I found Bohm's comments on electrons particularly significant. It seems that they divide (not individually but as a group) and then reform much in the same way a ballet dance diverges and reforms. This opposes the notion that everything is moving in a essentially unordered pattern - like a crowd of people, each with their own agenda and, in a greater sense, many accepted beliefs of mainstream science.
This notion of choreography is apparently integral to the idea of wholeness and not dissimilar to Sheldrake's idea of biomorphic fields. From wholeness and harmony - indivisibility and unification. An idea that not only ventures in the realm of spirit but correlates with what I understand of Bohm's thoughts on the problem of fragmentation - a condition which bothered him in terms of the modern approach to science.
Bohm's vocabulary, like his science, is precise. Fragmentation, he says elsewhere, means not to take but to break apart. It is not an orderly division into parts but rather a state of disorder. Not a good approach to understanding or reason!
I will attempt a short article on Sheldrake and the biomorphic field in an upcoming post.
We
are currently in the process of selling a house. I haven't lived there for several years but a good
friend of mine still does, renting the upstairs apartment where she
both resides and reads Tarot for a steady stream of clients. In her
apartment the energy is vibrant and bright. Downstairs, particularly in the basement, the house has a completely different feel.
I
experienced a range of paranormal events on the first floor of
that house. Some were light and others were dark and in some ways it was the dark events that were most valuable as those experiences taught me that
spirit is not necessarily all heavenly choirs and sunbeams but instead a continuum from darkness to light.
My last experience in the house was telling. It occurred shortly after we had accepted an offer from a
buyer and entered into a contract. The pre-sale inspection had been
scheduled and I visited the house on the day before the inspection to tie up loose
ends. Walking down into the cellar I saw
that we had a leak, a bad one, coming from one of the big old iron drain pipes leading out of the house.
This was not the first thing to go wrong on the verge of a deal and I wondered if this was an indication of continued paranormal activity. I reminded myself, however,
that the old iron pipe was corroded, undoubtedly weak and therefore susceptible to rupture. We notified the buyer, called in a
plumber and made the necessary repairs.
After
the repairs were completed I visited the house again to take a picture for the new would-be buyer. The moment I took the picture, the screen went white (a first
time ever occurrence) and while I was able to click another picture I
couldn't see it. A hard restart was required to get the phone to
function again but it was not really restored.
From
that point on the phone was glitchy and within the next several hours it became completely unusable. I was unable to download the blurry plumbing
pics I had taken initially but did eventually reclaim them. There is nothing that I can see which is out of the usual and I can't say definitively if the pipe and the phone provided evidence of spirit or not.
My intuition however is that the event was a paranormal occurance. This isn't really the
point of the story, however, as there was nothing in the events that provides any sort of hard evidence. What was significant to was what these events had to say about the general nature of paranormal energy.
Certainly
not all 'ghost' energy is created equal, but it does seem to share some specific
characteristics or qualities. In the same way that it is the nature of
fire to be hot, dry and mutable - it is the nature of spiritual energy
to be subtle, diffuse, enduring and pervasive. When this subtle energy acts upon the
physical, it appears to best exert influence on matter that is already susceptible
or inherently mutable—a rusty pipe for example, electronic white noise or
relatively fragile electronic equipment.
I have yet to see paranormal energy act with a strong physical force—as is seen in moives. And it is my opinion at this point in time that ghost energy is usually physically subtle.
I have yet to see paranormal energy act with a strong physical force—as is seen in moives. And it is my opinion at this point in time that ghost energy is usually physically subtle.
This is a good thing to keep in mind when dealing with paranormal phenomena in
research or otherwise. And while this observation does not discount the paranormal or dismiss it, it is my contention that the kind of
overt phenomena we see in films like Poltergeist or the Exorcist is unlikely.
This is the main reason why I'm not afraid to investigate on my own. Some energy, like whatever is watching people (and reportedly misplacing things) in our new rental property, does have a decidedly creepy vibe. But I judge the safety of a location by human standards.
Here is a bit of my past: Pictures of the Dell & Travers Carnival midway circa 1978 or 79.
I have fond memories of the three seasons I traveled with Dell & Travers in the late 1970s. In some ways it was more home to me than the town I left behind.
And since this is a nostalgia post, a picture of me back in the day--in true 70s style.
