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An Excerpt from Growing Big Dreams
By Robert Moss

The greatest crisis of our lives is a crisis of imagination. We come to a dead stop because there is a barrier in front of us and we can’t imagine a way to get around or over it. Our work space feels like it is walled with cement blocks that are closing in more tightly every day, but we can’t imagine where we would go if we quit. We can’t breathe in an airless relationship but can’t picture how to take off. We look in the mirror, when we dare, and see the age lines, the skin blemishes, maybe the thinning hair, not the beauty that we may carry inside.

We go on repeating to ourselves the tired old stories, strapped onto us by family or past histories of defeat and disappointment. Or we cling to memories of brighter days, or that win on the high school sports field, or that sweet summer romance, or that medal for valor, or that early success that was never repeated. Either way, by nursing grief or guilt or nostalgia, we manage to go through life looking in the rear-view mirror, stuck in the past, never fully available to the present moment.

Or we miss the moment by carrying anxiety about the future, screening mental scenarios for what could go wrong. We give ourselves a hundred reasons not to take the risk of doing something new, something that would take us beyond the gated communities of the mind into the wilds of creative adventure.

Conscious of it or not, we go around repeating our negative mantras. I’m too old. I’m not pretty enough. I don’t have the money. People always let you down. People don’t change. I’m so tired. You don’t think you do this? Pause for a moment. Take off the headphones. Listen to what’s playing on your inner soundtrack. It may be a song. “Am I blue?”

I confess there are days, between snowstorms in a northeastern winter, when my mood can slump and go the color of the dirty gray ramparts of ice on the curb in my small, gritty city. And more days like these in the shut-up times of the pandemic. I don’t want to get out of bed even to walk the dog, who is waiting for me patiently. I may be stirred back to life by a dream or a cheering message from a loved one or hopes of an ocean beach vacation or a foreign adventure. But when I find it is still hard to rise above a low, lethargic mood and dump those negative mantras — My legs hurt, I’m played out, I can’t walk on the ice — I call in one of the greatest life coaches I know.

I know him from his most famous book. Maybe you do too. His book is titled Man’s Search for Meaning. His name is Viktor Frankl. He was an existentialist — which is to say, someone who believes that we must be authors of meaning for our own lives — and a successful psychiatrist in Vienna before Nazi Germany swallowed Austria in 1938. He was a Jew and a freethinking intellectual, two reasons for the Nazis to send him to a concentration camp. For several years he was in Auschwitz, the most notorious of the Nazi death camps.

In the camp, every vestige of humanity was taken from him, except what he could sustain in his mind and his heart. He was in constant pain, reduced to a near skeleton with a tattooed number on his arm, liable at any moment to be beaten or killed on the whim of a
guard. He was there to be worked to death. He watched those around him shot or pummeled or carted off to the gas chambers every day.

He made an astonishing choice. He decided that, utterly deprived of freedom in the nightmare world around him, he would tend one precious candle of light within. He would exercise the freedom to choose his attitude. It sounds preposterous, if you don’t know the story of what unfolded. When people tell us we have a bad attitude in ordinary circumstances, we are usually not grateful. The suggestion that we can choose our attitude when the world around us seems cold and bleak or we have suffered a major setback, even heartbreak, sounds cruel. But let’s stay with Viktor Frankl.

When the light went out in his world, he managed to light that inner candle of vision. Despite the pain in his body and the screams and groans around him, he made an inner movie, a film of a possible life in a world where the Nazis had been defeated and Hitler was a memory. It was an impossible vision, of course, an escapist fantasy. There was no way he was going to survive Auschwitz.

But he kept working on his inner movie, night after night, as director, scriptwriter, and star. He produced a scene in which he was giving a lecture in a well-filled auditorium. His body had filled out, and he was wearing a good suit. The people in the audience were
intelligent and enthusiastic. The theme of his lecture was “The Psychology of the Concentration Camps.” In his movie, not only were the death camps a thing of the past; he had retained the sanity and academic objectivity to speak about what went on during the Holocaust from a professional psychiatric perspective.

