Wednesday, May 16, 2018

From The Archives: Vulcan Purple Microdot Muskrat Love

[First Posted: February 5, 2011]

As a psychotherapist, I have developed what could be called increased, perhaps "extra-sensitive" skills of self-introspection from my own many years of personal therapy, clarified and strengthened by working with others to therapeutically help them discover, develop, and use the same kind of skills. I have been further blessed by such abilities because they have motivated and enabled me to deeply observe the strange and wonderful intimate processes that are part of my mediumship abilities. I've often felt alone in this aspect when it comes to other spirit mediums, comparatively speaking. In the several hundred books on mediums and mediumship subjects in my personal library, and over the course of many years of research, the almost total lack of anyone asking mediums how they felt, what they were experiencing from an internal perspective, or for their own opinions, has become so obvious and glaring that I sometimes wonder if there wasn't some kind of unspoken or even unconscious agenda to avoid or even purposely suppress such important information. If the mediums have been the authors of the books, even they fail to even begin to look beneath the surface of their own psychological processes — and if they have, never indicate it, other than maybe thoughts about certain spiritual processes or religious references. This kind of omission was briefly mentioned in my recent paper, The Disparity of a “Standards of Care” for Spirit Mediumship as a Permissible Behavioral Health Care Profession, as part of an exploration into the kinds of personal ethics mediums may or may not have regarding the practice of their skills. Regarding Carl A. Wickland's use of his wife's mediumship abilities to assist individuals possibly overwhelmed by spirit possession, I note:
There are no clear indications in his book (Thirty Years Among The Dead) regarding his wife’s mediumistic approaches in terms of her standards of care or ethics. This is not surprising, as historically mediums have been seen more as objective ways and means and less as persons within their own right, and so their own personal and psychological processes have often been overlooked.
It is this phenomenon of objectifying mediums as a ways and means to an end "in the name of science" while ignoring the humanity of the actual medium that raises questions in my mind, as well as feelings of sadness mixed with anger — combining into a frustration which speaks to the inhuman practice of transgressing the personal boundaries of another human being, as if the person were not a person, but a machine or gadget to plug in and then watch. Indeed, I wonder at the use of the word "instrument" many mediums apply to themselves when speaking of their work. I am sure that many mediums would resonate with my feelings when I'm approached by others to "do" readings for them, as if it's some kind of automatic process I can switch on and off, with no regard for me as a person. ("Just let me put my medium's beanie on, first!") Of course, I'm referring to the ego-mind's selfish demands for instant gratification. Never mind that the medium might have some feelings about it. A few modern mediums have sometimes reported how intense mediumship experiences affect them, and a certain part of the western cultures that support mediumship have developed their own set of ethics that have evolved safeguards against behaviours at seances that might interfere with ectoplasmic manifestations and endanger the medium's health and even life. We refer to this in The Risen:
These “side effects” have been observed by many medium investigators, including C. W. Leadbeater, a well-known figure and prolific writer of the Theosophical Movement. He noted in his research that the “feeling of lassitude and of having the life dragged out of them is naturally terribly common among mediums.” He also likened it to “a condition closely resembling the shock which follows a surgical operation.”  (p. 170)
It is from all this slight rant and rambling that I've often wondered, and still do, why few people ask me "what's it like?"  Most likely because they aren't really all that concerned. (And so few read this blog, anyway.) But of course, now hoisted by my own petard, I have to confess that I'm not sure how to put it into words if I were asked. I've no doubt that the few attempts made in our book do no more justice to the experience than someone trying to document an LSD trip. In our book, I even once referred to Tim's communications to me as "sounding like a Vulcan on acid."

