The Voice for me—and again, I assume as we move along I will talk about some of these things because they‘re pertinent—the Voice was very powerful. On first impression it was male, funny enough. But I guess that was much more my fear than anything else. It‘s much more like some very, very old woman who has been chain smoking all her life.

Even the whole set up for me was almost womb-like. I was literally suspended, in a sense, within that environment, a very closed environment where I did not eat, I did not sleep, and I did not take any liquids in for 8 days. I lived in an extraordinary physical state because I was completely dehydrated, so I had a kind of, like when your foot is asleep, I had this sensation literally all over my body for 8 days. As a matter of fact, the only time the intensity of it would go away is when I would acoustically hear, whatever that means, the Voice.

The other thing that many people don‘t understand about that process—mostly because I simply don‘t talk about it very much—is that calling it a “voice” tends to place it exclusively in that kind of realm, that it was an audio experience. I only call it the Voice because I don‘t have any other name to call it; that‘s how I met it, it was a voice. I know that there are many names for such a thing, but I assume that if the Voice had a name it wanted me to call it, it would have given it to me, and it didn‘t. But the fact was, what it was that I was dealing with—the Voice—is not the same as the kind of experience I went through, which was very different. It was physical, mutative, it was painful, it was audible, visual, and it was more than that. It was being plugged in, in a way, to what one isn‘t necessarily designed to be plugged into. So, I guess that is how much time, 8 days, was necessary at that speed with that complexity of input to put inside of me all the information that was necessary.

When it was over—because I started the class by speaking about my ego and my will—when it was over, I was sitting outside of the ruina. Actually out of the left of the picture there is a fig tree, and I was sitting under this fig tree and I started to cry. I had this sense of “what do you do now?” I didn‘t want to be a salesman, I didn‘t want to go out into the world and say to people, “Hey, look, a voice told me how everything works!”; that‘s really insane. I wouldn‘t pay any attention to anybody who said such a thing to me, and I knew it. It was a standing joke of mine for years that I never would have paid money to listen to me because I was just not open to such things.

People would tell me that they had a mystical experience and I would go, “Yeah, yeah.” I didn‘t know; I was ignorant of all of that. And then to come out of all of that and know that I would never have it again, that I would never, ever experience the intensity of such magic; it‘s so extraordinary and it was the best part, after all. I was crying under that tree because I had to go to work. It‘s the first thing the Voice said to me―“Are you ready to work?” I never answered because it wasn‘t a question. It was a warning, I guess. And it was so obvious to me that I would toil on the mundane plane with the world of not-selves, in a world where rumors fly and the truth crawls, and where to be a mystic is to be cornered off into some kind of New Age whatever. It was horrifying. It really was; it was horrifying.

All I could do was lean on the logic of the form of Human, the Human Design System, lean on its logic and do my job as a messenger. I guess, deep underneath, for me the fact that I‘m even doing Rave Cosmology is a chance to bring balance to the experience. Also, to show in so many ways how vast the knowledge really is. How profound the source of this knowledge really is.

Excerpt from Rave Cosmology I: Bhan Tugh

Ra Uru Hu was the Human Design System’s founder and messenger. Ra dedicated 25 years of his life to the development and teaching of the System around the world until he passed away in 2011.