Who is Christopher Wynter

« A Plain Man's Personal Journal .. 



The Journey through my Life
A Personal Story of Transpersonal Remembering

Just who do I think I am?

I cannot see myself. A knife can cut, but cannot cut itself. A fire can burn, but not burn itself. It is only when I separate from myself that I can experience thoughts, feelings and emotions. But, which of the many personalities that go to make up me is thinking or feeling? Who is it that is watching this process?

I was the unwanted child of rape. Ashamed of my existence, her position and unable to confide in anyone, my 17 year old mother ran away from a middle class country family home. Dependant on welfare and charity for survival, living by her wits and contemplating suicide, she was eventually picked up and taken firstly to a Sydney hospital and then to a refuge. She tried to abort me on several occasions but somehow I survived.

Conception and the womb experience

The conception of an new idea is an experience to be dreaded. It is out of my control and I will have to suffer pain and humiliation as I bring the idea to fruition. I can now see how the poisons used for the abortion and suicide attempts and the emotional process she went through have had a major effect on my reactions to life situations, my physical health and my thought processes. Each time a pattern surfaces, it attracts to it a similar pattern to reinforce the belief. As each pattern is buried on top of the previous, it increases the energy available to recreate the pattern with greater intensity, not necessarily in form but to reinforce the unconscious belief.

As I grew inside her, mother was faced with the realisation that I would not go away. Would she keep me after I was born? The conflict between her primal instincts and the reality of life as she experienced it caused an agonising which was only partly eased when she was told by authorities that she had to give me up. Even this decision caused another set of conflicts. Life, even her own body, was out of control.


Throughout my life, everything I conceived of is a struggle. From struggle came the pain of a conflict that was out of my control. I wanted to run away, but feared my knowing that the system would win out in the end. I feared being powerless to hold onto anything I gave birth to, believing that in the end I would have to give it up. Promise is something to be dreaded.

I repeated the pattern of my birth as my first son, born into an uncomfortable relationship, was given up for adoption by his mother without my knowing. Powerless to intervene, I could not handle the grief which surfaced from an as yet unknown source and so, wrapped my shell even more tightly around me.

The Orphanage

I gave away my integrity. Unconscious choices such as ‘Which costume will I wear? Which face will I put on to gain the approval or recognition of another?' took me further away from myself. The conflict between the roles I am playing goes far deeper than the consciousness influence of this life’s experience. In any given moment, who am I? If I am angry or afraid, I cannot see that it is the angry or afraid person that is looking out of my eyes. I can only see myself in the mirror of the people, events and situations of the day to day existence which I attract to myself for my experience and growth.

Alone for 6 weeks in the cold, noisy clinical atmosphere of the Catholic run nursery with nuns who never knew what it was like to be a mother, I learned to withdraw. I knew I would never see my mother again. Tightly bound and unable to move, the harsh starched, rough, tight bindings of the hospital wrappings became both my new womb and the symbols of my new life. They also became the unconscious expectation that I would project on every new life experience.

I knew that I would never see my mother again. I felt guilty that my existence was responsible for her pain. On the 3rd day after my birth, painfully trapped in a body I didn’t want, I shut off from the Outer World of Spirit and my Guardian Angel. It was as though my Spirit friends had abandoned me. No one could communicate with me. With both my psychic and telepathic skills fully active, I found that none of the insensitive people around me could understand my basic needs. I felt their moods, their lies, their projections and was frightened. I didn’t understand myself. Force feeding from a plastic nipple was no mother substitute. I felt cheated - not pacified. I wasn’t always hungry when I cried!

The beginnings of behaviour

For many, verbal communication with a child is only to satisfy the needs of the adult. The child sees through the words to experience the underlying unexpressed conscious and unconscious thoughts and feelings. A world of falsehood opens up.

In children’s behaviour is reflected the unconscious thoughts, feelings and emotions of their parents and guardians. Children are playing out and mirroring to us our own inner games which we cannot see.

I Forgot why I was born.I forgot who I was. The lives of the past and the World of spirit were painful memories. I grieved my separation. The pain of the outside world was greater than the pain I experienced in the womb. Primal survival instincts of the body were all that remained. Rather than look on life from a balanced perspective, I perceived only my unworthiness and lack - the reflection of my inner separation from the miracle that is me. I gave my power away out of a need to overcome my feelings.


Relationships have always been difficult. It was hard to feel close to another when the earliest memories of intimacy were of spending the last week in the womb with the dead body of my twin brother. He died that I might survive - for so I judged. I couldn’t even have a relationship with myself, let alone stand the closeness of another naked body next to mine once the urgency of the primal passion had worn off .

