Walking Through Walls (36 page)

Part of me wanted to let my father do his mind voodoo on me so that I would be rid of this painful depression. I had no doubt that he could release the blocks and negative mental attitudes that I was experiencing. But I felt that would be cheating. It would be like some father buying his kid into college even though the kid had a D average. I wanted do it on my own and experience life free of outside psychic interference.

My father did his best to make me feel better. “Look, the important thing is making work that's true to your soul. Don't worry about whether anyone likes it or not or if a gallery wants to represent you. Those galleries don't know anything. The artist always comes first. I know your work will eventually be in many museums, but that really doesn't matter. Use your art as a kind of meditation and as a way to advance your soul. Everything else will take care of itself.”

He shifted the subject. “So, when are you coming to visit? I'm doing a lot of exciting new healings with different kinds of energy that spirit is teaching me. I'd love to share it with you. Just yesterday Arthur came in and told me, ‘Remove fifty percent of a patient's energy, energize it, and shoot it back to him after rebuilding the vibrations to full potential. Request that the molecules, atoms, and crystals are energized to full potential before sending it back. Ask that the blood be revitalized.' You should see the results that I've already gotten with this method. I had a woman here today who was so lethargic, her head kept dropping down. Before I began the healing, I did what Arthur suggested, and she perked right up. She was a new person. It made the rest of her healing that much more effective. I'd really love you to see this in action. I also want to teach you to do it; it would be very helpful for you.”

No doubt this would have been a handy trick for me to learn, especially when I would stay up all night working and did not leave the house for weeks on end. Interestingly, I later found out that the medical profession in Europe was doing a somewhat similar procedure known as plasmapheresis, where doctors would remove the “dirty” blood of an ill patient, filter it, and then put it back into the body. My father was rejuvenating the body in a similar fashion but on a subtle energetic level.

“I don't know, let me see how things go. It's awfully cold here, and I do miss Miami a lot. I don't think I was meant to live where there is snow.”

“Or unheated buildings.”

“How'd you know?”

My father just laughed at the stupidity of my question. “I'll leave you be. You'll get over this—it's just temporary—but I'm always here if you need me.”

“Thanks, Pop, I know.”

For someone who had been raised by a decorator, surrounded by the tropical color of hibiscus, bougainvillea, bird-of-paradise, and poinciana, I was making paintings that were basically black-and-white drawings. New York had drained all the color out of my work. As my art became increasingly minimalist in line and color, my father had begun to use color as another means to heal people. About ten years earlier, he had started placing small squares of colored plastic cellophane over a lightbulb in order to project colored light onto patients. He would use his pendulum to determine what color and how much exposure they required before he would bathe them in healing colored light. Eventually he gave up using actual lightbulbs and simply visualized the person surrounded by a particular colored light.

Physics tells us that each color has its own frequency or vibration. For my father, each individual color was not unlike an individual vitamin. Someone might be deficient in vitamin D or E and require supplementation. By projecting these specific vibrations created by the colored light, my father could realign and normalize both mental and bodily functions. In the most simplistic of terms, red was energizing, blue was calming, green strengthened the immune system, and yellow could do everything from induce diarrhea to increase alertness. One could heal others or himself simply by visualizing the appropriate color targeted to the ailing organ.

Pop taught me to put large glass jugs of water in the sun to absorb the full energy spectrum. This was especially important to do during the winter. Water, he told me, should always be exposed to the sun to be energized. All of our water comes to us from dark underground pipes, and so it is devoid of the vital light energy that our bodies need. By capturing all the different invisible wavelengths contained in sunlight, this “color water,” as he called it, could revitalize our bodies. After it had absorbed the sun's rays, Pop told me to sip it daily, like a fine brandy. He also insisted that I practice color breathing. If I was low in energy, I would close my eyes, inhale red, and visualize it infusing my entire system. I'd then pull another all-nighter.

Several weeks after this phone call, the New York winter got to me. I took up my father's offer and headed home. My first night back in Miami, Pop invited me to observe one of his new healing classes. As I sat in his living room, watching the class, the warm, balmy air felt good on my skin as it drifted through the living room.

“Who wants to dematerialize?”

My father held above his head a small one-inch blue cardboard square with some writing on it in white ink.

Scattered around the living room was a group of seven people looking nervously at the piece of cardboard. If they raised a hand, would they disappear into the ether, never to return? The room was still, with a heightened silence. No one was volunteering. They were waiting for the punch line that this was some kind of joke. My father's hand remained frozen in the air as he looked around the room for someone to sign up for the journey to another dimension. He was not smiling.

What these people did not realize was that my father wasn't kidding. He was willing to show anyone in that room the exit door from three-dimensional reality. Buckle your seat belt and have a nice flight. I had no doubt that anyone who placed the piece of cardboard on their forehead would have slowly faded to black and disappeared from the material realm. My concern was, would he be able to bring them back? He didn't mention anything about
re
materialization or a return ticket.

Personally, I'd had enough space travel in my lifetime and was perfectly content to remain earthbound for the time being. I declined when my father offered me a small blue square to place on my forehead.

This was one of his first classes on the projectors, a new healing technique that over the years he had developed in collaboration with his spirit guides. Chander Sen had been the head of the “project development team.”

