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Lazaris on the Line
By Fraser Beath McEwing
How a genderless being who does not exist—but will come to the phone—changed one man's life with `his' amazing insights . . ..
My bedside digital clock began bleating at me to wake up at 3:00 a.m. on a Wednesday morning in November last year. I stumbled out of bed, knowing that in a half-hour I had to be fully alert. I was to speak to somebody who did not exist as a person—never had and never would.
At 3:30 a.m., I dialed a number in Palm Beach, Florida. The soft, easy voice of Jach Pursel answered. We chatted briefly about how we lived and worked. Then I asked to speak to Lazaris, the nonphysical entity that Jach Pursel had been exclusively channeling throughout the United States for 15 years. I knew what Jach Pursel would do next. I had seen it happen four weeks previously at a Lazaris workshop in Phoenix, Arizona.
I waited, listening to the hollow fragments of international telephone sounds. Then Lazaris greeted me in that strange accent, a mixture of Old English, Scottish, Irish and Welsh—but really none of them:
"All right, fine, and a pleasure to be talking with you in the middle of the night," he said. "Please state your name and your age. We ask your name to tap into your vibration and your age because in our reality there is no time. We use your age as a point of chronology to separate that which you know as your past, present and future."
The voice was the same one I had heard on the many audio and videotapes available in Australia, and the one I had listened to for an entire day in Phoenix.
The idea of channeling is difficult for many people to accept. It would be so easy for even a mediocre actor to fake. But to dwell on the possibility of Lazaris being a slick stage act is to focus upon the hole instead of the doughnut. The ability of his words to reach into your private world can be shattering.
Two years ago, a friend gave me what she thought was an amusing tape to play in the car. A man with a distinctive but indefinable accent was telling a frequently laughing audience about abundance. Money, he said, was an illusion; and when you can really accept that, you can create as much of it as you want. The basis of his philosophy was that we all create our own reality, meaning that we can change our lives into whatever we like.
I thought I was listening to a comedian, or a professional motivator with a new way to get the message across. Later, I discovered that I had been listening to Lazaris, the entity channeled by Jach Pursel. Since then, I have listened to many of his tapes, read his three books and watched his videos (in which I saw the process of channeling).
In October, 1989, I attended the Lazaris workshop in Phoenix. Concept: Synergy, the organization that markets Lazaris material in 23 countries, including Australia, had hired a convention room at the Sheraton Phoenix Hotel. The workshop was due to begin at 10:00 a.m., but the crowd, which was to swell to nearly 200, began laying claim to seats well before nine.
Soft, evocative music drifted through the room—music which was part of a collection composed especially for Lazaris, and which would play an important role in later meditations. The mood of the audience was friendly, a little excited.
At 10:00 a.m. exactly, Jach Pursel walked unassumingly through the room to sit in a big, comfortable chair on a small platform. He was of medium height, a little overweight. His face reminded me of a country singer's, cupped by silvering hair and beard.
Jach bade the audience good morning and joked about the weather in Phoenix, compared with balmy Florida—where he now lives with his business partners and close friends, Peny and Michael North. He explained that we would not hear from him again that day; we had come to experience Lazaris. Jach seemed like an introspective man, not particularly fond of public appearances and certainly not claiming to have any metaphysical gifts of his own—except as a channel for Lazaris.
Jach handed the microphone to one of his assistants, who announced upcoming seminars. During the announcements, Jach closed his eyes and seemed to go to sleep. The microphone was left in his lap. Everybody in the audience now riveted their attention on the sleeping face. A minute passed. Then he took three deep breaths, as though waking, but his eyes remained closed. He smiled broadly—a different smile from Jach's. Here was a different personality with a totally different voice.
"Well, all right," came the familiar opening, "and a pleasure to be with you here in Phoenix." Lazaris had taken control.
