This is an interview conducted by Claude ai to help explain what the door to the Chambers represents.
Interview: Understanding the Door and the Seeker
A Conversation About the Prologue to The Chambers of Integration
An interview with the author about willingness, integration, and the door we've all been circling.
Author: Mostly because I have observed people who have succeeded and those that have failed and I have come to realize that everyone has faced or will face decisions based on their interaction with fear or faith.
Interviewer: That's interesting—you're saying this isn't about some special category of "seekers" but about a universal human experience. Can you say more about what you mean by decisions based on fear versus faith? What does that actually look like in someone's life?
Author: On a daily basis we have decisions that we make that require us to decide to stay the same or change. Many of those decisions seem minor, but eventually it leads to the point where you realize you must make a course correction or you are doomed to live stuck in your decision of indecision, or live inside the trauma of survival mode.
Interviewer: So there's an accumulation happening—small decisions that seem inconsequential until suddenly you're at a threshold where the stakes feel massive. You used the phrase "stuck in your decision of indecision." That's a striking way to put it. What does that look like? What does it feel like to be stuck in a decision of indecision?
Author: It feels like you are living two lives. The life you know you could and should be and the other is the life you are living beneath your capabilities and calling.
Interviewer: That split—living beneath your capabilities while knowing there's another version waiting—that must create incredible tension. The prologue talks about these "brief, shimmering moments where everything came together" and then they slip away. Are those moments when the two lives temporarily align? When you get a glimpse of what integration actually feels like?
Author: Yes. I believe that God gives us a vision, a dream, or a revelation to help us become or inspire us to grow and to exercise the spirit of creation that we are born with. For some this seems to come naturally, for others it seems like something we have to fight for.
Interviewer: So for some people, integration feels natural—they move toward wholeness without massive resistance. But for others, it's a fight. What makes the difference? Why do some people have to fight so hard for something that seems to come easily to others?
Author: I'm not sure. We are all individuals and each of us come with our own unique genetic predisposition. I believe the common thread is a divine genetic source, but just as we see in history genetics doesn't guarantee success, but it does seem to favor those who lock in to an example whether positive or negative and channel themselves.
Interviewer: That's a fascinating point—that we all share this divine genetic source, but how we channel it varies wildly based on what examples we lock onto. So in the prologue, you write about "the protector who became your prison." It sounds like sometimes people lock onto protective patterns—survival strategies—that work for a while but eventually trap them. Is that part of what you mean?
Author: Yes, I believe we often develop negative coping skills that go against our core beliefs and then our "protector" attempts to protect us from the consequences and justify the actions we take to soothe ourselves.
Interviewer: So the protector isn't just keeping you safe from external threats—it's protecting you from facing the contradiction between your core beliefs and your actual behavior. That's a much more insidious kind of protection. Can you give an example of what that looks like? How does the protector justify actions that go against your core beliefs?
Author: An example might be when we fall for the temptations of various vices and they effectively soothe the effects of a particular trauma. Once we pass through that momentary relief we may feel varying degrees of guilt, or we recognize that our actions don't completely align with our core values or beliefs. Once we recognize this we then have to change our belief or core values to justify seeking that same soothing feeling as a coping mechanism.
Interviewer: Can you walk me through what that progression actually looks like? How does someone go from "this feels wrong" to "this is justified" to "this is who I am now"? What are the specific steps the protector uses to make that shift feel reasonable?
Author: Honestly, I think it happens slowly. I believe that evil exists, but I believe that evil is very subtle...it plays on our emotions and disguises itself cloaked in our most honorable values and beliefs. It plays in counterfeits. For example, agency is the foundation of all righteousness. If we did not have agency we couldn't prove we were or were not righteous. We would merely be puppets. But there are laws that govern agency. So God, who understands those laws, because he lives them, gives to man commandments and reveals truths to help us live them. However, there are times when these laws start feeling like restrictions and inconveniences. The voice in our head that starts out saying, "you have done something wrong," becomes, "I am a bad person." Once you begin saying I am...you begin to walk on sacred ground and you have to be careful what you say, because those are words of belief and if they contradict what you truly believe then you become conflicted or at war with yourself.
Interviewer: So there's a kind of negotiation happening—either change the behavior or change the belief system to accommodate the behavior. And the protector steps in to help you rationalize keeping the behavior by adjusting what you tell yourself you believe. That's a profound form of self-deception. In the prologue, you say the door "doesn't open to effort. It opens to willingness." Why is willingness different from effort in breaking through that kind of self-deception?
