Being Grommit

Image result for wallace and gromit imagesI hesitate to write this, because there are so many people out there much better qualified to talk about it.  Still, it’s come into my head and it’s lodged there like an ear worm and won’t go away until I write it, So I suppose I’d better write…

There’s a huge amount of non-sense spoken about sensitivity and highly sensitive people, so perhaps I can add a modicum of sense, or maybe just more nonsense.

I wouldn’t generally count myself among these people (which is why I don’t feel particularly qualified to write about them) but I seem to have some kind of magnetic attraction to them.  They keep showing up in my life.  Once they are there, they tend to stick around.  Whenever that happens with people in our lives, it means we have something to teach or learn from each other – probably both.

So let me give you a very personal, no-holds-barred snapshot of how it feels to be a neuro-typical individual, living and working amongst highly-sensitive people.

They’d like to fit in with the rest of us.  They really would.  It would make their lives so much easier and they know this.  Some of them elect to go down the route of medication aimed at suppressing their sensitivity, dulling their responses and turning them into rather sad but apparently average people.  Many, many more prefer to self-medicate, using recreational drugs and/or a mixture of caffeine and alcohol to render their daily lives (or at least parts of them) more manageable.  Both of these seem to me a tragic waste – partly because of the unpleasant side-effects and partly because all these substances mask the true essence of who they really are.  Nevertheless, I understand the reasons behind the choices.  For those of us living and interacting with these people, we’re faced with a double problem of trying to understand their innate differences from our way of being and to deal with the challenges faced when dealing with anyone who is drugged up.

I frequently feel hurt, offended, rejected and dismissed by those I care about and love who live within this spectrum of being.  As a ‘typical’ person I crave affection – and some occasional expression of this, attention – such as responses to messages or to be looked at once in a while, reassurance that I’m getting things right, and trust.  I’ve discovered, slowly and painfully, that I will only get any of these by explaining my needs very carefully, providing detailed instructions on how I would like the person to react and then being satisfied with what they are able to provide, even if it does feel more like a rehearsed trick than a genuine, spontaneous action on their part.

Does that sound terribly harsh?

If we look at it from their perspective, they do NOT lack emotions and feelings.  They have them in such abundance that their fragile human bodies are just about incapable of containing them.  They probably dealt with this as newborns by screaming endlessly, as children by throwing tantrums or head-banging, as adolescents by almost total withdrawal from society and family and immersion in music, video games or self-harm.  During that long, painful process, they have learned to suppress almost all emotion, except fear and anxiety, which just won’t go away.  They care and want to please as much as anyone, but it’s deeply scary for them, and any tiny steps they can take should be welcomed with deep gratitude by those of us who can’t even imagine what it is costing them.

They know and feel and see things we don’t.  They’ve learned that in our society, people who know more than others are usually considered clever, so they can easily become so supercilious and self-opinionated that I want to punch them.  They’re frustrated when we don’t get what seems ludicrously obvious to them.  I find myself thinking, ‘Good grief, here you are, treating me like a five year old, when you can’t even walk into a shop and buy a pack of underwear.’

So why is it like this?

In my opinion, all of us are – first and foremost – pure consciousness.  You can call it soul or spirit if that works for you.  We have all chosen to bring a portion of this pure, rarefied consciousness into physical bodies – to be born as humans.  It involves a fair bit of give and take to do that.  If you think of the consciousness as Light, there is only so much we can squeeze into a human body.  Most of us have been happy with that trade-off as it means we can experience physical existence and use this unique way of (human) being to grow in a way that can’t be achieved otherwise.  Image result for wallace and gromit images

Now think of the way consciousness works.  There is an innate wish to push the boundaries – to go farther, faster, higher than anyone else has done.  Consequently, ever-growing numbers of conscious beings are trying to squeeze more and more Light into the frail, delicate human bodies they are being born into.

It means the fit is not great.  They can’t bed down into their bodies so easily and some of the Light isn’t properly held in.  I keep getting this mental image of Wallace frantically screaming, “Grommit – these are the Wrong Trousers!” in the wonderful Aardman animated film!

Image result for wallace and gromit imagesAnd I often feel like poor old Grommit, frantically trying to avert disasters and melt-downs, and help my enLightened friends, students, relatives and acquaintances to fit into the crazy trousers-of-life they’ve entered, while assisting them to understand that yes, the world DOES need the Light they’ve brought with them and that their brilliance is an absolute gift to all of us.

So stay with us, all you wonderful Wallaces.  Try your best to function in those trousers.  We Grommits will keep trying to help you in every way we can – because that’s why WE incarnated.

 

 

Savant

Fire, Open, Hot, Old, Paper, BurnSometimes all I need to organise the thoughts tumbling randomly around my head is the right words to express them.  Once the thoughts can latch on to words, they can be verbalised and shared.

So my Seth reading this week has focused around what he defines as the two methods of obtaining knowledge available to us humans:  There is the ‘reasoning mind‘ (human mental activity in a space and time context) and ‘immediate knowledge‘ (what I’d term access to the Akashic Field).

I noticed two things in particular in his complex and brilliant explanation.  Firstly, despite existing ‘out of time/space’ Seth himself does NOT put down the reasoning mind.  On the contrary, he says it is a unique and brilliant process, which makes us human.  He adds that we only have a reasoning mind because we don’t know everything.  It is our lack of knowledge that makes us attempt to reason things out, and our achievements have been, and continue to be, truly remarkable.

