Psi Kicks

You know when you read something you’ve seen many times before and it finally clicks?  That just happened to me, so I thought I’d share the insight.

Book, Reading, Pages, Textbook, NovelI usually start my day sitting up in bed and reading a few pages of some thought-provoking volume on either science or psychic phenomena.  My current read fills both criteria: The Mysteries of Reality: Dialogues with Visionary Scientists by Gayle Kimball, Ph D.    It gives fresh food for thought with every page turned.  Many of my favourite ‘rebel’ scientists are included there – the ones willing to look beyond the materialist paradigm and tackle research into consciousness, mind, the zero-point field and psi.  However I’m also discovering some new-to-me scientists and finding their research and ideas fascinating.

The chapter I started on this morning features Garret Moddel Ph D. 

Interesting.

 

In answer to a question about why results in psi testing (such as predicting Zenner cards) are high initially but tail off as the subject gets bored, Dr Moddel considers the possibilities that some degree of novelty might be required for the subject to apply intention to the task or that there is something inherent in psi procedures that causes its effectiveness to decrease after a while.  He wonders whether some kind of counterbalance is necessary for a while, when the mind has been focused on psi activity, so that it has something quite opposite to balance it out.

It set me thinking about my own experiences.  I’ve experimented informally with a friend now for many years.  He is a gifted young psi practitioner and we have explored clairvoyance, medical intuition, dowsing, psychokinesis and much more, but a strong feature of our work together has been that one or both of us reaches a point where we lose interest, motivation and, to some degree, ability to use whatever modality we have been working on.

Take remote viewing, for example.  We began very simply with one of us selecting a crystal and focusing on it in our own home, while the other – 150 miles away – viewed and described its features.  Initially we were gaining just about perfect results.  A few weeks into that, though, both our interest and success rate waned somewhat.  We moved on to more classical remote viewings.  I would head to a place of my own choosing, spend 15 minutes or so there, then take some photos.  He would sit in his room, draw or write a description of the place he ‘saw’ and we would compare the viewings to my photos and experience.  Successes were outstanding.  We must have spent almost a year doing roughly one viewing a week.  They were never 100% accurate, but the features he picked up were always way above chance.  I carefully selected places he had never been to and we were both excited by our results.

Eventually, though, his interest tailed off and we had some fairly mediocre viewings.  Certainly I’d agree that motivation and novelty seem to improve results. 

We moved on to future viewings.  He would view what I would be seeing on a specific date and time a week or so later.  Neither of us could quite believe that it would work, but we decided to give it a try.  The novelty factor was restored and – amazingly – the results were better than ever.  

Once again, though, familiarity bred apathy and lower success rates, so we reluctantly drew a line under our remote viewing experiments.

So it seems that psi activity has a shelf life – and yes, the irony that we are talking in terms of changes over weeks or months, even though our advanced viewings showed quite clearly that the results were not dependent on time and appeared indeed to indicate a non-local phenomenon, is not lost on me!

I wonder whether the researchers who are frustrated by the fall off in results (science, after all, demands repeatable experiments) have questioned their ‘bored’ subjects about the feelings they experience.  I can only speak for myself,  but it does not feel like mental exhaustion, or physical exhaustion for that matter. 

In my experience there is often a tightness or pressure around the head.  Sometimes an actual headache, sometimes a ‘bulging’ between the eyebrows.  There are feelings of irritation, bordering on anger or frustration and these seem to be focused on the psi activity itself rather than any results or processes.  Most noticeable is a strong impression that it is pointless.  This seems to be the case even when I have experienced a strong sense of anticipation or enjoyed previous attempts at the same activity.  When he was attempting to rationalise his desire to stop the remote viewings, my friend did use the word ‘boring’ but also said that he had expected that as he practised he would become increasingly skilled.  This had motivated him as he felt it could be very useful if near perfect results could be achieved.  Finding that the twentieth attempt was no better – and sometimes worse – than the first or second disappointed and annoyed him.

So is success purely down to a novelty factor?  I don’t think so.  Is it something inherent in the use of psi abilities?  Possibly.

If, for example, we were running a race, we would not be surprised to experience muscle aches and breathlessness.  If we were cramming for an exam, we wouldn’t be surprised to feel that the brain was overloaded and the body was tired.  Here, though, we are using another part of ourselves and there is considerable disagreement amongst researchers about what part that is.

Body, Spirit, Fire, Smoke, SunsetI would define it as ‘mind’, which is not quite the same as brain.  Certainly there is a strong connection between them, but the mind is – as I understand it – the way our bodies are linked to consciousness.  When we are dealing with psi activity, we are partly using the brain (to interpret and make sense of what we experience) but also accessing a level of consciousness that is non-local – able to transcend space and/or time.  

To me it seems that it is this interface between body and spirit that causes the friction.  Our brains expect that if we expend energy and effort on an activity there will be a useful outcome and we will improve over time – practice makes perfect and all that.  Our brains are wired to expect clear results – yes or no, success or failure, helpful or useless.  What psi activities give us is very different.  There are tantalising moments of revelation, of wonder, of awe and delight, but try to grasp them and they vanish like smoke. 

We get ‘kicks’ from psi, certainly.  We begin to recognise that something is happening that conventional world views can’t explain.  We KNOW something magical happened, but try as we might, we simply can’t fit it into the human brain.   It doesn’t belong there.