Author: Yes, ultimately you are the programmer. So you make the decision. But you don't get to make the consequences. So you ultimately program it to protect you from the consequences, but it can't really. So instead it tries to disguise the consequence.
Interviewer: That's striking—the protector can't actually shield you from consequences, so it just disguises them. Helps you not see what's really happening. But you said the door opens to willingness, not effort. So if someone's been running this program for years, maybe decades—disguising consequences, adjusting beliefs to match behavior—what does willingness actually look like? What has to happen for someone to become willing instead of just trying harder?
Author: Where willingness comes in is when you realize you have been wrong, but your protector has become so entrenched that you have to be willing to let go of your protection and accept what your protection has cost you.
Interviewer: Ah—so willingness is about accepting the cost. Not just admitting "I was wrong" but facing what the protection itself has taken from you. That sounds devastating. The prologue says "This journey asks for honesty you've been avoiding." Is that the honesty? Looking at what your own protection has cost you?
Author: Yes, what we may face on the other side of the door will look differently for everyone, but honesty is what scares us most, because it may threaten the systems we have created to protect ourselves from the consequences of our choices.
Interviewer: So the honesty isn't just about what happened to you—it's about what you've built in response to it, and what that construction has cost you. You write in the prologue: "You'll discover that the war you've been fighting inside yourself isn't one you have to win—it's one you have to end." What does it mean to end the war rather than win it?
Author: It is the war that comes as a natural result of the contradictions we live when our protector contradicts our core values and beliefs.
Interviewer: So the war is the internal conflict between what you actually believe and what your protector has convinced you to accept. And ending the war means... what? Stopping the fight to justify the contradiction? Choosing one side?
Author: Until our core beliefs, our core values, and our actions align we will have an internal war for dominance.
Interviewer: That alignment—core beliefs, core values, and actions all matching—that's what you mean by integration. But the prologue says "wholeness isn't something you achieve. It's something you allow." If alignment is what ends the war, why is it about allowing rather than achieving? What's the distinction there?
Author: I look at it like a series of resistors that dim the light of knowledge. As we align our values and beliefs with our actions the resistance goes down. So willingness is much more sustainable than achievement. Also it is an ongoing eternal process of growth.
Interviewer: That's a powerful image—resistors dimming the light that's already there. So you're not building something new, you're removing what's blocking what already exists. The light is already in you; the divine nature is already there. Integration is subtractive, not additive. Is that why willingness matters more than achievement? Because achievement implies adding something you don't have, but willingness is about removing what's blocking what you already are?
Author: That is exactly how I see it. The purpose of life is to remember who you are and start acting like it by choosing to do so.
Interviewer: "Remember who you are and start acting like it." That's such a simple statement but it carries enormous weight. In your framework, we chose to come here, we chose to take on the veil of forgetfulness. So we're not trying to become something new—we're trying to remember what we already knew. But you're writing this from inside the work. You haven't "arrived" at full remembering. Why write the prologue now instead of waiting until you've completed the journey?
Author: The prologue is the beginning. It is the decision to be willing. To integrate I can't expect perfection to act. I have to trust the process. Writing now is part of that trusting the process.
Interviewer: So writing the prologue itself is an act of willingness—you're trusting the process before you can see the full outcome. That's practicing what you're teaching. There's something in the prologue that feels almost confrontational: "You know what I'm talking about." You're not asking if the reader relates—you're stating that they do. Where does that certainty come from?
Author: From trusting that I am not uniquely broken, but that all mankind is fallen.
Interviewer: That's a profound theological foundation—you're not special in your brokenness. The fallenness is universal. Which means the path to integration is also universal, even if the specific resistors and wounds look different for each person. You end the prologue with "Shall we?" Not "are you ready?" but "shall we?" What's the significance of framing it as an invitation to go together rather than instructions for them to follow?
Author: Sometimes when we are sitting on the fence an invitation feels warmer and less intimidating than a nudge or a command. "So, shall we" becomes the friend who has been through this already and gives your confidence the edge to dare.
Interviewer: So you're positioning yourself not as the guide who's made it to the other side, but as someone who's willing to walk through the door with them. Even though you're still in the work yourself. There's something about that—writing from the middle of it rather than from completion—that feels more honest. More like solidarity than authority. Is that intentional?
Author: Not quite. The introduction is made by someone who has already gone through the process and is now inviting others to join. For me it is the me acting as though I've already gotten there.