The second thing I noticed is that in his book (written in the late 1970s/ early ’80s) he makes surprisingly little mention of the human ability to access the immediate knowledge he speaks of.  He explains how a spider spinning a web or a beaver building a dam are not following ‘blind instinct’ as science would have us believe, but without the ‘reasoning mind’ to get in the way, they are performing creative acts based on the overarching ‘immediate knowledge’ that is available to all of consciousness.  Fantasy, Castle, Cloud, Sky, TowerWe humans connect with it in infancy (before reasoning takes over) and in dreams, he says.  However the enormity of what we experience in dreams is too much for the reasoning mind to process, so it either forgets or turns the fragments of knowing into symbols which it can process.

Would it be different if Jane Roberts were still alive and channelling him today?  I suspect it would.  I suspect that humanity has undergone subtle changes in consciousness over the last 40 years.  As a teacher/tutor for most of those years, I watched with wonder and delight as each new intake of children contained increasing numbers who were still very much in touch with – and able to access – ‘immediate knowledge’.  The authorities often labelled these children as having syndromes and disorders, so difficult was it for the educational psychologists to understand that there were other ways of knowing beyond reasoning.  I, on the other hand, have always loved working with such kids, learning from them and picking up from them ways to get back in touch with the immediate knowledge which exists beyond time and space.

Light, Staircase, Lighting, ArchitectureThen, quite suddenly, Seth used the word ‘savant’ and another piece of knowledge fitted into the puzzle.  The word has usually been applied (and was used in that context in his book) to non-verbal autistic people who demonstrate incredible skills or feats of memory – super fast mathematical calculations, drawing whole city sky-scapes from memory, playing an instrument without any tuition and so forth.  I smiled, remembering the 8-year-old aspie I once taught who had ‘memorised’ an entire two page list of phone numbers he had seen once in his home, and had run up a huge phone bill for his parents by calling all these people for a chat!

So I’d argue that – since around 1980 in particular, but in smaller numbers before that time – we have been fortunate enough to share our lives with a group of people who are managing (not without difficulty and stress, I might add) to live physical lives yet to keep open a link to the ‘immediate knowledge’ that is Akasha or The Cosmos, and is entirely limitless.

Let me finish with a Will story:  A few weeks ago, my brilliantly ‘connected’ aspie friend Will had told me that he sometimes feels he ‘knows’ things about people he passes in the street.  He’d not been able to verify his knowledge, so more-or-less dismissed it.  However it just so happened that we were contacted by a gentleman in the US who asked whether Will could identify a medical condition he was suffering with and give him some guidance on what caused it.  Not only did Will correctly pinpoint a condition affecting this man, he also formed a mental image of what he looked like.  When I later Googled the man and found and sent Will a photo, he said that was markedly similar to what he had seen.

Curious, I then sent him the name of a friend of mine – someone he has never met or heard me speak of.  Within minutes, he told me she had black, shoulder length hair, described the decor in her home, told me she had mobility problems which particularly affected one side of her body and identified that she was having particular stresses at this time with her children.  Everything he said was 100% accurate.

THAT was ‘immediate knowledge’ – no reasoning involved.

 

 

Super Powers

I don’t know how it works, and to tell the truth, I’m slightly embarrassed by it, but I am able to pick up – channel – information or wisdom from the non-physical.

Psychic, Psychics, Psychic ReadingLet me put this into context for you.  I live in Glastonbury, the hippy capital of England.  The place (much as I love it) is positively seething with people offering – for a price – soul readings, spirit readings, mediumship readings, life path readings, oracle readings, angel readings and countless other variations on the theme.  Then there are the endless lists of workshops and courses offering ascension, renewal, illumination, soul healing, just-about-anything-you-can-think-of healing, release from karma/ trauma/ tension/ retention and the list goes on, and on.  And there’s me – hardened cynic who neatly side-steps all the above – yet finds herself channelling, well, stuff that defies reason.

I have no problem with the esoteric, none at all.  I suppose it’s a bit like when I lived down the road from the Trebor sweet factory as a child; the sickly-sweet smell from the works so penetrated and overwhelmed my senses that I was never tempted by the delights of the sweet shop that so enticed my friends.

Anyhow, overwhelmed senses lead me rather neatly (and unexpectedly – didn’t plan it that way) into the latest message from Something Out There.

Train, Station, The Traffic Light, CloudBoth of us were feeling vaguely grumpy and frustrated yesterday afternoon.  The January weather was that damp chilly grey murk which didn’t improve our tempers.  I’d had bad news about a family member and was still feeling the reaction from that.  We were trying to have a discussion about where to go now with the remote viewing (again) and were just going round in circles.  I put forward ideas.  Will refused.  I asked him for his ideas.  He didn’t have any.  The idea that ‘theoretically’ he could view anything and that only his lack of self-belief was holding him back, was frustrating and annoying him.  We were on the point of giving up our conversation when I remembered something.

I can sometimes channel what I can only describe as his Higher Self.  This, er, entity? revealed itself to me a few years ago, when the physical Will had closed the door on all communications.  Quite suddenly, in a way I’m totally at a loss to explain, I found myself receiving astonishing and brilliant messages from this spiritual aspect of my friend – keen to explain that Will was alive and well, but currently not very identified with his physical persona and was occupied in other realms – astral travel and stuff like that.  The personality I was communicating with had distinct personality traits in common with the Will I knew so well, but was drawing on a knowledge base far beyond anything I had encountered.  He answered my questions and shared observations which astonished me.  He also told me when to expect a renewed acquaintance with the physical version, and it happened just as Higher Him had predicted.

