My lady Lydia was a Hawkins of the ancestry of the great privateer ‘Black Jack’ just as thousands of miles away in Ottawa (We met in Las Vegas.) a cousin of my sister-in-law who was about to come work for my family’s company was living. They looked like twins and that was a powerful co-incidence of synchronous energy 사설토토 in itself. When I saw him I asked him if he was related to the privateer and he was amazed that I knew this. Our meeting was a ‘trip’ of grandiose proportions that makes another book I have written seem so weird it would only be regarded as fiction (that book is called ‘The Nos Feratu’). In this meeting with Lydia, I was able to exhibit some control that later was almost non-existent and nearly rendered my soul. Rendered has many meanings and when applied to the butcher and his trade, it is close to what kind of lard or jelly (fish) my heart was ‘feeling’ after a few months that were wild beyond my own vivid dreams. The setting of the story began at the ‘Shark Club’ in Las Vegas one night just before I turned forty, about eleven years ago. I was in the process of buying a home in Las Vegas after moving from Los Angeles where I had been involved with a basic and ordinary woman (totally honest, and without my having even talked about an ‘US’) who had another amazing ‘gift’. Her special talent was total sensory recall of the physical body. Yes, my life has been a myriad maze of the paranormal and sexual interplay of what most people would call ‘fantasy’. In the relationship with Lydia she was honest and totally in control with no reason for me to even grasp at the smallest of straws to think there could ever be an ‘US’.
Truly this is going to be HARD to do, and at the same time if one connected the components already covered they would be well on their way to understanding what might have happened or what Lydia could do. On the first night we met she told me she could de-materialize and that some day she would not return. The major reason for continuing to exist in this realm was her hopes to have a child with her husband. I had read ‘Cosmic Consciousness’ by Richard Maurice Bucke; the noted turn-of-the-century psychiatrist who along with Walt Whitman was instrumental in ending the use of strait-jackets in asylums, when I was just a teenager. In fact a friend’s older brother used to call me ‘The Cosmic Kid’. In this book he recounts how a person de-materialized 29 times before all the skeptics, police and scientists of the early 20th century at McGill in Montreal. That person eventually didn’t re-appear in the other room as he had always done. In the pursuit of understanding these things I had read or talked with numerous people about the Indian’s ability to turn around three times and discorporate at the appointed time in which they were to leave this earth. The Indians who can do this in India are usually of the Sai Baba level and those who do it in North America are of the shaman/witchdoctor training. Bruce Lee and his attempt to do these things associated with ‘Kime’ and a whole host of things like Carlos Castaneda who seems to say he is still doing the back and forth trip; made this bit of apparently incredible knowledge not as fantastic to me as you would imagine. But for it to be happening to me at a time when I had just been talking to a young man from New Zealand about how I was structuring my life’s growth in the cosmic realms and decreeing said growth, was a further confirmation that I was worthy of this unique encounter. Some would use the words ‘Heaven Sent’.
My family has heard this story a few times and they think I am close to insane or definitely deluded even though they have lots of similarly ‘weird’ things to recollect from their own experiences in my life. Many of the experiences are so threatening to them that they experience knee-jerk ‘Denial’. Others become rationalized into co-incidence and/or the realm of Deepak Chopra and some ‘unknowable’. There is nothing that is unknowable except for those who would keep their heads in the sand, I am frequently heard saying.
It has taken me years to grasp the inter-connections that may have gone on, as we continue to talk about all that went on. My limited adeptness is a factor that makes it hard to understand why I was so blessed (or cursed) and it causes me many hours of thought each month as I read and learn more about what our world is comprised of. She promised to show me the reality whereof de-materialization comes from – it was years later that I realized what I thought was joint astral travel initiated by her was actually part of what she promised. On the occasion of her taking me astrally (in an instant) to a stream leading to a lake in Switzerland, I had witnessed fish jumping out of the stream as if they recognized her spiritual body (solar or astral). When next I had seen her I tested her on the point and she recounted how they always did this and it was what she called ‘flipping’ because they would turnover in the air before they re-entered the water. My question of her had not mentioned the fish but just the lake and mountains. This Lake is supposedly the favorite lake and area for the great occultist Aleister Crowley who she left me at the junction of the stream and the lake to meet with. His spirit may not be just Aleister as we have covered and it would suggest he had a purpose beyond the obvious negative one we know about while on this earth. (That is irrelevant to this story but important to others we are thematically developing.)