Please join me on Blog Talk Radio this Thursday night at 11 PM EST at to meet my very special guest, author, webmaster, spiritual teacher and Near Death Experiencer Diane Goble.
In 1971 while rafting on the Chattooga River during the shooting of the
film Deliverance, Diane Goble experienced a detailed and complex Near Death Experience, including direct communication with the beings of light. And tis experience was to impact her for the rest of her life.
In the years that followed Diane wrote several books on NDE and related topics including How to Die Consciously, Conversations with a Near-Death Experience, More Conversation with a NDE, and Sitting in the Lotus Blossum
In addition to writing, Diane has worked extensively with hospice patients seeking the
experience of conscious dying. She maintains a comprehensive and
fascinating NDE oriented website at: BeyondTheVeil.net
Diane will be sharing her account of her own complex and compelling NDE
and the detailed experience of spirit it provided. Calls will be taken
toward the the end of the show. And if you don't catch the show live, please remember that it can be viewed anytime in the archives.
UPDATE: Unfortunately, this interview is no longer available!
Today is my 55th birthday and the 2nd year anniversary of the blog. And it has been a good ride on both counts.
Somewhat surprisingly, for a girl once accused of vanity, I am okay with growing up. Several years ago, a wonderful friend predicted that an early retirement would give me the opportunity to do all the things that I loved.
Somewhat surprisingly, for a girl once accused of vanity, I am okay with growing up. Several years ago, a wonderful friend predicted that an early retirement would give me the opportunity to do all the things that I loved.
And while a fair amount of belt tightening has been required, that has indeed been the case. For this, I am incredibly grateful.
My plans for the blog are ongoing. I will be continuing to review metaphysical books, websites, publications and other media on a weekly basis throughout year.
My plans for the year in a general sense are varied. I will be wrapping up work on my new (old) house and finally moving into it this fall after six long months of intensive remodeling. I will have an office there (that is not in my bedroom) and living room where music and books will not be eclipsed by sitcoms and reality TV. I will also have room for a larger garden and the opportunity to explore urban (semi) self-sufficiency.
I think that it's going to be great year for both The Mystic Review and myself! In this, my 333rd post, I want to sincerely thank you to everyone who has followed our progress so far. Your interest and support has been instrumental in keeping us on task!
As everyone who follows this blog knows, I am involved in the extensive remodeling of a sadly neglected old home. Work on the house has focused on cleaning and rebuilding thus far and both have required more work than we anticipated - and we anticipated a lot. Working long hours and seeing not a lot of measurable progress has been stressful for everyone.
I bought the house in a little over a month ago and I took my first break Monday to go to an auction in search of furniture. It was a long auction and hot and I have to say that didn't enjoy it at all. There was a chair there I loved - an old Morris chair in need of repair - and it would have been perfect for my new under-construction living room. I regretted having given up on it so easily.
In the wake of the house purchase and paying for repairs we could not do ourselves, there is no money for retail furnishings. I
had firmly decided, however, that it would be silly to go the expensive and labor
of moving our old worn out living room set. I needed new inexpensive furnishings. And I did not have the time to go from auction to auction hunting down bargains. I had not only wasted an opportunity but an entire morning as well. I felt inordinately disappointed.
Suddenly and inexplicably everything seemed insurmountable. My new home was a mess and I wasn't sure I had the fortitude to finish what I'd begun. I had started out with such high hopes. Now every issue with the house was proving more difficult than I had anticipated. Why is it, I asked myself, that things never work out?
I left the auction dispirited with a colonial (mahogany) secretary desk which did not match any of my existing furniture and a dark cloud hanging over my head. I felt quite ready to give up on everything even though this was not possible.
The following evening there was another auction, however, one I did not normally attend. I was still down but I had regrouped enough to give it chance. My partner and I walked around and looked at the furniture, writing down what we were willing to spend and vowing to stick to it. The same strategy which had lost me the Morris chair but a necessary one.
Unlike the first auction, this one was a success. We were able to win every item on our list without going over our allotted budget on a single item. We were now the proud owners of a camel back sofa in the exact style I had hoped for, two plum colored overstuffed easy chairs (in the very shade I had wanted to use in the new living room) and a beautiful colonial mahogany canopy bed and dresser which could have been carved from the same tree as our secretary.
