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Authors: Philip Smith

Walking Through Walls (37 page)

BOOK: Walking Through Walls
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“Yes, I am.”

“The projector opened up your air sacs so you could take in more oxygen. You're not accustomed to this rush of oxygen. The pain you felt was your body telling you that you couldn't handle this much oxygen even though you needed it. That's why you took it off. You will have to acclimate. You need to breathe slower and deeper. Do you get migraine headaches?”

“Yes, terrible ones.”

“Here, put this one on. You'll feel it very quickly.”

“Hmmm, I feel myself swaying, so peaceful,” the young woman exclaimed. “I can hear words. Someone is talking to me.”

“The projector is giving you exactly what your body needs. Your air sacs are opening up at a slower pace now. This is the amount of oxygen you require to better regulate your system. It's amazing that this is just a piece of cardboard, yet it can have such an effect on you. Why? Because of the power of thought—there is nothing more powerful than the ability to control and send thought. Whenever a new medicine is discovered, I am able to distill its essence and create a projector for it. This way we can use the true benefit of the medicine to treat illness without any of the side effects. That is the beauty of this system.”

My father used Donna's experience to tell the class about his own problem with being overoxygenated. “This reminds me of what happened back in 1972 when the spirits started raising my vibrational levels. They wanted to elevate me quickly so that I would be able to do more powerful healings. The problem was that they took me up the scale too quickly, and I was gasping for air. I was dizzy and out of breath. I felt like I had just climbed a mountain. I told them I couldn't handle it. So they lowered me back down to the physical level. It took them a full two weeks to bring me back up to the divine level at 220,000. Now, of course, I remain at the cosmic level, which is 800,000, with no problem. I had to adjust to living at this higher level. All of us in this room can eventually be at the cosmic level. Donna, over time your body will also acclimate to the positive increase in oxygenation.

“Let me show you how to choose what projector you need. Open up your booklets containing the projectors. Now, take your pendulum and either hold it over each one, or use a pointer in your other hand and point to each one and ask if you need it. When your pendulum moves in a clockwise motion, then you need the energy from that particular projector.

“These projectors heal not only the physical but the mental. The projectors go into the consciousness to program the mind, which then directs the body accordingly. By using the appropriate projector, we can do a complete psychological healing in a few minutes that would take a psychiatrist years. We can totally reprogram consciousness so that people change their destructive thought patterns or heal their psychiatric problems. We always need to get the patient into a state of mental harmony. When one is not in mental harmony, you can pick up any kind of disease. Okay, now I want you to use your pendulum to choose what projector you need. Let's start.”

All the students held pendulums over their books of brightly colored cardboard squares. Their pendulums were registering at different speeds the various projectors that they needed. They picked out projectors with names like
past-life pain, inner sight, no smoking,
and
tranquillity.
This exercise continued for about ten minutes. Then all of a sudden everyone's pendulum stopped at exactly the same time. It was as if there'd been a power failure during an electrical storm or someone pulled the plug on the pendulums' energy source. They just hung limply, and the room became very quiet. One by one the students looked up at my father.

“What's wrong?” he asked, suppressing a smile.

Jack said, “My pendulum stopped. It's dead. What's going on?”

“Mine too,” said Marie. The students looked nervously at one another to verify that they each had the same problem.

“I shut off the power to your pendulums. This is to teach you a lesson. This power is not to be taken for granted. It can be used only for the highest good. I created it, and I can turn it off. You can never use these projectors for personal gain or for evil. I can take the power away, and if I don't, then Chander Sen will.”

This was an impressive display of my father's psychic power. It certainly had awakened the class. There was a sense of alarm in the room. If my father could shut down their pendulums and projectors, what else could he do? The class was now much more alert and respectful. Just then the doorbell rang. Pop motioned for me to get the door. I opened it, and standing before me was a woman slightly hunched over with a look of pain on her face.

“Is Lew here?”

“Yeah. He's in the middle of teaching a class. Are you in the class?”

“No, I'm in a lot of pain, and I need a healing fast.”

“Okay, let me see. Come on in and wait here and let me ask him. What's your name?”

“Janet.”

When I went back to the living room and told Pop about his visitor, he asked me to have her come in.

Pop greeted her warmly, then introduced her. “Everyone, this is Janet, who just stopped by for a healing. I'd like for you all to watch so that you can learn a bit more from this case. Janet, what can I do for you?”

“My back has been hurting, and it's just getting worse. I was in the neighborhood and thought I would just stop by.”

“Okay, let's see what is the cause of the problem.” Pop held the pendulum in his right hand while he silently asked questions about Janet's condition. “There is a slight deformity in your spine that makes one leg shorter than the other. Once we adjust this problem, you will no longer have any backaches. Why don't you just stand up, right in front of me? Now, just relax and close your eyes. You will feel something gently pushing you forward or backward. Go in that direction. Don't be afraid—you won't fall. The body is telling you what position you need to be in to receive the healing.”

Janet stood up and within seconds started swaying forward as if she was drunk. Since her eyes were closed, Pop told her what was occurring. “You're going forward. Okay, that means that the body wants you to lie down on your stomach because Chander Sen is going to work on your back. Every vertebra in your spine will be adjusted. Don't be alarmed; you will feel as if someone is poking his fingers into your back. That will be Chander Sen working on you. I will not be touching you.”

Janet lay on her stomach while my father stood over her. Her head was turned to one side, and her eyes were closed. The room was quiet as the students watched the process. Janet appeared to be asleep. Every once in a while her shoulders twitched, and her hips would sporadically roll slightly from side to side. Occasionally her eyes would scrunch up as if someone had touched a sore spot. Nothing much seemed to be happening. It was hard to imagine that this woman's spine was being completely reworked and adjusted.