You may be feeling at this point that I’m delusional at best, fraudulent at worst, and of course there’s nothing I can say to dissuade you.  All I know is that for me, it happened.

When Will began to chat to me again, through the usual physical channels of text and email, his Higher Self stepped back.  I would ask questions and, instead of spelling out all manner of answers, my pendulum simply circled mutely.  Oddly, it was that which convinced me more than anything that I hadn’t been inventing the whole thing with my mind.

Very recently, though, I did get through, telling Higher Him that it was ‘physical Will’ who wanted answers to his questions.  So yesterday I offered to act as go-between for Will and this higher aspect of him.

Pendulum, MetaphysicalHe wrote down some very specific and uncompromising questions: Should he keep working on remote viewing? If so, what aspect of it?  Most crucially, what steps should he take to improve his success? – And he did NOT want to be told anything about believing that he could do it!

So I opened up my computer, typed the questions, one by one, into Word, and used my crystal pendulum to dowse the responses.  I don’t go into trance.  I don’t need anyone else present.  I usually don’t know what is going to be spelled out, but I sometimes telepathically pick up the gist of what is coming, or the odd word here and there.  When asking about what he should do to improve, for example, I felt the word ‘lazy’ with a certain amount of humour, before receiving the full response.  I’d like to share just that part with you, because it brings up a point that may be of interest to other aspies and people with high sensitivity to sensory stimuli.

IF HE TRULY WANTS TO IMPROVE HE MUST BE LESS LAZY.  HE MUST FOCUS ON LIFTING HIS AWARENESS TO INCORPORATE ALL OF HIS SENSES.  HE HAS GROWN USED TO BLOCKING THEM IN HIS DAILY LIFE AS THEY ARE SO STRONG BUT THAT STRENGTH MEANS HE CAN PICK UP THE SUBTLE DETAILS WHEN VIEWING.

Head, Spiral, Self-ConfidenceStrong smells, loud sounds, the touch of certain textures against his skin – all those and more have caused Will distress throughout his life.  I know there are many fellow sufferers from sensory overload out there.  Probably, like Will, they have developed coping mechanisms to shut down or sideline these unwanted intrusions when possible.  The idea, though, that the strength of these perceptions actually make it easier for him than for most other people to pick up the infinitely fainter and subtler non-local sensory signals that come to psychics, telepaths and remote viewers was quite new to both of us.  It also makes perfect sense, now I think about it.

Next weekend, we’ll begin a series of multisensory viewings, using much of the other material provided to us in this rather magical way.

My Life on Hold?

Innovation, Box, Man, ThinkingAn interesting one this:

I was recently told by a well-meaning friend that I was ‘putting my life on hold’ for the sake of accommodating the complex needs of my friend Will.  She pointed out that I ‘give up’ every Sunday afternoon to work with him on remote viewing (“Can’t he do it at other times?”/ “Well he tries sometimes, but he copes best when routines are set up and feels most comfortable that way.”).  She added that I’d undertaken a six hour round trip to London to possibly spend a short time meeting up with him (I LOVE my coach trips to London and meeting with him was the icing on the cake of an otherwise enjoyable day), that I give huge amounts of time and energy to assist him in maintaining our contact and am always putting his needs before my own.

So that set me thinking.  A lot.

If I say I don’t begrudge any of the time or effort I spend trying to work within with the limitations his social anxiety and bouts of depression and withdrawal place on our relationship, I run the risk of being labelled co-dependent.  That one has been levelled at me, too, on several occasions by people who – again – feel I’m ‘wasting’ my life.

Strange how our society views the way we spend our time, don’t you think?

Afternoon Tea, Tea Cup, Tea 壺I suppose I could be spending those ‘given up’ Sunday afternoons pootling around Somerset in the car of the aforementioned friend, stopping off for a cup of tea at a garden centre somewhere.  I could spend them watching old movies on TV.  I could read a book or check Facebook.  There are many things I could do.  Glastonbury, Cathedral, Ruin, Henry ViiiYet I choose to hold groundbreaking conversations with a brilliant young man, whose originality and psychic skills never cease to amaze me.  I choose to travel to interesting places – ancient sites, bustling cities or interesting landscapes – so that he can sit in his home, remotely view my location and, in ways that are a mystery to us both, send detailed sketches or written descriptions of the place I’m in.

Which of those would be a ‘waste’ of my time?

I’d argue that none of them could ever be a waste.

I’d argue that my life is never ‘on hold’.

I’d argue that my ‘Life’ – or the portion of it that I’ve chosen to spend embodied as the human I am currently being – is a precious gift my greater self has given to me.  It’s all about experiencing through my senses, in a way that isn’t possible when I’m in spirit.  It’s about learning through those experiences.  It’s about adding to the cumulative knowledge and awareness of All That Is.