I am not ordinarily a materialistic person but taking these new pieces of furniture to our new still uncompleted house was incredibly reaffirming. Looking at our new living 'set' swaddled in sheets, it occurred to me just how well things had worked out. I had missed out on the Morris chair, yes, but as a direct result I had netted everything I needed to fill up our new living room and furnish a new bedroom as well. What's more the house now looked like it could be home - with just a little more work.
I don't particularly believe in the spiritual route to material success and I don't think that the powers that be care about the size of my TV or the shine on my car or the numbers I write in my checkbook. I do think, however, that I was in desperate need of a bit of encouragent. And that it was no accident that I received it.
As David Bohm says, there is no safety in things. But be this as it may, our lives are largely even primarily based on creating relative safety by way of the material. To this end we consume vitamins, safety test cars and maintain the integrity of our homes. And it is within this last instance, our homes, that our primary source of safety lies.
Shelter is an indisputable necessity in this sometimes inhospitable world and the loss of shelter whether through natural disaster, temporary evacuation or other circumstance is always a traumatic event. Most of us here in the US have never faced this catastrophe and for most of my life I have been part of this fortunate demographic. I live in the Wyoming Valley however, the site of what Richard Nixon called the worst natural disaster in American history - the flood of 1972.
Across Pennsylvania, more than 68,000 homes and 3,000 businesses
were destroyed, leaving over 220,000 people homeless and a path of destruction that would be estimated at $14 billion dollars today. In our county alone more than 25,000 homes and businesses were either
damaged or destroyed, and the devastation was estimated to be $1
billion in the economy of the day. The valley as we knew it was gone and rebuilding was a long heartbreaking process.
Thankfully I did not live in the flood zone in 1972 but I have lived in it through the series of evacuation which have occurred since. Our dyke has held but many unprotected communities were inundated. And while we were fortunate enough not to sustain damage, the last 3 day evacuation of our family and 120,000 residents of Wyoming Valley in September of 2011 was enough for me.
 |
| West Pittston PA September 2011 |
Hence my six month search for a new home out of the flood plain which ended this April with the purchase of a great old fixer upper on the near top of a mountain in a small town overlooking our valley.
The house was everything we were looking for - eight rooms, hardwood floors, original woodwork, big kitchen, great staircase, nice yard - but it was also in a sorry state. The floors were stained and the woodwork was coated in paint. The wiring was antiquated, the plumbing blocked. The garage was (and still is) semi-collapsing but the house itself is solid.
Divided into two rental units for many years, things were done to this once beautiful home that defy explanation. Setting it right is an undertaking that is consuming most of time, putting me 'behind' here in this blog for the first time since its inception. This update is my way of explaining.
Extensive remodeling is harder, at 55, than is was just a few years ago. And the immersion in a world of physicality is challenging as well.
Prior to this undertaking, a fair amount of my free time was centered on the metaphysical. Life was light and airy and relatively happy. Now it is tied to planning and building. And there is nothing more 3D than hanging sheetrock or knocking out old plaster or framing a wall.
I will be happy when the work is finished. When we are moved and settled. When I can once again meditate at night or read instead of dozing off, exhausted. Still I believe in what I'm creating now. I believe in creating a safe place for my family. I believe in restoration and the balancing act of making things right.
There is, of course, no real safety in it, no point where it cannot be torn apart. But physical survival is part and parcel of what we have been charged with here. It is the platform from which we operate and the base that we retreat to when the outside world is too much to take.
See previous post for the before pics. Check back for the afters!
Most people can create images inside their mind quite easily. About 1 in 50 people, however, have a problem with the visual cortex called aphantasia. In aphantasia, the part of the brain that processes information received from the eyes doesn't function properly. As a result, there is an inability to create mental images.
According to Web MD: “The ability to create mental images exists on a spectrum. On one end, are people who can create extra-vivid mental images. Most people are somewhere in between.” On the other, those with complete (or total) aphantasia are unable to conjure up any kind of mental imagery. Though they are able to dream because dreaming is involuntary.
My aphantasia was and is, total. Like many people with aphantasia, I grew up thinking that everyone was like me and that the ‘image’ in imagination was a metaphor.
But there was one "psychic" advantage to my condition. I couldn’t deliberately make up a vision if I tried.