This exercise in inner vision, conducted under almost unimaginably difficult circumstances, got Viktor Frankl through. One year after the war ended, in a good suit, he gave that lecture as he had seen himself doing in his inner movies.

What do we take away from this?

First, that however tough our situation may seem to be, we always have the freedom to choose our attitude, and this can change everything. Let’s allow William James to chime in: “The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another.”

Second, that our problems, however bad, are unlikely to be quite as bad as the situation of someone who has been sent to a Nazi death camp. That thought may help us to gain perspective, to stand back from a welter of grief and self-pity and rise to a place where we can start to dream up something better.

Third, that we can make inner movies, and if they are good enough it is possible that they will play in the theater of the world.

If we take Viktor Frankl’s example to heart, we see that choosing your attitude can be an exercise in creative imagination that is much more practical and original than trying to edit your inner soundtrack (though that is worth trying) or telling yourself that you can’t afford the energy of a negative thought (you can learn to use the energy of any strong emotion, including grief and rage).

Would you like to make your own life movies, in which you enjoy the satisfaction of your deepest desires? Are you willing to grow a vision of bright possibility so rich and alive that it wants to take root in the world?

Then you want to learn to use your imagination. The word imagination comes from the Latin imago, or image. Imagination has been defined as the faculty that clothes the forces at play in the inner world in images so we can perceive and interact with them. Phantasia, from which we derive fantasy, is the Greek word for imagination. It means “making visible.” The act of making visible makes it possible for humans to communicate with beings that are more than human. “Phantasia was the organ by which the divine world spoke to the human mind,” Robert Johnson observed in Inner Work:

From my experience I am convinced that it is nearly impossible to produce anything in the imagination that is not an authentic representation of something in the unconscious.

The whole function of the imagination is to draw up the material from the unconscious, clothe it in images, and transmit it to the conscious mind. Whatever comes up in the imagination must have been living somewhere in the fabric of the unconscious before it was given an image-form by the imagination.

This book will help you connect with your inner imagineer and become scriptwriter, director, and star of your own life movies, choosing your preferred genre and stepping into a bigger and brave story.

ROBERT MOSS is the creator of Active Dreaming, an original synthesis of modern psychology and shamanism, and offers workshops on dreaming, creativity, and shamanism throughout the world. He is also a bestselling novelist, journalist, and independent scholar. More information at MossDreams.com.

Excerpted from the book Growing Big Dreams. Copyright © 2020 by Robert Moss. Printed with permission from New World Library.

I want to know if two souls can live in one body. I recently lost my husband in an accident, and I sometimes feel he is inside me. Is it because of my emotions or is it possible for two souls to reside in one body? How can I discover whether he is living in my body or not?

S.

Astrea:

I don't believe it's possible for two souls to share one body. While there are instances of spirit possession that might seem like two souls are inside one person, that's not what you are experiencing here. In those cases, the spirit is most often a stranger to the person having that happen. Also, it's unwelcome most of the time, whereas you want to welcome your husband's spirit when he visits you in this way.

While what you're experiencing may seem very strange, it's actually normal for you to feel this way. Because of your close bond to your husband, it's only natural to feel that sometimes he is on the inside, looking out of your own eyes.

You were together in a way few people enjoy in life, and you're experiencing what happens when two people have been that close and one dies. Many people hear the words of their parents and other departed loved ones coming out of their own mouths when they speak. You were of the same mind when he was alive, and there is no reason you wouldn't still be now. He isn't that far away, anyway; he's just beyond the veil.

It's not just your emotions that make you feel this way, however, because he IS with you, and you're right in a way about him being WITHIN you. I'm sure he moves through you often to either make a point or feel closer to you from where he is. He knows how you are grieving, and he wants to make things better just as he would have done when he was alive here on Earth.

I also don't feel that you're keeping him from moving on. He will be here on that level that you feel him with you for as long as you need him to be. Our loved ones are always our caretakers no matter where they are.

Be sure to talk to him about things that you want to know about where he is too, so that you can move through him in your dreams and meditations the same way he moves through you in this dimension. You still need one another for the rest of your life no matter where he is at the time. You're still communicating with him, and there isn't any reason for you to stop doing that.