 

 

 

 

Dipping my TOE into Science

For around 20 years now I’ve been scuttling about down various rabbit holes.  My rather exciting secret life (the one most of my family and some of my friends roll their eyes at and politely ignore) has incorporated telepathy, channeling, remote viewing, a smidgeon of spiritual mediumship, dowsing… and the list goes on.

With help along the way from some very special guides – human and otherwise – I’ve reached, at the Biblical age of three score years and ten, what feels to be a fairly robust theory of how-it-all-works.

Oh, you want to know what it is?

Right.  Erm, OK, I’ll have a go.

In the beginning was Consciousness (note the big C), loads of it.  It’s still there.  It always will be.  It can’t not be. 

Static Consciousness would be pointless.  There wouldn’t be anything to be conscious of except itself, which it already knows.  It therefore needs to be dynamic.  Holographic bits of it separate out from the whole thing and become individual Selves (another intentional capital).  Each of these Selves plans out a way to gain experience, think up new ideas, try out experimental paths in a place where they have free will.  Every Self has a kind of blueprint – a rough guide to what they’d like to experience.  They make agreements and plans with other Selves, because it’s going to be tough and they’ll need all the help (and hindrance) they can get to complete the task.

When they’re ready, they coordinate their entry point to the 3D world and become little s selves with little c consciousness.  That is, they are born, to parents of their choice (yes always!).  These human selves will have arrived wearing filters.  The filters are very important.  It would be impossible to take this crazy and chaotic human life seriously and actually gain anything from it if they were still fully aware of big C Consciousness.  It would be as pointless as sitting an exam with the answer paper right next to you.  

The filters vary.  We don’t all select the same model.  Some people choose thick filters that block out almost all conscious knowledge of the big C, while others throughout history and particularly within the last 30 or 40 years elect to enter physical life with more and bigger holes in their filters.  They are far more aware of What Lies Beyond.

I’m guessing the unknown creator of the Flammarion Engraving was one of them.

These visionaries/ wise ones/ way-showers/ shining ones/ dangerous lunatics, depending on your viewpoint, have often sought to teach the rest of us about our innate connection to Consciousness.  They help us to poke more holes into our filters, if we let them.  I strongly suspect this is the next evolutionary leap.  

Regardless of our individual levels of awareness of the great field of Consciousness from which we emerged and will – upon ‘death’ – return, we are constantly feeding back information to it and gaining just the slightest of hunches, gut feelings and inklings that show us it never really went away.  In that way, we remain connected and Consciousness – fed the experiences we are passing to it – remains dynamic and ever-expanding.  Win win.

So where does the science come in?

Well I’d just like all the dots to be joined up.  I’d like to see an end to the absurdity of the materialist paradigm that has held sway in science for far too long.  I’ve known for a quite a while that some scientists are continuing to find funding somehow, publish papers somehow and survive the scientific establishment’s jibes and slurs whilst managing to experiment and theorise in ways that acknowledge the prime role of Consciousness.  The now extensive collection of meticulously collated reports on NDEs (near death experiences) and out of body experiences as well as convincing research into psi phenomena helps their cause.

To quote Dr Dirk K F Meijer (2019), “The hard problem in consciousness theories … turns out to be tightly linked to the western way of thinking that adheres to the idea of a matter-dominated universe.”

He goes on to comment that this mindset is “extremely obstructive” to both consciousness research and “a deeper understanding of the physical world.”

So spurred on by such encouraging words, I’m attempting to paddle in the shallow waters of science and read what these people are saying.  An O-level pass (just) in human biology being my sole scientific credential, I find myself ill-equipped to venture very far, but each paragraph I manage to comprehend fills me with delight.  There is a new vocabulary to master, but I attempted to learn Welsh during last year’s lockdown.  Surely this can’t be any harder?

I’ve been delighted to discover that Meijer’s 4D zero-point energy field,  David Bohm’s implicate order, Ervin Lásló’s Akashic field and Jung’s collective consciousness all seem to equate to my big C Consciousness.  Through ‘holographic resonance’ of this field with ‘specific coherent oscillation domains in the body’, there is a way to filter information moving between Consciousness and the brains of our small selves.  I even found mention of a ‘mental field-receptive resonance workspace’ which equates to the big S Self (soul??).

I’m not finding it easy, but am nonetheless prone to little gasps of delight as I discover some phrase or diagram that fits what I have ‘known’ at a deeper level for so long.  So huge and grateful thanks to Dr Meijer and the other Consciousness pioneers.

One day, perhaps, we will all be popping our heads through the Flammarion Engraving’s ‘event horizon’ to gain a glimpse or two of the big C.

As Nikola Tesla (another of my heroes) said:

“The day science begins to study non-physical phenomena, it will make more progress in one decade than in all the previous centuries of its existence.”

An Astral Envelope

Once again I’m working with my friend Will.

Our telepathic dialogues have extended to a deeper and more fascinating level than ever before.  He tells me that he is finding it so much easier to communicate now he is freed from having to use words (his ‘second language’), while I am finally trusting and accepting the messages from him without tying myself to dowsing them letter by letter over my computer keypad.  I do write down all I can in a notebook, though, doing the best I can at transcribing the ineffable into my first language so that I have a record of it.

