Journal of a Naked Poet XV - Unseen Worlds

I spend a not-insignificant portion of my time "between the worlds." This is not the same as "head in the clouds," or "dans la lune." Witch and Shaman friends will understand. Mystics and mushroom-eaters will understand. Lalla, another naked poet, surely understood.

I have had "psychic" experiences at least since the age of four or five. In 1991 Sandy and I revisited Europe. Among our stops was a place called Caunes Minervois, near Toulouse, where one of Sandy's friends had an inn. But Caunes is near the battlefields where the Pope's army slaughtered the Albigeois (Albigensians). One can still feel in the air the pain and grief of the local people. At least I could feel them, and I knew that I would never be able to live in such a place.

In Spain, in 1982, we visited all three of the ancient synagogues that were still standing. In two of them the vibes were clean, redolent of education. But in one of them the vibes were bad. I learned that it had been taken over by Christians after the expulsion of the Jews, and made into a convent. At least one of the nuns died from the austerities they practiced there.

In Rome, I could not approach the colosseum. I waited a block away for Sandy and our friend Nancy.

I had a premonition of the Loma Prieta earthquake in 1989. When I got on the commuter bus, at about 4:50, I thought, "Are we headed into a disaster?" We were. The earthquake struck at 5:04.

I have had precognitive dreams.

When my mother passed away, in 2006, I was the last person to talk to her. But I was living in Portland, OR, and had not been able to go to San Diego. Our conversation was telepathic. When she was gone, I knew it with certainty. I noted the time on the clock in the attic of our floating home, where I had just finished my morning yoga (I was meditating when she visited me), and then headed downstairs to take my shower, As I stepped into the bathroom, I said to Sandy, "you may be getting a call." The call came while I was in the shower. I later checked with a sister who had been at Mom's bedside. The time I had noted on the attic clock was correct.

I could go on and on, but what I want to say is this: I am not crazy, or some kind of freak. You could do it , too. It is our birthright.

(to be continued)

Text and image © 2020 by Donald C. Traxler aka Donald Jacobson Traxler.