Chapter 4/Amnesia Factor
As I drove to Lenora's home for the next session (in August, 1971), I reflected upon something a friend had said to me. We had been on a trip to the high Sierra Nevadas, attempting (unsuccessfully) to locate the wreckage of a private airplane. We were returning, exhausted from high altitude hiking and climbing when I asked him several questions. His knowledge was extensive, and I found the conversation quite illuminating. Then, considering our recent failure to find the dowoed plane, I asked him ifhe might not be somewhat fed up with life on this planet, mindful as we were about the Widespread ignorance, suffering, and limitations that surround us.
"Are you kidding?" my friend had protested, surprised. "Why, this has to be the most fantastic 'school' ever created!"
I recalled having sat silently for a long, long while, slowly digesting this stunning new concept. Imagine having a whole planet for a "school" to study in, to mature in, and to progress in! If true, it would explain much.
As I described the Sierra trip to Lenora, I found myself asking almost impatiently, "Is this planet really a ·school,' and are we here as students, with you serving as faculty?"
You have recognized the fact that many are there to help you at all times, those who are well aware of the pitfalls that you fall into, well aware of those which others have fallen into from time to time through the many centuries past. Do not be so hard on yourself. Be more gentle. Know that many beautiful things are coming to you, and through you. Continue as you go, and know that there is one at your side at all times to help and to guide you. It need not necessarily be those that you recognize, but this is not important. Continue.
Now a glimpse of the truth could be seen. «That rather confirms it," I said. «This planetary 'school' does have guides aud teachers who invisibly help the humau students. We can't see them because their vibrational frequency is too fast for our eyesight. Now I can see the technical meaning of 'spirit.' It means "ultrahigh frequency," and I'm wondering now if Harold aud Herod cau move faster than the speed of light."
It is necessary.
It seemed to me that this answer provided the key necessary to understaud why a separation exists between "students" and "faculty" on this planet. The "ceiling" over the heads of humau students-who dwell in physical-matter bodies-is the limiting speed of light, as taught in physics. And the above auswer suggests that this same speed is the faculty's "/loor," since they stated that it is necessary that they vibrate faster than the speed of light.
To confirm my theory, I asked, "Is the basic reaSOn why we cannot see you due to the fact that your vibrations are faster than the spectrum of Iigh t that our physical eyes can see?
Yes . .. even faster than your mental vibrations. (There was a thoughtful pause). . . to us, even your instantaneous is slow.
We both just sat there, gazing at each other. The impact of such an incredible statement, made so calmly, was beyond description. We took a break.
Lenora had been recalling more of the answers by now, so we had much to talk about. When we discussed the indwelling God-Spark, she remarked that many teachings had been given to reveal to humanity its true potential. Once fused with pure Source energy, it was said that even mountains could be cast into the sea. But few had believed.
Thinking back on the Divine Love that had been so freely bestowed upon those who had become One with the God-Spark, my heart began to ache. It was the paradox of being so close to my Creator, my Divine Architect, and yet not being able to bridge the chasm between mortal min d and the Pure Consciousness of my God-Spark, that caused my inner agony.
Turning wistfully to Lenora, I asked, «I don't suppose you could somehow get me a message-through Herod and Harold- from Him, from my Father-God?"
Lenora started, her eyes reflecting awareness of the magnitude of such a request. Glancing at the intense longing in my eyes, she suddenly relented and said she would try. She closed her eyes and waited.
There was a prolonged silence, to me like a breathless wait for eternity. When Lenora finally opened her eyes, they were overflowing with emotional tears and, very faintly, in the silence of a far, fur dimension, I barely caught the precious few words:
He. . . sends. . . you . . . peace. . . and . . .love.
During August, 1971, I spent considerable time re-thinking what we had learned. Much had been absorbed, yet my impression was one of just beginning to understand the processes underlying humanity's progress in this remarkable planetary 'school.' Replaying the Lenora tapes over and over, I studied the subtle differences as well as the comparative phrasings and tones between the statements coming "through" Lenora versus her own style of speech. There were several obvious points that stood out. Whenever technical or scientific questions came up, Lenora seemed "out of it," but invariably, the answers coming "through" her seemed quite pertinent and concisely phrased. Another point: Lenora seemed sometimes prone to doubts, especially when faced with the implicit 'authority' in the tone and content of their answers. Many times she had protested, "Well, I wouldn't dare make such a statement, but that's what they're giving!" In contrast, those who communicated through her had no such qualms: their statements were highly intelligent, clear (to them), and Huent in a strangely "classic" style. Sometimes, I felt much like a youngster who had wandered into Einstein's private den, asking immature questions and trying to comprehend gentle answers that often sailed over my head. How could the youngster really appreciate the depth of such answers? It became obvious that some of the viewpoints expressed through Lenora were above the human perspective, such as their calm indifference toward good and evil. When questioned, they had simply answered:
What child among you ever reached adulthood without making mistakes? This is the only way in which true growth can take place.
Compared with the human tendency to call another 'stupid,' they had used the delicate phrase: ". . . using less than one's greatest wisdom," a far more gracious way to express it. Another unique facet that reveals itself in their answers is the "essence of practicality." For example, it had been learned that violence is never condoned in their realm, yet when I broached the subject of the human necessity to defend one's family, the answerer wisely stated:
As long as there are those who allow their sheep to stray, others must build fences.
Gradually, I came to underst.~ that, somehow, Herod and Harold could "see" into the essence of things. Their perspective invariably extracted the "meat" from any subject. Still, we had also sensed their love of beauty and truth, their wisdom and patience, their acceptance and tolerance of all. There were times when I'd felt like sitting down with Lenora just to ask questions for days on end, but at the same time, I also realized that man must solve his problems at a pace that parallels his ability to comprehend. This vital factor was eVidently well known by Herod and Harold. When Lenora and I discovered that both guides could literally "see" future probable events in a concrete manner, we asked them to describe some future event that could be checked. Probably smiling, they had wisely replied:
Then you would have tomorrow's knowledge with today's wisdom.
It was in the autumn of 1971 that I first slid into "Grogan's Gulch," my term for a state of depression. There were many factors which caused this plnnge, not the least of which was a deepseated sense of guilt over certain of my life experiences. It was all very well to intellectualize away such torments, but hidden in my subconscious was a child that could in no way rationalize these events and find release. In a word, I felt lousy.
One night, well after midnight, I lay back on the couch and closed my weary eyes. I'd been reading too much lately. Almost instantly, I began to dream very vividly. (This may have been an OOBE.)
The kitchen dishwasher rattled and buzzed loudly; the lower kickplate was loose again. Feeling an impulse to "fix it now," I got up from the couch and went into the garage to get some tools. As I entered the garage, I distinctly heard the sound of rushing water behind me. Thinking that one of the kids might have forgotten to turn off a faucet, I turned towards the comer tliat contained the washtub. Instead of the tub, my eyes focused on a very large, white toilet bowl! The water was churning and fiushing as if the valve had stuck open! Numbly I turned around, glanced at Betsy (parked in her usual spot), at the workbench with all my tools scattered about, and knew that I was in my own garage, not someone else's. Then my sweeping eyes noticed that