Suicide thoughts expressed many times the feelings that ‘I want to go home’. Only now do I understand that mostly they were my mother’s desperate wish to be able to go home. Like her, I felt that I could never return. She and her parents fled from pre-war Poland as refugees, knowing that they could never return. My cry for the mother was also our ethnic cry for the Mother Country. No partner ever seemed to satisfy that.

The Mind cannot change itself. So how do I think I can change my mind? The fabric of the mind, the structure of brain cells doing the thinking is the genetically encoded product of the thoughts, feelings and emotions of my ancestors who have lived before me. My responses are conditioned responses or reactions. Self defence transmutes to self sabotage as familiar patterns of stress and self judgement are threatened. It is not safe to remember, because from the remembering comes shame and pain.

My adoptive family fostered a baby sister who slept in my room for 6 weeks before she disappeared. All my mother told me was that she sent her back because she was too much trouble. The truth I already knew did not save me from the impact of those words. The Tall Angel had visited me under the big tree one day earlier and told me what would happen. I was powerless to do anything. Mother wouldnt believe me when I told her, yet when they took my sister away, she blamed me.

I looked on as father, choking back his emotions, had to burn all the memories of what had been his little girl. I learned it is not safe for a male to speak his truth, or show emotions. I later found out that a man had come to take the baby away because her natural parents wanted her back. The cold, matter of fact voice of authority strikes again. Mother, the Matriarch, in her blind resentment, made father burn the baby things. I watched. Father was split in two. He couldn’t show any emotion. Men aren’t allowed to cry. I felt the tears he didn’t want to let out, and followed his role model for most of my life. Mother tried to protect me, even from my father.

From that time on, mother was split between moods of uncontrollable rage and quiet sullenness. I was totally afraid of her until she died of Alzheimer's Disease. She didn’t want to remember.

Fearing that she might lose me meant that mother was never able to let me out of her sight. I had to perform to validate her feelings of inadequacy as a mother.

The pattern ‘cut off’ was repeated and I vowed never again to open myself to the outer world. How could I trust myself - or anyone else? 

A 7 year old does not understand how mother had a breakdown because the baby’s parents wanted her back. All I felt was pain, both my own and, (psychically) my adoptive mother’s grief projected onto me. The 7 year old was frozen inside me and buried for 42 years before I was able to allow that the revelation of this secret was not going to get me into too much trouble.

The birth pattern had been repeated - right on cue - and with every relationship since - until now.

The Life Experience

The Life experience looks at life through a filter set of photographic transparencies which records a negative image of each experience. Every catching of the breath from a shock that is perceived results in another photographic snapshot. Layer upon layer is built up to form multiple distorting images and impressions so that the source is lost. Everything I (or anyone, for that matter) reads, writes, says is prejudiced - seen through the filters of the engineered unconscious mind of both the author and the reader. We can only recognise our own personal distortions through what we are taught to see.


School was a conflict. If I knew too much, ‘the teacher’s pet’ was persecuted by other students as a nerd; not to learn was to incur the wrath of both teachers and other parents. There was no middle ground unless you were tough. The code of silence wouldn't allow me to talk about my feelings ... no one would hear me anyway...My adoptive father was a school teacher, skilled in the logic of mathematical thought. Unless something was logical, or could be scientifically proven, it could not exist. Imaginary friends and visions I had were dismissed as merely the product of a childish imagination. I shut down even further. Science and electronics were safe and logical pursuits. I became an engineer.


Mankind has been taught to live
in a world of alibis and self promoting schemes
to cover the illusion of lack.

We are trained not to remember. Memory loss is increasing because the mind is trained to rely on the written word. The short sightedness that came with education and the ever increasing spread of the written word is beginning to manifest and overwhelm the ability of the body to cope. The results are body disease and mind trauma. Introspection becomes an inward spiralling where the individual world gets smaller, eventually imploding in on itself.

The hysteria of 'me the victim' finds no place in a world where my thoughts, feelings and emotions are intellectualised, logically analysed and dismissed deep into the unconscious only to resurface as the next pattern of shock freezes me into an unconscious recollection of past pain, suffering and judgement. I am bound to the past by my fear of the future. My fear of the future is my fear of the repercussions of my future judgements of the present based on unconscious reactions learned from the past. I am afraid of the possibilities of my future regrets.

As this 20th century draws to a close, human kind, particularly western society, is trying to evolve whilst unconsciously holding onto the inherited survival instincts of the primal society, yet reading, listening to and trying to apply ancient words of spirituality written in the unconsciously remembered languages of times of long ago.


