“Buddhism is the ferry way to the yonder shore, where the wind of surface duality does not blow. We leave this shore of fear, of desire, etc.; we get in the ferryboat of the Buddhist yana, the Buddhist vessel, and we come to the yonder shore where there are no pairs of opposites, so that […]
“Buddhism is the ferry way to the yonder shore, where the wind of surface duality does not blow. We leave this shore of fear, of desire, etc.; we get in the ferryboat of the Buddhist yana, the Buddhist vessel, and we come to the yonder shore where there are no pairs of opposites, so that the ultimate realization is: now we are on the yonder shore, we look back to see this shore, since we are beyond the pairs of opposites, and surprise! There is no difference. This world is nirvana; that is the point. As the Gnostic Gospel According to Thomas says, ‘The Kingdom of the Father is spread upon the Earth, and men do not see it.'” (Joseph Campbell, Myths of Light, p. 124)
From Yonder Shore began as Transmissions From Yonder Shore — and although the fuller title has since been set aside, its sentiment remains, resonating in the unseen like the silence at the beginning and end of the mantra AUM: present, essential, and impossible to name.
Where do our intuitions, dreams, and deepest knowings originate? Partly from the subconscious, partly from the collective unconscious — yet what arises from within, like non-linear neutrinos in quantum models, often originates from without. And sometimes, what originates within reaches back to shape the without. The boundaries of the liminal are tentative and transient — supple and fragile, yet tangible enough to string worlds upon, or lay the foundation of new cities. All ideas are birthed from the liminal. The fortification of dreams culminates in a blossoming of matter, taking on a life independent from its creator.
Writers and artists often speak of a novel, sculpture, or symphony being born through them with little conscious volition — like the whispering of a child’s name to a pregnant mother. Inspiration arises from the recesses, traveling across the expanse of the void from the yonder shore to reach the heart-mind, conceiving itself through us. We become vessels. Or perhaps our bodies are tuned like receivers, picking up transmissions broadcast through liminal, numinous space — transmissions we then translate into forms more easily understood: image, word, sound, symbol.
The transmission itself is not the point. Its meaning often evolves into unexpected forms — much like a child growing into an autonomous being. What matters is the universal nature of the signal: that anyone, across any time, can attune to it. Whether it arrives as the Akashic records, synchronicity, the Music of the Spheres, the voice of Metatron, or the language of geometry — the interplay of within and without reveals something intimate and fundamental. Self and world, forever reflective of one another, forever renewing our sense of wonder at the subtle, palpable magic at the heart of existence.
What is the liminal? It is the yonder shore beyond everyday perception — the altered, non-ordinary states of being revealed across time and culture through trance, vision, meditation, and the threshold of death. It is what emerges through sacred art, shamanic healing, and the mystic’s impossible question. It is that which lies beyond the veil of understanding. Beyond life. Beyond death. Beyond the mundane and the angelic. Beyond the Bardo. Beyond the ocean of dreams. All the way to the heart of the mystery — where language stops, where every perceptual faculty becomes both archaic and inept, where the ineffable can only be known by being known. An information packet the body can only run once it has been installed.
Transmissions From Yonder Shore became exactly that: a radio tuned to the broadest — and narrowest — band, receiving the music of the cosmic mystery.
Fiction and mythic storytelling have always been my first language for catching the signal — novels, stories, and mythic worlds you can explore at here. Visual art has been the second — a companion tongue, equally numinous, equally necessary — that work lives at Numinous Explorations. But the work was never meant to be contained within any single medium.
My name is Chris Kaplan. My journey began with a trowel in ancient earth, unearthing stories buried in stone and root — and although the tools have changed, the excavation never stopped. Once an archaeologist wandering ancient landscapes, I now walk the mythic bridge between worlds as an astrologer, writer, diviner, and creative ritualist. Today I excavate meaning from the stars and the soul, my path woven through earth-based ceremony, mythic storytelling, sound, and an ever-evolving engagement with the cycles that shape both our inner and outer lives. Astrology is as much an art as painting. Non-fiction as much a transmission as fiction. As my practice deepened and expanded, so did the forms it moved through.
From Yonder Shore is the threshold where those forms converge — a sanctuary for mythic wisdom, living ritual, and creative inquiry, where story, symbol, and spirit meet. It is the culmination of years spent excavating meaning from the past, listening to the pulse of the present, and weaving rituals for the future.
Here you will find astrology readings and mythic dispatches, shamanic offerings and creative explorations, seasonal rituals and the occasional cosmic nudge from the stars. Essays, podcasts, and offerings crafted for dreamers, creators, and those who sense there is more to reality than meets the eye. Whether you’re called by the stars, the spirit of the land, the rhythm of the drum, or the language of archetype and imagination — you are welcome here.
This is not a destination so much as a crossing point — a place to pause at the edge of the known, look out toward the yonder shore, and remember that the distance between here and there may be smaller than it appears. Here, I invite you to journey with me into the liminal: to explore, to remember your own mythic story, and to reimagine your place in the great unfolding.
The shore is always sending signals.
The question is only whether we are listening.
Step into the stream. This is only the beginning.
With wonder and welcome,
— Chris Kaplan
