Chapter 5/Amnesia Factor
The switch clicked and lights blazed on in the barn. All morning I had been working at Baylands Stables where my daughters and their numerous friends trained their horses. I enjoyed lending my small knowledge of wiring and electrical circuits to old barns that needed attention, many of which had frayed wiring and bro-ken switch-boxes.
Jack Brown, the co-owner, came by and asked me to take a look at Connie's Honda motorcycle. It badly needed tuning. I promptly got out my portable engine-analyzer and went to work. While I was putting the finishing touches on it, Connie ap-proached and listened to the purring engine. She asked me to take it out on the road for a test drive.
When I returned, completely satisfied, I downshifted and slowly eased into the gravelly driveway beside the ranchhouse. Not being too experienced on smaller Hondas, I innocently tried to stop with the front handbrake and the bike suddenly slid out from under me with a crash I I fell on my left knee, tearing my workpants in the grinding gravel. As I fell, I shut off the Honda. Staggering up and lifting the unhurt bike, I felt a painful ache spread over the knee area, and blood oozed through the rip in my pants. The negative karma involving the dog now had its effect, I reflected. I limped into the house and asked Jack for a bandage and antiseptic, then went into the bathroom and removed my torn trousers. Turning on the hot water, I inspected the wound-five square inches of dirty, bloody hamburger-and frowned at the thought of the pain that would result from contact with hot soapy water. Then, like a flash-back, I recalled the hospital and the pain-control experiment. "What am I thinking?" I chided myself. 'I don't have to suffer any pain! I'll Just pull back on those "throttles" and block it! Closing my eyes, I formed the mental image, eased back on the "throttles," listened to the "engines" die down slowly, then scrubbed away with the hot soapy wash rag. Nothing!!! There was not the slightest trace of pain or feeling in the whole knee area! For twenty minutes I scrubbed out the dirt and grime, all the while elated that the pain control had worked so efficiently and smoothly.
Jack eventually returned and reported that he'd been unable to find a bottle of merthiolate. He'd picked up a bottle of iodine-used on the hOlWs-but he didn't think I would use it. I grabbed the bottle and opened it as Jack warned seriously, "Man, that's gonna sting!" I grinned and said, "No ... It won'tl You remember awhile back I told you and Erma about my pain-control experiment? .. Well, keep an eye on this!"
Dipping the swab into the yellow iodine bottle, I gave one more tug on my "throttles" (for good measure) and quickly splashed iodine over the red wound. The flesh quivered, but there was no pain, no sensation, nothing. Looking up, I had to laugh at the look on Jack's face. "Amazement" would seem in-adequate to describe his transfixed wide-eyed stare.
The next morning, I consulted a doctor and received a tetanus shot. The wound healed rapidly but the scars remained for months.
The following weekend, Baylands Stables hosted a "Horse Show." Youngsters and their shining, prancing horses were mil-ling around the stable complex; a rippling tremor of excitement spread contagiously. Shortly after the noon lunch break, Jack an-nounced over the loudspeaker system, "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN ... using the terms very loosely ... AND Adjusting to the Occasion ALL YOU YOUNG WRANGLERS! . . The next event, in the back arena, will be . . . JUMPING!" Amidst shouts of en-thusiasm, I quickly turned over the snackbar to a young lad that worked at the stables, then joined Max Rhinehart as he headed out back to watch the spectacular event.
Max was co-owner of the stables, but his principal occupation was as a police officer. He was truly an intelligent, good looking, big-hearted guardian of the public welfare. Max had become highly interested in ESP and parapsychology, and many times had contributed cogent comments to the evening discussions at the ranchhouse. We have several times discussed "White Light" and its reportedly beneficial use in emergencies. Max confided that on one recent black night, when his unit had been dis-patched to a riot area near Stanford University, he'd been mced with a group of furious, rock throwing agitators. Noting the possibility of serious personal injury, and yet not wishing to cause harm to the youthful rioters, Max had attempted to vis-ualize a blazing ball of pure "White Light" around his position. Strangely, within seconds, the group in front of Max began to toss down their rocks and sticks and began to talk out their nu-merous grievances! Max had been startled by the sudden change. Looking up and down the street, he had readily seen that the riot was still in full bloom; but near his position, the at-mosphere had become calm and rational. Max, after that epi-sode, was a "believer."
