Science Of Self Realization Book Novels & Stories

And in the center… a single book lay open as if waiting. My heart pounded. I approached slowly. The title glowed faintly: Rituals of Primordial Balance My fingers trembled as I read. When opposing forces inhabit one vessel, equilibrium may be achieved through Separation of Essence. I froze. Separation? I kept reading. The vessel may divide power willingly, preserving balance by sacrificing personal existence within the physical realm. My breath caught. Sacrifice. Not death. Something worse. Erasure.

He and his friends make a mess and he always wants me to clean it, but goddess forbid I have a drink with one of my few friends he hasn’t chased off. I go directly to the shower and let the cool water run over my body. I let the weight of my emotions wash over me as I watch the water run down my large breasts and fat belly. My tears mix with the water of the shower, but as I lather up with my herbal body wash, a peace comes over me as my vision shows me a luxury shower and the back of a slender person with white and lavender hair. I don’t know what my psychic abilities are trying to show me, but it makes me warm. This doesn’t have to be how it is forever, but I don’t know how to make the cha

Others showed versions of the students—distorted, broken, afraid. One mirror didn’t show him at all. Then the voice came. Not from a speaker or the faculty, but from everywhere. And nowhere. "The Trial of Reflection begins." "You will be seen." "You will be judged by the truths you hide from even yourself." Stone shifted. Thirteen glowing circles carved themselves into the floor. One beneath each student. The mirrors responded—angling inward. Turning. Watching. "To ascend, one must survive their reflection." "To fail... is to shatter." The first student disappeared.

He turned away from the mirror to the book and grabbed it, slowly turning it the other way as the pentacle now appeared in its original position in the upright form. The moment he had done that. The symbol began to glow followed by the book suddenly opening itself and the pages flipping madly until up to the first page, which was initially the last page. "Woah..." Jake took a seat on the bed after realising the book had written itself again. The text was in English this time. The first page had a big title written in cursive font: Power of the Mind Jake quickly read through the first page and the writing seemed first hand-not printed, like someone had actually been writing on that book a ver

I understand now that growth isn’t measured by how little you feel—but by how differently you respond. I still feel the pull. Still notice the temptation. Still experience the echo of who I used to be. But I don’t confuse memory with mandate anymore. Recognition is not relapse. Seeing the pattern does not mean you must reenact it. It means you’re finally conscious enough to choose. The chapter closes with a quiet recalibration. Not of identity—but of trust. I trust myself not to confuse intensity with alignment. Not to equate usefulness with belonging. Not to betray coherence for immediacy.

He took out the only book on the shelf and handed it to Andrius. Andrius picked it up and saw that it had an ancient aura. The title read: “Hades’ Axiom”. He flipped through the pages. The first right page was a diagram of blood vessels, and the left page was a corresponding passage from the axiom. “To achieve ultimate emptiness, maintain profound stillness. Observe all that exists as they rise, return to their roots after they grow and flourish...” As Andrius read, he could not help but be drawn by the contents. He sat down cross-legged and began cultivating according to the instructions in the book. It was an incredibly profound cultivation manual.

To trust yourself when all doubt. To lead from a danger only you can see clearly. To explain, enable the blind to see. To give people the power to hear the extraordinary in the ordinary, the everyday and normal encryption of the spoken word. To show them the messages and conversations that happen all around us to different levels of the brain. That's quite the challenge. If you haven't prayed your Salah please pray this book can wait but your salah can't Happy reading….. Saad p.o.v

Finally I spoke, "Where exactly are we mom? I thought the book was to tell me everything." "Well dear, the book actually brought you here so I could speak with you. Sure it tells you everything but I needed to tell you all of this in person, well as in person as we could get. In a sense you're in your self conscious. A piece of your mind that you find peace in." "I was awake though when I opened the book. Shouldn't I have been asleep?" "On that part the page summoned you here. In a way you're asleep but I have faith that Slate is waiting beside you for your return."

I reached out, my fingers trembling as they brushed the leather cover. The scent of wildflowers and ozone was so strong it made my head spin. Unlike the other floating books, this one sat heavy and grounded on the pedestal, as if it were the anchor for the entire room. The title was embossed in a regal, ancient script: "How to Mute Your Change's Resonance and How to Detect Another Change." "It’s exactly what the Queens said we needed," Sol whispered, leaning over my shoulder. "A way to move without alerting the Eclipse."

And that trust felt heavier than any lie. But I couldn’t tell them. Because the book warned: “To share this knowledge before completion is to fracture the self. The mind will splinter. The soul will bleed.” So I read in silence. I memorized passages. Practiced the breathing techniques described,inhaling on odd numbers, exhaling on even, until my lungs ached with rhythm. I traced the sigils in the margins with my fingertip, feeling a strange warmth bloom beneath my skin each time. By the seventh day, I was halfway through.