Preface

Introduction: We introduce listeners to Ned Burwell through a riveting story about his struggles with depression which lead him to a suicidal state of mind but not before the words of a Doctor he had recently met poured into his mind which would be his salvation to his awakening. 

Transcript

Dedication

 This book is dedicated to four of my greatest teachers: my wife, Lisa Burwell, my mother, Mary Burwell, my father, Tim Burwell, and my grandmother, Anne Wilson. 

 My wife taught me how to be loved. Her grace and perfection has taught me a deeper meaning of love.  

My mother taught me how to love. When I was a little boy, my mother filled my heart with love. I drew from it until I learned how to love myself. 

My father taught me how to be brave. His creative intelligence and fearless heart taught me I can do anything.  

My grandmother taught me how to listen to the love in me. She was wise beyond words.

Acknowledgements

Special thanks goes to my mother-in-law, Shirley Anderson. Shirley, your support gave me the courage to dive into my heart and go for my dream of writing a book. I’m not sure if this book would be in my hands today without your love and support. 

Thank you, Sati Leamen and JoAnne Harman, for proofreading this book. You both were a gift from God for this project. You came along at just the right moment when I needed some guidance and wisdom. 

Lastly, I would like to thank my editor, Myrna Riback. Thank you for all the hard work and trade knowledge you poured into this book. Your experience and wisdom were greatly appreciated. 

Preface

This book began to take shape in my early twenties when I was just beginning to awaken to something within. I spent the first twenty years of my life covering myself. Then I spent the next twenty years shaking off the things with which I’d covered myself. 

When I was a young boy, my grandmother invoked a tide of silence in me. At the height of my sadness, I needed the peace she’d revealed to me in my early adolescence. By my twenties, the voices in my head had a chokehold on me, and I reached a point where I could not move forward. My anger had come to a boil. Defeated and broken, I felt I had nowhere left to turn. In a moment of desperation, I cried out to God, “Please help.” I wasn’t religious or spiritual in the least, but I was desperate.

 A few days later, I received a call from a local doctor who wanted to bring his nephew in for a tattoo. When he arrived with his nephew in tow, the doctor seemed out of control, as if he’d had too much caffeine. He was bouncing all over my studio and, during the tattoo session, he insisted on rubbing a homeopathic cream over his nephew’s tattoo with his bare hands. I let him know that he was cross-contaminating my workspace, but my words fell on deaf ears. 

His nephew’s tattoo was going to take about three sessions, so before they left, we booked him in for two more sittings. He requested that I book the next session as my last sitting of the day so that I could join him and his nephew at his home for drinks. I was curious enough to agree.

After the next tattoo session, I followed the two back to the doctor’s house. While the doctor and I were having a beer in his kitchen, he told his nephew to “get the room ready.” I was taken aback, and questions were streaming through my mind. What room? Ready for what? Where is the room? But I shook off my suspicions and resolved that if I felt things were getting too strange, I would be ready. 

About fifteen minutes later, the nephew reappeared, proclaiming that the room was ready; I was ushered to the living room doorway. The doctor and his nephew were both wearing a look of mischievous anticipation. “You first,” the doctor said. Again, I felt things were getting a little weird, but I was just interested enough to proceed. I opened the door and was greeted by a glow of black lights. Looking down the stairwell, I could see lava lamps, hundreds of records and cds, and lots of psychedelic posters. Was the doctor a little crazy?

It turned out that the doctor was harmless, and during my time at his home that night, we got drunk and shared some good laughs. That evening the doctor talked about a lot of things I didn’t understand. I had no idea what words like “duality,” “androgyny,” “ego,” and “unity” meant. Why was he talking about the nature of my soul? 

Then things got a little strange again. My host made his way across the room, leaned over me, poked me in the chest, and yelled in my face, “Are you ready to die for what you believe in?” 

I pushed him away and told him I thought he was crazy. The evening ended shortly after that.

About two weeks later, alone with suicidal thoughts coursing through my mind, I could no longer stand the insanity of my mind. I decided to go for a ride on my motorcycle to clear my mind. During my ride, I saw a brick building at the end of a long strip of road. I accelerated, intending to drive into the wall at about 150 km. But as I sped closer to that brick wall, I could hear the doctor’s voice echoing in my mind as I recalled some of his words and that strange experience in his home. Even though I could not consciously comprehend what he had been talking about, my soul did. His words were now screaming in my mind. Time suddenly froze as I flew toward the wall, the experience at the doctor’s house flashing through my mind in slow motion. It was like I was back on his couch in the psychedelic room. Seconds later, I turned around and headed toward the doctor’s house. I knew he had something I needed.

As I stood at his door, I barely had the courage to lift my arm and ring his doorbell. I was in a dark place and emotionally spent. I pushed the button, took a step back, and waited. That was the moment my life changed.

When he arrived at the door, I was in tears. He just looked at me and said, “What do you want?” 

This was not the greeting I expected, and my response was, “I want what you have. I’m not happy. I don’t know why I’m here or what’s wrong with me. Can you help me?” 

“I guess you better come in,” he replied. 

I followed him back down to the psychedelic room, and he talked me off the ledge. Afterwards, he opened a door to another room full of milk crates from floor to ceiling, packed full of spiritual books. We sorted through the crates and he selected twelve books. Along with the books, he gave me clear instructions. “Read the books. Then come back and we will talk about them.” Then he said, “If you don’t read them, consider them a gift and don’t ever bother me again.”

True desperation takes hold when nothing behind you looks good, nothing around you looks any better, and what lies ahead no longer has any appeal. Moments before I rang his doorbell, I was desperate. For a reason I didn’t understand and that was much bigger than me, I had arrived. 

This was my point of awakening. It was up to me now to decide whether I was going to take the guidance I had asked for. I didn’t feel like I had any option other than to go forward. There I stood, with a handful of books and what seemed to be a faint whisper from my heart promising great things ahead.

I read the books in record time, placing sticky notes in the columns with my questions. By the time I was finished, there seemed to be more sticky notes than pages. The doctor and I became best friends, and we spent a great deal of time together over the course of an eight-year period. During our time as friends, he answered all my questions, as well as some I hadn’t even known to ask. He was the answer to my prayers. He helped me save my life. 

That experience was twenty years ago, and my time with the doctor was just the beginning of the adventure. Along my path, I have been blessed to meet and spend time with many great teachers, as well as a few masters.

 Some of the messages you will find in this book are things that the doctor and I talked about, while other words of wisdom found between these pages come from the eight years I spent with a group of monks. Still other teachings are from my studies at the University of Western Ontario. Another portion of this book was downloaded into me—the result of a trip I took to the pyramids outside of Mexico City. I believe that all of these experiences have been given to me by the grace of God. Thomas Keating once said: “I think God sometimes picks the most unlikely candidates just to exercise his ingenuity.”

It is my wish that this book turns you inward and points you toward your empowerment. I want to poke you in the chest and yell, “Are you ready to live on purpose?” 

Take what you like from this book and have your own experience. After years of searching for truth and peace, I have discovered that I carry inside of me my own truth. No one has my truth but me. As for peace, it’s not obtained—it is already within you. Surrender to it.

By the end of your life, you will have made thousands of mistakes. Those mistakes will be easier to live with than one single regret for not following your heart.

Ned Burwell

2017