Playing World of Worldcraft

When I was traveling across the U.S., I somehow ended up in the same hotel as Bentinho Massaro, a Law Of Attraction teacher I’d heard of from friends who posted his videos. Seeing how uncoincidental this was, I sat in for a day.

During the question and answer session, one of the questioners asked why, if we each create our own reality, do we all agree that the front of the meeting room at the hotel has the same godawful 70’s gold-colored velvet drapes?

Bentinho’s response was one of the best explanations I’ve heard for how reality works.

He describes reality as a massively multi-player online role playing game. We each have our PlayStation, and when we choose to play in a particular arena (Earth, in this case) we download the software for playing The Game of Earth. From there, we can interact with other Game of Earth players, through the avatars (bodies) we project into this game.

But we each play on our own machine. They’re just all networked.

While Bentinho describes the game as glorified Nintendo, the author Dan Simmons goes one step further in the book Ilium. He describes the experience of reality as the creation of the soul, and this feels more accurate to me. We download the software for reality, but to actually experience it, the soul creates a quantum wavefront, and the mind experiences this quantum wavefront as reality. In a way, it is like the soul is steering a speedboat, and the mind is behind it as a skier, being taken wherever the soul goes.

How do we interact?

So if we’re all just playing on our own machines, why does it seem like we’re interacting with each other? We interact through our avatars – our bodies. When we come into the game, our souls define our Bitmoji bodies and upload them into the network.

When somebody meets us, they see our Bitmoji avatars as our souls have defined them. The avatar is downloaded into their PlayStation, and they see what we’ve defined, but on their hardware, not ours.

When I shake someone’s hand, I feel the hand of the copy of their avatar as it is downloaded into my PlayStation, through the hand of my own avatar in my PlayStation. At the same time, I send across the network that I’m shaking the hand of this person, and they have the same experience in their PlayStation, of shaking the hand of the copy of my avatar in their machine.

When we walk into a new room, we are walking into a place that has been uploaded by someone else. So we all see the same godawful 70’s gold-colored velvet drapes because, before we got there, someone had modified the software (by hiring a questionable interior designer, in this case) to project these curtains into the world. We all downloaded the same software in order to meet in the same world, so we all see the same curtains. (Sorry.)

Beyond the game

So if reality is a game, what’s outside of the game? I can’t describe it, but it appears to be where our souls reside. In the same way that World of Warcraft players talk on conference calls more than they attempt to type out their plans onscreen between avatars, our souls communicate outside the game, via telepathy and empathy. Even when we aren’t near someone we are strongly connected to, we can still feel what they feel, or know when they are about to call us, or feel when something horrible happens. This is because our souls communicate outside the game.

Synchronicity is what happens when our souls are orchestrating things outside of the game. When we “coincidentally” run into friends or meaningful people, our souls have spoken to each other outside the game and moved our avatars to meet at the same location. We can also manipulate the software to a lesser or greater degree, causing meaningful signs and symbols to appear in the game. Depending on the expertise a soul has at software hacking, they can change reality in ways we don’t understand.

When I was on a road trip with Steve, we once visited a site that had intense meaning to him. In order to get there, we had to step over a two-rail fence that separated the site from the parking lot we were in. We stepped across a place where one of the rails was half-off the fence post, and rounded a corner of the building to drop of something to complete the task we had set out for ourselves.

When we returned to the fence a minute later, both rails were gone.

There had been no sound of workmen removing the rails, no work trucks coming or going in that minute, no indication that the rails had ever existed. They were simply gone, as if the film had been butt-spliced with two different experiences. We had made a shift in the software.

We are not our avatars!

When we interact with other actors in a video game, we type commands into the computer or move the joystick and press certain buttons, and our avatar in the game performs a whole series of maneuvers – creating dialogue, walking a certain way, opening a door, and so on, even though we only typed “open door” or “talk to person.”

The mind is a powerful tool that translates our souls’ directives into the complex activities we perform in our day-to-day lives. It is part of our avatars, as much as our bodies are, designed to coordinate our motions and our words in ways that allow us to interact with this world.

The challenge comes when our minds attempt to actually create their own directives. At a certain point, our minds shift from facilitators to directors. They mean well! They simply cannot comprehend how much our souls can process. (Imagine comparing the cognitive skills of a character in a video game with your own.) So they attempt to take on things that are really our souls’ purview.

Eventually it kinda freaks them out that they are doing things that they haven’t decided upon, because the soul works on a completely different level outside of the video game. And eventually it shuts down the connection with the soul, and we come to believe that our minds are the masters of the game, rather than our highest servants.

When the mind and soul conflicts

We can tell when our minds have attempted to wrest control from our souls by how much stress we feel. The soul is driving the speedboat in a certain direction, but if the mind decides it wants to go elsewhere, well… it can, to a degree. There is some play in the line between the speedboat and the skier. But as the line stretches tighter and tighter, the mind undergoes more stress. It eventually appears in the body as unease, then disease.

When we allow ourselves to trust the direction our souls are taking us, we can reduce the stress we feel. By replacing the “should be”s with “it is”es we end up aligning ourselves with what the soul places in front of us – reality – and we can then move within that space.

The challenge becomes allowing ourselves to recognize once more that there is more in our lives than our minds. Being okay with synchronicity. Allowing our minds to be open to inputs from outside the game. And trusting our souls to move us forward.