Head, Wireframe, Face, Lines, WaveMore than that, I believe that every single one of us has a ‘pre-planned’ life purpose, or theme – something we’ve decided in advance to work with in this particular lifetime.  That could be exploring aspects of illness/wellness, of poverty/wealth, of victim-hood/control or one of a thousand other explorations.  Aspects of that pre-selected theme turn up repeatedly in people’s lives.  They have been born in this particular era, at their particular location, the better to encounter situations and other individuals who will push them to explore and discover.  Once a ‘lesson’ is learned, a new situation will appear, to allow the person to put their new knowledge into practice.  That will, of course, throw up a new set of challenges and discoveries.  And so it goes, until we finally decide (at soul level, usually) that we’ve gleaned all we can from that life.  At that point, we move back into spirit and, perhaps, decide what we’d like to explore on our next sojourn on the blue planet.

I watch with wonder and delight as my interactions with Will allow me to explore our relationship with the non-local and the vaster aspects of our psyche.  I also take great joy from the opportunity he gives me to explore aspects of Autistic Spectrum Perception.  Each fresh discovery or revelation allows me to work more effectively and appropriately with him and with the other ASP young people I encounter.

So I know – absolutely KNOW – that my life is ‘on purpose’ and is as fulfilling and amazing as I could wish it to be.  No matter how I choose to spend it and how pointless or foolish my activities may seem to others, I – like every other human, being – am learning, developing and making the most of everything this experience has to offer.

 

When Worlds Collide

People, Bus, Commuting, Public TransportA three hour coach ride passes so much better when you find yourself seated next to someone interesting to chat to.

My neighbour yesterday was, it emerged, travelling to London for a brief, bittersweet half day with her daughter.  It was the girl’s birthday.  She’d booked herself into a posh hotel in the West End.  They were to have champagne, then lunch somewhere luxurious.  The daughter would unwrap her presents then – ‘a comfort sack’ with such items as a thick duvet, pillow and covers, hand warmers, hot chocolate mix…  Tomorrow the young lady will take all her spoils and return to Greece, where she works for the UN, caring for the refugees.
“It’s so desperately cold there, Mum,” she’d told her mother. “Just so desperate”.

Lesvos, Island, Mytilini, GreeceI wondered how it felt for that young woman to move between those two quite different worlds – her opulent English lifestyle and the squalor and tragedy of the transit camps.  How must the smells, the sounds, the sickness and pain feel to someone who has grown up in such a different culture?  How, indeed, must it feel for the inhabitants of the camps, wrenched from their lives in such violence and terror?

 

“And you?” my neighbour enquired.  “Why are you going to London?”

“Oh,” I said, with a slight smile, “I’m probably going to enjoy a few hours in the British Museum.  And I might be meeting a friend.”

Well it was a long journey, so gradually my story came out too.  If we did meet, it would be no less shocking and difficult a transition for my friend than her daughter’s move to Greece had been.

Sport, Exhausting, To Clench TeethJust as the refugee camps would seem overwhelmingly disgusting and sickening to us – their sights, smells and emotional charge far beyond what we feel able to cope with – so our world is, for people like my friend.  For him, and so many other super-sensitive people who live with autistic spectrum perception in its many and amazing forms, our world – in all its raw, visceral physicality can be almost too much to cope with.  Their senses are easily overwhelmed by what, to us, would seem trivial.  Their anxiety never sleeps.  Their fears grapple constantly at their throats with sharp, threatening fingers.  Small wonder so many would prefer to remain in the insular, relatively safe surroundings of the worlds they have built for themselves.  Why – given the choice – would they venture out into the uncertainties of our unfamiliar and terrifying world?

The answer is the same as for the young lady working for the UN – compassion, humanity, generosity of spirit.  They want to help us.  They want to build bridges.  They want to reach into our world and show us their perspectives.  If they manage it, we will be so much richer for it, but if they don’t, we have no right to criticise them.  Every single day, they struggle to do what they can to reach into our world.  And there will be days they just can’t.

When I reached London, he was still at home, holed up in an agony of indecision.  If he managed a meeting, it would be the first for many years.  The least I could do was to make it as easy as possible for him.
‘No rush,’ I messaged.  ‘I’ll head for the museum. Text me later if you feel able to meet somewhere.’

An hour later I was a stranger wandering in the world of the Abyssinians: huge bas-reliefs of Kings and courtiers.  ‘Spirit helpers’ with the heads of eagles and small handbags held objects like oversized pine cones against the backs of the humans’ heads.  Why?  Pineal gland connection perhaps?  What was in the bags?  What favoured realm had these beings descended from, to help their human counterparts?

Then my phone pinged.

‘I’m going to come.  I’m in central London.  Shall I meet you at the British Museum or elsewhere?’

‘The museum’s crammed with people,’ I told him, when I’d had a moment.  ‘Let’s meet in one of the squares nearby.’

On my way out I paused to stare in awe once again at the Rosetta stone, that magical jigsaw piece that had given the modern world a way into the world of other races at other times.  For me, at that moment, the stone became a talisman, allowing my world and my friend’s to come together for a short while.

Seat, Iron, Metal, Bench, Seat BenchBloomsbury, like much of London, has many lovely, peaceful squares – small oases of calm and greenery amidst the hubbub of traffic and commerce.  I selected a calm, pleasant open space where I felt he’d be most comfortable, sat on a bench and waited.  I sat at one end and placed my bags beside me, knowing he’d need more body space than most would consider normal for lifelong friends.  I remained seated when he arrived.  No exclamation of delight, no bear hugs or grasping of hands.
“Alright?” he said simply.
“Yes,” I said quietly.  “And well done.”

Old friends.  Old friends.  Sat on a park bench like bookends.
Paul Simon’s song echoed in my mind from another of my distant worlds.

