Category: Psychic Phenomena

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Paranormal experiences series: Defining who we are or I look after my own interests… so what?

From left to right: Snidely Whiplash, Dudley D...

So, we have discussed death, alternative memories, coming back, and parallel worlds.

I also mentioned that this kind of thing happens to us a lot, but we don’t normally remember it, or we don’t twig to what is really going on.

Clearly, this raises a lot of questions, some I will attempt to answer and some I am trying to still work out myself.

Let’s start off with one of the overused sayings in spiritual circles. Time is an illusion.

It’s also a very good and complete one.

However, all things are happening now, and everything that ever was, is, and will be is all occurring right at this very moment.

It’s only the illusion of time that allows us to experience it as a separate stream of time.

So, if everything that ever existed is happening now, and there is no time, then we, as spirit, can choose to enter into any timeline we choose, at any particular moment in history. The only limits are what we are attuned to within our own soul aspect (which is what we call our soul).

By this I mean that if you have raised your personal vibrational levels enough, you can shift to a higher version of the world you just left, and if your level is lower than before, then you might find yourself in a lower or darker version.

Now, I’m not trying to use anything like Heaven or Hell, or trying to scare or convert people, so please hear me out.

What level you are attuned to depends entirely on you. There is no being sitting in judgement deciding if you are worthy or not. There is no judgement: Only experience and attunement.

Every action you took, every thought you had, every intention you have all add up to who you are right now.

Whether you come from a place of love, or a place of fear, it all has an effect on you.

Every decision you make is an opportunity to redefine yourself. None of the things that happen to us are random. They are all opportunities.

To use a simple example, let’s say you buy your lunch, and you notice the sandwich hand gives you back too much change. Do you keep it and say nothing or do you let them know? In the scheme of things, it won’t change the world if you decide to keep the change, but this isn’t about what’s right and what’s wrong. It’s about an opportunity to define yourself and declare “this is who I really am.”

Do you give the money back? Do you keep it? Would you say something if you were short changed and you noticed? Does your moral code work both ways?

And so forth.

And these opportunities come up all the time. Some are small, some are large, and many just happen as a matter of life happening to us. And every single one of them counts.

Even the smallest decision can change the course of your entire life. You just won’t know it at the time. At least, not till you look back and see it.

Now, this is not an attempt to convince people to be a goody two shoes, or be holier than thou, it’s simply stating that in every moment you are making a choice about what you will experience, and the type of world you may end up living in.

Also remember, belief creates reality, and reality creates belief. If you are not happy with your current reality, change your belief system.  (I will discuss this subject in a future blog.)

Just remember that we are choosing our reality all the time.

Next: If we choose our lives, why do they suck so much?

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Paranormal experiences series: Shifting timelines or I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore.

English: Phoenix tombstone, Fyvie Kirkyard Sco...

Now, you might be wondering where is this self-indulgent story going? Bear with me because there is a point to it all, and I’m getting there soon.

I think it was July 20th, 2000. That was the day I died. That moment remained in my mind’s eye and memory for years, even though it didn’t happen. But according to my guides, it did.

What I was told was this was a memory of a stroke I had on the day I was meant to die. I was with the family at JB Hi Fi, and due to major stresses of that day (which would have occurred if I had followed through on my original plans. The actual plans are not relevant for this tale, but suffice to say that they put me in an unwinnable situation, that had been engineered by my ex.)

The stress of events of that day would have caused the stroke, and I would have died there and then, or to be convoluted, I did.

The fact that it was a memory meant that it actually did happen. However, it happened in another timeline, which was similar to the one I was in, but not exactly the same.

Apparently I had chosen to come back, and continue on, but in order to do that, I had to avoid the circumstances which lead to the stroke, which I did by staying home, and my plans for that day never happened, as I decided they were much too dangerous for me. (As it turned out, I was right.)

Apparently, such things happen to us all the time, we just don’t remember it happening.

Put into the entire scheme of things, the point of that death corresponds with irregularities in my memories, such as the Spice Girl’s music video I blogged about before. That happened before this death.

I remember waking up one morning a few months before all this happened and I heard my guides asking me if I still wanted to die? They reminded me that I had a death wish, and I did not wish to be here.