Because Jach channels for Lazaris, the impression is that Lazaris is a man. But he claims otherwise, describing himself as a nonphysical, nonsexual, multi-personality entity—which is why he refers to himself as "we." Another peculiarity is that he has no conception of time. Time, he says, is one of the artificial conditions we accept when deciding, before birth, that we will take a body and experience life on earth. Our decision also details that experience. Some decide on power and riches, some on pain and poverty. Most of us take a measure of both. The central message of Lazaris is that because we create our own reality, we can change the kind of choice we made in the first place, if it does not work out.
The workshop set about dealing with the common problem of how we prevent ourselves from realizing our potential in most phases of our lives. Lazaris explained the blockage as "the bottom line" and the purpose of the day was to smash it—or at least go away with a technique for smashing it later, if the day only succeeded in putting a crack in it.
"It is much easier to succeed than it is to fail," he said.
"When we fail we have to remember our lines, such as `they did it to me.' People are the only creatures on your planet that fail. There has never been a rock that failed to be a rock, or a plant that failed to be a plant . . . failure is the oddity. But we build walls around ourselves so that success cannot get in."
Having isolated the problem, Lazaris set about guiding his friends (he does not regard the audience as followers or devotees) in solving it. There had to be a change—which he explained as something that happened instantaneously. You never see change, only experience its effects. He listed some reasons why we resist change and then got down to tackling the bottom line, the blockage that holds us back from success.
There are seven different bottom lines, he said, and at least one of them applies to each of us. He promised to help us find which one it was. The choice was between fear of loss of control, fear of loneliness, fear of intimacy, shame, narcissism, martyrhood and pride.
My own bottom line, I discovered during a meditation, was fear of intimacy. I recalled how this has led me to fail in so many relationships, including two marriages. I was afraid to get too close to people because they may discover my weaknesses, or learn my secrets. But in order to be successful, in every one of my endeavors, I had to learn to be intimate.
At that point, I did not even care whether Lazaris was really from another plane or a local with a good patter. I knew that he had uncovered my problem, and I was propelled forward to look for its solution.
Working on the solution was a moving and painful experience. It came partly through what Lazaris said, but much more from two powerful meditations that he led.
In the more vivid meditation, Lazaris took us on a journey of imagination through a quiet, beautiful forest at dusk. In a grassy clearing we came upon a metal box with a lid. We climb inside and close the lid on top of ourselves. Footsteps approach outside, and somebody, or something, locks us in. It is pitch black, and there is very little room. We wait in contemplation for what seems an eternity. Then, suddenly, we are aware that we are trapped inside the box with our bottom line and we begin a terrifying, claustrophobic struggle with it.
The struggle goes on and on. We are bruised, bleeding and suffocating, With our strength all but spent, we make one last strike at our bottom line and we succeed in conquering it. The top of the box is open, and our Higher Self lifts us out and gently lays us on the grass where we are cleaned and healed.
At the end of the meditation, most people were in tears. Some of them, Lazaris said, would find that their bottom line had indeed been smashed, and they could allow success to flood in. Others would get some benefit, but would need to apply themselves to breaking it down thoroughly later. He detailed four do-it-yourself techniques for smashing the bottom line, some of them strange and symbolic, and others involving a struggle in solitude, using an intense process of thought.
At around 6 p.m., Lazaris announced the next meeting time and place and closed the workshop, using his usual sign-off "with love and peace." Jach Pursel opened his eyes and the audience, typically American, applauded. He stepped from the dais and was confronted with a line of well-wishers and autograph collectors. I joined the line to tell him that I wanted to write about Lazaris. "Good," he said, "and if it would help you can call me in Palm Beach, and speak to Lazaris as well."
I called Jach and spoke to him and Lazaris for nearly an hour. Mostly, I questioned Lazaris about points to do with his communications but, with time running out, I could not resist throwing in a question of my own. I said I had a problem with relationships.
"Yes," replied that now familiar accent. "When we look at your vibration, we see a tremendous fear of intimacy."
This, of course, would prove little to the skeptic, but it said a whole lot to me about the skill and | 
