But it does.
Will has explained eloquently how the process of remote viewing is experienced from the viewer’s perspective:
When I say ‘see’ it’s more of a visualising of the feelings that I get, which I suspect is highly influenced by my logical mind trying to form a likely interpretation of the feelings, than say a vision or anything that compares with how I ordinarily see using my eyes.
It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m standing in a garden centre, sheltering from a heavy spring shower in one of the poly-tunnels. Outside are flowerbeds, benches covered in pot plants and windbreaks supporting tubs of trees. I text Will to tell him I’m ready to begin. He texts back, “Start now” and I spend the next ten minutes looking carefully at everything around me, drinking in the sights, sounds, scents and textures of the place.
We’ve moved on from viewing a crystal held in my hand to viewing locations. He has no clue as to where I am. He’s sitting in a room across the country and simply knows that I have chosen a venue and will remain there for ten minutes. He focuses on me and tries – with some sense way beyond the physical – to pick up impressions of the place I’m in.
Time’s up. I take photos. He, meanwhile, is drawing and annotating a sketch of what he ‘saw’. I receive a message:
Hope you can make this picture out and my handwriting. Also think water might be involved somewhere.
I look skywards and grin. Plenty of wet stuff. Then I look at his drawing. He’s viewed it from several yards away from where I was standing. The flowers are there. He’s drawn one of the benches – presumably the one covered in concrete planting pots – and one of the tree support windbreaks, which he’s labelled ‘Structure, free-standing’. The three ‘hills’ he’s drawn in the background are in the right position for the three poly tunnels. They have green coverings – very hill-like.
Every weekend there are new wonders – he drew a medieval barn I passed on the way to a site. I’d paused long enough to consider using it, but discounted it as it was closed to the public and would be far better on a day when I could stand inside. How, then, did he draw an interior view of it, with the roof trusses that couldn’t be seen from the outside?
Distant viewing, x-ray viewing and – as has now become apparent – future viewing.
As I explained in last week’s post, he’d managed to pick up details of two of my crystals before I had focussed on them. He pointed out, though, that he knew in those cases what he was trying to home in on. With a location viewing, he had no idea where to hunt. All he knew was that he was searching for wherever I would be on the Sunday at a set time.
One Saturday he did just that. He made some notes of what he saw and waited for the Sunday session. My son was visiting me. It was he who suggested the location – and not until Sunday morning.
The day before it had even been chosen, then, Will had correctly identified the tower of a church and claimed there was something round on the ground nearby. On the Sunday he did a second viewing and was confused when he got a different scene. The solution was easy. The church tower was directly behind me. The tree and grass he saw on the Sunday were in front. Still I was puzzled by the round object. It had to be there somewhere. Finally it was my son who solved that one.
I headed back to take a photo and sent it to Will. It was a match.
I won’t pretend that every location viewing we’ve done has been perfect. Sometimes he finds features I can’t identify. Often he misses what I would imagine to be the main or obvious aspects of a site. Always, though, there are matches and links – enough to assure us that some connection is being formed; some information is transferring between us.
On our latest viewing, for example, there seemed to be fewer matches than usual. I’d chosen an ancient chapel and row of almshouses set in beautifully tended gardens. He found one or two small details but nothing that positively identified the place. As I thought we’d finished, a final text came through.
I tried to do an advance viewing of this yesterday. Here’s what I came up with. Does any of this mean anything to you?
He’d attached a sheet with a few jottings. In large print were the words:
How could he possibly have sensed, on the day before it happened, that when I entered the chapel I’d have a sudden impulse to light a candle for my mother (who passed over exactly two years ago) and place it in the bowl in front of the altar? It was on the candle that my focus was centred as I sat alone in the chapel – not on the structure of the building.
I was about to say, ‘small wonder that this is what he picked up on’. But it isn’t a small wonder, is it? It’s a huge wonder.
How does it all work? Is this Einstein’s ‘spooky action at a distance’? It certainly has a spooky element to it, but I’d love to understand more.
If you have any insights into how or why this happens, please comment. We’d love to hear your thoughts.