Spiritual Objectivism – Part 4

The topic of spiritual objectivism has blossomed into something that seems to keep evolving. In my previous post, I explained where I separate from a purely objectivist stance, but I still resonate with objectivism philosophy because on the surface, it allows us to grow spiritually by championing us as individuals, which is what we are. It also frees us to be true visionaries where we can  nurture our talents without apology or guilt.

I’m now going to focus more on the spiritual angle in this post. This helps keep me grounded and humble. I’ll also demonstrate how a spiritual objectivist mindset keeps me free from forming new conditionings.


Authenticity has always been something I strive for. For me, being truly authentic means to outwardly express my true nature, as opposed to compromising to appease someone else’s ideology or belief. It sounds simple, but it took me years to reach this point.

Through my own spiritual practice, I recognized that Ayn Rand was correct: morals come from within us when we make decisions based on reason as opposed to some belief system. While religion may work for some people, it didn’t for me. It tied me down and kept me form learning. I had to let it go to grow. We all have our own paths to follow, and mine is a rebel’s path; sometimes frightening, sometimes weird, oftentimes both, but always fulfilling.

“Each man must live as an end in himself.” Ayn Rand

Most individuals throughout history are remembered because they dared to set their own path.

“No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.” The Buddha

Buddha was a Spiritual Objectivist!

The Buddha is a prime example of what it means to be an objectivist. He was quite a rebel! He found enlightenment only after he dared to break away from the religions of his time. He put himself through a lot of anguish to find enlightenment, including depriving himself of food. In the end, he had some rice pudding, sat under the Bodhi tree and became enlightened. He had to detach from everything he was told to believe in to get there.

A Parallel Journey

I view my kundalini awakening as the beginning of my spiritual journey, and I only use the term because it’s faster than saying, “A fountain of light exploded inside my head and plugged me into something vast and seemingly borderless.” Being Greek, I’d like to mention that the Greeks call the light experience, Hesychasm. Whatever name you want to call the light experience, it has nothing to do with what happened to the Buddha under the Bodhi tree. In fact, he had transcendental experiences and never tied them to any greater knowledge.

Like Gopi Krishna, I see kundalini as part of a biological/evolutionary process, but since it’s nothing I can prove, I don’t commit to any theory. What I can say is that it did dump a lot of data into my brain. I started to have a lot of visions. Some were of geometric shapes, which were hard for me to understand. It was up to me to learn how to utilize what I was receiving and why I was receiving it. How I thought and perceived the world became even more critical during this time in my life. It’s so easy to get swept up in visions and mystical experiences, and I kept myself grounded by not making any judgements on what I was seeing.

Kundalini forced me to ask questions and confront issues I refused to deal with in the past. It was as if something switched on inside me that refused to shut off. During the process, I felt that following an ideology—any ideology, would keep me from growing spiritually. This happened when I realized gurus and spiritual masters merely stated opinions because they were interpreting their experiences subjectively. And politicians were mortals who were no better or smarter than me. It moved beyond ideology when I realized I had created belief systems about me and the people in my life, all of which were mere opinions. It was epidemic! Once I gathered this, I gave up all forms of belief. It was the act of belief, as opposed to the ideology, that kept me from traveling forward.

I should mention here that I read about the Buddha’s journey after I went through my ideological dump. This further demonstrated to me that the genuine truth is learned from within us, irrespective of where we come from. The truth is literally universal, and we can all be Buddhas if we so desire.

The Surreal Years

The early years after I gave up belief was surreal. The world my personal dogmatism created was so different from the reality I was waking up to. In a sense, I was deprogramming myself from many years of conditioning. With that came a lot of releasing of pain, the healing of emotional scars and a bout with cancer, which happened during the time I brushed aside my spiritual practice.  They were also years of learning. I read many books, even ones that would be considered blasphemous. I was scared at first but then soon realized they were also ideologies. Now I can read any topic without fear of damnation. I was finally free from belief, or so I thought. Seeing how everything I ever believed in was written by a subjective interpretation, stated by a subjective mindset and taught by a subjective individual, I became an atheist for a while…until I realized atheism was another form of belief. It’ll get you every time!

And after all that, I was free from ideology. I could finally live free, as nature intended for us…as individuals that are born with an innate morality.

“It’s not about being right or wrong.  It’s all about the experience.”

