10 Jan Exploring the Akashic Experience: My Personal Journey (Part 1)
Where does one’s story start? I begin mine with what I don’t remember. At eighteen months old, as I am told by my family, I found a can of lighter fluid on the table. Being a curious child, I did what curious children do: I put it into my mouth. For months after, my small body rested and wrestled in a hospital, floating in and out of life as my lungs sought the affirmation of breath.
Perhaps it was here, in the entrusted hands of a dedicated group of health professionals, in the prayers and intentions of my devoted family, in a personal biological quest for life itself, even under dismal odds, that I developed my abiding fascination with healing.
As I trace my history, I am aware of the various seeds and fertilizers that have led me to a career far outside the mainstream, one in which I have sought to understand the interface of science and the Akashic field. It was a series of small, exceptional experiences that paved the way for both my personal transformation and my professional contributions to an emerging new worldview.
Healing and Transformation
I grew up in Detroit, Michigan in the 1960s and 70s. This was a time when the United States was at war with itself. It was a war of race, of class, and ultimately of what I came to see as a war of consciousness and worldview.
Coming of age in such a complex time and in a setting that fueled rebellion at individual and social levels, I was alive with confusion, anger, and a desire for change. One night, when I was fifteen, I was with someone I should not have been with, doing something I should not have been doing. A drunk driver pulled out of a parking lot of a bar without his lights on and hit the motorcycle I was a passenger on, throwing my body through the air. I clearly recall watching my physical being tumble through the sky and then crash to the ground.
During what I now understand as an out-of-body experience, I felt my awareness transcend my body, looking down on it from a higher vantage point. It was an opening to some capacity that didn’t have a frame of reference or a language in my limited life experience. During an extended time in the emergency room, waiting for my parents who were hours away, there was talk of possible amputation. The cut was deep and wide in my left leg. The emergency medical team did their best, putting sixty-six stitches below my knee, and sending me home with question marks about my recovery.
Later, lying on the couch in my family’s home, I somehow got the idea that I could and should visualize my immune system healing my leg. I laid there for long periods of time, feeling the tingles of healing. I didn’t come from a medical family and I have no memory of having heard about mind-body medicine in the early 1970s. Now I can see that I had a direct, noetic understanding about what I needed to do to bring about my own healing. Today I have two well positioned feet on the ground and an awareness of some aspects of myself that are more than just the physical.