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Posts Tagged ‘God’

I’ve heard many unusual stories over the years. For instance, a farmer’s wife told me of seeing lightning go through a closed window, pass through her kitchen, through an open door, then out a window in the living room. Another time she told me about a night, not long after her husband died, when she’d been awakened by a bell. A bell he had used to summon her when he was sick. “I shoulda never given him that bell!” Then she felt his side of the bed go down. She asked him to please go—it was very frightening for her—she told him she couldn’t handle it, and he left.

 

When I sold encyclopedias I met an Episcopalian minister who told me that at one time he worshipped the devil. Back in those dark days he used to leave his body and fly with his friends to an enemy’s house to attack them. He also told me that the devil was very powerful and that he was like a light bulb in brightness compared to us who would be like a match. God, however, would be like the Sun.

 

A Mankind Project friend, Fred Cheyette, has compiled a book of stories of the strange and inexplicable things that have occurred to ordinary people; things that seem too amazing to be attributed to coincidence. After experiencing many unusual occurrences himself, he would often relate them to others. They, in turn, would tell him of theirs.

 

Here are some of the stories that will appear in his book:

 

During a trip to Los Angeles I went to the YWCA and had a massage with a woman named Eve, who I had never met before. During the massage she told me things about my family, which amazed me, because I had not mentioned them to her. Two days later I went back to the Y and asked to set up another appointment with Eve because I was so taken with what she had told me. The clerk said that was impossible to do because she had gone back to Hungary six months before!

In the ‘60s I was living in Cambridge, Massachusetts and my brother was living in a nearby town. One night he called me. Since this was before cell phones and speed dialing, he dialed my number manually. However I was not home, but was at a party somewhere in the suburbs. I had come with other people, I didn’t know the house and I had never met the host. At one point I decided to take a break from the party and was sitting alone next to the telephone. The phone rang and on impulse I answered it. It was my brother. I was incredulous. “How did you find me here?” I asked. He didn’t understand what I was talking about. After some discussion, we discovered that he had intended to dial my Cambridge apartment’s number and somehow dialed the number of the house I was visiting.

On September 21, 1938, I was leaving my house in Brooklyn to go to school. I was seven years old and fairly heavy. I closed the front door of the house and walked down the five steps to the landing. As I approached the two steps that led to the sidewalk, a gust of wind picked me up, carried me through the air and gently put me down on my feet on the sidewalk. I looked around and didn’t see anyone, so I walked to school and didn’t say anything about it. The wind that picked me up was part of the most severe hurricane to hit the Northeast in recorded history.

My wife and I were home, sitting in the same room, doing some mundane thing. Suddenly, at the same instant, we both broke out into song. We sang the same song, in the same key and started singing at the same place in the song. It was not a song we had been singing or listening to. It never happened before or since.

His publisher wants him to add more stories to his book before it’s published. If you have a story like the ones I’ve included from Fred’s book (not like mine) and you’d enjoy seeing it in print, email it to Fred at fredcheyette@earthlink.net. Let him know if you’d like it to appear with your byline.

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This is an addendum to my previous post. After releasing my anger in that post, anger that I have towards our beloved congressmen, particularly the Republican ones, I realized the cause goes deeper than just the bad behavior in Congress. Granted, that behavior jeopardizes the survival of what’s left of our democracy.* However, it’s really just a trigger for me. What’s being triggered is parental imprinting from childhood. In addition, I have many friends and acquaintances who, being loyal Republicans may feel offended when I’m criticizing the people they elected. That is not my intention. I think most people, who are not politicians, act out of a place of sincerity. 

My Republican friends see things from a different perspective, and I respect this. However, I think they’ve been betrayed by their party. The party used to be conservative, hearkening back to traditional values, state’s rights and small government—nothing wrong with that. We need a balance between progressives idealistically looking to something new who tend to expand government and those that want to stick with what has worked in the past and wish to give business a free rein. The problem is that the party was hijacked by reactionaries; they pretend to be Republicans, but they’re really as far right as Mussolini. They want to allow corporations to run the country and marginalize anyone who opposes them. Of course they don’t come right out and say that; they just oppose anything that will take control out of the hands of the large corporations and give anything (like health insurance) to the little guy. They love threat levels orange and red, military tribunals, Homeland Security, and The Patriot Act. They love our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and would like to start one with Iran. And anybody who thinks otherwise is unpatriotic. I could go on, but what’s the point?

But as I said, my anger is only triggered by all this. My happiness is not really dependent on whether our country is safe from corporatism.** It depends on something else.

 Now you’re thinking, “Please don’t tell me what you think it depends on, you’ve said too much already.”

 “But,” I respond, “You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

 So what does my happiness depend on? Mostly me and my attitude towards what I’m experiencing. I don’t have to like what has happened over the last 10 years, to be happy, but I could trust in life and what it has in store for me.

 There are different words for this life in which I need to trust. One is God, but there are many others. It’s not a matter of naming that which cannot be adequately named or really known by the intellect. For me the word life points to a lot of it, but it goes way beyond form or the material constructs and manifestations. Enough said.


*Especially now that the Supreme Court has given corporations carte blanche.

** “Fascism should more properly be called corporatism because it is the merger of state and corporate power.” – Benito Mussolini.

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