For the last few months, I’ve been going through a meditation protocol.
It’s called The Gateway, and I discovered it during a deep dive into some CIA-related affairs.
(You know how those special interests go.)
In the 1980s, the CIA got in touch with the Monroe Institute after hearing about a meditation/hypnosis protocol involving different frequencies in each ear. The idea was to encourage the brain to “meet in the middle” and sync the frequencies, putting it into an operational wavelength that…
…well, you know. Enhances abilities like remote viewing, telepathy, extradimensional awareness, and more.
Wild, right? That’s exactly why I was drawn to it. Also, I believe the CIA stopped researching it after determining it to be legitimate but not immediately measurable or observably effective—classic.
But I’m not trying to fight a Cold War or spy on anyone. I just wondered what might happen if I disciplined myself to work through the tapes.
There are dozens of them, and as someone incredibly susceptible to hypnosis and neurolinguistic programming, it came naturally to move through the first 23. I developed a process for getting my brain into the different levels of focus described in the tapes, learning to drop deep into my mind and relax my body within minutes.
On the 24th tape, I experienced what I can only describe as bliss. It couldn’t have come at a better time—I was in crisis, using meditation to escape my anxiety and refocus. While I thought I was simply using a tool, I didn’t expect to interact with my dead father.
He’d shown up a few times before as I trained my brain, but those interactions were brief, though restorative. In one session, while practicing remote viewing, I saw a memory of his with such omnipresence that it sparked immense compassion—for him, for me, for everyone. He sent me a message that became my mantra over the last few months:
“It ain’t over ’til it’s over, and it ain’t ever over.”
But Tape 24? That’s when I had real, direct interactions with him. The messages came through with such clarity that they made me cry. (Side note: Isn’t it weird to cry with your eyes closed? Such a strange sensory experience. Is it just me?)
My father and I had an incredibly fraught relationship—neurodivergence on both sides, family secrets I didn’t know, alcoholism, and more. It wasn’t in the stars for us to have a close relationship while he was alive. But now, unburdened by his body and brain, he’s revealing things I’ve needed to know for decades.
If I were less confident in my spirituality, I might worry: What if this is just my brain telling me what I want to hear? What if I’m just talking to myself like a straight-up lunatic?
But I accepted a long time ago that I believe what I was taught as a child, which has been confirmed by science and experience hundreds of times:
If we are all made up of God, does it matter whether I am telling myself what I need to hear or God is doing the telling? Aren’t we the same substance? Wouldn’t the messages be the same?
I hear people say they “can’t meditate” or that they’ve “tried but aren’t good at it.” The common misconceptions about what meditation is cause so much of this perceived inability.
If you meditate by doing the dishes—fully noticing the water, smelling the soap, perceiving the food that once sat on the plate, and diligently preparing the coffee cup for the next day—you’ve meditated. Intentional awareness of what you’re doing and where you are is meditation.
If you need direction and structure, though, I highly recommend trying the Gateway tapes. They’re available online for free. If you decide to try them, I’d love to hear about your experience—reply to this email or comment on the post, and let’s talk about it!
Xoxo,
M.
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