I’d written much of what I wanted to say on paper.  He finds the written word easier to handle than speech – less unpredictable.  So for the first few minutes he sat and read in silence.  Then we talked.  He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead; body language and facial expression are confusing for him, so it’s easier if he cuts them out.  Still there were deep discussions and moments of humour, with both of us laughing out loud.  There were connections and shared memories of times when we’d spent so many days and hours together.  It was wonderful.

And because I know he finds transitions difficult, I made the decision on when to leave.  Or perhaps the weather did, as the rain that had been threatening all afternoon eventually began to fall.

Neither of us said, “See you soon.”  Who knows?   And what does it matter?  Our worlds had come together for that short while without any explosions or disasters and we are closer for that experience.

Not very

Mural, Girl, Balloon, Heart, GraffitiI can’t remember when our last meeting was.  If you don’t know it’s going to be the last time, you don’t take particular note of it, I suppose.

I remember my last meeting with his mother.  It was in the hospice.  That meeting is easy to recall, because we were both all too aware that she’d have moved beyond her body within a few days.  We had a rather surreal conversation about this and that – mostly her plans for the funeral and what she wanted me to do to help care for her little boy.  I kept asking whether she was tired and would prefer me to leave and she kept saying, ‘No.  I don’t want you to go yet.’  But eventually she was tired and she did need to sleep and we hugged and cried a bit and said none of the things people usually say when they are parting: ‘See you soon’, ‘Keep in touch’, ‘Take care of yourself’.  It was an adieu moment, not an au revoir.

When I last saw her son – the little boy who had grown up to be a man and who had become just like one of my own children to me – he DID say, ‘See you soon.’  I distinctly remember that part, although I can’t quite remember where we were.  He was waving me off on a bus or a train or something.  He’d been anxious, awkward, twitchy – more so that I’d seen him before.  He’d kept wheeling around and looking suspiciously about him, as if he expected an assassin to come lurching out of the crowd.  He’d looked awful.  There was an unhealthy pallor to his skin and much of his hair had fallen out in untidy clumps.  Alopecia, he told me.  Stress, the doctor had told him.  It might grow back or it might not.

He didn’t see me soon, nor I him.  The months became years – probably six or seven.  I feel I should be able to remember.  Each time I suggested meeting, there was a flat ‘No.’  If I pestered for a reason, I’d get, ‘Can’t do it’ or ‘Too stressful.’

Last week, I suggested it again.  He’s been coming out, I feel, agonisingly slowly, of the deepest slough of despair, social anxiety and depression.  His texts and emails have been far more chatty and even shown flashes of the old sense of humour.  He accused me of being paranoid about something, adding, ‘And yes, I know that’s rich, coming from me.’

He didn’t say ‘No’.

True, he didn’t come anywhere close to saying ‘Yes’, but he was far more concerned that he wouldn’t be able to commit to a meeting until the day itself, and that as we live far apart, I might have a wasted journey to London.

I told him I love London – in small doses – and that I’d enjoy a day trip there in any case.  I told him I’d plan a trip to the British Museum, another old and much-loved friend.  I told him that if he felt able to join me, that would be great, but I’d have a great day in any case.

You don’t get sighs in texts, unless they’re intentionally written in those silly little arrow things (<sighs>) but I could feel his as he replied, ‘That’s up to you but I don’t want to get your hopes up.’
London, Lantern, Big Ben, RiverSo my coach ticket is booked.  Next Saturday I’ll begin the 3 hour trek to London.  I’ll be caught (as happened so often, when his mental state waxed and waned throughout his teens) somewhere between assuring myself that he’ll be there, in order to manifest the reality, and stoically preparing for a pleasant day wandering through the delights of the museum, just in case.

Whatever happens, though, I’m jubilant.  When I asked how likely he was to be there, he replied, ‘Not very.’  That’s a long way past ‘Not at all’.  There will be other chances, other days.  Just as his mother begged me, all those years ago, I’ve never given up on him, never thrown in the towel, and nor has he.  I’m proud of us both for that.

A Newly Tiled Roof

Roof, Home, Tile, New, RoofingI remember a time when Time seemed to behave itself almost perfectly.  I went through life, things happened, and once they’d happened they were consigned to a bit of my mind labelled ‘Memories’.  Anything beyond the Now I was in at that moment was labelled ‘Future’, and although I could sometimes have a good guess at some of what was to come, there was never anything fixed or certain about it.

It wasn’t quite perfect, though.  I remember that, too.  There were the glitches.  Most were too brief or indistinct to take much notice of, but a few of them stuck stubbornly in my mind, nagging me to notice them.

You get them too?  Of course you do.  We all do.  Maybe we try to pass them off with a casual, “Oh, what a coincidence…”

You ‘knew’ that friend was going to ring you.  You were just thinking about that person, and there they were, walking round the next corner.  Somehow you knew which song was coming up next on the radio, before it started playing.

Sometimes, though, ‘coincidence’ just won’t do as an explanation.

The day I lay in bed, in that drowsy half-awake-half-asleep state and heard a lady telling me I’d have to move out of my house, would have been easy to pass off as a dream, except that five hours later I was phoned by an estate agent with the same voice, telling me my landlord was selling up and I would have to leave.  I think that was the day I stopped believing Time worked the way it was meant to.