I thought about it, and realized that yes, they were right. The past few years had taken such a toll on my endurance that I no longer wished to be here.

But things had changed, and the situation was now different, so I said, yes, I do wish to stay, and that, apparently was the reason I shifted.

According to my guides, I have died a number of times, and have always chosen to come back. The first time was when I got hit by a car while crossing the road back in 1977. That also fits in with the Wuthering Heights song that never existed, as it was before Kate Bush, but after I heard the original version.

So, every so often, a nexus point (a point where choices are made) would arise where I would die, and then decide to return because I had other things I could do here.

The road changing incident at Hanging Rock was apparently not a death, but a place where realities are blurred, and if you are attuned, you can slip between them to a similar but to a slightly different one.

I do remember thinking on more than one occasion, upon returning from that area, that something felt different or new.

For this reason, I do not fear death. In fact, I have never feared it, but once I started to understand that I could return to any point I wished, and in better health than when I left, I know that I will be here until such times as I’m satisfied that my work is done here.

There is a lot more to say on this subject, and so I will do so in the following blogs.

Next: The attunement to different realities. 

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Paranormal experiences series: I regret I’ve only one life to give… or do I.

JB Hi-Fi

There’s this incident that happened back in the year 2000 that left a profound mark on me.

I died.

It was from a stroke, and I did not survive it.

You’re probably thinking, man, if you’re dead, you’re certainly pretty active.

But obviously, I am not dead. I am very much still alive.

Now, before you hit delete, let me explain how it happened.

The first half of the year 2000 was a traumatic and stressful time. Events were happenings, and I wasn’t handling them too well. Great stresses were on me in my personal and work life, and I had just completed one of the major goals that I had come here to do, which had taken its toll on me, too.

Omens of death were everywhere for me. It was on my mind all the time, I sensed things were nearing their end, and my then wife kept on getting signs of husbands dying, which she remarked on.

Then one week, around July, she fell into a deep depression and entered a state of grieving which I found both disturbing and confusing.

I wondered if I had done something wrong, and my step daughter sometimes acted as though I wasn’t there any more.

After a week or so of this, my wife sat me down and said that she had worked out what was going on. Her reactions were as though I had already died and she was going through the stages of loss and grieving.

She said that whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen the next day, and we could ignore it, or we could sit down and work out what we could do about it.

So we sat down, tapped into what was going on, and it appeared that saw me dying the next day.  As this wasn’t the weirdest thing that ever happened to me, I took the warning seriously, and instead of going out as I had planned that day, I cancelled my plans and stayed home.

I wasn’t sure what difference that would make, but I clearly did not die. The evening was weird, though. My then wife was in a very strange frame of mind, and kept on muttering on how she had put so much effort into this marriage, and now it was all for nothing. The mood passed the next day, and she later claimed that she did not recall having said anything like that.

As it was, things changed after that. I went into a state of shock and depression that took me two years to come out of, and my marriage started to fall apart as our connection seemed to fade till eventually we decided it was best to separate. Timing wise, it was the right choice.

However, for many years after, an image of a music store I used to frequent (called JB Hi Fi in Camberwell, Victoria) would come to my mind. I had no clue why, though. I had been there hundreds of times over the years, but now, this one moment in time was sticking in my mind, and I wasn’t even sure if that moment even happened.

Eventually, after around 11 years, I reached a point where I started to take notice of this vision and searched for insight on what it was all about. (Yes, it can take me years before I start to take notice of things!)

It was then, soon after , my guide gave me an  insight into what that was all about and it felt right.

Next: The explanation

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Paranormal experiences series: Changing conversations or I said what now?

John Rambo in Rambo.

I have a bad memory, it would seem. I remember things that didn’t happen. I read things I can’t find later. I own things that vanish. I hear music that no one has ever heard of. I have conversations that never happened… well you get the idea.

It’s an interesting phenomenon, having memories for things that didn’t exist. I’ve written about three main ones, but that’s certainly not all of it.

I’ve had a lot of conversations with friends over the years where, should I have the same conversation again at a later date, the response is not only completely different, but they deny ever having said the original statements at all.

For instance, back in 83, me and one of my friends, Glenn, went to see the movie First Blood.

