Can Jesus Walk on Water?
I’ve not seen it, but I’ve seen enough to give pause.
What I have seen is synchronicity.
During the eighties and nineties I followed the native way: the sacrament of the pipe, the ordeal of the sweat lodge. Following a vision quest, everyday for a month there was some synchronicity. We spoke of the northern lights and ten minutes later the sky flickered, then flowed from horizon to horizon. That’s the one I remember. It became so that I found myself on a bus home thinking, “I haven’t experienced a synchronicity yet today,” and looking up beheld a poster on the bus over the shoulder of a gent with a tee-shirt with the same poster printed on it… a teenager with a “Covenant House” logoed baseball hat and the legend… “She won’t have to sleep on the street tonight” it said.
My son, Seth doubts the improbability of this, but how often to you see a poster and the same tee-shirt in one field of vision? And that wasn’t the synchronicity. It was opening my eyes to this with the thought, “There hasn’t been a coincidence today,” that was the synchronicity. Someone is ordering the world, patterning it…
Now I don’t need a God or a collective cosmic mind to grow an egg or an acorn into a frog or an oak – the dialectic and the phenomenal complexity of life will do that – and I don’t need anything beyond a collective mind to explain a detailed dream my sister’s shared with Tony, but to explain synchronicity I need a patterner. The patterning suggests spirit, and spirit, if you acknowledge spirit then you run right into the Divine.
Another strange thing happened to me about which I must talk. A young lady, Marsha, came to my office for chiropractic for low back pain, which we helped, but she liked the CranioSacral work and she returned for more. So I was sitting with my hands over and under her right thigh when a thought arrived which I felt called to voice. (I’ve never said anything like this before or since.) I said, “It’s as though there’s a microfilm embedded in your thigh.”
“Oh my God!” said Marsha. “I dreamed last night I was in a submarine. I was a spy and they were looking for the microfilm. It was hidden in my left thigh. They tied me to the periscope.’
Marsha had forgotten her dream after waking and during the day, but she had never repressed what it alluded to. She told me that from the age of three till she was five her mother used to take her down into the basement, tie her up to a round pillar, a cylindrical floor support, and whip her thighs with electrical wire. From the age of three Marsha knew that her mother was mad, crazy. She was still looking after her mother, at twenty-five, but about leave home to travel east. She sent me a happy postcard from Katmandu. She had never forgotten the abuse, but she had never spoken of it (so spirit engineered a dream and some telepathy so that she would speak).
All this happened long ago, like fifteen years, but I was thinking about it the other day and , you know, it suggests – it doesn’t prove, but it suggests – that everything is “written”, everything is planned, and planned for the best. (The Buddhists would have us all destined to Enlightenment.) So, what about evil? Well, in part that’s explained by the first two “Laws of Drama”, to which I will refer you. And we will talk about evil next posting.
The take away message: there is no good reason to believe in spirit and God without evidence and there is evidence, at least for some of us who care to look.