Since that day, I’ve been on the lookout for proof that there’s more to this Time malarkey than might seem apparent.  With the help of a couple of very good friends,  I’ve come as close as I can to a double blind experiment.  See what you make of this:

  • I tell my remote viewing partner that I have no idea where I’ll be at 1 pm six days ahead.  I ask him to view my location at that point.
  • He does a viewing and texts me to say I’ll be somewhere with a row of tall, thin trees, a car park, a statue with something round at its base – maybe containing water, a very strong light source and a rectangular building with a newly tiled roof.
  • In order to avoid consciously hunting out a place that would fit his description, I ask another friend – one who has no connection with him at all – to drive me to a location of her choice on the target day, and at 1 o’clock.  I tell her Will has viewed the place, but nothing of what he has seen.
  • On the day, she has chosen a venue and drives me there, arriving at 12.15, but the place she had chosen has closed down, so she makes the decision to head to a garden centre some miles away.
  • 20161008_125920_resizedWe reach the garden centre at 12.56.
  • I immediately see a row of trees, including two tall poplars.
  • We stop in the car park.
  • We walk into the main building and see a small and peculiarly ugly statue of a cherub/fat child pushing a wheelbarrow, containing a well-watered plant.
  • As we walk out towards the plant area, I notice that the building is lit by huge, industrial halogen lamps.  At exactly 1 pm I am standing directly under one.  I then walk outside and – for the first time in two days – the sun comes out.
  • None of the buildings is tiled – newly or otherwise, but apart from that, the matches seem pretty good.
  • We spend some time in the garden centre, then prepare to leave.  As we come out of the main entrance, a movement beyond the boundary fence of the car park catches my eye.
  • It is a builder climbing a ladder on the roof of a newly built house.  It is covered with black roofing felt, with piles of roof tiles laid out across it.  The man is just beginning to tile the roof.  Next to the house is the one he and his companion had presumably completed during the morning.  It is the only building on this new housing development that has a finished roof.

So where does that leave Time?  William didn’t just see where my location would be six days ahead – a location neither I nor anyone else had decided on; he saw it at the moment in time that I was there.  Six days before, those houses would only have been partially built.  A few hours later, there would have been more than one newly tiled building.  Will only saw one.  Therefore he must have viewed it as it was at 1 pm on that particular day.

I’m not denying the existence of Time.  Obviously, it played a crucial role in our experiment.  What I’m suggesting, though, is that Time is infinitely bendy.  Once we believe that we can move beyond it, dipping in and out where we wish, that can happen.  Certainly I’m incredibly lucky to have William to work with.  He possesses exactly the kind of ‘A-Thought‘ or autistic thinking which allows him to open his mind beyond ‘common sense’ and into realms most of us can only glimpse.  No matter how seemingly crazy the experiments I suggest, he simply responds, “Yes, I’m happy to try that.”

And he succeeds.

 

 

Unempirical Science Part 2: Getting Metafizzy

Fruits, Garden, Fruit, HarvestWell I did it: my civic duty over for another year.  I stewarded and judged at the local harvest show yesterday.

It was a busy time.  Since there was a huge clock on the wall, just ahead of where I was sitting, I was able to notice when 9:30 (the time we had set for the future remote viewing last week) came and went.  There was a queue of eager people wishing to enter their wonky veg, giant marrows, flower arrangements et al for the show, though, so I had little time to stop and think about it, other than to note that I was exactly where I’d expected to be – and where William had already ‘seen’ me –  when we did the viewing last weekend.  (Oh, I forgot to mention last time – he viewed a ‘large round flat object’ which he felt was rotating.  He caught me glancing up at the clock, then!)

If you’ve read my previous post, you will have seen the range of philosophical issues and dilemmas this glimpse into the future posed for us.  As I mentioned, though, Will had one further question.  Like most of his questions, it was deceptively simple yet devastating in its implications.

What would have happened, he asked, if I’d got up yesterday morning and refused to leave my house?
Image result for escher hands drawing each otherOh.  That one had me foxed.  Of course I had no intention of doing that; I’d promised to be at the show.  Others were relying on me being there.  That wasn’t the point, though.  I still had free choice.  I could have opted to do any number of other things.  Koimul had told us Will wasn’t in any way influencing my future or affecting my self-determination… so we had a paradox.

I thought long and hard, then groaned – a deep miserable groan.  There was only one answer that fitted – the multiverse theory.  And I hated the multiverse theory.  Will, on the other hand, was quite happy to espouse it.

Grumbling gently to myself, I went back to check with Koimul.

HIS QUESTION IS GOOD, Koimul told me.  HE HIMSELF HAS WRITTEN THE ANSWER

True.  In The Words of William Volume One, he says:

A universe will be created for every possible outcome of an event.  For example, if one was taking a walk and for whatever reason turned left another universe will be automatically created where the person did not turn left.  There would be universes where one turned right, one stood still, one carried on straight and for every other possibility.  These universes would be identical to the original universe up to the point where the event took place.  After the event these universes could differ only slightly or to an extent beyond imagination… These events can occur on any scale from the smallest change of position of an atom to the end of the universe.  This is an occurrence which occurs automatically all the time and beyond the knowledge of most people.  There is nothing wrong with this; it is simply a part of life.

YES, that was the extract Koimul had in mind.

“Well I can’t deny that I feel a bit disappointed,” I said.  ” I loved the idea of everything happening at the eternal ‘now’ point, but if that means ‘everything’ as in all possible choices, doesn’t that make remote viewing rather arbitrary?  If the physics is the way you’ve explained it, why should the probability of getting it right decrease for viewings in the future?”