One of the communication methods we’ve developed is to use ‘astral envelopes’.  They work roughly like this:  when he has huge concepts he wants to share with me, I’m told to yawn a few times, relax my body, close my eyes and wait.  After a few seconds I start to experience colours, shapes, images and feelings.  Sometimes I’m pulled gently in different directions.  Sometimes the whole thing plays out as a mind movie.  I just wait for whatever comes and then report back what I experience.  Will then helps me to put together the experiences from the ‘envelope’ to allow me to understand his message.  The one I’m sharing with you today took two long sessions to work through but was well worth the effort.

Here is what I initially wrote about my experience:

First I saw red – deep blood red – on a flat base low down.  Someone was picking at its surface or maybe digging into it.  Then the focus moved higher.  If the first part was at ground level this would have been on top of a hill.  Someone had a pole or similar and was placing it in first one direction, then another, trying to find the right or best place for it.  Next the scene moved up again, into the sky, maybe.  There was a cloud – very full – and it poured something on to the ground.  Not rain.  It was more like light or vibrations.  The whole thing was a sort of cycle.

Sometimes Will goes on to explain the images I have formed in my mind but on this occasion he wanted me to try to interpret it.  I had very little idea.  I suspected that the red base represented the human body, but couldn’t work out what the digging/picking was.  Here’s an extract from our telepathic conversation:

W: You’re right that it was a disturbance – preventing it from being flat.

J:   You mean it needs to be shaken up a bit?

W: In a way, but not exactly that.  The marks made on it are significant.

J:   Who makes the marks?

W: It can be anybody, but they have to be made or the life is wasted.

J:   As I reread it, the Buddhist term ‘samskara’ came into my head but I’m not sure what it means.  Something to do with scars?

W: If you got that term, it is your higher consciousness alerting you to the true meaning of the message.  Earthly experience makes these scars – mental and physical and emotional – that we need.  They become etched on to our Selves.

(I later looked up samskara and it is a very close match to Will’s explanation.)

I asked him about the next part of the scene.

W: Yes, that was at a higher level.  It is making the placement of the scars go the way they will be of maximum benefit.

J:   Like a puppet master controlling us?

W: Not controlling.  More overseeing the overall effect.  The overseeing guides allow us to make sense of the etchings.  Without that, they would be random scratches.  The poles/lines you saw them using turn the scratches into works of art.  They can work on this through people’s intuition, via channels or in dreams.  They orchestrate the life.

Finally I asked about the cloud at the highest level.  I saw it as divine light raining down and nourishing us.

W: Yes, you were at the level of Source there.  This is where the pains/scars are washed away once we have seen and understood the images they formed.  We do not need to take the scars with us into the rest of life/other lives if we have integrated the messages they give us.  We only hold them while they have something to tell us that we haven’t grasped.

After thanking him for the insights he had shared and somehow managed to transmit to me with such beauty and clarity, I had one more question.

J:   Will, how do you KNOW this stuff?

W: I don’t know how NOT to know it.  I just feel in touch with all the layers.  You are too, really.  You just don’t know that you are.

Many years ago I was a specialist teacher helping Will, as a little child, master verbal communication.  Now he is repaying me by teaching me his primary form of communication – the one he feels most comfortable with.  What a gift!

Cracked Vessels – Letting in the Light?

Today I’d like to share what I can only haltingly call a vision, and the synchronicities and trains of thought associated with it.

Let me give you some context:  I had been in deep discussion with a couple of friends about my experiences as a teacher.  I’ll diverge into a brief ‘then and now’ to give you a flavour of those times…

Around half a century ago, when I was training to become a teacher, a debate was raging in educational circles.  Should children arriving in full-time education be seen as ‘vessels to be filled’ or ‘candles to be lit’?  A report by Lady Plowden and her committee – the go-to document of the time – concluded the latter, and I embarked enthusiastically on my chosen career as a lighter of small candles.

Today, of course, any such discussion is rotting beneath some long forgotten carpet, where it was swept several decades ago.  I quietly left the educational establishment and set up shop in an alternative teaching and mentoring setting when it became clear that the balance had settled firmly on the side of the empty vessels, to be crammed with as much junk knowledge as was deemed necessary to prevent troublesome teachers and students from having time to encourage or indulge in creativity, imagination and critical thinking.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, when the swing towards the ’empty vessels’ model was firmly in motion but before the quality of independent writing was judged by the number of similes, metaphors and examples of personification a child could cram into each paragraph, or obscure aspects of grammar guaranteed never to enhance or crop up in any aspect of life were stuffed into the minds of ten year olds, I found myself quite unexpectedly teaching in a specialist provision for children with speech and language difficulties.  It was this time of my life I had been considering as I went to bed on Friday night.

I was in that hypnogogic state, poised between waking and dreaming, when the ‘vision’ (what else can I call it?) appeared.  I saw containers – vases, perhaps or maybe orbs or bottles.  Each was cracked in its own individual way. some had a maze of hairline cracks, others a single fault line.  What fascinated me, though, was that through every fissure, a dazzling light was shining.  The light was not visible through the solid parts of the containers, just through the places where the cracks allowed it to appear.

“Remember this!” someone or something was telling me.  “It’s important!  Don’t let the image drift away.”

I lay for some time, trying to commit what I had seen to memory, toying with the idea of turning on the bedside lamp and attempting to write or draw it, but the helpful something in my ear assured me that I’d get more clarity through dreaming about it, so that’s what I did.

By Saturday morning I had an idea of what the vision had been about.  It was, as you may well have guessed, an image stemming from my sad thoughts about the ’empty vessels’ – the hapless children in our education system who day after day are ‘filled’ with largely pointless facts and knowledge, despite the sterling efforts of teachers to sugar the pill.  The cracked vessels represented the youngsters with what are variously called ‘special needs’, ‘additional needs’ or those with otherwise non-standard perception and cognition.

