever will be. I was safe eternally. There was nothing left to do with the rest of my life but play, be peaceful and celebrate.

I realized while I was soaring that when the drug wore off this vision would fade, and my life from that point on would be about gradually climbing the mountain of consciousness until the peak experience I was currently having was where I lived, not just a place I visited.

In my devotion to getting there, I made enlightenment my first priority, and things like my health, relationships, family and making money were way down on my list. I resisted anything that had to do with the physical universe for fear that it would distract me from my goal. I found spiritual practices that allowed me to hide from the world in which I lived. I used meditation as an escape mechanism to take me to higher planes — any plane but the earthly one.

In my efforts to transcend fear, I rejected anything that might stir up fear. Of course, while I was busy being detached, fear still owned me. I was attached to detachment, and the spaced-out, faraway look in my eyes was not the look of one who had found real peace.

Eventually I recognized that I was never going to ascend until I was first willing to descend. I was 25 years old. Up until that time I had avoided driving and relied on public transportation and the kindness of others. So I chose to engage in one of my first worldly, dangerously unspiritual activities — learning how to drive a car. I got my license and bought my first car for $1,000. A few years later, I filed my first tax return. Peter Pan was beginning to get down and grow up.

Getting into relationships initiated me into the world of vulnerable hopes and huge disappointments. When I fell in love, I fell hard. Looking back, I can see that in my middle-to-late 20s, I had finally become willing to enter into a clumsy, unavoidable stage of life that up until then I had managed to avoid: adolescence. You could say I was a late bloomer.

My repetitive fumblings in romantic relationships caused me to stumble my way into therapy, something I had previously thought of as unworthy of my time. Therapy conjured up images of spending years making snail’s progress, staying stuck in my head and getting good at analyzing what was wrong with me. I had already perfected that on my own, thank you!

But the counselor I was led to was a big cheerleader for emotional release work, and the tissues I used in his presence far outnumbered the diagnoses he offered. Together, we created an environment for me to honestly and nakedly face the pain I was carrying, feel my way through it and get to the other side.

During this process I gradually lost interest in lofty and lengthy meditations and learned the practice of journaling my feelings. When pain came up, I practiced being with it and not shrinking away. This commitment to a deeper intimacy with myself helped me attract the intimate relationship I am in now. Occasionally, like in all good relationships devoted to mutual personal growth and authenticity, the fire gets hot between us.

In moments of conflict, I am learning to stay present and express my fear, hurt and anger instead of vacating the premises. It is amazing how intense feelings rapidly dissipate and, like with a good thunderstorm, the air is cleared when we are willing to get out of our heads and into our bodies.

Last week, Venus said something that pushed my buttons. I took physical distance and began getting mental (out of my body), judging how right I was and how wrong she was. Taking a walk around the block, I recognized that my superiority head trip was a mask for my hurt feelings and, rather than wallow around in separation, I came back to the house, got back down in my body and spoke up.

She had some anger to express back and, for a few minutes, I wondered if I did the right thing by opening my mouth. For a recovering control freak such as I, letting myself experience moments of chaos can be quite a stretch. A few minutes later we were holding each other, sharing tender feelings of love and regret, feeling close and connected again.

How exciting it is for this retired space traveler to be coming down to Earth! What a joy, after a lifetime of resisting them, to honor and embrace the gifts that God has given me: my body, my emotions, my humanness, my life.


Scott Kalechstein is a counselor, coach, minister, inspirational speaker, recording artist and modern day troubadour who can be found sharing his musical, ministerial, speaking, comedic and healing gifts with conferences, businesses, churches and individuals around the world. Scott’s songs are not intended to diagnose, treat or cure any illness or medical condition. If while listening you laugh your head off and your heart opens and symptoms still persist, please see your doctor. 415-721-2954, or

Reprinted from AzNetNews, Volume 27, Number 3, June/July 2008.

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