MISTAKES ARE ALWAYS POSSIBLE BUT VERY UNLIKELY.
Although I was dowsing the answer on my computer keyboard, I could feel Koimul trying to soothe and reassure me.  I was told that viewing a future location where I’d already made firm plans to be was a good choice, for that very reason.  Then Koimul went on:
Globe, Earth, Country, Continents, ManyNOT DOING WHAT YOU PLANNED WOULD MEAN STEPPING INTO AN ALTERNATE LIFE

“That sounds quite serious,” I said.  “Do we often do that or is it an unusual occurrence?”

YOU LIVE ALL YOUR LIVES SO NOT SERIOUS IN THAT RESPECT BUT IT WOULD HAVE REPERCUSSIONS.  THERE IS LITTLE JUSTIFICATION IN THIS CASE

I agreed completely, but I was curious now.

”  But do we – as a species, I mean – often ‘jump ship’ in this way?” I persisted.

NOT MANY PEOPLE DO

So, it seems, I was being told that while Will’s multiple universes undoubtedly exist, and while it is possible to change what Koimul calls one’s TRAJECTORY, such a choice should not be taken lightly.  Koimul gave me an example of the occasion, in my own current lifetime, when I had purposely altered my ‘trajectory’ and yes – the repercussions had been massive, and are still playing out in the lives of several people.

I asked Koimul to comment on how, in Will’s version of the theory, he had some alternative universes where only a few atoms were different and others where they were unrecognisable.

HE IS RIGHT, BUT CHANGING TO A VIRTUALLY IDENTICAL WORLD IS POINTLESS;   TO AN INCOMPREHENSIBLE ONE IS SAWING YOUR EXPERIENCE INTO PIECES FOR NO PURPOSE.

Intriguing.

I wonder where our next adventures in time and space will take us…

 

 

Synchronise your watches…

So where did it start, this little chain of perfect synchronicities?

I think a couple of weekends ago, when Will (my remote viewing partner) sent me a message.   I was better able to understand his thoughts when I received this message on Facebook, the next day.

You see Will is an Aspie.  He isn’t so bothered about making value judgements about how ‘good’ or ‘not good’ something is.  He just likes to analyse the way it is.  The way he had analysed our remote viewing experiences was, roughly, that since he wasn’t getting consistently perfect results and since many people were biased against such a non-mainstream way of viewing locations, it had disadvantages compared to using Google Earth or similar technology to view a remote location.

I couldn’t fault his logic.  I couldn’t even put my finger on what made me feel rather sad about it.  It was something like remote viewing feeling rather special and magical, and brilliant as GPS may be, it didn’t tick the same boxes for me.

I couldn’t deny that our viewings were rather mixed in quality.  Sometimes they’ve been spot on, but often they were rather wide of the mark.  Neither of us had been able to figure out what affected that.  We’d tried a few theories but nothing had given him the accuracy he was seeking.

So there’s the trigger.  Now for the synchronicities:  (For anyone reading who isn’t sure what synchronicity is, it’s a state in which normal cause-and-effect is augmented by an extra layer of reality.  It can appear like a series of bizarre coincidences, but there is a definite intelligence and consciousness embedded in it and organising it.  The individual is led along a path towards a new level of understanding or an experience they have chosen at soul level to receive.)

Graphics, Wallpaper, The BackgroundA night or two after Will’s message, I decided to watch TV.  I don’t often do that.  There was a repeat of a programme about the mind of Einstein.  I’d seen it before but I felt very drawn to watch it again.

A scientist was using impressive CGI to demonstrate how an object could only definitively be located if, in addition to the north-south, east-west and up-down co-ordinates, you added in TIME.  That was because, she explained, objects are not always and forever in the same place.

I was impressed with that.  It was a very clear and tidy explanation.  I didn’t, at this point, link it to anything else.  I just had a strong hunch that I didn’t need to watch any more of this programme.  I found myself getting irrationally irritated by it and turned it off.

‘So what shall I do now?’ I asked myself and another strong hunch came along.  I felt drawn to go to my computer.

There was nothing I needed to do on it.  I’d already spent quite a while staring at the screen earlier in the day.  I didn’t want to!  I picked up my dinner plate and headed towards the kitchen, intending to do the washing up.  As I opened the kitchen door, the hunch was almost screaming at me: ‘Go to the computer!  You need to channel.’

Right. Okay.  Got it.

Feeling bemused, but knowing it was right, I opened Word, typed in a message to my Guides saying I felt drawn to speak to them and asking if they had something to tell me.  Then I picked up my crystal dowsing pendulum and waited for it to start swinging about over the keyboard, picking out the message I would receive.  I barely use this method these days, but the pull to do it was too strong to ignore.

Within moments, we had connected and my guides were telling me they wanted to give me some information on how Will and I could improve our remote viewing.

Wow.

The message came through incredibly clearly.  They told me remote viewing was not a form of telepathy (that was one of the ideas we had recently been debating) and that when I tried to telepathically ‘send’ my location to him, I was inadvertently causing a fog around myself.  I was to stop doing that and just focus on being where I was, leaving the ‘finding’ to Will.