I trust you can understand my confusion and uncertainty about all of this and why it was happening to me. My approach to knowing has seldom involved ritual and never been of the harmful to others (intentional) variety. I do adhere to the Law of the Magi dealing with ‘Right Thought= Right Action’ even though I do not follow the ‘Keep Silent’ part of the law previously mentioned.
Around this time our ‘connection’ was very strong and I would be driving on my way to Los Angeles in the pre-dawn as the sun shone on the mountains mentioned in the Area 51 or ‘Black Ops’ entry. This is when she enhanced my awareness of the conscious aspects of what the Indians know is great wisdom in the ageless mountain spirit. I could feel her as she did her morning meditations and know her in ways that were closer than she might have been if she were beside me. We seldom saw each other in person and my infatuation or obsession with her was TOTAL! On a couple of occasions I imagined I sensed Castaneda’s ‘amber rays’ but that might have been the affect of the sunrise over the mountains in the half-dew of the desert. It was an awesome beauty and glorious feeling in toto. At the time all this ‘closeness’ and beauty was inundating me with wonder and awe but it didn’t rise to the level where I doubted my sanity like Carl Jung experienced when he had visions of the coming World War I during his early life. It is interesting that the psychotherapy or psychoanalysis field is revolving back to Jung again and yet I haven’t read any who deal in depth with his cosmogony recently in such a manner as to explain why it works. They are returning to it and the archetypes in a mere superficial manner. There is a definite genetic influence that the genome project and its ‘History Book’ might lead to us knowing why these things work in scientific terms.
One night I was aware that Lydia and I would never see each other again and I engaged in my meditative/mantra exercise (Yes, you could call it a ritual, but it was not designed to usurp and it was ‘open’ to whatever happened in RIGHT THOUGHT, so I can defend what I said about no ritual.). I reached out with all my love to all I had ever loved or had ever loved me. I was hurting and needful. I was certainly sorry for my weakness that had caused me to be unable to maintain a relationship with the only married woman I’d ever ‘known’. Intellectually I understood all the ground rules right from the start but my heart could not feel her awesome beauty and know I would never really have her in my life. True, what I had was more by far, in a spiritual sense, and it should have been enough.
Perhaps some day I will figure out how to integrate these thoughts without talking in the first person about things that happened in my life. How, that might happen seems beyond me without the use of a fictional presentation. That is not what it was, or is! Perhaps it is ‘too serious’ and I will be able to tone down the intensity of the life I have lived as time goes by; maybe then it will be more palatable, or credible or literary.
Joan is the name of the woman who could recall the actual physical experiences of her life completely as if they were happening again. In every sense of the word ‘experience’ she could feel what I had done to the psychic point on her upper arm, while we were engaged in another technique. It was like an orchestra in one session with all the instruments being played on one person’s body. To say the least it had been ‘fun’ for me; but she had become enthralled with me, as I was with Lydia. It had been six months since my move and I had not given her my phone number. The morning after I had been sending my love to Lydia: Joan called in a state of near hysteria. She had called the operator in Las Vegas and gotten all the phone numbers for Robert Bairds. There were over four of them but she had reached me on the fourth call. Her friend Melanie who had been with her the night we met at a jazz bar called Bourbon Street in Lakewood near Long Beach California had told her to call me. She felt I was the only person who could explain what had happened as Joan had been sleeping at her house the night before. This was probably due to the fact that I had been able to ‘connect’ with both of them during a palm reading on the night we met.