So when I began to see visualize spots of color during a guided chakra meditation I was overjoyed. As the meditation progressed, a distinct circle of violet light appeared, and I felt as if I was looking through this circle of color into another space.
Then, very abruptly, I found myself surrounded by color.
A bright endless blue.
It was almost as if a giant curtain had fallen or a bright blue screen had blinked into being and wrapped completely around me.
For a moment, I panicked. Thinking that I was having a seizure or even a stroke, I opened my eyes to an ordinary room. But when I shut them again, the color was waiting. This continued for a good ten or fifteen minutes before I decided to keep my eyes open and get on with my day.
Later, when I sat down to record my experience in The Mystic Review, I remembered the swirling spectrum of blue I’d seen in the Spirit Dream. While the blue I’d seen in meditation was only a single shade, it had reminded me of some kind of screen.
Thinking about it now, I think it was almost as if my attention was being drawn away from my New Age interests, and back to the dream.
UPDATED: 2024
I will be returning to this experience in a future post and wanted to update the original with an updated version.
_________
The update to this post is excerpted from The Spirit Dream © 2024 All Rights Reserved
 |
| Front Hall View of Street (Glass Door Knob Since Found At Auction Allowing Us to Open Door) |
 |
| Looking Down the Front Steps (Nice Old Stained Glass Window Above Out of Sight) |
 |
| Front Steps Awaiting Intensive Scraping |
 |
| Badly Damaged Oak Flooring in Living Room |
 |
| Odd Wall in Living Room and Rear View of My Pup |
 |
| 2nd Floor Previous Apt. Kitchen Partially Removed by Previous Owner (Note Woods Behind House) |
 |
| The Pink Room: My Future Bedroom |
 |
| Remainder of Upstairs Hall, Weird Framing and 3 Sided Bedroom On Right |
 |
| 2nd Floor Bath with Cracked Marble Floor (Not Used in Years). View of Back Yard. |
 |
| Kitchen Ceiling Below Said Bath |
 |
| Mismatched Doors to First Floor Bath and Back Staircase (Note Cool Old Tile) |
 |
| Odd Assortment of Cabinets |
 |
| Pantry and View of Back Yard (Note Cool Old Archway from Kitchen) |
Today marks the one year anniversary of a good friend's passing. And I have been thinking of him even though our friendship ended many years ago.
We
said goodbye apparently for good in 1984 when he was making plans to
leave the area and I was making plans to marry someone else.
Naturally,
a great deal has happened in the intervening years. So it's not
surprising, or in anyway indicative of my feelings, that it had been a
long time since I'd thought of those days at all.
But three weeks ago, I had a dream. And my friend Tim was the leading character. He was young and handsome in the dream and taller than I remembered. There was a remarkable brightness about him. And I know that kind of brightness.
He looked different but I recognized his energy. Sensing it as if I was standing next him, stepping back in time to re-experience the soul vibration of a person I once loved.
In the dream, we met by chance. I was living alone in a big sunny apartment and he was working at a nearby market. We bumped into each other at his work and he asked if he could see me. Later on, standing in my dream apartment he told me he'd wanted to contact me before but that he was afraid that doing so would stir up old half-forgotten feelings.
And then he explained what he had felt so very long
ago and the hows and whys of what he did, and didn't, do. The
information was new but surprisingly coherent, fitting in neatly with
events I had wondered about but not fully understood at the time.
Seeing our history in this new light changed things. I no longer felt
responsible. My old remorse lifted.
After we had finished talking, we set out together on a wide boardwalk with long strings of golden lights on either side. There was some kind of festival happening around us and I was happy in a way I'd almost forgotten. I told him that he was right about the emotion. "I can feel it," I said. "Can you?"
He didn't answer or if he did, I don't remember. There was a knowing that our time was ending and that he had brought me back to where I was supposed to be. When I woke up and considered the brilliance and the clarity of the dream, I knew that he had passed.
Thank you for remembering me, as I remember you.
_________
This post is adapted from my upcoming book The Spirit Dream. ©2024 Barbara Graver Wilder. All rights reserved.
Why are people apparently and frequently noticing repeating numbers, such 11:11 or 2:22, on digital displays? Consider the following theories.
The Pattern Recognition Theory: Pattern recognition is a natural function of the human brain and something most people do automatically. Reading digital displays is somewhat automatic as well.
