When you have my first book A Bird and the Dragon: Their Love Story: a Memoir in your hands and have been reading for a bit you will come to the chapter about my husband and I starting a book store which quickly morphed into a metaphysical book store replete with a psychic reader, teacher, and classes for the public. Talk about divine intervention, for I’m not exactly sure how we wound up owning and running a book store. But we were supposed to do that because in the few short years that the store was open it touched and changed many peoples’ lives.
So where did this journey into metaphysics start? One starting place was the experience I talked about in my book that took place at the Center Town Federated Church where my therapeutic friends preformed a healing on one of the women in our professional women’s group. Linda, one of the women in our group, was an energy healer and she lived in Nerme with me. She also worked with me later in the store. After we’d gotten to know each other we decided to ride together sometimes. This particular day on the way home she said, “Come on! Let’s stop at this intuitive reader. He is very good and he teaches classes at a little shop that we have to go past.” I was dubious but when it was my time for a reading I was blown away with what he had to tell me about myself and the future. Skeptical?! You’d better believe I was skeptical.
Time moved along and in Glassboro, Connecticut I discovered a little book store that was selling metaphysical books and doing classes. I took some classes at the store. I was so enchanted by the atmosphere in that place that I invited my husband, Sy, to come and check it out. He did and if I was skeptical he was close to ‘this is nonsense.’ But he did notice that I’d found a cut and polished crystal point that I couldn’t seem to get past and finally he asked me if I wanted it. I did and I said so. On the drive back home to Nerme I was holding the crystal in my hands stroking its smooth sides and I began to cry. I’m thinking about my mother and some of the mean things she did to me. Now, this was strange because up to that point I hadn’t even allowed myself to go to those hurtful places. Sy looked over at me, noticed the tears streaming down my face, and said, “I’m glad to see you are enjoying your new crystal.” It sounds sarcastic but I think he thought I was crying for joy, not knowing that I was crying in acute emotional pain—pain I had repressed. I then began to tell him what was happening to me. And he was very quiet. Once at home, I put my crystal beside my plants and it began its work of helping my plants to grow larger and stronger.
Now this is a few years later in time and I’m in Merlin Books, our book store. I’m teaching a class on dreams and dream interpretation. In an effort to bring the people in the group together quickly and to break down some of the natural boundaries we people have when in a group of strangers, I handed around a cloth bag that had small objects in it and asked each person to take and hold one of the objects. When the bag had made the circle around the group, I began asking the members of the group to talk about their interpretations of what they were holding. Yes, my crystal was in the bag. When I got to the women who was holding the crystal she started with, “I feel a lot of emotional pain with this crystal. It’s about your mother. She has a long slender nose and had a way of manipulating you into doing things her way. She took away your sense of yourself.” As you can guess I was astounded by her words. I hadn’t touched that crystal for about two years. And the crystal had apparently retained the repressed memories I had infused into it from that day on our trip home from the book store.
One of the stories our resident teacher, Whitley Dresser, told was also near the beginning of his delving into the world of metaphysics. He said he was in Vermont on a narrow, winding road and in a rush to get to his destination. In utter frustration, he yelled inside his car to the hay truck in front of him, “For God’s sake, can you get out of the way?!! He said almost as soon as the words had left his mouth he saw the truck in front of him swerve off the road, slide down the embankment, and come to rest almost on its side. I’m not sure if he stopped to help but he said he was telling us this story because it was his first lesson in understanding that our thoughts and words have power and if we don’t use them for the betterment of everyone they can create direr circumstances.
Another experience in that store was when Whitley asked us if we wanted to contact people that had passed over. Now that is a loaded question, but most of us in the class said yes. He took a chair and put it in the center of our circle. Then he sat down with us. “Who has a relative that has recently passed over that they would like to place in the chair?” he asked. This very young woman said, “I’d like to put my brother in the chair.” So Whitley directed her to do that in her mind and not to tell us anything about him. Once she had done that he told us to shut our eyes and he led us in a brief meditation. He then suggested we take a little quiet time to mentally connect with the person in the chair. It didn’t take long before I felt a burning hot pressure on the left side of my neck. Now, I am a very rational person so one part of my brain is going through all the reasons I should be feeling this—stiff neck from watching television—etc. The pain got worse. It was hot and searing and I put my hands up to ward off the pain. Just at that point Whitley called us back and asked us to open our eyes. After a moment he asked us what we had gotten in our investigation. Some people offered their results and then I couldn’t contain myself any longer. “Someone tried to strangle your brother or slash him in the neck on the left side.” The young girl looked at me and said, “My brother was on an oil rig and they were drilling. They had the wire coil on the drill pulled up very tight and it let go slashing him viciously in the neck. It cut an artery and he died right there on the deck of the drilling platform.” Everyone was silent, caught by this horrific death and the realization that we had the power to gather information way beyond our present reality.
I’ll end these Merlin Book stories with a service that we did for the children who came into our store. We kept a small basket of polished stones on the front table by the door. We invited the children to pick out one of the stones to take with them. Now different stones have different healing powers. We’d ask to see the stone before they left so we could replace it and we also asked the mother if the child had any concerns about anything. What we found is that each child picked the right healing stone for their particular issues: that is the power of crystals and stones and a world that many of us don’t believe exists.