July 11, 2002

• Loose ends:

  
  

  Anyone with an interest in my search for my 37-year-old long-lost son (I know there are at least two or three of you) may like to know that I finally heard from his father.  It was an abrupt, terse, dismissive note saying that my son, Ron Heft, had been near Globe, Arizona eight years ago, but that he had no further information for me.

  
  

  Need I add that I immediately tried every people-search within my budget?  Well, that’s what I did and I came up empty.  I’m still looking for Ron.  His full name is William Ronald Heft.  He was born in Wichita, Kansas on Feb. 1, 1965, and his last known whereabouts might have been eight years ago near Globe, Arizona.

  
  

  dockoonce asked:  ”Must you be in physically close proximity to feel the feelings of others, or just emotionally close?”  As usual, I don’t have a simple answer.  Verbosity R Us!

  
  

  Passing through a place like Seattle or Phoenix, or taking one of the freeway bypasses around Los Angeles is a harrowing experience.  That much proximity to so many people bombards me with “noise”.  I tense up and have a hard time concentrating.

  
  

  Some of those signals come through stronger than others.  Sometimes it seems to be the intensity of emotion that makes one stand out.  In other instances, it is something else, some compatibility of mind, maybe something related to a frequency or some “signal signature”. 

  
  

  It is not “emotional closeness”, because some of my nearest and dearest have no trouble masking their feelings from me, and in fact sometimes have trouble expressing their feelings to me.  But there is some factor that appears to connect minds over long distances, some resonance or rapport.

  
  

  Here in my big spread-out “neighborhood”, there have been several types of events that have gotten my attention.  One I’ll call “obsessive thought”.  Someone near here, for example, plotted for months about some kind of scam involving a stamp collection.  I picked up on it with empathy for his anxiety, frustration, fear of discovery, and indecision about details of timing and technique.  I also picked up on it through clairvoyance or some sort of visual telepathy, remote viewing, whatever… I could at times see the stamps.   I have no idea who it was, and I think he pulled it off… just a feeling.

  
  

  And there’s a kid down the street that really wants the girl who won’t even notice him.  And more obsessions of several kinds.  In the kind of crowd that gathers at Sheep Creek Lodge on weekends, maybe forty or so at a time and perhaps as many as 150 circulating through in the course of an evening, at any given time I can sit in the middle of it and connect a few of the conversations I’m overhearing with the subtext carried in the various repetitive tape loops of obsessive thoughts of somewhere around a fifth to a quarter of everyone there.

  
  

  With most of the crowd, if the bartender is miffed at the cook, three quarters or so of the people there would never suspect it.  The cook and bartender are professionals, and it takes a sensitive individual to pick up on the things they don’t want to show to the customers.  The customers who aren’t picking up on the subtle tension in the air, aren’t contributing much to the psychic ambience, either.  Masking your thoughts also impedes your perception. 

  
  

  Another kind of events that get my attention are the big things:  earthquakes, novel events, stuff like 9-11, or the time an Iditarod musher was lost for a day and a half.  About ten days before a big earthquake, I feel things start shaking.  I have met a few other people who feel it too.  Other people think we’re imagining things.  Oh, well….  I wish I imagined more.  It’s frustrating having that feeling:

  
  

  
  

  somethin’ happenin’ here,

  
  

  what it is ain’t exactly clear.

  
  

  I get enigmatic clues, like “Pinatubo”.  Early morning, hypnogogic state, waking up and there’s that word in my head, “Pinatubo.”  Never heard of it.  Looked it up and learned it was a mountain.  I mentioned this to Doug and Greyfox, largely because Pinatubo has that interesting sound and rhythm.  Ten days or so later, Mt. Pinatubo blew.  Ehhh… I just flashed on the Challenger.  It created a temporo-psychic shockwave, too.

  
  

  **aside:  This is priceless.  Doug has been asleep over there on the floor.  He sits up and says, “Well, I’m up; what are all these lights here for?”  I say, “Lie back down.  I think you’re still asleep.”  He lies down, muttering, “Well that would explain a few things.”**

  
  

  Where was I?  Oh!  Big events involving large numbers of people, anywhere, and also anywhere someone who has a special psychic bond with me is invovled in intense events, I sense it.  When some of my “closest”, for want of a better term, buddies are involved, I can smell it… the sea, the smoke of a ceremonial fire, and the blood and guts of disasters that require psychic first aid as urgently as medical aid.

  
  

  Late one night here, I felt something almost like a blow to the gut.  Instant unease, alarm, a knowledge of deadly danger.  I stayed with it and observed the thing altering and growing as more people got involved.  I knew who some of them were. 

  
  

  Next morning one of them called and told me that he and another friend had been unloading a snowmachine (sled, snowmobile…iron dog… y’know??) from a pickup truck and the other guy ended up under it with a broken leg.  It was about -30°F, and the first three people on the scene couldn’t move the sled without hurting him more.  Around 1:30 or so, about the time I felt the tone of the situation shift and went to sleep, they’d gotten him out from under it and on the way to the hospital.

  
  

  Some years ago at the Talkeetna Bluegrass Festival a woman was raped and a man was killed by being pushed into the river when he was drunk.  I could sense her terror, and not too long after it happened I spoke to a security man who confirmed that it had been reported.  I was also sensing the emotions of the rapist. 

  
  

  However, I did not sense any of the drunken brawl that led to the other man’s death.  Everyone learned of the death next day when the body was discovered.  There were no witnesses and I never heard of a suspect being arrested in the case. A year or two after that, I picked up on some obsessing about getting away with murder.  The man projecting those thoughts was one of the local rowdy drunks.  Is there a connection?  I’m not sure.  When any drunk comes to me for a reading, I send him or her away.  It’s futile to try to do something like that for someone under the influence of a depressant drug.

  
  

  And that brings to mind the contractual contacts, the bonds formed when a client trusts me to look at his inner life and advise him.  With very few exceptions, for those who consult me, I can sense enough about their attitudes and situation to intelligibly interpret a card spread or runecast or other oracle to answer their questions.  The exceptions are usually people I don’t connect with for some reason or no reason at all.  I don’t know where the causality is, or if there is a cause.  With some we click, with others we don’t.

  
  

  Once in a while, I encounter someone who is a psychic blank.  One time a young woman came into my house and passed a doobie with me and two or three others, and I didn’t notice she was there until someone called my attention to her.  With nothing but the other five senses to indicate her presence, I’m chagrined to confess, she blended into the background for me. 

  
  

  Some people with severe FAS are blank.  Trauma, fevers, and toxins can trigger acquisition or loss of various senses for some people, and in telepathy as in other mental processes, feedback focuses and intensifies the signal.  The electronic web is building a psychic web by providing another channel for feedback.

  
  

  Isn’t that right, Sarah darlin’?

  • 2:21 am
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