In the late 1960s, I read Harold Sherman’s book How to Make ESP Work for You. The subject fascinated me, because my German grandmother had read palms, wished warts away, and had strange premonitions.
One evening, she claimed to have seen Jesus standing in her kitchen saying that her baby grandson (my oldest sibling) would pass away the next day. The brother I never knew had been sick with pneumonia, and when his condition worsened, he passed on just as Grandma had been told.
Another time, Grandma removed a huge, painful wart from my left palm. I lived at her house at the time and was getting ready to wash the dishes. I told her I couldn’t find the dishrag, and she said, “Just get a clean one.” When I finished the task and dried my hands, I saw that the wart was gone—the skin on my palm was fresh and smooth, with no trace of a growth.
I ran to show Grandma, and she laughed. “That’s because I hid the dishrag, Bonnie!” And she showed me where she had hidden it underneath the kitchen sink. Beyond that, I don’t know how she worked her mental hocus-pocus. But it had worked; I saw proof, and she acted like wishing warts away was as common as washing dishes. If she were alive today, I would ask her how it was done. But when you’re ten years old, you accept what you see as fact.
My paternal grandparents and their children were also psychic, whether they knew it at the time or not. If they did realize it, they would never have admitted it, being God-fearing religious folks who believed dabbling in the occult was a sin. I was three years old when my father passed away, but have some hazy memories of that day. I still see the old house we lived in and the bedroom where he died.
That day, Daddy came home from work about noon and told Mom he was going to lie down for a little while. He had a headache, and would she call him when lunch was ready. He specifically asked her to make some “pap”—a hot chocolate pudding we often had for breakfast if there were enough eggs and milk. Oddly, at some point before he lay down, he had changed from his carpenter overalls into his best and only suit reserved for special occasions. He was a simple man who was more comfortable in overalls and flat caps; he never dressed up unless he absolutely had to.
When Mom came to the bedroom to tell him lunch was ready, Dad was just taking his last breath. My mother told us later that she saw an angel (or someone dressed in white), sitting on the foot of his bed. Before it vanished, the apparition told her that Dad was now at peace.
About the same time, three of Dad’s sisters were shopping in Kansas City, twelve miles away, when one of my aunts claimed she saw her brother standing in a store window. She told the others something was wrong back home and they should return immediately. But they arrived too late to say good-bye. I believe my dad left his body at the last and, thinking of his loving sisters, was instantly taken to them.
I grew up having strange and apparently magical things happen to me, including an out-of-body experience at age eight when having my tonsils removed. For many years, I believed that experience had been a lucid dream. Although most dreams fade with time, this experience is still sharp and clear today. It wasn’t until I grew up and I read about astral projection that I came to realize I’d actually experienced such as a child. Indeed, it was almost identical to those others have reported—a sense of moving through a dark tunnel, slipping through a wall, and awakening to a live scene.
Seventy-five years ago, patients were often administered the nasty-tasting drug ether to put them under before surgery. After my dose, the last thing I remember before falling asleep was gagging on the horrible stuff and a nurse telling me to count to ten …
Suddenly, I became aware of rising rapidly in what appeared to be an elevator—but it was only my body rising, not the elevator itself! I noticed a ceiling above me and felt certain the scary trip would end when I reached it. However, I did not stop, but passed painlessly through an apparently solid barrier … and the next thing I knew, I was somewhere overhead looking down at myself on the operating table. Doctors and nurses worked below; they wore face masks and were dressed in green scrubs.
I have never been a stranger to psychic phenomena. But my mind was challenged when I picked up Sherman’s book on ESP. Here was something I could relate to, and after studying the book and experimenting with the lessons, my own extra sensory phenomena kicked in dramatically, especially after I began meditating.
The strange concept of out-of-body travel had caught my attention, along with a strong desire to learn telepathy and psychic (or spiritual) healing. I practiced lessons pertaining to both and experienced phenomena I believed was real, but which I could not prove. Psychic phenomena cannot yet be examined in a science lab, although some scientists are inquiring into the possibilities and uses of the various types of extra sensory perception. Strangely enough, since becoming involved with that specific healing discipline, certain people have entered my life needing help in one form or another. I do not call myself a spiritual healer, but perhaps I’m somehow being used in that capacity.
While living in Michigan in the 1970s, I received phone calls from two former mental patients who decided I was their therapist. I discovered there was indeed a therapist with my name listed in the phone directory, but try as I might, I could not convince the callers I wasn’t that person. So I let them pour out their problems: I gave no advice, and I don’t know if my listening helped them, but I hope they found some relief just by talking.
This is just a little of my background. I could—and probably will at some point—relate some of my other psychic experiences on this blog.
A few days ago, I came across an interesting article about healing yourself with mental energy and think it’s very appropriate, considering our currently high medical and drug costs.
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Peace and love to all.