Last night, I got a call from an old friend, "Terence", who needed some help for his 16 year old daughter. "Stephani", and said he 'just knew' that I was the person to call. He knew this so strongly that he called a mutual friend to get my phone number, since he'd lost mine a while back.
He told me that his daughter says she is dealing with a demon, a man's voice that tells her to do things like cut herself, and maybe even kill herself. When he said his daughter's name, I realized that I knew exactly where it came from -- and it was only partly psychic. (I've seen these things psychically for others -- what's new for me is the evidence, as you'll see.)
I've known Terence for 20 years. He's an architect, and a really good guy -- smart, sensitive, responsible, athletic, spiritual and a great dad to 4 kids, of whom Stephani is the youngest. We were part of a spiritual group for about 10 of those years. The group met weekly to do yoga and meditation, as well as interactive exercises designed to help us develop our manifestation powers, our emotional health and psychic abilities. We had coffee on Saturday mornings, and partied together occasionally (birthdays, Christmas, etc.). We had monthly evening program of spiritual teachers and an annual retreat, as well. There was definitely a group resonance, so that we knew each other at a very deep level, even if we weren't deeply involved with the details of each others' day to day lives.
About 16 years ago, on the Sunday of Labor Day Weekend, I was on my way home when someone cut me off on a small side street. I was pissed, but when I looked closely -- it was Terence! He apologized through our open car windows, saying he was having a rough time and I invited him back to my place for coffee. I noticed his hand was bandaged.
Though he was married, with 2 kids at home, he said he was taking the day for himself, and we decided to hike through the hills to the Sausalito Art Festival. We had a great time, taking in the art, and dancing to Jefferson Starship live. Then we walked back to my house.
At that point, he said he needed to soak and rebandage his hand, so I got him a pan of water. We sat and talked some more, and he opened up about how this injury had been inflicted by his wife. As we talked, he decided to name his soon-to-be-born baby girl Stephani, after a late friend, Roger Stephens.
Eventually, he steeled himself for the trip home and left.
Over the next couple of months, I heard stories from a mutual friend about how his wife, a beautiful woman who apparently lived on vitamins and supplements (there was no food in the refrigerator, just supplements), would verbally and physically abuse him. She even hit him and then herself once -- and then called the cops. He spent the night in jail, but all charges were dropped.
After Stephani was born, the wife checked in to a psychiatric hospital. Terence and his wife divorced, and Terence raised their 3 kids as a single dad.
Eventually, I married and moved 45 minutes away, and the group evolved so the old gang wasn't part of it any more. We did meet monthly for meditations, though, and occasionally for speakers. So while I did see Terence, it was a quick 'hi' and a hug, maybe a chat about the speaker, nothing personal. Until last night.
Seeming change of subject: About a week ago, in a meditation, I asked 'the folks' to help me remove some patterns that didn't seem to be mine. As I watched, all these images from the 1950s seemed to fly off me -- print ads, TV commercials, photos of what would have been fashion forward design at the time. I realized that this is what was around my mother when she was pregnant with me, and then got her emotions around raising this child to be, her first.
There is also evidence that a fetus can hear and remember voices and music that were around during its gestation after it is born.
So when Terence wanted to know how to help his daughter, I knew immediately that he had to explain to her what was going on while she was in utero, and that that would immediately decrease the severity of what was going on, and improve her ability to deal with it.
How much of what we think makes us crazy has a real cause that no one is telling us about -- even though they could?
He told me that his daughter says she is dealing with a demon, a man's voice that tells her to do things like cut herself, and maybe even kill herself. When he said his daughter's name, I realized that I knew exactly where it came from -- and it was only partly psychic. (I've seen these things psychically for others -- what's new for me is the evidence, as you'll see.)
I've known Terence for 20 years. He's an architect, and a really good guy -- smart, sensitive, responsible, athletic, spiritual and a great dad to 4 kids, of whom Stephani is the youngest. We were part of a spiritual group for about 10 of those years. The group met weekly to do yoga and meditation, as well as interactive exercises designed to help us develop our manifestation powers, our emotional health and psychic abilities. We had coffee on Saturday mornings, and partied together occasionally (birthdays, Christmas, etc.). We had monthly evening program of spiritual teachers and an annual retreat, as well. There was definitely a group resonance, so that we knew each other at a very deep level, even if we weren't deeply involved with the details of each others' day to day lives.
About 16 years ago, on the Sunday of Labor Day Weekend, I was on my way home when someone cut me off on a small side street. I was pissed, but when I looked closely -- it was Terence! He apologized through our open car windows, saying he was having a rough time and I invited him back to my place for coffee. I noticed his hand was bandaged.
Though he was married, with 2 kids at home, he said he was taking the day for himself, and we decided to hike through the hills to the Sausalito Art Festival. We had a great time, taking in the art, and dancing to Jefferson Starship live. Then we walked back to my house.
At that point, he said he needed to soak and rebandage his hand, so I got him a pan of water. We sat and talked some more, and he opened up about how this injury had been inflicted by his wife. As we talked, he decided to name his soon-to-be-born baby girl Stephani, after a late friend, Roger Stephens.
Eventually, he steeled himself for the trip home and left.
Over the next couple of months, I heard stories from a mutual friend about how his wife, a beautiful woman who apparently lived on vitamins and supplements (there was no food in the refrigerator, just supplements), would verbally and physically abuse him. She even hit him and then herself once -- and then called the cops. He spent the night in jail, but all charges were dropped.
After Stephani was born, the wife checked in to a psychiatric hospital. Terence and his wife divorced, and Terence raised their 3 kids as a single dad.
Eventually, I married and moved 45 minutes away, and the group evolved so the old gang wasn't part of it any more. We did meet monthly for meditations, though, and occasionally for speakers. So while I did see Terence, it was a quick 'hi' and a hug, maybe a chat about the speaker, nothing personal. Until last night.
Seeming change of subject: About a week ago, in a meditation, I asked 'the folks' to help me remove some patterns that didn't seem to be mine. As I watched, all these images from the 1950s seemed to fly off me -- print ads, TV commercials, photos of what would have been fashion forward design at the time. I realized that this is what was around my mother when she was pregnant with me, and then got her emotions around raising this child to be, her first.
There is also evidence that a fetus can hear and remember voices and music that were around during its gestation after it is born.
So when Terence wanted to know how to help his daughter, I knew immediately that he had to explain to her what was going on while she was in utero, and that that would immediately decrease the severity of what was going on, and improve her ability to deal with it.
How much of what we think makes us crazy has a real cause that no one is telling us about -- even though they could?
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