Pop told me that Chander Sen was able to split his consciousness into millions of individual entities, like drops of water in the ocean. It was in this way that Chander Sen was able to be in so many places at once.

There was something astonishingly elegant about the simplicity behind this broad-spectrum healing system that combined the look of a kindergarten arts and crafts project and the thinking behind quantum physics. I had never seen my father actually make one of these projectors—no one had. Usually Pop was very generous in sharing his healing methods. This time he was not. Now that he had finally perfected it, he guarded this methodology as if he had the formula for the atomic bomb. It was one of the many secrets that died with him. He believed that these projectors were too powerful and too effective to risk misuse by ill-intentioned people. Their energy seemed to be unlimited.

Chander Sen warned him to carefully guard the secret process of creating the projectors: “The projectors' power can be destructive to the sender if misused. Be careful that it does not fall into the wrong hands, for none but the pure in heart should send forth its light. Its primary purpose is for healing, and it is guided by universal law to fulfill its purpose in all of its facets. It should be created for a specific purpose, and the effect will be instantaneous. Its power will not be dissipated but will lie dormant until projected.”

What little I knew about the creation of the projectors was from what my father told me and what I read in his messages from the spirits. The process began with Pop analyzing a specific disease or its remedy from a pure energy perspective. Once he obtained this information, he would then take this energy “DNA” and create a type of psychic “vaccine” and mentally imprint it as a thought-form onto these small cardboard squares. At times, in order to create these projectors, he might also use his pendulum as if it were some sort of spectrometer to analyze the information he was receiving about a particular disease's energy matrix.

Once Pop had placed the specific thought-form onto the cardboard, he wrote the name of the ailment or organ that it addressed on the outside and then sealed it with tape. On the back of each projector was a code number, which he used to organize the projectors into elaborate healing systems. When he would diagnose a patient, the pendulum would indicate the number of the specific projector that the patient needed. It was a bit like ordering from a Chinese menu: “I'll have a number 234, ‘Thyroid Cells,' to start; and then a 345, ‘Remove Fear,' and for my main course, I'll have a 665, ‘Reye's Syndrome.'”

Over the last several years, Pop developed projectors for over four hundred different conditions. These small cardboard squares were designed to heal everything from the adrenal glands, bladder infections, and blood infections to realigning the chakras, curing herpes, and repairing bad teeth. In addition to healing specific conditions, the projectors were able to regenerate not only cellular structure but organs in the body.

Pop would organize the projectors alphabetically, starting with
Abundance, Acne, Allergens, Asthma,
and
Astral Trip
to
Hemorrhage, Heparin, Herpes,
and
Impotence,
all the way through
Tranquillity, Vagina, Zinc Sulfate,
and
Zone Irritation.
He then placed them in small cardboard folders that banks give children for holding small collections of dimes and quarters. When the bank refused to give him any more, he would get them from the church, which passed them out to the parishioners for their weekly offerings. They featured a realistic portrait of Jesus on the cover.

After years of research and development, the projectors were now standardized and reproducible. It was almost as if Pop were franchising himself by inventing objects and symbols containing specific healing energies that could be used by others for when he wasn't around. In this way he could multiply the number of people who could deliver his healing energy.

In one of Chander Sen's many messages to my father on the subject, the monk observed that the projectors had an almost miraculous ability to regenerate damaged organs in the body: “The projectors are adding a new level of communication and therapy to spiritual healing, and you have only scratched the surface. You will now start tuning in to the different states of consciousness and correcting misalignments of the various bodies and levels of being in man. Now we can regenerate any cellular structure or organ in the body. If a lung is working only at twenty percent, we can regenerate that lung and put new cells and new air sacs in there to function at one hundred percent.” Pretty powerful stuff.

The projectors were a new way to utilize the invisible energies of the universe. Great leaps in culture have always been made whenever invisible energies were discovered and harnessed, such as X-rays, atomic energy, television, radio, electricity, and microwave communication, among others. Perhaps Pop's initial discoveries of these subtle energies will eventually be used for healings that could include organ regrowth and reduced cellular aging, which could lead the way to an immortal body.

In his healing room, he kept the most frequently used projectors attached to the wall above his desk. Many times he told me that while he was diagnosing a patient with the pendulum, individual projectors would suddenly fall onto his desk one by one in a specific sequence. This happened only during a healing; the projectors never fell at any other time.

After this happened a few times, he asked Chander Sen why the projectors would fall only during healings. Chander Sen responded that it was his way of handing my father the specific projectors that he needed during that healing—not unlike a nurse handing tools to a surgeon during a procedure.

Back in the healing class, there were no takers for the free chance to dematerialize into the ether. Pop handed out different projectors to each student so that he or she could feel the specific energy packed into this little square of cardboard. I watched as his students sat quietly, absorbing energy from their small squares of colored cardboard pasted to the middle of their forehead. Despite the strangeness of the scene, an unusual calm pervaded the room.

“Be careful, don't leave the projector on your forehead for more than three minutes, or you'll overdose,” Pop warned. “These things are very powerful. I don't want you to do any damage. Donna, what did you feel?”

“Lew, I found myself breathing very deeply, but then I got a pain in my head. I had to take the projector off. I got scared.”

“What is written on your projector?”

Donna removed the projector from her forehead and turned it over. The word
oxygen
was written on it.

My father continued. “Let me explain what happened. You're a shallow breather, right?”