I’m assembling a webinar on ecstasy, levitation, and immortality
for the Forever Family Foundation that supports afterlife research. As to where
I’m coming from, I sporadically have experiences I can’t explain—from PK to
precognition. I’ve been trying to
figure out all the strange experiences I’ve had for many years.
The focus here is on PK (psychokinesis)—stuff about “mind
over matter”. In light of all the available evidence, I’m convinced we have
powers quite beyond what we normally suppose. The people who know this best are
people who have the crucial experiences. Experience, of course, can rip open your sense of the possible,
and on this topic I have observed levitation twice. No mistake about it, raw
experience opens the mind.
My own experiences woke me up, but they were small potatoes
when compared to those of St. Joseph of Copertino. His is the story of a rare type: a person famous for his
mystical experiences, but also for an astonishing array of paranormal
phenomena. To excel in both is an intellectual show-stopper. Being human, Joseph’s story says
something about all human beings—about, as we say, ‘human potential.’
I believe that the real super-magic displayed by Joseph in
17th century Europe must be part of our latent capacity—most of the
time below the threshold of awareness—but under the right conditions, capable
of springing to life.
In the webinar I focus on a case of a man extraordinary in
several ways: the amount and variety of his remarkable phenomena and the large amount of evidence to back
up the remarkable claims.
And yet, when we look at the friar’s miserable origins, it’s amazing that he survived at all. His part of Italy was impoverished then,
occupied by the Spanish, and struggling with a Counter-Reformation. Add to all this was the radically destabilizing
Scientific Revolution.
As for Joseph’s outsider life , already three siblings had
predeceased him. When he was seven
he was incapacitated for five years by a huge gangrenous growth on his backside. His father, Felix, was in flight from
the law because of a debt he incurred on behalf of friends; his mother,
Frances, homeless, was a harsh moralist, and emitted little or no maternal
warmth toward her son. School kids
mocked and nicknamed him Boccaperta
(Gaping Mouth) because when he heard music or noticed something carina, he’d slip into a trance and gape
with open mouth. He gave the impression of being stupid; in fact, he had a
knack for withdrawing very deeply into himself.
Joseph’s early life was as unpromising as you could imagine.
But despite his clumsiness, intensity, and otherworldliness, he was finally ordained
as a priest.
Soon after, Joseph’s gaucheries and absent-mindedness began
to morph into dramatically visible and quite shocking phenomena. In Grottella, contemplating a painting
of the Virgin and Child, he not only went into ecstasy but exploded with a piercing
scream, rose into the air and hovered there like a bird—to the astonishment of witnesses
nearby. His first recorded levitation.
It was an overture to a thirty-five year career of surrealist
performance art. By performance I
don’t mean something “fake”; I mean real
events that prompt you to rethink the nature of your mind. One’s awareness is shocked into a new
sense of reality—or say, surreality.
Looking at the narrative of Joseph’s life, we see various proofs
of consciousness defying the laws of physical reality. The most dramatic example is levitation
where ecstasy can bend gravity, one of the basic forces of nature. In Joseph’s world, consciousness renders
food, drink and sleep virtually unnecessary. And we don’t want to forget this: Joseph’s
consciousness had healing effects on suffering, even dying, bodies. Also—to go on—toying with our
metaphysics, the friar’s consciousness turned its nose up at time, as proven so
often by his demonstrated foreknowledge.
(He was facile at foretelling the demise of souls.)
Also, let’s remember, in Joseph’s world, the barriers that
separate our interior selves melt away and leave us open to each other. This condition
of openness we call telepathy, feeling at a distance, and Joseph knew things
about people he met that they had forgotten or repressed. So—and this is my point--something in
us has the potential to transcend gravity, space, time, our bodies—and if so,
can death be far behind?
What difference does all this make? For one thing, the extraordinary
phenomena completely upend the reigning dogma of materialism. In fact, they force
us to expand our concept of mind and recognize (don’t be shy!) great latent creative
powers. If this is true, there are
practical implications, which could be very interesting.
If we are part of a greater, deeper mind and consciousness,
there must be ways to engage the power and wisdom hidden in the depths. We may call it God (I prefer Goddess),
guardian angel, or Cosmic Consciousness. We may engage as a religious or spiritual person; as a
curious, open-minded scientist; or as a free-lance artist-explorer in dialogue
with the Transcendent. Some good news. There is room for traditional and for more
independent methods and room for amiable discussion.
As for practical hints, I would suggest as useful these
three: Own your own mind, and learn to concentrate it. Practice living as lightly
as possible—things, ideas, ego.
And last but not least, according to the flying friar himself, love,
love, and more love.
For the webinar, Feb. 6, see below:
https://www.foreverfamilyfoundation.org/events/284
1 comment:
Love the practical hints!
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