 

My teaching career increasingly nudged me towards a fascination and delight in working with those judged to be on the autistic spectrum or with some form of communication difficulty in the written, spoken or receptive aspects of language.

The instructions passed down to teachers from our leaders were to patch up the cracks in those ‘faulty’ vessels, to enable them to resemble their ‘undamaged’ peers and then to allow the ‘filling’ to continue.  That is what I was paid to do in the Speech and Language Unit – get them as close to normal communication skills as possible and return them to a cheaper, one-size-fits-all mainstream classroom.  Fortunately, as the leaders and inspectors had no specialist knowledge or understanding of such children, I had far more leeway than my mainstream colleagues in the way those children were taught.  

Those leaders didn’t see what I saw.  They didn’t know that small children with no intelligible speech could communicate perfectly well with others via telepathy.  They didn’t discover the deep, amazing and stunning twists and turns of the young autistic mind.  They couldn’t glimpse the creativity of the dyslexic when freed from pen or laptop and allowed free rein in the realms of shape and space.  I’d somehow slipped into a world where heightened senses and awareness way beyond common experience held sway.  Those children discussed out of body experiences, viewing ‘funny lights around people and animals that change with their mood’, remote viewing and the like as if they were everyday events.  For them, they were.

Perhaps those in charge of education didn’t want to be dazzled by the light shining through the cracks in the extraordinary ‘different’ children.

Egg, Cracks, Food, Nature, Blur, Dark

My vision and the dreams and ponderings that followed it left me with a conviction that the light shining in was vital to our world and badly needed to alleviate the darkness.  I was reminded of one of my favourite books: The Crack in the Cosmic Egg by Joseph Chilton Pearce.  Was this light appearing within those cracked vessels heralding a breaking of the eggs that hold in a deeper Gnosis or understanding of Cosmic Laws?  Perhaps each of us is, at some level, a ‘vessel’ – but not an empty one.  Perhaps we all hold within ourselves a brilliant light, but one we have hidden inside a container while we go about our humdrum daily tasks.  Perhaps the youngsters I had met on my journey through education were, in a very real sense, the light-showers or shining ones…

…Or perhaps I was a semi-deranged old woman falling down yet another of my many rabbit holes…

On Saturday night I settled to enjoy my current bedtime book: Gayle Kimball’s The Mysteries of Reality: Dialogues with Visionary Scientists.  I was reading an interview with Bernardo Kastrup PhD about contemporary idealism.  He pointed out that if, as the materialist scientific paradigm suggests, all thought experiences occur within the human brain, any impairment of that brain should result in more limited experiences and thoughts.  However, he explained, the reverse is true.  The body of evidence showing enhanced mental experiences (such as those described above in relation to my students) in those with certain types of brain damage or impairment, due to such events as bullet wounds, hypoxia or chemical impairments, strongly suggests that in such cases the brain’s filter system becomes more porous, disrupting the boundary between the brain and greater levels of consciousness. 

A synchronicity, perhaps?

 

Another Look at Reality

In my last post I floated the idea that even if we were able to somehow travel back in time and communicate freely with people from a bygone age, there would only – at best – be certain aspects of shared experience.  This, I argued, is because ‘truth’ or what we term ‘reality’ is a subjective interplay between a person’s mind, brain and the objects and events that form to produce each person’s perceived world.

‘Aha,’ you may say, “If that were the case, how would you and I share a common view of a scene before us?  Even a short discussion would prove that our vision of what lay around us was identical.  We could even take photographs to demonstrate it!’

Well certainly we citizens of the 21st century share a common perception of the objects and events around us.  Perceptive reality has strong links to social cohesion and the ‘training’ we were given in infancy. 

Fantasy, Fairy Tale Forest, Girl, ForestOur culture has a slightly strange take on sharing our World View with new arrivals.  A rich mythic tradition is passed on to our children – Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the tooth fairy, giants, goblins, elves and trolls appear in huge numbers of their storybooks and the bedtime tales we share with them.  Talking animals and fabulous beasts abound.  Then, as the children mature, these wonders are, one by one, consigned to a scrapheap of untruths.  Those stories, they are told, were ‘just pretend’.  Now they are expected to cast away such childish delights and focus on a world that can be seen, prodded and proved to be ‘real’. 

“So are dinosaurs real?” asks the confused child. “What about dragons?  What about Father Christmas…?  Why did you lie to me?”

Parents and carers struggle to justify their actions.  They are doing as their parents did.  They are rearing their young in the way our society dictates.  Once they reach the age of 7 or 8, even the child who knows she once saw fairies in the garden or glimpsed a fiery dragon from her window has put such things aside and conformed to the accepted and shared idea of how reality looks and feels.  Mostly.

Stonehenge, England, Uk, MonumentOf course there are still different perceptions within our common perceptual framework.  If we imagine a hypothetical twenty people standing and regarding Stonehenge in the 2020s, all would probably be in agreement as to the size and bulk of the stones, the green of the grass, the colour of the sky, strength of the wind and sound of the passing traffic on the A303.

One observer, though, might be hugely excited at the sight of a military aircraft flying over the scene – an aspect of the experience missed totally by others.