I bring this phrase up again because it liberated me. It keeps me objective and allows me to take in and enjoy every experience. And for those experiences that are painful or difficult, I still immerse myself in them fully as all experiences in life teach us about ourselves. We can choose to ignore them or learn from them and evolve. The day I heard this phrase in my meditation is as important to me as my kundalini awakening and another event, which I’ll bring up in my next post. It goes to show you, the path to enlightenment is ongoing.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Love and light,


Fine Tuning An Edit

This past Tuesday was an auspicious day. I finished my second edit of Beyond Omega’s Sunrise, began writing the second book of The Spheral Series, and the Kindle version of Unison was ready.  Talk about synchronicity!

Now on to my favorite topic: editing. Well, not really my favorite. Writing the first draft is still at the top of my list. I couldn’t relate to why some authors had a preference for editing until I witnessed the transition between manuscript to  book.  I never perceived this transition with screenwriting. I can only assume it’s because none of my screenplays were made into movies, so they’re all incomplete journeys. There’s something about this new awareness that feels oh so very good. It has nothing to do with money or whether people will like my book, but that I completed a piece of art according to my vision. Writing the story in novel form made the difference because I wasn’t writing for an agent or studio executives. I read so many blogs with authors emphasizing the importance of writing authentically. I agree with that crew. It’s the way to draw out your own unique voice. If you write with an audience in mind, you’ll be stifling your own voice with imagined expectations, preferences and opinions from people you’ve never met. I’ve read a few authors that write by envisioning one specific person reading their book. That doesn’t work for me either.

Writing is personal and sacred…

It’s a form of meditation for me. I can’t look to others to determine what my story should be any more than I would ask others how I should live my life. I’ve mentioned in previous blogs that  writing is my outward spiritual expression. It’s what made me fall in love with writing.


The editorial process is getting easier for me. It seems like my second pass through Beyond Omega’s Sunrise gave my story its shape. I can see what it looks like now, and I like where it’s headed.

In my blog post, Sculpting a Story, I mentioned how my third draft was where I saw the shape of a story emerge. I managed to streamline my editorial process because in addition to the obvious concerns regarding plot, structure and characterization I learned how to analyze my manuscript like a nit-picky editor. These fine tunes take time to develop as they’re mostly intuitive. But once mastered, they save a lot of time. I firmly believe, and now know, authors are their own best editors.  I know I”ll get a lot of flack for this statement, but no one knows my story as well as me. It’s all a matter of learning the craft and being objective…very objective.  The latter is the most challenging for most people. Most writers are either enamored by their own words or unsure of them. My issue was the latter. Luckily, I got over that hurdle, but new ones have come up to replace them. It’s always something. I’ll save that for another blog as I want to get into three very important editorial techniques that saved me a lot of time once I understood them.


A sentence can feel awkward when read, even if it’s grammatically correct and makes logical sense. This one used to drive me nuts until I discovered it had to do with rhythm.I went over this in the Sculpting a Story post; however, I’ll take it one step further here. The rhythm must not only flow from one sentence to the next, but it must have an equally flowing transition into the next thought. Giving away my age here, I compare it to what happens when the needle on a record skips over a scratch. When a skip occurs in my edit, I don’t stop and analyze it. I brainstorm until I find the proper connecting  thought and voila…the skip is gone. I find this type of edit the most time consuming because it’s very ambiguous and hard to identify.


Would a person in New York own a car? Yes, some of them would, and I’ve known a few. Nevertheless, I pondered over this question because my protagonist owns a car in the City. As it wasn’t an implausible scenario, I left the question unanswered and gave my manuscript to  my editor. She ended up mentioning the car issue, and I was astonished. Apparently even something that wasn’t implausible can be viewed as implausible when it’s not a common occurrence, such as owning a car in the City. This may seem petty to most readers, but I thought it was very revealing in that I had the same concern. If both of us thought about it, you can believe that some equally fussy readers would discern the same thing. I did, and admittedly, I’d question it.

Why on Earth would someone own a car in the city when parking is almost impossible and garages charge a fortune?

So, no matter how insignificant I think a concern of mine is, I fix it immediately because I know my doubts won’t disappear. They’re there for a reason.  I brainstormed a fix, and it added to the characterization of my protagonist, who likes the freedom of moving around.


I reference a theramin in Jessie’s Song. My editor was concerned that a lot of readers wouldn’t know what a theramin is. Now granted, they could easily go to a dictionary, as I typically do when I don’t know a word. Rather than throw in annoying exposition, I injected a little humor into the dialogue that makes it obvious that it could be used for music. This fix worked both for the lazy reader, which I admit to being at times, and the curious one who need to know the definition of every single word in the English language. The additional benefit is that the dialogue enhances the protagonist’s characterization.

With a little brainstorming, there are always creative ways to make mediocre text shine  and help add to the characterization and meaning to the  story.

Love and light,