Eating My Way to Heaven - Chapter 2

eating2heaevn By eating2heaevn, 8th May 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Health>Recovery & Coping

Chapter two of Eating My Way to Heaven about a supernatural experience I had childhood.

A Medium is Born

The story is written chronologically. If you haven't read chapter 1 yet, find it here: http://health.wikinut.com/Eating-My-Way-to-Heaven/3dd3eyjx/

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Although I lived in terror of my father, part of me really wanted a relationship with him, I rarely ever got to hang out with him unless he was drunk and we were pounding on the piano together. That only happened a few times a year (the piano thing, that is), but it was fun, It didn't matter that he couldn't sing worth a damn, he sang loudly instead.
David didn't play all that well, either, but as with his singing, he compensated with volume and it brought him great pleasure. "This Old House," and "How Great Thou Art," were his favorites.
A relative told me that my father was a deeply religious person before going off to war as a Hell Diver in the South Pacific. They said that he was standing on the street corners, straight out of college, preaching the Gospel. I had thought that religion was just a status thing for him. I never heard him talk about God or what it meant in his life unless he was speaking as an elder or deacon of the church. I did, however sense his reverence for God when he sang "How Great Thou Art" - it moved him.
In recent years I have discovered that my mother is a very spiritual person and shares many of my beliefs, but I don't recall ever hearing her discuss God as I was growing up, either. Like most families, we went to church and that was it. We attended services every Sunday until we moved onto a golf course. Then, religious observance often gave way to tee times.
I was a very spiritual child but really didn't recognize it as such. I certainly didn't relate to the fear and damnation that the Sunday school teachers were cramming down my throat. But the minister of the Presbyterian Church we attended was a wonderful being who treated me with a lot of love and respect.

Dancing With The Divas (And I don't mean celebrities!)

The real church for me, though, was just past the stone wall in our backyard. I was acutely in tune with the nature spirits(divas) I played with in the woods behind our house. My experiences in the woods were more than just those of a fanciful child playing make believe. There was something out there that interacted with me, an energy that embraced me and made me fell loved and at home.
My other dimensional playmates brought me a lot of comfort, as did the companionship of my fellow scouts. Being a Girl Scout provided me with a lot of rich experiences growing up. I especially treasured the opportunities to get away from home for a weekend or a few weeks during the summer to attend camp.

Supernatural camping

One particular camp out changed my life forever. My spirituality crossed the line into the realm of the paranormal. The counselors sent home a very different child then the one they had received.
It was called a roundup. Girl Scouts came from all over New York, but I was the only one from my troop. As was customary with young girls at such gatherings, we decided to have a seance. What wasn't customary was to pick a subject who invoked so much intrigue.
Pam Lacaruba wanted us to contact her grandfather. She said that her mother had been trying to contact him for years by hiring mediums. It seems that Pam's grandfather had changed his name and absconded with the family fortune before he died. Pam's mother wanted to find out what he had changed his name to so she could chase down her inheritance. Thus far she had been unsuccessful.
There were seven or eight of us sitting cross-legged in a circle as one girl led us into a deep meditative state. I don't remember her now, but as I pull up this memory I am impressed with what a mature storyteller she was at such a young age. We were all around the age of twelve or so.
Shortly after she started her litany, several things happened to me. I started felling sharp pains in my forearms, my hands started to cramp up, and visions started popping into my head. (Pam told me later that her grandfather had debilitating arthritis in his hands throughout his life.)
I began sharing my visions with the group, my eyes wide open most of the time. As I described the person and the home that I was seeing, Pam excitedly exclaimed, "That's my grandfather and that's his house!" These weren't educated guesses I was spewing out. I could describe the floor plan of the house, the arrangement of the furniture and the design of the wallpaper. I still remember some of the details to this day.
Not only could I describe Grandpa and emulate his arthritis, I was feeling his emotions. He and his deceased mother were acting out some cosmic play in my head. What I was sensing (which Pam's mother confirmed later) was that this had been a very abusive relationship between Grandpa and his mother. She had been wicked and mean. Also, I was perceiving that he had not seen her for many years previous to her passing.
In my vision, Grandpa was experiencing a great deal of fear. He had a key in his hand and he was standing at the foot of a long staircase that led up to a locked door. Somehow I knew that when he opened that door he was going to be face to face with his mother for the first time since her death or his.
My heart raced a little faster with each step he took up the staircase. I had become Grandpa. if you're having a hard time swallowing this, believe me, I understand. I lived it and I am still incredulous every time I tell it, and it gets even more unbelievable!
When Grandpa opened the door at the top of the stairs I felt the most extreme terror i had ever experienced in my life. This evil-looking woman was standing there, oozing rage. I looked up at the innocent girl across from me and watched in horror as her face took on the countenance of the old woman, and I wasn't the only one who saw it. I screamed and jumped out of the tent, which was up on a platform about four feet off the ground.
I flopped around in the dirt like a fish out of water with my hands cramped up in knots as the rest of the girls stood and watched in horrified silence. One girl, Debbie Woods, went into shock. She seemed catatonic, with her eyes stuck open and a lit flashlight in her hand. She couldn't speak or move her gaze from the glow of the flashlight, becoming manic if someone tried to take it from her. We had to summon help. This was out of our league.