The argument for pattern recognition and random chance maintains that people experiencing the repeating number phenomena look at digital displays repeatedly and mostly unconsciously throughout their day until they observe a repeating number sequence. The sequence makes an impression on the individual's conscious while the majority of patternless events do not. According to this theory, we believe that we are seeing a repeating number every time we time we look at the clock when when we really are only seeing it occasionally.
The argument for pattern recognition and random chance maintains that people experiencing the repeating number phenomena look at digital displays repeatedly and mostly unconsciously throughout their day until they observe a repeating number sequence. The sequence makes an impression on the individual's conscious while the majority of patternless events do not. According to this theory, we believe that we are seeing a repeating number every time we time we look at the clock when when we really are only seeing it occasionally.
While I suspect there is some truth in this idea, I don't think it addresses the phenomena in its entirety. There are, after all, 1,440 minutes in a 24 hour day and while we are not awake or in proximity to digital devices for all of these 24 hours, it is probably not unusual for most of us to be within reading range of a digital display for half of them.
How likely is it that a person will note the single occurrence of 11:11 out of the possible 720 remaining number combinations in a specified 12 hour period (morning, afternoon and evening)? That depends on how many times he or she checks the clock, of course, but if we consider random as a 50 / 50 chance occurrence, observing the 11:11 event is only random if the clock is checked in excess of 360 times per 12 hour day or 30 times per hour. And while it is not impossible to check the clock every 2 minutes it is not ordinary behavior either.
So if the number do not add up to a truly random phenomena in the majority of 11:11 reports, just what are we dealing with?
The Time-Interval Training Theory: Could people be training their minds, albeit subconsciously, to note repeating numbers? I think in some instances it is certainly possible. Some people find themselves noting a specific point on the clock on a daily basis without ascribing any special meaning to this accomplishment. These are the people who check the workplace clock at a particular time in the afternoon every day or to wake up at 7 am on a Saturday even though they have not set their alarm. In these situations, it seems that they have established their own independent body clock - training themselves to trigger an awareness of time at regularly reoccurring intervals.
The time-interval training theory however is only applicable to people who have this skill and not everyone does. Additionally, time-interval training mostly seems to work when a person notes a specific time on daily basis and many people who note repeating numbers do so frequently as opposed to daily.
The time-interval training theory however is only applicable to people who have this skill and not everyone does. Additionally, time-interval training mostly seems to work when a person notes a specific time on daily basis and many people who note repeating numbers do so frequently as opposed to daily.
The Hype Theory: Does the fact that many people are noting the not particularly random occurrence of repeating numbers make it more or less credible? I would lean towards more but this is only my opinion and an argument can be made in either direction. Still from where I sit, the repeating number phenomena does seem to be a real phenomena being at the very least telepathic (in the way of the Global Consciousness Project). But is it, as so many are implying, truly synchonistic?
The Case for Synchronicity: The issue with the synchronicity, is that synchronicity is by definition not only a pairing of events (e.g. looking at the clock / observing a repeating number sequence) that are neither causal or random but a pairing of meaningful events. In other words, for something to be a true synchronicity, it must contain a message.
Does 11:11 convey any meaningful message? I'm not sure. But many people believe it does!
Does 11:11 convey any meaningful message? I'm not sure. But many people believe it does!
Not to mention, the eventual inheritance of those yet to come. It is a weighty decision bounded by hard rules, I cannot disregard, and the even harder limitation of money.
Additionally, I have found it surprisingly necessary to factor in my entire fairly complicated relationship with the concept of home. Having grown up in a truly unhappy and traumatic household, I became a person who forged ties to people, instead of place.
Additionally, I have found it surprisingly necessary to factor in my entire fairly complicated relationship with the concept of home. Having grown up in a truly unhappy and traumatic household, I became a person who forged ties to people, instead of place.
This ability allowed me to almost effortlessly leave home at a young age, travel widely and live in more places than I can easily account for. When I became a mother, I changed gears, making only a few strategic moves within a defined radius I deemed advantageous for growing children but each move was little more than a calculation made with no real emotion. I considered each house a responsibility and an investment and occasionally a haven but never the heartbeat of home.