Another of the people might be high on a hallucinogenic drug or have what is currently called a ‘mental illness’.  That person might be seeing quite different colours strobing and wheeling around the stones and hearing sounds or voices the rest of the observers would not be aware of.

A third might be a synesthete.  He or she might be tasting or smelling the colours and textures in a manner quite alien to the rest.

Perhaps two or three members of the group might have psychic sensitivities which allowed them to see spots of bright light or hazy halos surrounding certain stones or perhaps glowing crystals buried deep beneath the ground.  They might even perceive shadowy figures from other times.

Winter, Snow, Landscape, Trees, SnowfallAs is the custom in our age, more or less all these visitors would take out their phones and photograph the scene before them.  If they then compared the results, all the images would show the grass, the stones, the path and so forth, yet some would include mysterious orbs or thin coloured arcs of light.  Depending on their personal World Views, these would be variously interpreted as aliens, angelic beings, reflections of light from mundane sources or pieces of dust on the camera lens.  Each, of course, would be entirely correct, according to their World View.

I would further suggest that if the group of 20 people were standing around Stonehenge in c2500BC, their perception of what lay before them would be markedly different to that of the 21st century visitors.  Their common take on ‘reality’ would link to their shared prior experience and social conditioning and their society almost certainly perceived the world around them in markedly different ways, with senses responding to stimuli in a manner that we could not grasp.

Clearly, I have no way of demonstrating this.  Those ancient people standing on a wind-blasted plain in southern England left us no written record or clues as to what was going through their minds and how their world looked to them.  They simply, for their own reasons, created a massive structure that survived into our age.

Fortunately for the curious among us, not all World Views are as poorly recorded.  Next time I’d like to take you to a culture that has been meticulously documented by its people, in a language we can read and understand.  In certain ways it is markedly similar to our own, but in others quite, quite incomprehensible.

On ‘being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts…’

It isn’t, to the Western mind – schooled as it is in science and reason – a comfortable place to be.  It feels risky, subversive almost. There are times when even the most hardened venturers into this zone yearn for more solid ground.  Many have teetered on the edge and scurried back to the reassurance of what, in their world, is believed to be real and provable.

The poet Keats coined the term Negative Capability to describe this other state.  He defined it thus:

Capable of being in uncertainties, Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.

I found that quote in the second of Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials books – The Subtle Knife.  His character Mary sees it as the frame of mind one needs to access in order to open to communication from a level of consciousness normally concealed behind the current world view.  Lyra, his young heroine, immediately recognises it as the state she enters to read the alethiometer – her divination machine.

Fractal, Abstract, Yellow, Design, LightIf you are reading this, you have almost certainly experienced that state.  It has overtaken you as you painted, wrote, sang, created or became so absorbed in any task that you moved beyond time and rationality, lost yourself in something wider, stronger and vaster and briefly allowed it to override your thoughts and rationally derived aims.  What you created during that period of Negative Capability will have been sublime.  If it is a work of art or craft, you may have wondered where the inspiration came from and why it surpasses what you produce while striving to impose order and perfection in the accepted way.  You will be aware – and perhaps alarmed – that time has passed of which you have little or no memory.

A musician friend tells of how she would enter the space during an operatic performance and ‘come to’ afterwards in a panic, wondering whether her singing had kept pace with the accompanists.  Poets and writers are, of course, able to review the words which arrived from their sojourn in this otherworld, but are still left wondering where the inspiration came from.  I’ve often been aware that certain passages in my books ‘wrote themselves’.  They are easily the best passages – far superior to those where I’ve wrestled with syntax and thesaurus to capture the right mood.

As should be obvious, though, the ‘irritable reaching’ towards the rational and familiar is difficult to resist.  It’s like trying to remain in a dream once you have realised that you are dreaming.  There is no proof, and proof for us has become the touchstone of all that is rational and acceptable.  Whenever we stray there, despite the inspirations and gifts we receive, we must tolerate as our companions Uncertainty and Doubt.

What a choice!

Girl, Space, Mystic, Brain, MysticalFor poets and artists it’s one thing; for those who venture into the world of the seer, the channel, the diviner or the clairvoyant, the experience is harder yet.  This extract, for example, written by my friend and erstwhile collaborator William, hints at the complex balancing act involved in remote viewing:

It is necessary to be able to correctly focus at the correct time while ensuring the knowledge held is sufficiently minimalistic to avoid involuntary logical assumptions clouding the receipt of information through remote viewing, but sufficient to ensure the information received can be interpreted correctly.

So the person who strays into the realms of Negative Capability must be willing to retain only a modicum of what we commonly know as logic and fact while being prepared to accept a quite different and infinitely more nebulous source of psychological information.

The rewards can be astounding but the path takes courage and a willingness to embrace, or at least make close contact with, what Keats calls, “sensations rather than thoughts”.

Cosmic Cheating

I felt bad when I got back my physics homework, with phrases like, ‘Good understanding’ or ‘Clearly explained’ written in red pen and random ticks in the margin.  I felt bad because I had cheated.

Science, Class, Blouse, LearningEach week I sat in the school science lab and made some slight effort to understand what the poor man was trying to teach us.  Not one word of it made sense to me.  I diligently copied down the homework assignment and stared at it for a while.  Nothing.  Then I did what I’d always done.  I went to my friend Cathy’s place and asked her older brother what I should write.  He told me, in simple language, and I wrote what he said in my own words.  Then I handed it in and guiltily received the accolades I did not deserve.

