Tea with Bin Laden - my true story

I’m sure you remember where you were and what you were doing on that fateful morning in Sept, 2001.

I was sound asleep when Paul called on the phone and woke me up.

“Lauren, turn on the TV,” he said, his voice solemn. Paul never called me Lauren unless he wanted to talk about something serious. “Lauren, I think the next war has started. Planes are bombing the Trade Center.”

“What?!” I was suddenly awake. Memories of thousands of nightmares I’ve had since I was a kid returned in full force. “I’ll call you back.” I hung up the phone, ran into the living room, and turned on the TV. My son and his wife were sleeping on a bed there. They were staying with me until Nathan could find a new job, having lost a position and was quite without means at the time.

“Ma!” Nathan complained, turning over in bed. “What’s up? It’s really early.”

“I know, honey,” I answered him. “But something is wrong. Planes are bombing the trade center.” I turned the volume up.

Then began the minute by minute, hour by hour reporting, then replaying — a jet crashing into the south tower of the World Trade Center. The north tower was already on fire, flames and smoke pouring out. Soon the Pentagon would be hit. And then United Airlines Flight 93 would crash near Shanksville, Pennsylvia. And finally the nearly-instantaneous collapse of three buildings, while Nathan, Luz, and I watched horrified, unable to move, eat breakfast or even think coherently.

Those scenes are indelibly burned into communal memories all over our planet while that day marked the end of an era and the beginning of a new one. The news announcers told us that Al-Queda was to blame for the attacks, the mastermind of that organization being Osama Bin Laden.

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I had been a spiritual pilgrim to sacred sites for a few years, then returning home and writing articles about my metaphysical and spiritual experiences while there. I had, with the help of Paul’s grandson Corey, created a website. It consisted of my many articles, both on sacred sites and general spiritual subjects, as well as a free site to find metaphysical tours to sacred sites worldwide. I charged nothing, neither to visitors nor the 104 tour companies I listed. It was my gift to the Universe.

I had been immersed in my own spiritual world, quite unaware of political, national, or global news for decades. My avoidance had started when I was in my 20’s, when I had been watching coverage of the Viet Nam war on the television every night. I felt emotionally torn apart watching that terrible carnage, and finally turned off the news, not turning it on again until 9/11.

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While Nathan and Luz continued to watch, hour after hour, I felt that I had to do something, anything, to bring a spiritual balance to the awfulness that had invaded our living room and our lives. I went into my bedroom, closed my eyes, and began to chant over and over for what seemed like an eternity.

“I bless all the people who have died.

I bless their families and friends.

I bless the firefighters.

I bless the police officers.

I bless the onlookers.

I bless Mayor Guilliani.

I bless all the helpers.

I bless our government.

I bless President Bush.

I bless the American people.

I bless our troops.

I bless the world.

I bless Al-Queda terrorists.

I bless Bin Laden.”

Then I would begin again.

“I bless all the people who have died.

I bless their families and friends.

I bless the firefighters”….. etc. etc.

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What I was doing may sound repugnant to you. After all, we were taught to hate Bin Laden and the terrorists. But my Council of Elders, a group of Ascended Masters including Babaji, and Metatron, who have worked with me since I was five years old, had years before taught me an important mantra: “Everything is perfect, no matter what it looks like, for the purpose of learning, growth and evolving.”

The Elders come from a highly advanced consciousness of enlightenment, one that is difficult for us human beings to comprehend with our limited awareness and logical, egoic minds. In fact, the mantra could seem like a contradiction, a conundrum, like a Buddhist Koan. Yet their mantra often brought me great peace. With that in mind, 9/11 was “perfect,” for humanity to learn, grow and evolve from the tragedy.

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So there I was on the morning of 9/11. I evoked the Elders, reminded once again that everything was perfect. If that is the case, then the terrorists and Bin Laden are perfect, too. And so I chanted all day. It was the only thing that kept me from sobbing in despair and grief.

I found that, as I chanted “I bless….” the individuals that I blessed seemed to soak up the blessing like a healing balm. (The only one who rejected my blessing was President Bush.)

Even Bin Laden was happy to receive my blessing.

The first night, the evening of 9/11, Bin Laden’s energy appeared to me while I was chanting, and interrupted me.

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“You’re an American,” he said, more as a question.

“Yes, I am,” I replied quietly, a little surprised at his appearance.

“Are you a Muslim?” he asked me.

“No, I’m not,” I returned.

“Then why are you blessing me?” Bin Laden asked, a little heatedly it seemed to me.

I thought for a moment, then answered, “Because you are my brother. You live on planet earth, and we are connected as a planetary family.” It seemed logical to me.

I could feel him rolling that idea around in his mind, yet his “brow” furrowed. “But… doesn’t your country hate me?”

“I suppose so,” I replied. “But I don’t.”

“Why don’t you?” he asked again.

I took a deep breath and let it out. “Because…. you are my spiritual brother and we must all learn to get along.”

I could feel his impatience and non-understanding as Bin Laden’s energy left my space.

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I was pretty worn out, emotionally, physically, and psychologically, as most of us were. I was also saturated with the repeating images of the planes and buildings and suggested we go out to eat. During dinner Nathan proposed a plan of us buying special tires for my truck, going shopping for food and guns, then heading out to the country. I told him I didn’t want to do that. But he persisted in his planning through the meal. We all went to bed early that night.

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I no longer chanted after that first day, but kept the idea of blessing everyone uppermost in my mind.

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The next night Bin Laden’s energy (or soul/spirit) showed up again, asking the same questions. “Are you an American?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a Muslim?”

“No.”

“Why are you blessing me?”

“Because you are my brother and I would rather love than hate you.”

He disappeared once again.

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The third evening, just as I had gone to bed, Bin Laden returned. This time was a little different. He “Invited” me to join him at tea. I followed him to a dimly lit, damp, dark little home. I sat down at an old wooden, communal table.

It was just the two of us as he poured me some mint tea and I “sipped” the tea, waiting for his inevitable questions.

“Are you an American?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a Muslim?”

“No.”

Now he seemed very disturbed and leaned towards me.

“Then I just don’t understand why you would bless me.” I could feel his confusion and a desire to comprehend my point of view.

I tried very hard to make my point. “I believe we are all related on this planet as human beings. The Elders tell me that everything and everyone is connected, like the physicists say. So that means that you are my brother.” I paused.

“But why do you not reject me, as the others in your country have?”

“I can’t speak for them. I can only speak for myself. I want there to be peace, between you and me, among all of us. We need to learn to love each other, to stop war and hatred.”

“But you are not a Muslim,” he persisted.

“No, I’m not.”

With that, he imperiously waved his hand, and I was dismissed from the table and his life forever.

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I have told this story a lot through the years. It always makes me wonder how I even thought to chant what I did. To include Bin Laden and the terrorists in my blessings. I am further amazed that Bin Laden would come to visit me, to question my activity. But then I have had many unusual experiences in my life. The unusual feels normal to me!

I believe the same way today as then. We are all related by our spiritual heritage. We all reside on this planet. We all struggle to learn, take care of our families, to live our lives as best we can.

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If we don’t love one another, bless each other, we are doomed to war, hatred, revenge, and perhaps annihilation.

As Tiny Tim says in Dickens’ CHRISTMAS CAROL, “Bless us all …. everyone.”

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Blessings,

Lauren O. Thyme

first published in galdepress.com 7/3/2012