Many times we miss the people who have left us so much that we feel they are part of us. That's not unusual. The two of you loved each other so much that it is very difficult to feel him anywhere BUT with you. Two souls can't live in the same body, but your husband can certainly be with you in a way that you might feel him inside your own physical being. Remember that the love we feel never dies, whether we're alive on Earth or on the other side of the veil.

*****

Susyn:

I am sorry for your recent loss. Because your husband's death was sudden and unexpected, his spirit probably sought you out and attached to you immediately. Without a body of his own, his soul naturally gravitated to you, which could explain why you feel his presence inside of you.

It is possible for two souls to reside in one body, as our spiritual energy is quite capable of transferring outside of our own body and into another place, person or time, whether we are living or have passed over. The soul mate connection the two of you share would make it natural for his spirit to continue to be one with yours.

Our emotions can often be misunderstood and underestimated. Their power can feel overwhelming at times, but emotions can also open us up to other dimensions. You can trust your grief, and you can trust in the knowledge that your husband's soul remains within and around you.

After some time has passed and your emotions have balanced out, the sense that he is living within you may lessen. In fact, at times, you may not feel that he is near or within you at all as he develops the ability to come and go as he pleases. He will always return in one form or another because you'll always be connected.

There are a number of ways to discern whether or not he is living within you. You may start to crave certain foods that he used to love, or be drawn to interests that were exclusively his.

A few months after I lost my own husband in an accident, I found myself in the kitchen late one night, eating cheese and crackers. These were never food items I cared for, but a snack he liked to have regularly. When I lost my mother, I also found myself being drawn to her favorite foods.

You may also notice other signs specific to him that will validate his presence. A favorite song may play on the radio or you could experience a reaction from a family pet or young child that would be typical for your husband but not for you.

It's my belief that when our loved ones leave this earth plane, particularly in sudden and expected ways, it takes some time for them to transition to the other side. In the interim, they often dwell near the people they feel safest with and closest to.

Embrace this wonderful gift, for it affirms that you and your husband will always be connected on a soul level. This won't be a permanent state; it's a transitional experience. As you continue forward on your path in life, you can rest assured that he will always be close to you, and at times, within you.

Astrea:

Many times in life we hear, "You will always have what you NEED, but not necessarily what you WANT." Your spirit must have needed to experience the feeling of leaving your human body, and the suggestion in the next chapter of Sylvia Brown's book was all it took to get you there.

Even though you hadn't read it yet, your SOUL recognized the title of that chapter as something it had been seeking, and your soul, knowing that you had that reference to read after your experience, got with it and out you went!

While I don't usually recommend her books, Sylvia Brown has a wide reaching and powerful effect on lots of people. A Gemini like you would be able to relate easily to her writing and put it to good use. Synchronicity - you gotta love it!

I like your description of "getting caught." That's exactly what it feels like, isn't it? One minute you're free and hovering above the room, and the next minute, ZAP! back down into your corporeal form you go!

As a little kid, I loved that "feeling of return." With practice, most of the time we can control that event, but sometimes, when our physical ears hear a distracting noise or something else occurs to knock us back into reality, back we go. With practice you will be able to control your return better.

I find it interesting that you were visiting your mother-in-law and not someone in your own genetic family. Evidently, you and your husband got married for reasons that are even deeper than love. His family's interest in "psychic stuff" will nurture your children in such matters and help them to grow into their own abilities.

You'll never have to be concerned that when your daughter visits them, she'll be discouraged from exploring her own psychic life and power. My parents encouraged me to develop my psychic senses in a time when it wasn't nice to even discuss such things in public. Heck, it's STILL not considered a great topic at the dinner table in some families!

Your kids will get to talk about it ALL and ask questions and read and study. This is going to give them such an edge in life! Talk with your husband about how you want to present this to your kiddos, so that you are united in your approach and ready to tell them their experiences are all natural and okay.

A word or two of warning: Geminis often have difficulty staying grounded in REAL LIFE. Don't get so strung out on your ASTRAL life that you neglect what you're doing here on Earth.

You are at the beginning of a long journey to learn where your power really lies. Try to be patient with this process and take your time.