1954 To 1955
I was quite young and didn’t have any boundaries, so I didn’t realize I was human, trapped in physical form and limited by physical laws, like gravity. I was still full of light and love of God and the Universe, the cosmic consciousness radiated through me and I was full of energy, not sure where to channel it.
Alone in my crib (which my mother placed in the dining room near the chimney so the heat that the furnace in the basement radiated would keep me warm), I amused myself while mother slaved away in the kitchen doing laundry. The old-fashioned washer was on wheels and mother would roll it up to the sink and attach hoses to the faucet. She’d feed the wet clothes through a wringer to get the excess water out. It was hard work and it took the better part of a day to wash all the clothes dirtied in a week by a family of five. I knew just how hard it was as I took a turn operating it when I was a bit older. What a contraption. If you didn’t pay attention you’d get swept up in the mechanism and could crush a finger (or more). Years later I met Jason and his arm was forever distorted because he broke it in a machine similar to the one Mother had.
Our family home was old, drafty, barely fit for human occupation. It was one of the original farmhouses, built around 1840. Probably was earlier because our family found a a bill of sale from 1840.
I wonder who built it. The family home is still owned by my older sister. Despite endless attempts at remodeling and repairs, it remains cold and drafty.
The way I amused myself was not amusing to Mother. I levitated and flew around the room. I would zoom around the room, plop down in my crib and laugh. What fun!
Mother heard me from the kitchen and eventually caught me in the act. I remember I had been flying for quite a while, perhaps weeks when Mother finally sneaked around the corner and saw me. She came in just as I was finishing a loop where I hovered around the room then return to my crib then land with a sound which is what alerted her to my actions. Mom startled me as she let out a shriek loud enough to wake the dead! I stopped my levitating exercises in that moment and never flew physically again. I vowed to never upset her as I was uncertain what she’d do if she ever caught me. I heard her thoughts clear as day and she believed I was a demon seed from “The Devil” himself. I wasn’t sure who this Devil was. But I knew she feared and hated him and that made me fear what she’d do to me since she believed I was his child.
Years later I was attending a spiritual conference called the Prophet’s Conference and a young man took the mic to ask a question of the panel on stage. He described how he was raised in an orphanage and used to levitate all over the place while angry nuns chased him, caught him by his feet and pulled him back to the earth. He said it was so hurtful and sometimes rough and somewhat abusive, so he stopped doing it around age 3 or so because he didn’t want to get hurt. But he never forgot. He asked if anyone else remembers please go to the back of the room so we don’t disturb the group and share experiences at the break. I took Sasha, my husband, that I remembered something and said that I was going back there to talk to that young man. Much to my surprise there were 13 others who gathered and each of us, somehow awakened by his comments, had remembered levitating. We were all shocked and amazed. I heard all the stories then left to tell Sasha my personal experience. He remained seated, patiently waiting.
I wonder could levitation be a natural human ability stifled because children are shamed, abused and attacked. How many other gifted children are being suppressed? How can we reactivate repressed DNA, awaken abilities long forgotten?