As we walked, chatting about the size of the turnout, we sud-denly stopped. Yells of anguish were echoing out of the rear bam, a huge old half-open structure. We immediately broke into a run, expecting to find an injured child or horse. Such was not the case. When we rushed into the bam, there stood nearly two dozen mothers with their small children, all quite distraught as they stared up at the high rafters. Glancing upward, we saw the cause of the commotion-a pathetic little pigeon had somehow gotten entangled with a yellow cord and was fluttering upside-down helplessly trying to escape.
"Get a ladder, Max!" one of the mothers called. Max looked up and gauged the fifty feet spanning the vertical distance to the pi-geon. He called back, "There isn't any ladder around here that will reach that high." The crowd grew more agonized as the pi-geon weakened with each flutter. . .
I desperately tried to think. I called Max over where we could speak privately, then suggested, "Why don't we try the "White Light," Max? .. Instead ofa ball oflight, why don't we project a beam of light, like a white laser beam? If you can send it from one angle, I'll try to send from another angle, and maybe we can cut that cord and free the pigeon!" Max glanced around, noted the near panic and hysteria, then shook his head. "I don't think it will work here. That's pretty far out!" But, feeling a strong inner hunch, I insisted that it was at least worth a try. "Come on, Maxi You've seen it work beforel Where's your faith?"
Shaking his head, Max agreed to try. He walked back near the crowd-I stayed where I was. We both stared fixedly at the cord. I soon became aware that too much "negativity" was being gen-erated by the crowd, so, to counteract this radiation, I called openly to Max, "Hey Max! It looks like that cord is starting to fray on the edge of the rafter!. . . I think it's going to break any second now!" (I knew the cord was nowhere near a rafter's edge, but the suggestion soon quieted the crowd. They all began to look up more expectantly.)
Several tense minutes crawled by. Both of us stood like statues, staring up at the cord. Finally, just as I was about to call it quits, everyone in that bam heard a distinct, sharp "snap!" and the little pigeon flew swiftly out through the open doors into sweet sunlight! A sustained "Ah-hl" went up from the now smil-ing, happy crowd, and several clapped their hands in delight. But the incredulous look on Max's face made me laugh out loud. His eyes were shining like saucers and his face was pink with excitement as he mintly stammered, "Dad, I-don't-believe-that!!!"
I was not naive enough to believe that either of us had done anything. We had mentally supplied a distinct 'signal' for higher help and, sure enough, 'they' had come through! The mental image of crossed white rays had signalled our guides for help, and the real (unseen) laser-like beams projected from a higher level had cut that cord with a resounding 'snap!'
Later that afternoon when Max described what he called 'The Pigeon Miracle" to Jack and Erma, they both seemed surprised. Erma mentioned that she had worked with those same cords and had never been able to break one. They were made of super-tough yellow nylon. She had seen the kids tie rocks onto the cords and throw them up into the rafters for fun.
On November 16th, with Lenora, I asked, "When one thinks White Light at something, to "purifY" it (such as a sneeze or cough), how does one know that it is done properly? Could it inadvertantly cause some unseen side-effects of a harmful nature?"
Purity is purity. If one is cleansed or purified, it does not become contaminated or cause something to become impure-or to have side-effects-nor to have wrong at-titudes clamped on.
Lenora added that it felt like nothing was eradicated. Rather, it felt like "transmuted," or "raised" in vibrational rate. I said, "Oh, so that's what is meant by 'raising the vibes' of something! I wondered."
Probing the area of their arts, we asked questions related to music. Seemingly interested, the guides answered the question as to whether they ever joined together for group music with the following puzzler:
This is nat necessary, though it can happen ... the music is the mood.