I see now all this blather does have a purpose, as I do want to try and share something that recently happened from which a few others might find some kind of understanding arise — or at least to try to reveal some of the wonder of it all. While sitting in session with a patient last evening, who had my attention firmly fastened on some very intense issues of past trauma and present relationship dramas, I was suddenly aware that Tim was standing to the right of me. While there would have been no room for a physical person to be there, he had no problem occupying the same space as a plant stand and a floor lamp. I felt something "shift" in my own space so that I was with him in his own space while he was in mine, and this juxtaposition seemed to bridge any gaps in our dimension so that we were creating a new one, just for the two of us. Somehow, I could now see, hear, touch, feel, and even move in this new dimension with Tim, while I also continued to sit facing my patient, with whom I also continued to see, hear, emotionally feel and interact. All this happened in less than the time it took for an eye to blink or even its pupil to dilate.

Tim was just standing there, next to me, with me, and said, "Hi, you."  And I said back, "Hi, you." And within those four words exchanged, such depths of love, comfort, peace, joy and ecstasy suddenly flared that I thought I would faint (all the while interacting with my patient) while my physical body reacted by crying two huge tears that ran down each cheek. Fortunately, because it was evening and the room was in its usual dimly lit state, my patient couldn't see that I was crying from across the room — but saw or felt something, and suddenly stopped and asked, "Did it just get lighter in here? I'm seeing light on your face, where's it coming from?" and all I could say was, "I don't know ... that's strange." And then just as suddenly my patient seemed to forget what was just said, and sat back and continued talking on as if nothing had happened — a clear demonstration of psychospiritual amnesia if ever I've seen one.

Tim was still there, and acted as if only he and I were the only ones in time and space, and the only other intelligible thing I can share is that for some indeterminable amount of time, we basked in the sheer joy of being so closely joined by one another's presence — a closeness that cannot be experienced by two people in material human bodies on earth. Then we would "dim" as a light would dim, but then flare up again, over and over, as if we were dialing our feelings up and down for the sheer orgasmic spirit of it all. Finally I had to reach for the box of tissues and pretend  to blow my nose, because the tears were flowing down my face with total abandon. And then Tim dimmed, and dimmed some more, and I was left with the unmistakable afterglow of just having made love.

Maybe that's why mediums don't say  much about what's really going on. Never mind.


At Sat Feb 05, 11:08:00 PM 2011, Blogger french said...

I always loved the "Vulcan on acid" comment - not least because I found the Prufrock/Tim chapter almost unreadable.

I've always backed off being described as a medium. To me it suggests being a contact for all sorts of people, just passing on messages in essence. I'm not even remotely interested in that. I have contact with my heart's-love and, occasionally, some few of our family/friends (two-legged and four).

I certainly wouldn't think of myself as an instrument, even when Louis and I are writing together. There are moments when the words come rapidly and I'm scarcely aware of them, when we get a really good flow happening, but mostly it's like taking dictation from a silent voice, just feeling what the right words are. If I call myself anything, it's his unpaid secretary (now if only I could sit on his lap while taking dictation ... )

At Sun Feb 06, 01:33:00 AM 2011, Blogger mystic retiree said...

Dear August
I think my favourite medium is William Stainton Moses.
I would like to have had him as a friend.
I also very much like the spiritual teachings of Imperator which came through him.
It also seems to me that many of the mediums had very difficult lives.How true
this is today I dont know.
Your own life from what I can gather has not been easy.
Out of interest how did your ideas of ego-mind ect. come about?

At Sun Feb 06, 10:24:00 AM 2011, Blogger August Goforth said...

The material about the ego-mind has never been my idea, but has been delivered to me by my Risen colleagues over many years. My challenge has bee to try to compact all those years of learning into some kind of comprehensible "theory".

At Sun Feb 06, 12:08:00 PM 2011, Blogger mystic retiree said...

Dear August,
You write
"My challenge has been to try to compact all those years of learning into some kind of comprehensible "theory".
Is this an open source type of theory?
Do I have permission to "hack it"
to fit my own self model?

At Sun Feb 06, 04:32:00 PM 2011, Blogger August Goforth said...

Sydney - Go where the wind takes you. Turn your face to the sun when it shines your way. Let whatever nourishes you, give you what you need to grow.

At Mon Feb 07, 06:01:00 PM 2011, Blogger Richard said...

This comment has been removed by the author.


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