Monday, April 26, 2010

Following the Magician

So while I was still an undergrad, the New Age movement inspired me to pursue my own psychic development. I had always been fascinated by psychic phenomenon though without much reason to believe in any innate ability. I bought my first deck of tarot cards and read everything I could get my hands on. I was convinced I was on the right path and was excited to start seeing results. Time went on. Although interest and study remained high, results remained elusive. But I knew, I just KNEW I was on the right path.

I remember my first visit to a psychic. It was at a psychic fair in Virginia around 1989. I could choose anyone from a large room of psychics. I picked one at random. She was kind and friendly, I liked her right away. Her name, I think, was Phyllis Schulte, or something like that (I’ve googled her and unfortunately can’t find any reference to her). She explained that she was new to working as a psychic. She gave me a reading that seemed highly unlikely. She said she saw me on a plane going north. I had no plane travel in my plans and had no money for it either. I was disappointed by the reading, but enjoyed chatting with her just the same.

I asked her how she developed her abilities and she told me about the Silva course that started her on her way. We spoke some more and she said she did past life regressions too. I don’t know why, but I scheduled a regression with her at her studio. We spoke some more and she told me about her partner who she thought was an extremely talented psychic. I don’t remember his name.

That week I went to her studio for my first past-life regression. I had no idea what to expect (I don’t think Brian Weiss had published Many Minds Many Masters yet). I lay down on an easy chair and followed her guidance into deep relaxation. I remember it was really hard to get any images at all and I panicked thinking it wouldn’t work for me. But soon images started to form out of the blackness and sure enough a scene appeared before my closed eyes.

I knew bits and pieces—I was a man, a doctor. I was walking home on a dark, misty night. Yellow torch lights shone feebly on the cobblestone streets of what may have been London or some other city. I was feeling despondent. I had been unable to save the life of a sick child. I had left the grieving family, taking some pain and sorrow away with me in my heart. I didn’t want to go to my own home, but go I must. I didn’t feel like talking to my wife or playing with my kids. I believe that I often was so caught up in my work that I neglected my own family.

I did two more regressions and the images came faster and more easily. In one scene, I was riding a horse in perhaps 16th century Spain. I recognized my brother in the scene as one of my closest friends today. I don’t remember the third, though I’m sure I recorded or took notes somewhere…I think I was in a boat with others and we eventually drowned. As I child I’d had several recurring dreams about drowning. All in all it was an exciting experience, but I wasn’t sure what to do with the regressions. My asthma was still around. Claustrophobia too.

Just before I left her studio, Phyllis’s partner came in. She asked him to do a quick, impromptu reading for me. He held my hand and for about 5 minutes he talked non-stop and floored me. He said things he couldn’t have known like “keep swimming, it will help your knee”. My knee had been bothering me and I took up swimming semi regularly for the first time a few weeks before. He said my bad luck with men was the result of karma. I shouldn’t worry though because it was working itself out. I so regretted not taping him because he said so much which amazed me but I only remember those two things.

The next night my brother called me to say they were sending me a plane ticket so I could come home for Thanksgiving. Home was north. Nice. Wherever you are Phyllis, I wish you love and light.

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