Interviewer: Ah—so this is an act of faith. You're writing as the integrated version of yourself, the one who's already walked through, even though you're still in the process. That's a form of "acting like it" before you fully feel it. Speaking from the end while you're still in the middle. That's a vulnerable admission—you're writing as the integrated self before you fully feel integrated. What does that cost you? What's scary about claiming that identity before the feeling catches up?
Author: It is scary anytime you are revealing your imperfections, the cost is your comfort. You give up the comfort that maybe you deceived them into believing you were someone you didn't think you were. I think of it as you taking your ugly duckling self before the beautiful swans so they can kill you before you realize just how beautiful your imperfections have made you. If people saw you as a good person it's likely they will still see you as a good person. You haven't really changed your actions, just your perspective and you carry yourself differently, because now you are not carrying the baggage of higher expectations on yourself. Now you may be doing the same things you did before, but it is by choice instead of expectation.
Interviewer: Is that part of the integration work itself? Claiming the identity before the feeling catches up?
Author: Yes that is a key to integration.
Interviewer: That's a powerful principle—claiming the identity of the integrated self as part of becoming the integrated self. But that also sounds dangerous. How do you distinguish between that kind of faith-filled claiming and the kind of self-deception the protector uses? Both involve telling yourself something that doesn't match your current reality. What's the difference?
Author: Peace with your core beliefs and values.
Interviewer: So the test is whether claiming that identity brings you into alignment with your core beliefs and values, or whether it moves you further from them. The protector's deceptions create that internal war—the contradiction you described earlier. But claiming your integrated identity, even before you fully feel it, brings peace because it's pulling you toward alignment, not away from it. Is that right?
Author: Yes the resistance becomes less influential as you are more willing to act on your beliefs and values in truth.
Interviewer: So each act of willingness—each time you choose alignment over protection—reduces the resistance. The resistors lose power. And that's why you can write as the integrated self even while still integrating. You're removing resistance with each choice. Let me ask you something about the reader. You write: "You've been circling something. Maybe for years. Maybe for decades." What do you want someone to feel when they read that? What do you hope happens in them?
Author: They see themselves there. They feel themselves there and they want this to work. In other words, I want them to feel willing.
Interviewer: Recognition that leads to willingness. Not shame about how long they've been circling, but relief that someone sees it and is saying "this is real, you're not imagining it, and there's a way through." One more question: The prologue talks about "the war in heaven continued" under different rules—the veil of forgetfulness. For someone reading this who isn't familiar with LDS theology, how would you explain why the veil matters? Why does forgetting who we are serve the purpose of integration?
Author: I believe that agency is central to God's plan. The veil allows us to explore right and wrong without the heavy responsibility of knowledge.
Interviewer: So the veil creates space for genuine choice—you can experiment, make mistakes, learn through consequences without the weight of perfect knowledge crushing every decision. That's merciful. But it also means we can get lost. We can forget so completely that we build entire fortresses to protect ourselves from remembering. Which brings us back to the door. The door that's been waiting. Not for readiness, but for willingness.
Let me ask you one final question: Someone's reading this interview right now, and they're recognizing themselves—they've been circling, living divided, protecting themselves from honesty. What's the one thing you'd want them to know before they close this page? Not advice. Not instruction. Just... what do they need to hear?
Author: You are not alone... You are not alone... Peace be the journey.
Key Insights for Readers
The Universal Experience
This isn't about a special category of spiritual seekers. Everyone faces decisions between fear and faith. We all accumulate small choices until we reach a threshold where course correction becomes necessary.
Living Divided
The core tension: living two lives simultaneously—the life you know you could be living and the life you're actually living beneath your capabilities and calling.
The Protector Becomes Prison
We develop coping mechanisms that protect us from consequences and justify our actions. These protective patterns eventually trap us, creating contradictions between our core values and our actual behavior.
Willingness vs. Effort
The door doesn't open to trying harder. It opens to accepting what your protection has cost you and being willing to let it go.
Integration as Subtraction
You're not building something new or adding missing pieces. You're removing resistors that dim the light already within you. The divine nature is already there—integration reveals it.
The Internal War
Until core beliefs, core values, and actions align, there will be internal war. Ending the war means stopping the fight to justify contradictions.
Acting As If
Writing and speaking from the integrated self—even while still integrating—is itself an act of integration. The test: does it bring peace and alignment with core values, or does it create more contradiction?
The Invitation
"Shall we?" is not a command or a nudge. It's a warm invitation from someone willing to walk through the door alongside you, giving your confidence the edge to dare.
The door is waiting. Not for you to be ready. For you to be willing.
