How nice if there were some mystic resource we could rely on for help—a hidden eye looking out for us—a guardian angel! Belief in the possibility of supernatural aid is widespread in religion and mythology. But more important, there are allegedly true stories of help that come to people in strange ways. There is enough there, as they say, to make you think. And if you think, you might end up asking peculiar questions.
For example: Do we perhaps inhabit a world with openings to higher and perhaps more interesting dimensions of reality? Or is reality more ruthlessly restricted than we would prefer? What is your preference, one might ask, an open universe of unlimited possibilities or a closed universe that constantly threatens you with extinction?
As a matter of fact, striking stories do exist in which somebody is saved from an event or situation, and in ways that defy common sense as well as scientific law. Such stories are important. They can open your imagination and expand your sense of what is possible. Also, and this is big: they can sharpen your sense of agency. It’s hard to know what’s missing in the way we see the world. A lot of unknown stuff, tottering between magic and madness, is playing out around us. I like to be alert to events that crack open parts of myself that were closed and locked down. I think of it as a matter of psychic hygiene.
No less a personality than Socrates famously had a daemon (spirit-guide) who kept an eye on the philosopher, and was given to warning and steering him away from danger, often in the events and mishaps of daily life. Also famously, teen-ager Joan of Arc was guided and prompted by spiritual agents, in her case , to become the leader of the French army in war against the English. The English were so impressed by her talents that they burned her alive.
From the sublime, let me descend to the mundane with two current stories that illustrate the idea of supernormal help. The first is nothing cosmic, but it does show how I obtained real assistance in a psychically peculiar way. Here is what happened. One morning I woke up and immediately did something I had never done before in my entire life. I just did it, like an automaton. Without an instant of forethought I immediately pull all the sheets off the bed, and the pillow covers, snatch up a loose pair of socks and rush toward the basement door, intending to put everything into the washing-machine. Before I proceed, let me comment on the description of what I did. Never have I and never would I begin my day, any day, with a mad rush to do my laundry!
Well, when I stepped down the stairs, the first thing I saw was that the sink was full of water and the water was overflowing onto the basement floor. I ran to the sink and found it was clogged. I unclogged the muck with my hand and the water drained out. My entire basement would have flooded if I wasn’t impelled mindlessly down the stairs to do laundry where I was able to see the problem and prevent a costly mess
Granted, this was no world-shaking miracle, but it was strange. Just before waking I may have dreamt of the flooding in my basement (clairvoyance). When barely awake I automatically do what I needed to do. No guardian angel there, but rather it looks like my subconscious just lent me hand—if so, thanks! For some reason I’m occasionally treated to an experience that undermines my commonsensical picture of reality.
But now for one of the more striking accounts unexplained help. I once had a student, a police officer and Vietnam Veteran, who shared an amazing story. Celestino—the name fits the fellow—began by telling me that his Mom embarrassed him when he was a boy by announcing that she was always praying for him, but especially in 1968 when the U.S. army sent him to Vietnam with the 101st Airborne Division.
The incident he described to me occurred at a Bien Hoa base, 15 miles north of Saigon. The base, flanked by native villages, was subject to rocket attacks. It was just before Valentine’s Day when the siren in the barracks rang at 2: 30 in the morning, signaling imminent attack. The bunker Celestino was supposed to use was already packed, so he got down to a reinforced partition by the entrance to the bunker. He could hear rockets landing nearby. Barely a moment passed when he heard someone call his name out and say “Get back here!” “Who’s that?” he called back. The voice called out to him four times, loud and authoritative. He finally got up and moved back half way into the bunker. “Is this okay?” he cried out and looked around. No reply.
Celestino glanced back at the
spot where he just was. A tall,
thin sergeant with eyeglasses was now sitting on the reinforced partition, a
person he had only met the previous day. Celestino heard a high-pitched whistle—which
meant a direct hit.
He told me that he was staring at the spot now occupied by the sergeant when
right there he saw a tremendous ball of flame explode, literally annihilating
the sergeant (not a speck of him was found); and killing everyone else,
sixteen, just short of himself who survived. Celestino was knocked unconscious by the blast, but when he
woke up his fellow survivors wanted to know who he was talking to. Nobody was calling him, they said.
What strikes me about this case of
precognition is the exactitude of details. The warning agency ‘knew’ the first spot, where the rocket
would land; and it knew where soldiers
would die, and very insistently got Celestino to move to a safe zone. Finally, this exact and focused intelligence
was not concerned with the rest of the soldiers who were killed. Why not a little more democracy with
the saving grace? Maybe none of
the other victims had anybody praying for them.
Clearly, the voice that saved Celestino’s life was a voice from his interior universe. Was it a guardian angel or the benign machinations of his subliminal mind? What do you all think about this incident in Bien Hoa? Mom’s prayers, maybe? For a more detailed story of the miraculous powers of human consciousness, see my Smile of the Universe: Miracles in an Age of Disbelief. (Anomalist Books, Amazon)P
2 comments:
This is much more minor, but after it happened twice, I had to re-think my first explanation. I'm elderly, and so many friends have fallen and broken bones, even with what seem small tumbles. I fall a lot, and reasoned I have softer or stronger bones . Then this last time, I fell on concrete, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge of wooden steps but landing with my head between the upright hot tub and the wall (about a foot apart) and my face scraping a metal/webbing lawn chair leaning in that small space, yet I got not one bruise, let alone a twisted muscle or broken bone! What made me think twice was how slowly and softly I fell... as if *someone had caught me and lowered me down*. The first time I fell off a step and landed face-first on concrete, and wondered afterward how I could fall so softly. Now I really wonder if I had help.
I've come across similar types of story where there is a slowing up or an easing of a bad effect, suggesting some kind of secret benign influence. Do take care of yourself, Unknown. My own suspicion is that we may have to cultivate a relationship with this subconscious ally. You don't have to be a religious believer to strike up an active relationship with your creative subconscious, but it might not be a bad idea. What counts is the quality and focus of your consciousness.
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