Next, they told me Will hadn’t been using the time co-ordinate when he viewed me.  Let’s say I planned to be in a specific location at 2pm.  He would do the viewing at that time and I’d be in position.  Sometimes, though, he picked up somewhere I’d been ten minutes before.  That, my guides were explaining, was because he wasn’t specifically searching for me at the set time.  If he focused on me AND the time, he’d get much more accurate viewings.  I chatted through a few of our recent near misses and they were even able to tell me where Will had ‘seen’ me – usually in a place I’d looked at and passed on my way to the target.  They pointed out that as long as he put in the time co-ordinate, he could do the viewing at any other time in his life – before or after the target event.

So time, like space, only exists within physical realms.  It merely acts as a marker when you’re dealing with realms beyond our three – or rather four – dimensions.

Very excited, I sent a transcript of my channelled conversation to Will.

Ship, Tanker, Oil, Transportation, SeaA couple of nights later I went to a lecture on psychic phenomena.  The speaker told the story of an expert remote viewer who had done a ‘real time’ live viewing on TV – even seeing an oil tanker arrive on the scene while he was viewing it – but later confessed that he’d actually done the viewing the previous day, before the target destination had even been chosen!

Needless to say, I passed that information on to Will as well.

The following weekend he did a series of very accurate viewings of places I’d been earlier in the day.  In each case I’d merely noted the time I was there and later asked him to focus on me at that time.

Today we did a ‘live’ viewing, but followed my guides’ advice.  Once again, he got the clearest of viewings.  For him the ‘dominant building’ – which he described extremely accurately – was the one I was beside at the given time.  There were far larger structures nearby, but he saw them as fainter.  In other words, he had located me (the object) in time and was able to pinpoint my position.

Will has revised his opinion of the usefulness of remote viewing in light of this new information.  He’s been very satisfied with our recent results.

Me?  I just love synchronicity!

 

 

Didn’t know I had a petard, and here I am hoist with it

Grenade, Bomb, War, Weapon, DangerI had to look petard up: a small bomb apparently.  As for being hoist on/by/with it, we have Shakespeare to thank for that one.  All I knew was that it meant, roughly, to fall into one’s own trap, and that I’ve certainly done this week.

Embarrassed, but trying hard to be authentic, so…

Allow me to explain.

A few weeks ago I was asked to take on a pair of new students – young brothers who shared a genetic condition with their mother.  “Multi-systemic” I was told, so the effects of this syndrome involve skin, joints, brain and just about any part of the body you can think of.  The words ‘complex learning difficulties’ were also mentioned.

To be honest, I was almost at full stretch before these lads appeared on the scene.  Planning two lots of lessons in maths and English tailored to their particular mix of strengths (very high intelligence) and challenges, as well as homework each week would, I knew, take at least an entire day.  Then there was the teaching itself, which I could only just slot in amongst my other young pupils.  Everything logical in my mind was screaming, “No, don’t do it!  What about that work/life balance you wanted?  You are past retirement age, you know.  And this lady wants you to work on right through the summer holidays.  When will you get to see the family?”

But the kids were lovely.  Finding ways of working around their difficulties would be fascinating – previously uncharted territory, the type of challenge I thrive on.  They weren’t fitting into schools.  Their constant pain and exhaustion, as a result of the syndrome, was too much for them when combined with a normal school day.  The mother, though, was being threatened by the authorities for not providing sufficient education.

I said, ‘Yes’.

Of course I did.

Writing, Boy, Child, Student, KidFor a couple of weeks it went fine.  Yes, I did end up doing lesson prep all through the weekends but they seemed to be progressing well and I was enjoying working with them.  Then this week they appeared full of smiles but without homework.  A casual ‘lost it somewhere in my room’ from one and ‘I didn’t realise you wanted me to do that’ from the other.

Inwardly I was irritated.  The homework sheets had taken me ages to prepare.  The work I’d planned for this week followed on from what they were meant to have done.  Their mother had particularly requested homework.  It was meant to protect her from being taken to court… and blah, blah, blah.

Outwardly, I smiled, suggested mildly that maybe they could try to get it done for the following week and carried on.  The lessons went fine and I went to bed that night feeling very happy.

Oh I know at least one of my readers knows exactly what’s coming!

I woke up the next morning to a text from the children’s mother.  Both of them had told her I was ‘grumpy’ during their lessons.  She wondered what was wrong.

I was mortified.  The lessons had (I thought) been lovely – lots of laughter and progress.  Was I just a delusional old bat?  Had I ended up like those elderly lady teachers I remembered from my own school days – miserable and past it?  Was it time to stop and give up – to sit in a rocking chair knitting all day?

I flashed a quick message back, saying I had been disappointed that they’d not bothered with the homework, but wasn’t aware of being grumpy about it; that I’d tried hard to keep the work lively and enjoyable and so forth.

Then I sat and thought.

Why was I choosing to be so upset by this?  Why had this incident shown up in my life?  What did it have to teach me?

The reply came almost at once, in a further message from the children’s mum.  She hadn’t wanted to upset me.  She just felt she had to be authentic and tell me their reaction.  It wasn’t my words or actions they had reacted to, it was my feelings.  They were, she added, extremely sensitive and picked up on the energy people projected.

Heart, Love, Idea, Light BulbAh.

Got it.

That heart-based telepathy thing.

So I thanked her – and the universe – for providing me with that reminder.  I told her about my last blog post, on exactly this subject, and promised to attempt to be more open and authentic in future.

See what I mean about being hoist with my own petard?  This communicating-from-the-heart business is not easy.  I’m glad to have these two young teachers.  Like all good teachers, they’ve appeared just as the student is ready 🙂