Camp denial

I came out of my shock and my "arthritis" abated, but Debbie was not coming around. The counselors took her somewhere to get her medical attention. When they returned we were cautioned to, "Never do anything like this again," and of course, Forget this ever happened."
The rest of the weekend was uneventful, comparatively speaking. We returned to our respective homes, honoring the inflicted code of silence.
On Monday, I got a call from Pam Lacaruba's mother. She wanted me to come to their home for a seance (that's not what she told my mother). Come Friday, my mother drove me the thirty miles or so and deposited me for what she thought would be a weekend sleepover with a new friend. Twenty-five years later I told her the real story. She believed me to the best of her ability.

Show me Grandpa

From the moment I walked in the door of Pam's house I was treated like royalty. After greetings and the offer of a beverage, I was walked to the dining room table. Pam's mother had covered the table with hundreds of photographs.
She said, "Show me what you saw."
I had no trouble picking out Grandpa, his mother and the house, describing the furniture and the wallpaper again in flawless detail. Mrs. Lacruba declared, "Child you have a gift!" As I recall she gave me a list of things to do to develop my psychic powers. I didn't do them and I don't remember what they were. I wish I did.
We went on to perform the seance. Mrs. Lacaruba was sure that I would be able to come up with the elusive name she was hunting for. Nothing happened. But inwardly my entire belief system had been rattled.

Food For Thought

One belief has changed for me since then for sure. I no longer believe in accidents or coincidences. Here's an example of what some might consider a coincidence. You decide.
As I was editing this book, I had some doubts about whether any of the girls at that seance would remember it now that thirty years have passed. My fear was that if they didn't, it would cast doubt on the validity of all my memories,
That same week a package came for me from my mother, There was no note or letter included, just a collection of a few mementos of mine from childhood. Amongst the items was an old autograph book that was filled with entries from the girls at that roundup. Four of them had mentioned the seance in their writings and one of them even drew a picture of what my arthritic hands had looked like. I was jubilant. It was the validation I'd craved.
My mother didn't know I had included that story in this book or that I was anxious about it. She was just cleaning out a drawer and thought I would like to have these things. Was it a coincidence? I don't think so. I think God, Great Spirit, the Universe - whatever your concept of a supreme power is - responded to my needs.

Just For Fun

Speaking of coincidences, renowned author and speaker Alan Cohen, told this story when he spoke at the Living Enrichment Center in Wilsonville, Oregon. Alan is the author of thirteen books about living life fully, including my favorite, Are You As Happy As Your Dog? about his dog Munchie's joyous slant on life. In my words here is the story Alan told:
For Thanksgiving, Alan put on a big spread for his mostly vegetarian friends. Someone, however had brought a large turkey. It seems that little Munchie was the major benefactor of that offering and feasted on turkey for a month. When the stash was gone Minchie had no intention of going back to his old diet of "little pellets." Alan noted, "It's like life. Once you've seen the big turkey, you won't want to settle for little pellets!" As a vegetarian though, Alan couldn't see himself trotting off to the market to buy a turkey, so he left it in God's hands.

The police are my friends

A few days later, Alan was driving to his home in Maui and noticed a police car behind him in the mirror. He apparently hit a time warp in his mind and found himself stuck in sixties paranoia, frantically searching for nonexistent contraband. He pulled himself together by reciting this affirmation, "The police are my friends, the police want to help me." The police car passed him up, not even noticing Alan.
One evening not long after, Alan pulled up to a police roadblock. It seems that they tip a few too many in Maui and the police department had come up with an incentive program to reward sober drivers. After chatting with Alan and inspecting his paperwork, the officer shouted, "Hey Joe, come here." Alan had a bit of concern as to why this officer needed Joe, but recited his "the police are my friends" mantra and kept calm.

Mana from the police?

Joe leaned in the window of Alan's car and asked, "Do you want a turkey?"
Alan laughed. "Is this a joke?" Officer Joe explained that they were giving away turkeys to anyone whose paperwork was in order and who wasn't drunk. They only had six turkeys so apparently they weren't too confident they'd find many qualifying candidates that night. Alan had his picture taken with Officer Joe and his frosty new Butterball and laughed all the way home.
Upon being greeted by Munchie, Alan proclaimed, "You are a great manifester. You got the police to give me a turkey!" was it a coincidence or was it an answered prayer for Alan and Munchie?

Tags

Alan Cohen, Denise Martin, Eating Disorder, Eating My Way To Heaven, Medium, Psychic

Meet the author

author avatar eating2heaevn
My passion is writing about natural health, addiction and human behaviors. I have saved my life twice with conscious living and am devoted to helping others do the same.

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