203. PUNCHING CLOCKS
I don't know whether or
not I've ever mentioned
this, but one time, leaving
Elmira, out Water Street
to Rt. 17e, it was 4:30am,
and wintry dark : Out of
the sky came a bright light.
To our right was a long,
low, open field, into
which that light landed.
Not landed, fell. We had
a perfectly good car, a
VW Squareback, which
is something they used
to make, about 1970. I'd
bought it for $800, which
is probably like 4 or 5
thousand today. From a
new car dealer (used) in
Elmira Heights, with the
cool name of 'Schulman-
Van Etta Buick', as I can
remember. There were
no other cars around,
just us - as I said it was
crisp and dark and quite
early and solitary. On the
way down, whatever it
was had made an odd,
sizzling sound, and then
hit. When this object hit
the ground - I kid you not
- our car lost ALL power.
Just shut down, lights,
engine, radio, everything.
We were stunned, and
absolutely nothing
happened for maybe 3
minutes. While we just
sat there, stunned. Then,
everything came back
to life, and we went
on our way. We were
gone for five or six days,
but then we got back to
Elmira, days later, no
one mentioned a thing.
It was, all in all, quite
Twilight Zone-ish. I
only mention it here
because it's true and
it happened to me.
-
More than that, I can't
say. Elmira always did,
and still does, represent
to me some odd rather
other-worldly place. I
can't put my finger on
what I mean, or how I
say that, it just does - it
always acted for me as
a portal to some further
level of understanding I
was always able to
integrate into my own
life. I'm not saying I
was ever normal either.
But, maybe try this,
try understanding: how
I've always operated
just out of the realm
of ordinary. Elmira,
however I ended up
there - and it was all
weird - was a breakthrough
place for me. Always. Just
by the accidental account
of me getting there, and
then finding a real way
of functioning there, was,
to me, evidence of a plot.
Or a least of 'something'
that had grown out
through me. Ever since
I was slowly drawn back
from the train wreck, as
I slowly filtered back into
this regular, dimensional
life, I realized it wasn't
the same, and that there
- from that point on -
would be 'magic' involved
in each of my steps.
Without that magic, I
was dead. I couldn't cope.
There were times when
a broken fingernail would
be enough to ruin my day.
Not for the fingernail, but
more for its evidences, in
my life, of time. The very
process of time - things
moving by, the six weeks
or so it took, quite tangibly,
to bring that nail back into
some sort of order. That
was time, and time was
never good. Elmira had
brought me 'out' of time,
somehow. Other dimensions
of thought and place. The
massive opportunities
of chance and accident
had played well. I met
Jane Roberts through
this, Sue Watkins,
through this, Gandy
Brody, through this,
Kenneth Koch, and even
Rod Serling. Pretty cool.
On their own and each
level, maybe not much at
all, but each one of them
led me to other things.
That's what counted.
Inside homes and houses,
minds and places too.
-
Sue Watkins came to me
one day, all excited because
some guy named Jonathan
Livingstone Seagull had
visited with her and Jane,
at one of the Seth sessions.
Actually, I guess it was a
writer named Richard Bach,
who about that time (1972
maybe) had some massive
best-seller out - it wasn't
anything I was ever familiar
with or read, and it some sort
of, evidently, life-affirming,
new age/reality book. I don't
know, but to them his being
around suddenly became
a big deal. For a little while;
then it all turned sour for
some reason having to do
with reincarnational
tendencies or the
voice-patterning of the
consciousness aspects
from beyond. They
were all into that stuff,
though for me it was
all much closer and
personal. Serious
thought. It sounds
silly, but there's a lot
there, any of those
Seth books can
knock you dead.
-
Their point was that
there couldn't be 'another'
person claiming the same
source-point they were for
getting information
from 'beyond'. (I'm being
facetious, but only a little).
It went like once he started
claiming the same stuff they
were claiming, one of them
had to go; so the new conflict
immediately brewed itself, and
he left. I guess he had a million
other commitments anyway,
so my never seeing him or
meeting him mattered little.
I only like one source at a
time anyway.
-
Back to that strange landing
that I opened with. What do
you think of it?
-
I (seriously, and with great
thought) view it as a transitional
means of altering this reality.
What is anything anyway but
a rational prognosis of things
we do not understand.
-
If I were to tell you that,
at that same moment, rolling
down from the imagined fabric
of sky and time, the thin film of
reality had been scratched open,
for those few minutes, and
had taken us in and then
thrown us back out, and
that for a moment, just a
true second, I had viewed
another, glorious world, what
would you say? The first thing
I did, once everything had
come back to life, was check
the clocks. Was it three minutes
that had passed then? Or three
hours? Or some vast and other
imagined period of time?
What was up, and where
were we from that point on?
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