I was amazed when Lenora described "chords" of music rip-pling forth from each individual seraph. To me, this was an en-tirely diffierent dimension. Imagine being able to outpour high-fidelity music whenever one wished! A blue mood might evoke a sad rendition of "Danny Boy"; a happy mood might produce a lilting, colorful Strauss waltz I My imagination soared with pos-sibilities: the Music of the Spheres, then the thundering ca-dences of Thus Spake Zarathustra echoed through the inner halls of my mind.
I asked if anything describable could be given as to their recreational likes or dislikes. The answer came through with considerable brightness:
Recreation to us is a being alert, a being "alive" . .. all things to us are as a recreation, for there is not a great deal of/abor, in terms ofwhatthe earth would call labor. We do not do things that are physical in nature, thus all things be-come as mental gymnastics; and thus they are as a recrea-tion to us. However, there are times of. • . lack of recrea-tion, which would be our times of learning, of looking to the beyond. or absorbing those things which are as yet a struggle for us. This is as a work, and yet not again as a labor.
Lenora stated that they were showing her the image of a base-ball diamond, with the accompanying statement: "We do not play baseball." I puzzled Over this, so she remarked that every-thing in their realm felt harmonious and peaceful; that there seemed no need for competition; that their creative nature ex-pressed itself along higher lines of endeavor. I reflected, "Nice that they look at their work in connection with us as a recreation ... " She replied that it seemed to be no burden to them at all.
I wondered what they looked like. I had scanned a few colorful plates, artists' renditions, in certain books on mythology, but there seemed to be many differing types. I asked, "If Herod were to look at Harold, would he see any 'light-bursts' in him?"
Lenora hesitated, then said, "I caught the phrase . . . "A twinkle in his eyes". . . but just a minute now. . ."
He appears as a series of light-rays to me. However, know that there is a more solid form underneath. The things that I am aware of are his actions and motives through the col-ors that I perceive.
"Do we presume correctly then, that if Harold were to look at Herod, he would also see colors and rays?"
Yes . .. but his colors are more sharply defined than mine. He is one who is more defined in his thinking. not narrow, but clearcut.
Lenora and I chuckled and she munnured, "The Rainbow Twinsl" I then asked, "Why is it that the two of you function better together?"
It helps to keep any narrowness or ego out, for only as these thoughts interact, backward and forward, are we able to define the things which are more universal in be-ing, without reflecting that which we would like to use on our own. There is still many times the desire to project through someone.
Lenora asked, "What did they mean by 'project through someone'?" I smiled, "I think I'm beginning to catch on. The other night I was just sitting quietly beside the fireplace, work-ing on my notes, when out of thin air an 'inspiration' came into my mind. I quickly jotted down the words and discovered a po-etic quality to the phrases. I'll bet anything they projected that poem to me! It's a strange little gem, but would you like me to • read it to you?" Eagerly nodding her head, Lenora said she loved poetry.
Lenora exploded with laughter and, curious, I asked Herod and Harold how they perceived human laughter. They answered, A warm pink shower upwards, the sound as a tinkle of bro-ken glass . ..
During our conversation, Lenora mentioned that she sensed feelings of" enjoyment" on their part, that they had seemed ap-preciative of my rendition of their poem. Curious, I asked how they perceived the poetry. Their instant reply carne as follows:
The ideas are with us, the words are heard, and yet we hear more than is put into words, for we see the full impact of those expressions Which are used This is a spot of beauty. . . becomes to us as a painting. Yes, we enjoy it thoroughly.
The movie Born Free had recently been run on television -the tale of Elsa the lion. Its message was that Elsa had to be returued to the wild country because she could not accept "civilized" ways. I asked if perhaps man also must regain the freedoms of the wilderness, rather than suffer restraints? And were the guides somewhat like benevolent Garne Wardens?
This is to help you realize that all people have a place, all beings have a place. It is necessary that they be allowed to do that which comes to them on a natural plane. However, they do need to learn the discipline that goes with certain steps of progress. Yes, you might make this as a compari-son . . . however, know that through all this, you are evolving and are growing towards the very capable game wardens yourselves.
We both thought this answer unusual. It hinted at the saying: "In my Father's house are many mansions," and also to the des-tiny of man. Thinking of the many, many different planes within unknown numbers of dimensions, I asked if all planets had this same multi-structured mode of life, or multiple planes of Iiviug realms?
