 |
|
Psychic science is not science. It is a masquerade, academic flapdoodle. Psychic phenomena are mostly deceptions geared to either generate awe and fear or distract people under the guise of personal power or gifts. We get sucked into these falsehoods because when we think we have found answers, we either stop looking or narrow our reading to support our expectations, refusing to listen to the warnings, unaware that our lives are the trophies. That was me. Except I got rescued. I call it Quest and Trophy Deep throated screams of raw terror slashed through our sleep. Like a monstrous octopus, their shrill tentacles coiled about our hearts in a suffocating embrace. It was happening again. My little daughter was being tormented by some unseen assailant. As in a nightmare, I ran with frozen limbs against that shadowy grip into my daughter's bedroom. She was laying on her back, eyes staring into horrors I could not comprehend, her mouth wide, screaming liquid fear . . . unholy screams that permeated body and soul. I pulled my tortured little girl into my arms, pressing her head to my chest and carried her into the living room. There my wife and I cuddled, stroked and talked to her. She screamed for twenty minutes. Then, within a few breaths, she calmed and stopped without even a sob. It was always like that. She would go into these screaming fits while she slept. It would take fifteen to twenty minutes to get her to stop. And regardless of how long we questioned her, she couldn't remember the slightest detail. It began when she was three years old. At first there were the occasional nightmares that many kids have. But over the following two years they had intensified into long fits of profound terror. They were also becoming alarmingly frequent. She was having them four times a week. What, I wondered, would she be like in another year? Then one night after she calmed, I added a different question, "What were you staring at?" She didn't answer. She became instantly rigid. Her eyes glazed in horror and the screaming began again. The problem was clearly getting worse. It had a weird, occultish feel, I like some of my experiences dabbling in the paranormal during my quest for truth, a quest that began on a summer's eve when I was seventeen. It was a cozy evening. A soft breeze gently moved the leaves among the cottonwood canopy above. My best friend and I lay on the lawn of Weber College. We were discussing scientific discoveries. Our discussion turned to religion and how such ideas might fit into the measurable universe. It was clear that they did not. We decided that the idea of God was unthinkable. We resolved that integrity required we declare ourselves atheists. We would not be included in the company of those who danced around fires, muttered incantations and fiddled with beads. We could see no need for a god to keep the universe moving. Stars were being born out of interstellar gasses and cycling through predictable life courses. Everything was done within the precision of physical law. Religion, on the other hand, was laden with mystery. There were countless ideas and endless contentions and confusion. Ministers all claiming insight from the same God publicly castigated each others teachings; then call for brotherly love. They professed eternal life and spent half their time talking of death. They told the poor and hurting to trust God for their answers, then went begging to them for their own needs. But the greatest offense was the irresponsible manipulation of science to prove their position. Now, at last, my friend and I were free from that confusing hypocrisy, its suffocating traditions, ravings and messages of fear. At the same time, I suspected there was more to life than the dimensions of time and space. Because like it or not, there were well-documented psychic experiences. Although I was sure such things also obeyed mathematical law, I hoped they might provide a shorter route to truth than physical science alone. I began looking into psychic science, and the occult. I practiced psychic sight and became involved in an eastern system that appeared to be a path to knowledge. But when I learned it demanded death in order to progress, I abandoned it But I continued my psychic dabbling which continued to produce results. Occasionally the outcomes of my experiments were predictable, but usually not. A few were even frightening. For instance, I had been watching a television show on "mock up." That's where an individual is able to create something by power of will. It may be a vase or a cat, or even a house. It looks and feels like the real article but is really a psychic substance called ectoplasm. That night, I was wakened about midnight by the "pressure gage." I closed the bedroom door behind me and stepped across the hall to the bathroom. Returning, I paused in the hall, I thought about the program, wishing I could "mock up" something. Suddenly I knew I could, and instantly, before me appeared a large vaporous white being. It filled the end of the hall. My wife, asleep behind the door, screamed. It scared the daylights out of me. I turned it off, having no desire to stand there and get properly introduced to who or whatever-it-was. Another instance, my wife and I were touring an old English mansion. I told our guide that I could feel a ghost in the room. He said there was a ghost in the adjoining room. I replied, "It's in here now." He then told the story of a woman standing before the large upper story window holding her new baby. As she watched, the banker came riding up the path to take possession of the property. She couldn't endure the thought of her child being dispossessed and cast him through the window onto the paving stones below. When she realized what she had done, she dove out the same window and died there with her child. Apparently, her intense desire to reverse her action created the ghost. This confirmed another common element of many psychic occurrences. It is an intense, often insane desire. Another element of many psychic experiences is relinquishment. It is achieved by chanting, trances and mind clearing. Some called it "getting in tune." There were many other experiences, some entertaining, some helpful, some informative, but nothing dependable. Most things were happening spontaneously or with only a nudge from me. The relationship between mind and event was unknown. All this should have set off an alarm in my head. It made no sense to relinquish all control, even life to gain personal power. Nor did it make sense to accept blind guidance from something that gave misinformation, even less, to something unpredictable. But I wasn't thinking. Then, one day I overheard a unique conversation. I was working in a small electronic lab. My boss, a devout atheist, was talking to one of my friends, also an atheist. He spoke of a seminar on psychology. The leader had stated that the book of Genesis was an excellent account on the psychological development of man. If that's true, I thought, I've been missing something! Perhaps the Bible has hard data caged within its stories that has been overlooked. I was willing to try anything. I decided to give the Bible a careful read. I had criticized Christians liberally, but had read only a few chapters of their book. I found it surprising. By the time I finished the fourth Book of Moses, I realized that it was not the fruit of the minds of men. It was indeed written under the express dictation of someone far greater than any man or committee. The idea of "Cosmic Consciousness" offered no explanation. It certainly was not written by an ascended practitioner of Vedanta because they and their ilk didn't permit people to have minds or understanding. Moreover, as I read, the words were piercing into my inner being. There was but one logical conclusion. God is real and alive and Jesus is exactly who he says he is. I had found the foundation I had been seeking. Instead of insane desire there was a call to love. Instead of blind relinquishment, leadership and a call to free-will obedience. In place of a weird faith in one's abilities, there was love and trust in God. In place of unreliable information and excuses, there was verifiable data. Two years later I would find how voluminous and precise that data is. It is difficult to cast off one's views and embrace something foreign. But in this case, it was done with great delight. Reading through the Bible, I found that paranormal practices were hotly condemned. I also read about authority over demons and I thought of my little girl. Perhaps I had invited something into my home during my former dabbling. Perhaps it was working on her mind. Perhaps it was a demon. I was convinced of the authority of Christ and decided to use that authority. If it was a demon, we'd find out quickly. That night, Jackie's screams once again pierced our sleep. This time I eagerly rose and swam against that tide of fear to her bedside. I spoke with fear choked breath, "Satan, in the name of Jesus, come out of her." Instantly she stopped and popped awake. The fear vanished like a curtain hastily drawn. It was over. Our little darling was delivered. How glad I was to have discovered "The Way, The Truth and The Life." I knew then where the seat of power was. She would not be Satan's trophy, and neither would I! |