So while I decorated and remodeled and increased property values in the places I lived over the course of my life, I was never strongly emotionally tied to an address. In retrospect I am sure that this disconnect sprang from my childhood relationship with two very different houses. The first was the beautiful split level in rural Michigan boasting a wooded lot and built in pool which all my friends envied.
Sadly, the beautiful woods surrounding our little acre were chopped down in the name of development - forever destroying the secret places of childhood. It was a long heartbreaking process which taught me a lot about the Western concept of ownership and the failure of stewardship. Eclipsing even the loss of our forest playground, however, the profound and unremitting unhappiness I felt in that house taught me a very important lesson about the relationship between material wealth and interpersonal well-being. But as important as this lesson was, my second attachment to place had an even greater affect on my development.
Throughout my childhood, I spent small slices of summer at my grandparent's old farmhouse. It was a beautiful old house with long dark halls and sunlit windows and safe quiet spaces. The big farm kitchen always smelled like fresh bread and you could feel the energy of true happiness the second you walked in the door. There was a wide porch with rocking chairs and a sunrise view of the river and you could see forever from the mountain behind the backyard. In difficult times, it was my paradise and the only place I was ever truly safe. Loving it the way I did made it almost impossible for me to connect to all lesser houses later in life. In the end, losing all access to that place and the fields and mountains that were part of the property apparently severed my ability to forge an attachment to any future point on the map.
In November at the very start of my house search, I thought about the impact all of that history and decided to drive by my grandparent's old house and make my peace with the past before I truly moved on. When I reached the place I remembered so well, I stopped and sat in the car for a very long time - too stunned to cry. The the hill overlooking the river was barren and the house was no longer there. I saw nothing but brambles and the hint of a foundation. The final and irrevocable loss was unexpected and disheartening.
To me, this meant that it might be time for me to finally make my own real time connection to place. And so a few short months later it seemed about to happen. I found a lovely old Victorian at a surprisingly affordable price. It had plenty of room, a rental unit and all of the lovely original woodwork including two beautiful fireplaces. It needed work of course but it was a house worthy of such devotion. Over the course of the negotiations however, a feeling of foreboding overtook me. I blamed my past. I blamed my inability to believe in my own good fortune. But I just couldn't shake it.
Throughout my childhood, I spent small slices of summer at my grandparent's old farmhouse. It was a beautiful old house with long dark halls and sunlit windows and safe quiet spaces. The big farm kitchen always smelled like fresh bread and you could feel the energy of true happiness the second you walked in the door. There was a wide porch with rocking chairs and a sunrise view of the river and you could see forever from the mountain behind the backyard. In difficult times, it was my paradise and the only place I was ever truly safe. Loving it the way I did made it almost impossible for me to connect to all lesser houses later in life. In the end, losing all access to that place and the fields and mountains that were part of the property apparently severed my ability to forge an attachment to any future point on the map.
In November at the very start of my house search, I thought about the impact all of that history and decided to drive by my grandparent's old house and make my peace with the past before I truly moved on. When I reached the place I remembered so well, I stopped and sat in the car for a very long time - too stunned to cry. The the hill overlooking the river was barren and the house was no longer there. I saw nothing but brambles and the hint of a foundation. The final and irrevocable loss was unexpected and disheartening.To me, this meant that it might be time for me to finally make my own real time connection to place. And so a few short months later it seemed about to happen. I found a lovely old Victorian at a surprisingly affordable price. It had plenty of room, a rental unit and all of the lovely original woodwork including two beautiful fireplaces. It needed work of course but it was a house worthy of such devotion. Over the course of the negotiations however, a feeling of foreboding overtook me. I blamed my past. I blamed my inability to believe in my own good fortune. But I just couldn't shake it.
I pushed the deal forward anyway and tried hard to ignore my misgivings. The unremitting insomnia and anxiety took its toll in the end, and I gave in and I checked and rechecked all the information regarding the purchase until I found the fatal flaw which made it impossible for me to go through with the purchase. While neither the owner or neighbors were aware of it, flood plain maps showed that the house was in a zone A flood zone due to its proximity to a nearby mountain and stream.
It was a hard blow but I am a survivor and I moved on. The second house I seriously considered was disliked by all family members excluding myself and I was able to let it go, having no real attachment to the property other than practicality. Within a relatively short time, there was a third house but the subsequent rebound deal fell through as well.
But I still believe the right house will come along!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Translate
Social Icons