Yes . .
Then, thinking of the incredible complexities of the circuits in the brain, the intricate glandular and circulatory systems, all the chemical and hormonal interchanges, the coordinate integration of the organ complex, and the delicate subtleness of the sensory mechanisms, I asked if the human body was considered at all "exotic." An unusual answer came forth. ....
Exotic in that it has been created through a billion aeons of your time . .. not only on this planet, but on other planets . . . so that it has been perfected until it is at its present state. There are still imperfections within it, and yet it is something that has been developed for a definite purpose. It has extremely intricate design and working that has evolved through a trial and error process. All new in-novations can be worked out over a period of time, but they do take evolving rather than transplanting or sudden changes such as an architect could instigate. Know that these are deSigned from a higher level, and the imperfec-tions are witnessed, and are bred out. .....
I asked, "Much of our literature admonishes man to perfect himself. Why should we "storm the gates of heaven," or push evolution?"
You need not "storm the gates," but you must continue marching up the path toward the gate. You must find that there is a continuous searching, a continuous opening, a continuous expansion; for without this, man would be in the place where he appeared to be many centuries ago. There is this constant awareness that he is as a God within, and must begin to commune with this God and see things from his standpoint. Although this would seem impossible from the earth state, he must begin to try, and this is the reason he must flash his light in many corners.
"Is this 'searching within' accomplished somewhat more easily on other planets?"
Depending on the need of those who inhabit that particular planet. Those who are in need of the searching here, are those who have been placed here. None of this is by hap-penstance; none ofthis is by punishment.
Then I asked if Harold and Herod had ever served in a constellation other than ours:
Not as yet . ..
I reconsidered, then told Lenora, "I was going to ask them if, on other planets, the guides and mortals remain in telepathic contact.'·
Unless the lesser of the beings puts a halt to it, it is there. The mortal can tune it out, but the seraphim do not.
Pondering their "floor" -the speed of light-and realizing that some High Intelligence must have started to create from above that level, I asked, "I'm curious . . . Where did the ingenious concept of pulsing above-light speed energies into tiny spherical atoms-that link together to form molecules that form below-light speed 'matter'-originate? Did this come from the level of the Master Architects?"
Something strange happened then. Lenora receded, looking faraway, and waited for some time. The following came very, very slowly:
THE, . Master . . Architect, .... who . . helped . . to . . mold ... create . .. originate . . , design. , . and . . perfect . ... all . . that .. was . .. and is . , . and . . shall . . be . ....... the One . .. who . •. with His helpers . .. and instructors . ... . begat . .. and began . .. all that is.
Amazed, Lenora protested, "How could this be? If God created everything in the beginning, how could He possibly have had Helpers and Instructors?" (I had to remain silent. Cer-tain books might help answer her sincere questions, but there was no way that I could put into Time-Space word symbols the explanation of the Great Circle of Eternity. Eventually, she might read The Urantia Book or the Upanishads and absorb the knowledge that could lead to a glimpse of the reality of timeless, endless, never beginning, never ending, eternal existence.)
I turned a page and asked, "Would you kindly ask them why we must live with both good and evil in this reahn; or positives and negatives, as some word it?" The answer returned clearly and forcefully:
It is necessary, It is part of that which creates the "whole" ... it is part of that which is necessary. It must be, for only through the opposites can anything come about. Without that which would hold something in place, there would be nothing to spin off into space for. It is necessary."
Now we finally began to see. Without the potential for evil, there would be no way to "grow." Using the car battery as an example, it is well known that a car cannot be electrically started unless both the positive and negative battery cables are con-nected, allowing the current to flow. Lenora thoughtfully re-marked, "Yes. Without the mud, no lotus!"