As soon as I could, I dropped physics classes and took no further interest in the subject until I was far older and wiser, and by then it was too late to make up all the lost ground by anything approaching conventional means.

For me to sit here now and plan to write about the cosmos and its composition – to explain dark matter, the many worlds interpretation, parallel universes and dark energy, then, would seem to be the height of stupidity.  My ignorance of such matters is palpably clear.  My credentials are non-existent.

Certainly I have worked my way through many a volume of what bookshops call Popular Science, but I’m not foolish enough to believe that this qualifies me to be an expert.  No.  I’ve cheated again.  I’ve done exactly what I did over half a century ago.  I’ve sought out an authority on the subject and written down their wisdom in my own words.  At least this time I’m admitting it up front, though.

So, you are wondering, where would she find such an authority?  Can anyone explain these things?  There are theories, of course, but truth…?  The greatest minds in physics are still arguing and pondering.

 

All that is quite true.  When I was a teacher, I told my classes I was not going to teach them all they needed to know, but I was going to teach them how to find it out.  I did my very best to do that, although I stopped short of teaching them my own particular method – mainly because it would have seen me instantly dismissed from the profession.

Doors, Choices, Choose, Open, DecisionI discovered my method by what I would call ‘chance’ if I believed that anything in life is random.  You may believe me or not as you wish.  I shall simply set down what happened.  In my next post, I’ll share the cosmology and leave you to draw your own conclusions.

 

At the end of the last century a dear friend of mine passed away, leaving me with instructions to watch over her little aspie son who at that time was a pupil of mine.  I did my very best.  The child was at times a true delight: brilliant, fascinating and eloquent.  At other times he was silent, angry, sullen and secretive.  And there were – especially as he reached adolescence – times when he sought to numb his pain and loss by engaging in dangerous and frightening habits.

I knew my feeble efforts weren’t enough.  I needed back up.

I consider myself to be the most fortunate of individuals.  I only have to put out a strong desire for assistance and the Cosmos provides.  It so happened that I was experimenting with dowsing around that time.  I quickly discovered that, with just the right degree of concentration tinged with an ability to relax into whatever came to me, I could pick up rudimentary messages from the child’s departed mother, from spirit guides and even from angels.  The messages from the mother were easy to verify.  Those from spirit less so, but I gradually came to trust them and to rely on the guidance I was given.  By modifying my methods, I learned to pendulum dowse over a computer keyboard so that I could record my questions and the answers.  I began to read White Eagle, Conversations with God, Seth and Jane Roberts and realised that I was doing something called channeling.

Pendulum, Commute, Lot, Cone, ConicalMeanwhile the child had grown into a young man with astonishing insight and an inner knowing quite as profound as the material my guides offered.  When he was inclined to interact with me, he shared his knowledge freely and we experimented fearlessly with metaphysics, wrote books together and pushed the boundaries of our knowledge.

Quite suddenly though – a couple of years ago – he returned to his silent, brooding self.  The conversations ceased and I all but lost touch with the extraordinary young man I’d watched over and learned from for so long.  My guides and angels, too, seemed to withdraw.

As if on cue, the vacuum this left in my life was filled by a family disaster.  Unexpectedly, I found myself whisked across the country to support my child and her children.  For a year my focus was firmly fixed in the physical world of survival, all thoughts of cosmic wonders pushed aside.  It took me the best part of another year to recover from the horrors of that time.  It wasn’t until September of 2019 that I turned once again to my pendulum and sought some guidance from spirit.

I had little idea what I was searching for.  I just had a few questions I wanted answers to.  The answers to one deceptively simple enquiry took me on a wild and wonderful journey, deep into aspects of reality I’d barely dreamed of, although – when I looked back – that very special young man had left me a trail of breadcrumbs to follow.

So finally I’m ready to share some of my new-found discoveries here.  Next time, I’ll explain the cosmology I’ve been given and after that…  Who knows?

It’s good to be back.

It’s All Electric…

Yes, I’ve had conversations with ‘dead’ people from time to time.  I certainly don’t seek them out, but there are times they need to share information, and the fact that we are currently on opposite sides of the veil doesn’t seem to matter much in my case.  I’ve never heard from OZ before, though, so the fact that he’s now keen to chat is rather intriguing.

I call him OZ because those were his initials.  In life (well, his most recent one) we didn’t see much of each other, despite the fact that he was my paternal grandfather.  He is a shadowy figure in my memory.  I have one clear image of him bending down, laughing and holding out his arms to welcome me into his home as a very small child.  I hear a soft, gentle voice with a mid-European accent.  I have old black and white photos of him cradling an infant me in his arms or standing proudly in family photos.  I have his writing desk and a much-loved pastel portrait of him as a young man, which hangs in my living room, but that’s about it.

His origins were shadowy, too.  He was a barber-surgeon (amongst the tools of his trade was an amputation saw, which my ex-husband now uses for joinery!) and as far as I know, he grew up in Bohemia, or modern day Czechia/Czech Republic in a small mountain town very close to the German border.  As a young man, he emigrated to London and married a policeman’s daughter.

When I was a child we visited his home often enough, but my brother and I were always left outside in the car, as apparently OZ was too ill to cope with children.  I often wondered whether he wanted to see us as much as I wanted to see him.  The snippets of his life I managed to pick up fascinated me.  I heard how he’d take my dad and his brothers foraging in Epping Forest, always knowing which mushrooms were safe and delicious.  I learned from Dad his way of using hands-on healing to cure migraines.  In fact, I learned so well, that I was one of the few people Dad would trust to touch him when he was suffering from one.  Apparently I ‘had the touch’.