At the time, I enjoyed it, being young and all, and Glenn remarked as we discussed it afterwards that if the book was as good as the movie, then he was certainly going to enjoy it.

At this point, I should mention that for many, many years, I kept a diary. It was meticulous, and for whatever reason, I would often write down my friend’s comments, or conversations, verbatim. I was pretty good at remembering the details back then. So, if I needed to remember something, I would just go back and look it up.

This was one of those comments, but oddly enough, a couple of years later, he said he had read the book before seeing the movie, and explained how he had enjoyed the book and had been looking forward to movie.

I’ve had quite a few similar conversations with Glenn over the years, making me scratch my head as to why he would take opposing viewpoints, especially when he just wasn’t that type of personality.  In fact, Glenn is pretty meticulous with his facts and has an excellent memory and I’ve never seen him joke or try to screw around with someone’s head.

The same thing happened with my friend Paul. (who I was with during that incident at Hanging Rock).  Not only would he have a completely different memory of events, but when he told a story, there would be variances in them. Even one story, which he told several times, changed from one version to another, and then back again.

In fact, we had so many arguments about what happened that I was convinced that he had the worst memory of anyone I knew. Yes, he was more than adamant that he was right.

But it didn’t stop there. Often, people would attribute things to me that I had never said or done. For instance, my ex-wife and her daughter swore black and blue that I hated seeing movie previews.

Odd thing was, not only did I enjoy them, but I don’t recall ever even suggesting I hated them. Yet, both shouted me down, saying that I had said so.

Then there were events in history that seemed to change. Things which I was taught were real become just stories, and stories were actual events.

An example of his was in regards to Hanging Rock. One night, a group of us climbed up it and Paul and me discussed that he had thought the story based on Picnic at Hanging Rock was real, but he now understood that it was just fiction.

I had recently heard the same thing, and had also believed it had happened, especially as Glenn had once mentioned that his grandmother actually remembered the incident, and the local view was that the girls had just gone off with some boys.

It would seem that my entire life is peppered with such inconsistencies.

As I said, it could be a bad memory, but there was one incident that really left its mark on me and helped to unravel what might be going on.

Next: The unexpected death.

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Paranormal experiences series: The road along side Hanging Rock or this was no picnic.

Rock Formations - Hanging Rock, Victoria, Aust...

I’ve discussed two incidences where songs I remember were never produced in the way I remember them to be.

Now, it is reasonable to put such things down to faulty memories, and let’s face it, who hasn’t mis-remembered something they swore they knew happened?

However, this particular incident is very hard to explain away.

There’s this rather famous book by Joan Lindsay called Picnic at Hanging Rock. It’s about the disappearance of three girls back in Woodend, Victoria, Australia, back in the early 1900s. During the 70s, it was made into a movie.

Hanging Rock is a real place near Woodend, and is a tourist destination. It is a large rock, which can be climbed and explored.

I used to go there a lot during the late 80s and early 90s and it’s fair to say I’ve had my fair share of unusual experiences there.

I would usually go at night with my best friend at the time, Paul. Like me, he had a fascination for unusual places.

Hanging Rock had two main roads on each side of it. Both continued straight from the highway to the dirt roads on the other side.

Me and Paul would go up there at night: Sometimes by ourselves, sometimes with friends.

One night we drove there and the trip was uneventful as it normally was. It wasn’t until we started to drive up the road leading to Hanging Rock that I began to feel that something wasn’t quite right. Something about the road didn’t seem to be real and I commented on it. Paul felt it as well.

The night was mild, the moon was waning, but it still shone plenty of light.

There are huge steel gates that allow entry to the park where Hanging Rock is, and you can’t really miss them, but somehow we did.

We kept on driving and soon came across a dirt road instead of the sealed one we were driving on. It took me by surprise since I had come a lot further than I thought I had. In fact, I went straight through a give way sign.

“Oh well done,” said Paul, “But, I suppose it’s late.”

“I didn’t think that we’d come this far,” I said. “Did we pass the gates?”

“We have, but I didn’t see them. Nor did I see the sign saying 100 meters to Hanging Rock. This is the dirt track that I once went up with some other friends. We went up it three time and we still couldn’t find the gates.”