Thinking about the freedoms in more advanced cultures, in higher realms, I asked if Harold and Herod were 'fixed' in size. Humorously, they replied:
We have the ability to be that which is necessary. We are able to be almost finite if necessary, and yet we can be far more infinite when that, too, is necessary. We adjust to the occasion
"Come on, Lenora," I protested, laughing. "How tall are they? 'Finite' could pertain to a microscopic grain of sand, and 'infinite'? . . . " Lenora gazed into space for a few seconds, then refocused on my grinning face. "Well, when they're con-densed down nearest our level, they appear to be about six feet tall. But they seem to 'expand' to about twice that size when they . . . shift . . . or transcend into their higher levels, the Thirteenth Plane." With a surge of admiration, I asked if we would ever be privileged to meet them. The answer was not flippant, but rather forcefully serious:
Yes, but this will be in your dream-state. Do not discount the dream-states, as these, many times, are more real than your physical states.
A few nights later, I got my first glimpse of the "colored rays." It was not at all like what I'd imagined! Very early in the pre-dawn darkness, I began to slowly drift up out of deep sleep. Something aroused my wakeful awareness, yet my eyes and body seemed still asleep. In this semi-dream state, I suddeuly became aware of a small circle of colorful "light" in the distance of space. This "light" zoomed up to within three feet of my startled gaze and began to "ripple" at me! This "light" consisted of a series of seven concentric circles, Or circular bands of neon-like colors-transcendent red, golden yellow, azure blue, pink, orchid, and silver. These light-circles were so brightly shining that I had to look carefully to see the face within them. It was a beantiful face. The eyes were very large and loving, reminding me of a deer. Wide-spaced, they were set in a beautiful male head not unlike that of a gentle, wise, Grecian statue. The hair was dark, the forehead wide; arched eyebrows over large, subtly twinkling eyes that gazed back at me; a diminutive nose, a nice smile, exot-ically slanted cheeklines that flowed smoothly to an elfin, pointed chin; when viewed as a "whole" seemed utterly enchant-ing. A further surprise occurred when, between each circle of bright color, tiny lightning flashes began to pulse in sequence, rippling serially and radiating outward as if the intelligence within might be attempting to communicate with me! Whoever it was, he seemed quite cheerful . . . normal sized . . . and bright!
The very next week, I had another exceptional dream-event. I found myself standing on dry soil in desert country, facing an old weathered corral. Leaning casually against the corral railing was a gentleman-about six feet tall, garbed in a tailored, western-styled beige suit-who was speaking to me, imparting words of wisdom and good common sense. During this period, I CUriously scanned his features. They were decidedly not human. Much like my first dream-episode, this visitor was extremely good-looking, (but minus all the colors), and had chiseled upswept lines to an exotic face that somehow reminded me of the famous actor, Charlton Heston. This visitor had a full head of dark, wavy hair, precision beauty of head formation, large gentle eyes, and a distant but friendly manner. He made no gestures, fully at ease. He spoke calmly but seriously about the reality of life in these other realms, that life is truly ongoing and eternal, and that no mortal had cause to worry about anything. I tried to pay atten-tion, but standing in the presence of such a unique per-son . . . it wasn't easy.
Lenora was intrigued with my description. When asked to "name' this gentleman-visitor, she for once forgot her hang-up and eagerly tried. She paused for several seconds, wide eyed, then abruptly refocused on my expectant face. ""You're not going to believe this I" she declared. ""It was HEROD!"
I was completely taken by surprise, having long forgotten the promise. The intervening weeks of family activities and job responsibilities had occupied my full attention. As the memory fragments began tocollect andfocus,my recollection of the former session sharpened. Still somewhat amazed, I murmured, "Well, for crying out loud...I should have guessed! I really should apologize, though, for not remembering all the good advice he gave me." An unexpected reply came through rather warmly:
That is all right...you received the encouragement.
Lenora and I discussed this spontaneous display of kindness and understanding. We both felt a deepening appreciation for these remarkably gracious guides. It was guessed that the first meeting, (the circular rainbow colors that very likely displayed the guide's mental patterns), had been Harold. And both guides may have transitioned through at least nine planes to meet with me on the fourth plane. I asked, "Why do you go out of your way to do these things?"
To enable you to complete your life-purpose, your chosen life-path.
"And can you reveal what this might be?"
To pull all the bits and pieces together and explore a myth.