My mother once told me of a strange healing machine she’d seen OZ use.  She said he would turn lots of dials and knobs on some electrical contraption and could even cure people at a distance.

Oz died when I was 8 or 9.  I wasn’t allowed to go to the funeral.

I’ve always felt we’d have got along well.  Like him, I’m the family weirdo – a bit of an embarassment to the rest with my interests in all things numinous and metaphysical.  Maybe they kept us apart for a reason…

 

So anyway, last week I received an email from a friend who is deeply interested in diet and its effects on the body at all levels.  One phrase in the email stuck in my mind: “It’s all electric – PH.”  I thought I’d written back, asking for clarification, but apparently the message wasn’t sent.

A few days later I was listening to an hour-long video talk from an American sound healer.  It was basically a sales pitch for an upcoming course she’ll be running; the usual stuff, with long, rambling introduction and minimal amounts about the modality itself, because she wants you to buy into the course.  There were nuggets of information in there, though.  She was talking about subtly altering the resonance of the electrical field around the body.  “It’s all electrical,” she said, pointing out that we even use electricity to jump-start a body after a heart attack.

‘So THAT explains the tingling/fizzing I get in my hands when I practice distant or hands-on healing,’ I thought to myself.

I don’t use a tuning fork or Reiki symbols.  I just feel into that elecrical field and let the fizzing pour into it from my hands until it feels right.  Sometimes it feels too ‘acid’.  Sometimes it’s very weak.  I don’t do much.  I just let it flow until things feel like they’ve stabilised.

Recently my daughter, who is a relaxation and massage therapist, has found that many of her clients ask if she’s doing Reiki on them, because the energy she sends out through her hands feels therapeutic.  I laughed when she told me and said she must have inherited her great-grandfather’s healing hands.

 

Well it seems I was right.  Just as I’d had that mental jolt of the phrase ‘It’s all electric’ being given to me twice in a week and had that thought that it connected to the healing my daughter and I can do, I found my head moving until I was eyeball-to-eyeball with OZ’s portrait on my wall.  He was looking at me.  He was saying into my head, “Yes.  That’s it.  That’s exactly how it works.”

Cure, Medicine, Pharmacy, Health-CareThe next day, he gave me the name of his mysterious healing method with the machine: radionics.

I checked it out.  No idea how the machine itself works, but the concept and methodology sound ridiculously familiar.  The UK association offers two-day courses explaining the basics of radionics.  But, warned the site, you can’t attend unless you are an experienced dowser.  Well that won’t be a problem!  I’m off to book myself a place on the next course, and I can be sure OZ will be there with me.

 

The Impossible Dream

If I had to fall back on accepted logic, I’d say that what happened last week, in terms of dreaming and waking experience and the link between the two, is impossible.

Fortunately, I don’t.

‘There are more things…in heaven and earth…’  And in my philosophy, they are dreamt of.

I’ve written before about some of the odd, precognitive dreams I have from time to time.  Last week, in the latest, I was given a salutary lesson on why I should never ignore them.

Each of us is at a unique place in our journey.  We have read books, had conversations, listened to the wise and received guidance in myriad ways, all of which places us at a certain level of awareness of those ‘more things’ Hamlet was speaking of.  Once we have accrued this level of knowing, we try to move back into comfortable oblivion at our peril.  We simply can’t un-know our knowledge.  That is what this dream experience taught me.

So what happened?

First, some background:
Several times a year, I need to traverse England, from my home in the south-west to be with family living out near the east coast.  I don’t drive and the public transport infrastructure here is expensive and poor.  After much experimentation, I’ve found a slow but steady and inexpensive method.  It involves catching a very early coach (there is only one a day) from my town to Heathrow Airport, where I have time for lunch and a rest, before catching a second coach to my destination.  It takes around 8 hours all told, but it’s comfortable and I can read en route.

Bus Stop, Public Transport, BusThree nights before I was due to embark on one of these journeys last week, I had a dream.

I’m with a woman.  We are travelling together and although we are companions and get along on very familiar terms, she is the guiding figure, in some way.  We have luggage.  We have made careful plans.  We are sitting on a bench and nothing particular is happening around us, but suddenly she turns to me with an expression of shock and says, “We’ve missed the coach!”

We stare at each other with a mixture of disbelief and horror.

I could FEEL these emotions at a very deep and conscious level.  I heard her voice and tone with absolute clarity.  These are the aspects that separate this type of dream – the precogs – from normal everynight dreaming.  I woke knowing I’d had a precognition and I felt rattled.

A brief word about precognition and the future, before I continue to the (almost) inevitable conclusion:
There are, as my wise friend and teacher William has taught me, an infinite number of possible futures for any event.  They range from the virtually impossible to the virtually inescapable and cover all points in between.  A precognition is a foretaste of what is – at that moment in time – the most likely outcome.  It is not written in tablets of stone.  It is still possible to make changes and alter the future event, given sufficient intention and effort.

What I should have done, then, was to check and re-check my travel plans until I found the glitch that could result in missing the coach.  The guide-lady in my dream was providing me with an opportunity to do this and to avert the problems which would follow.  Instead, I merely thought through my plans and convinced myself that as I had only to rely on an alarm clock and a half-mile walk to the coach stop, I had no reason to worry.