Throughout my life I carried a learned belief that I couldn’t do anything to avoid the hurt. I braced myself to minimise the pain, rounding my shoulders, closing my chest to protect my heart. In order to see objectively, I must conquer (or suppress) my fears, holding my breath as I do so. I kept looking over my shoulder to see who was sneaking up on me to judge or punish me. I thought it was my adoptive mother with the hair brush or wooden spoon she used to beat me with when I didn’t perform to her expectations.

Father wasn’t there to help me. I didn’t understand his absence was because he worked a long way away from home - and he was trying to escape an unhappy relationship with my mother. For years, everything I did was motivated by an unconscious seeking of his approval.

The cosmic joke was that the only person behind me was me. I was the weight I was carrying on my own shoulders, curving and compressing my spine. I was the pain in my own neck, the pinch in the small of my back jamming the nerves to my digestive system and the block in my sacrum, the pain in my backside. How many times had I been told to take responsibility for myself, not to be so irresponsible? That was the part of me that was crushing me.

It is only mental gravity which keeps mankind bound to the Earth cycle of life and death. We are killing ourselves trying to stay alive to avoid the separation of death - and rebirth.


A near death experience from a car accident was orchestrated to change my life. My body physically remembers the pain of the impact and the rolling car in spite of 14 days of unconsciousness. Jumbled reawakened memories were difficult to face during the moments of death. Regrets at what I had done and, more importantly, at opportunities missed - all my self judgements. It had been easier to look outside rather than take responsibility for myself. I had the choice to come back and fix it as an adult whilst I could remember, or come back as a baby again and forget the reason I came back.

After this, I was told, my life changed. I couldn’t see the change then, but as I look back now, I can. Memories of the time out of body have flooded back, but until I allowed myself to remember, it wasn’t safe. I was the one who took on the ridicule of those around me.


All forms of consciousness are mother. The fear of the new, of the unknown and of rebirth is an echo of mother's fear of giving birth. I couldn’t ‘be reborn’ until I overcame both that and my drug induced programming to go unconscious at birth. Birth and rebirth patterns run our lives, repeating a cyclic pattern throughout the years. We pass this consciousness on to our children. Mother is the conception vessel and our concept of ourselves is mother’s ability to conceive, firstly of herself.

Avoidance is anything and anyone who makes me look outside of myself. All dreams, all nightmares are me. All friends are me, all places are me. Until I am rid of fear, everyone and everything else is me. Everything I feel is the feeling of another. Everything I think is the thought of another. Mother taught me that, as her perceived victim continually looked outside through the filters of resentment.

Thus I continually gave away my power and my integrity. So much has the avoidance mechanism feared looking at itself that it has conditioned me to regard as me and mine what society and community has dictated, thus avoiding the inner path to truth.

As I allowed myself to look back and remember, I could see that my reactions to the major events of my life were variations of sabotage patterns begun when mother was given an overdose of Morphine to dull the pain of an appendicitis crisis which caused my premature birth. I liked to go unconscious around decision making time.

Mother couldn’t conceive of my birth, I couldn’t conceive of my own spirituality.

The Ancient Wisdoms

The ancient wisdom of all religions and all forms of spirituality contain only two basic postulates. ‘God dwells in you as you’ and ‘see God in each other’. Every other spiritual word written came from this truth because man could not understand the essence of these words. It is only ego that sees (or causes one to see) that one form of spirituality or healing is better than another, for all are only a part of that which is more expansive than the mind is capable of seeing.

Spiritual ego saw the rise of the mystery schools to give one man power over another. Spiritual ego saw splits and sects created within cultures and religions so one group’s God was seen as greater than another's God.

How many Religions, new age spiritual practices or healing modalities are quoted as ‘better than anyone else’s’? How often does the publicity of one proclaim that it has the best or only answer?

How many wars, how much conflict has been created by the spiritual ego of man interpreted as an act of God? The vengeful, wrathful God is the ‘God image’ Man created through fear of punishment for his sins. I could find no comfort in religion.

Encoded into Man’s survival genetics, Religion places God as something outside that you may aspire to, but only through Officers or priests who created their own personal power from the survival fears of those they regimented. From this comes part of the ‘spiritual conflict’, for to be spiritual is heresy punishable by death.I could not forgive myself!


My natural mother and father, whose foresight saw the coming of World War II, were fugitives from central Europe. Connection with this land Australia has been difficult for within me is a heartbroken cry for the Mother Country.

The vibrations of Europe and Australia differ greatly and it will take possibly 7 generations of residence for any immigrant group to be able to call Australia home.