We drove on for a bit and I decided to turn back since the road didn’t seem to be going anywhere of interest and Paul was feeling a bit uneasy about continuing. Instead we decided to go back and find the gates.

And find them, we did as we went back down the road. They were closed. Sometimes they were left open, and we’d go in and climb the rock. (Even if it was at night.)

Paul suggested we check the other side to see if the gates were open there, and I agreed, so we did. However, there was something totally wrong about the road.

“This is a dirt track. It should be a sealed road,” I said.

“I know, go on,” replied Paul, rather calmly. “Continue up it.”

I saw the sign that said Hanging Rock Tourist Road, and soon after we came across the gates on the other side. They were also closed.

As I continued down the road that led from the gate back  to Woodend, I saw a car coming towards us in the distance.  It then turned and disappeared. About 30 seconds or so, later, I got the where the car had turned. Now I had been up that road many times. It’s a straight road with barely any turn-offs. Paul, who was far more familiar with the layout of the area also knew that, too.

“Left turn, Gary,” he said.

I stared incredulously at the road. “There is no ‘T’ intersection on this road,” I stated.

“I know,” he simply said.

“So why is there one now? And what road was the car on that was coming towards us?”

Paul had no answers, but he was unnervingly calm about it, too. Mind you, from his own stories, this was not the first time something like this had happened to him.

I turned to the left and the soon made a right hand turn and found myself on the proper road again.

This road had appeared out of nowhere. It didn’t look new, and even if it was, it had been put there in a matter of weeks. If you know anything about Victorian roads, it takes months, or even years for anything to be completed.

Somehow, the layout of the area had changed around us.

What was even more interesting was when I asked friends who were familiar with the area about that road; they would describe the T intersection. They didn’t remember the road being straight.

There are some things you just can’t explain away with logic.

Next: Other inconsistencies.

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Paranormal experiences series: The original version of Wuthering Heights or what the…

The Kick Inside

I’ve found that my as I get older, I find it easier to forget things. This is mostly because there is so much information coming in now that it’s just not possible to retain it all. It’s as though everyday has a heap of new things that I should remember, but I can’t because something else comes in right away after to remember, too.

Still, I’ve found that my childhood memories, especially when it comes to music, are still very strong and accurate.

Music is how I time stamp my memories. Songs will bring back feelings and emotions of the time, and often bring tears to my eyes.

So, when an anomaly turns up, I sit up and take notice.

I’ve already discussed the Say My Name incident, and how somehow it was a different artist singing that song, or at least to my memory.  And while I’m prepared to say that I was simply wrong, it does bring up a similar incident that happened back in the mid to late 70s.

Before going to sleep, as a preteen, I would listen to the radio, and the songs I heard back then remain in my memory to this day, even the obscure ones that no one else seems to remember nowadays.

One song I recall, though for no particular reason, was Wuthering Height.  Like most songs at the time, it was just there, with no real attraction. I didn’t hate it, but wouldn’t have gone out of my way to get it. Not that I could afford to buy any records back in those days anyway.

In 1978, Kate Bush released her first single, Wuthering Height, and I thought to myself, at the time, I prefer the original version and I said as much.

The version I knew was sung by a female artist who had a much lower voice, which was reminiscent of someone like Karen Carpenter. Unfortunately, I don’t know who sang that  particular version.

Over the years, in the back of my mind, I resolved that one day I was going to look that version up, and get hold of it.

Sometimes it takes a few decades for me to get around to doing something (seriously!) and one day in the noughties, I decided to finally do it.

However, I soon found that it wasn’t possible.

The problem was that there was no original version. Kate Bush had written this song in 1977, and she was the original artists.

I’ve checked this fact a number of times, wondering if I had got my information wrong somewhere, but it is correct.  There was definitely no version of that song before Bush.

To hear a song that does not exist, several years before it is released raises some interesting question. The biggest one being: How?

Still, one can be forgiven for thinking that maybe I was mistaken or have a faulty memory (though, as I said, my memory of music is uncannily clear from my childhood.)

Even if I did agree with you, this was not the only thing of that nature that occurred.

Next: The road alongside Hanging Rock.

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