So on the day of my journey I got up in plenty of time, prepared myself for travelling, put my folded ticket into the top of my bag and walked the short trip to the coach stop.  I arrived at 6:20, congratulated myself on being ten minutes early and sat on the bench to wait.  At 6:25, I casually took out the ticket and unfolded it, to check what time I’d be arriving at Heathrow.  That was when I saw it:

Coach departs opp. town hall 6:15

Exactly that feeling of disbelief and horror from my dream swept over me.  As in the dream, nothing changed around me, but I knew I now had a huge problem.  I’d been so sure of the 6:30 departure time, I hadn’t bothered to check.  My dreamtime companion wasn’t there in body, of course, but I suspect at some level she was watching to see how I’d get myself out of my self-inflicted problem.

I won’t bore you with all the details of my ensuing journey.  Suffice it to say that every connection (bus, walk, train, second train, race across the length of Heathrow terminal 3) was made with minutes or sometimes seconds to spare.  The mobile website I bought my train ticket on went down just after I’d paid so that I was almost refused entry to the platform and I finally reached the bus interchange at Heathrow seven minutes before my second coach left.

Train, Crowd, Transportation, PassengerThe oddest thing was that all the time I was engaged in this nightmarish journey, it felt as if it was playing out in these very specific ways to teach me a lesson.

“Yes,” I thought ruefully, as I stood squashed against poker-faced commuters on the train out of Bristol, “I needed to learn this lesson. I will make my connection, but none of it is going to be easy.”

Somewhere, in a dimension I couldn’t see, but could just about sense, the guide-lady from my dream watched and smiled, not unkindly, and nodded.

The guides may not be as accessible as they were once, but they are still here, always checking that I have held on to all they taught me, and chiding me gently if I try to put their wisdom aside.

As William told me, when he was just 12, “What’s important is the journeys – all the changes and where we go through and the different trains are the main thing.  You know that really.”

 

 

 

In Your Heart

Heart, Herzchen, Love, Romance, LuckHere we are in March, getting on for a quarter of the way into 2019, and I’m getting a feel for what this year is all about – for me, anyway.  This seems to be the Year of the Heart.

When I first moved to Glastonbury (known in some circles as the Earth’s Heart Chakra, although I didn’t know that at the time,) ten years ago, I’d neatly packaged my heart away – stuffed it deep inside myself and decided that just surviving from day-to-day would be a major achievement.  In those early days, it was.  I’d been – I felt then – betrayed, abandoned and let down by just about everyone and everything I’d given my heart to and for the first few months, those betrayals just kept coming, thick and fast.

I remember renting a tiny annexe behind a shop with my fast-dwindling savings, rooting around in the short-dated reduced items at the supermarket and having no income, no prospects and no friends here.  It was a true dark night of the soul which lasted well into 2009.

Heart, Broken, Nature Love, Shape, LeafEventually I stopped wallowing in self-pity and reached out to others for help.  I found a lovely, intuitive life-coach who helped me to heal my dried-up, fragile, damaged heart, to begin to love myself and to expect and accept the love of others.  That turned my life around.  Soon I felt resilient, hopeful and learned to put out to the Universe for what I needed and wanted.  Paid work, new opportunities, acquaintances and friends soon appeared.  By the end of 2009, I was in a better place than I could ever have imagined and life was good.

It was around New Year of 2018 that I agreed with the Universe that I was now stable enough and ready for the next phase – for new challenges.

They arrived.

It was not an easy time.  I needed to stop sitting in front of my computer pondering metaphysical conundrums and to get up and deal with very physical problems.  It was all lower chakra stuff – root survival and safety for people I loved, followed by the gut-wrenching sacral issues connected to parenthood and the deepest emotional ties.  Depression and anxiety ricocheted around my family.  Gradually issues of power and control surfaced.  I worked to establish and maintain a safe and fair life for those who had lost everything, helping them to regain their inner sun.  It took bravery and resilience I didn’t realise I’d built up, but that’s the way life works.  We don’t get the challenges until we are ready to cope with them.

Then it was back to Glastonbury – back to the heart, in every way you can imagine.

Two people very close to me have had their lives changed by heart disease in these past few months.  In both cases it was very sudden, very unexpected and is throwing up massive challenges to their lives.  It brings up issues of mortality, of independence and dependency, of life-changing choices and ways of managing day-to-day.

At the same time, a friend and I have been working our way through Gregg Braden’s ‘Human by Design’ book and some workshops based around this.  It’s all about using the heart’s intelligence – the ‘little brain in the heart’ – and aligning it with our mental processes.

Dock, Pier, Sunset, Dusk, Sky, CloudsThen, as the final piece to the puzzle, I realised (as I said in my last post) that my ‘muses’ – the spirit guides, channelled messages and special intuitive humans I’d come to rely on for answers were closing the doors.  I tried one last time to contact Koimul, the Spirit Guide/s who helped me through so many difficult times.

JAN YOU CAN PICK UP ALL YOU NEED IN YOUR HEART

I was told. And when I asked why they were all moving away and leaving us alone, I was simply told,

YOU HAVE ALL YOU NEED FROM US

When I asked if they would return, there was no answer.  The crystal pendulum swung in a wide, empty circle, indicating that there would not be a reply to that.

So we lovingly took our leave of one another.  Now I need to trust that my heart and heart chakra are ready and strong enough to move me on through the twists and turns of this new chapter in my Game of Life.  They are, or I wouldn’t have brought myself here.