The ‘Multi-Cultural Society’ is alive and well within me. With 7 past generations containing Gipsy, Russian Orthodox, German, Jewish and Polish Catholic ancestry, there was always going to be room for the religious, racial and cultural persecutions of the world to take place within me. Peasants who couldn’t read or write still had emotional memories.This genetic background explained why Buddhist, Taoist and Hindu spiritual studies felt uncomfortable to my body.

There is a genetic memory of the fight for survival and of the diseases of my ancestors within my body. Some of my body pains corresponded to injuries suffered by these ancestors and contained memories of how they were achieved.

I have also remembered and inherited my ancestors’ skills and wisdom. They were battlers who were conditioned to survive. I am alive because of them and offer my gratitude and also my forgiveness for the self judgements these ancestors imposed on their deathbed. They couldn’t see the bigger picture at the time. Some were so ashamed of what they had done that they tried to block me from looking. The spiritual path of surrender is a dishonourable state - especially to the military trained ancestor.Past lives (6 of them in the 254 ancestors within the past 7 generations) also played a part in this conflict as I tried to reconcile the betrayer and the betrayed, the priest and the sinner. It was here that some of the patterns had started.

Skid Row

An unseen act of faith saw conception and growth from a single cell in my mother’s womb to the being I am now. ‘God created Man in his own image’. Changing my perception, I could consider the miracle. Everything the ego/mind imposed was to separate me from my ego and push me towards the inner Self I couldn’t see.

After another broken marriage, separation from my children, the death of my parents and retrenchment from my job, I was confronted with a choice between sorting myself out, or the ‘skid row scene’ represented by Drugs and Alcohol.

My deep inner searching and private study was complemented by many self development courses and workshops, some with teachers of international recognition and qualification. As I went deeper into the studying, I found more questions than answers.

One Psychotherapy Professor told me that all his Diploma course could do was to provide me with a bag of tools. It was up to me, he said, to develop the trust and apply the tools to myself. In his view, therapy could not be learned. The only way was for me to evolve the therapist within myself.

The Impartial Watcher

I had to find the impartial watcher. I had to develop both tools and skills which would allow me to consciously switch both states of consciousness and my perception points to allow the body to reveal the suppressed memories locked in the cells. Layers of denial, avoidance and resistance had to be broken through. I had to become aware of the function of the external mirror and be able to internalise or apply to myself all of the reflections which I became aware that life was presenting to me.

But I am the most grateful to those people, many now friends, who have come to work with me and to those with whom I have been involved in relationships, for I knew they all came as mirrors for me to see aspects of myself. Their family patterns have confirmed all that I suspected and reminded me of other things which I knew on some level.

The less I, as a therapist have to hide from myself, the more freedom I create for those who come to see me to be open to their own remembering. They find only openness, not my fear of self exposure to draw on to reinforce their vulnerability.

As a result, I have been pushed me to continually develop new tools and processes to make the remembering more complete and less traumatic. Judgement is placed in perspective. Only with remembering comes total healing.

My seven year old used to rummage through the empty drawers, looking for memories. I couldn’t find any, but still I rummaged. I couldn’t let go, I couldn’t accept emptiness. Handing over, for me had meant torture and misery. Even now, I sometimes find difficulty in accepting empty, in handing over to that part of me I cannot see. But at least, I understand why and can now do something about it. Other patterns make sense.

My past is part of me that is now reconciled - not denied. It is what I do with my past that matters. There is a Kinaesthetic reaction from my body as each inner belief pattern is uncovered. The accompanying emotional release is now one of joy at my self recovery. It will always be part of the uniqueness that is me - my heritage. Now what I perceived as failures were successes and I thank all who punished or rejected me for they were part of a universal conspiracy to drive me into the inner world, to uncover the secret miracle of the Faith I buried at birth and could no longer see.

The final split within is between the ego/human personality and the faith/Godself. When I remove the conditioning, Faith is.

This is the inner world - which is the essence of all things.


As I look back at 50 years of this lifetime, it is with a deep humility and gratitude that I recognise and accept the secret miracle.

The Innocence, the Faith and Unconditional Love of my Inner Self has continually forgiven my mind, ego and personality and kept me alive in spite of everything that my personalities have tried to do to sabotage it. They could not see that which I was.

I must have done something right - after all I'm still alive. I thank both my mother and father with humility and gratitude for preparing me and engendering within me the courage to undertake this - the longest (and the shortest) journey - the inward journey into the Self that I already am, but could not see.

I cannot blame anyone, for if the source of the emotions that I could not live with was not sought out and alleviated, I would now be dead.

The Journey through my Life A Personal Story of Transpersonal Remembering