Monday, November 05, 2007

differences of opinion

A long time ago, when I was a young adult, I had anxiety attacks that would cause me to hyperventilate. One time, I got so dizzy that I threw up on myself while driving. I had on a purple shirt that was a lot like a shag rug. I threw it away after I got home.

Doctors would only prescribe anti-nausea meds and my attempts at meditation would produce images of idyllic woods, streams, fields of flowers, and after a few moments in each of these scenes, a man with a bloody ax and a psychotic look would appear also. So much for relaxing.

I sought a hypnotist with help for that. It did help. The second session I had with the hypnotist had me go into a past life where the offensive feelings originated. My anxiety attacks cleared up.

For a brief time, I got involved with the group that the hypnotist (Carl) was leading. I learned meditation techniques from them, and participated in the trance channeling sessions one of the women channeled for. My awareness of metaphysical things opened big time.

Meanwhile, I worked with some women friends who feared what I was doing was from the devil. They were praying for me behind my back. To prove to one of them that I was still on their team, I went to her church service, which was being televised. The Reverend there would ZAP the Holy Spirit into people and they'd fall back with the powerful entry of that energy. It made for good daytime tv in our semi-fundamentalist town.

Well, I would show them who's holy. I went up there and stood before the man, like lines of others did before me. Two men were standing on either side to catch me when I got zapped. The preacher started ranting (speaking in tongues, they call it), and thumping my forehead hard with his palm and yelling for Satan to get out. I was sincerely willing any angelic, god-like force to enter my body or life. The two men were pulling on my elbows ("fall like a good girl"). Somebody else was on the side of them, waiting with a black drape to cover me when I went down (got to still act like a lady). The preacher shouted, thumped and spoke in tongue some more, shouted and pounded again. The cameras were rolling, he finally moved on, declaring triumph over Satan. I was suppressing a laugh that made me look like I was smiling beatifically. These days, I think maybe that was IT. I think God must be one funny mass of energy. My friend was crying tears of joy and said I inspired her to speak in tongue once again. I couldn't wait to get out of there.

I vowed to myself never to prove anything about what I believe anymore. As it is, part of me still wants to fight with other's about their silly beliefs and logically point out their ignorance, but if I subscribe to the rule of thumb to do unto other's as I would have them do unto me, I have to just keep my opinions to myself.

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