After a few minutes, Pop said, “All right, you should be coming up now.” Janet opened her eyes, blinked a few times, and stood up slowly without saying a word. “How does your back feel?”

“I feel like I've grown a couple of inches; it's much straighter. I hope it stays this way. I've never stood so straight in my life.”

“Well, you certainly look like you're standing straighter,” he said. “Sit in this chair and hold your legs straight out.” My father stood in front of her and looked down at her legs. “Can you see that one of your legs is shorter than the other? Look at the difference.”

“Oh my God, I never noticed that.”

“Well, this is the cause of your problem. You are constantly pulling your back out of alignment because of this difference. This affects your entire nervous system and every organ in your body. Now I'm going to equalize your legs. Don't do anything to help me. I'll lift them up.” Pop put his hands on top of her feet and lifted her legs straight out. Slowly he slid his hands up her feet until his thumbs rested on the inside of each of her anklebones. With his hands, he brought her legs together so that they were touching. His right thumb was about an inch and a half higher than the left thumb. This clearly showed how uneven her legs were. “Janet, look where my thumbs are. See the difference? I have them on your ankles, but one is higher than the other, and they are not matching up. Now watch your legs come together. They'll move by themselves. Just watch.”

A minute passed, and slowly Janet's left leg seemed to be sliding back into her hips while her right leg remained stationary. The movement was slow and effortless. “I can't believe this, my leg is just gliding into place,” she said. “I don't feel any pulling or anything. This is amazing. Lew, if it wasn't you doing this, I wouldn't believe it. I've never seen anything like this in my life. This is impossible.”

Talking to the legs, Pop said, “Just a little bit more…almost…c'mon. Okay. Thank you. Look,” he said to Janet, “now they are perfectly even.” To prove this, he again placed his thumbs on her anklebones and used his knuckles as a measurement. They now lined up perfectly. “There,” he said. “Now you'll walk more easily, no more backaches.

“I want to do one more thing before you leave. Please lean forward, just slightly. I want to do an overall healing starting at the top of your head and working all the way down your body. You should feel the energy going in through your head. First I need to normalize the lymphatic system.” His hands were resting about three inches beyond her shoulders.

“Okay, now I'm going to adjust your circulation system. We need to get your blood flowing a bit better. It's somewhat stagnant; your pressure is not as strong as it should be.” He slowly moved his hands over the outline of her body without ever really touching her, as if he were smoothing bumps in the sand. She took several deep breaths, as if reaching for additional oxygen. When Pop pulled his hands away, her eyes opened. At first she didn't speak but just sat there staring into space. The look on her face seemed to indicate that she didn't quite remember where or who she was.

“I feel as if someone rebuilt my entire body while my eyes were closed,” she said. “All the pain in my back is gone. I've had that pain for years, and it was constant, twenty-four hours a day. No medication ever fully took away the pain. But now I feel brand new. This is amazing.”

“No, this is not amazing at all,” he said. “This is how healing works. It's very straightforward.” Turning to the class, he added, “This is what I am teaching all of you. Each one of you will be able to do this and more. Janet, take a minute, catch your breath, and when you are ready, stand up. Now, let's get back to the projectors.”

Janet waited for about two minutes, stood up with a smile, and walked toward the front door without saying a word. I opened it and let her out.

I observed my father as he taught. He was alert and sparkling with a clear, calm energy. Something had happened once Ruth left the stage. The klieg lights went on, and the director called, “Action!” Dress rehearsal was over. The cameras were rolling. Pop had punched—no, ripped—a hole in the widely accepted construct of the universe. He had found a different kind of electrical outlet to plug into.

One of the offshoots of creating the projectors was that my father had refined his ability to build energized thought-forms that could be utilized for almost any situation. With this new skill, he began to create a universe of invisible structures and functioning ethereal machines that served to protect him, energize him, nourish him, discourage intruders, and keep him safe from automobile accidents twenty-four hours a day. If you can imagine a comic-book mad scientist whose proton energy fields could repel asteroids and other invaders—that was my father. He had now entered the realm of science fiction and completely erased the boundary between imagination and reality. What he imagined became real, whether it was visible or not. Pop accepted, without any doubt, his ability to create a new reality at any given moment just through focused thought and energy manipulation. He switched seamlessly between the seen and the unseen without missing a beat. His world of the imagination was now completely activated, and he had forever erased any remaining mortal limitations.

His spirit guides were training him to utilize his energy for even larger projects. Now just curing leukemia or deafness was suddenly small potatoes. He had bigger fish to fry. I heard him tell one of his classes, “I have brought people back from the dead. I have had many cases where the soul is already out of the body. It was way down the tunnel to die. No matter what the doctors think or believe, it is the soul that determines whether the body shall live or die. On many occasions I have reasoned directly with the soul. But first I have always checked with the higher powers as to whether or not I am permitted to bring it back. If the soul still has work to do, I will ask it to please come back to its body and accept the responsibility of the work it has to do. They came back and were revived, much to the doctors' amazement, even though they were clinically dead.” All in a day's work for my father.

And if raising the dead wasn't enough, he also told his students that with guidance from Chander Sen, he had resolved the dangerous hydrogen bubble that contained radiation at Three Mile Island. “I can stop the radiation from leaking out of nuclear plants. I did it for Three Mile Island. When that radioactive bubble of hydrogen occurred, they said it was going to create a meltdown and spill radiation all over the community. It was too dangerous for anyone to go into the nuclear plant. Fortunately Chander Sen came through and told me that radiation can be neutralized by using the violet ray. And that's what I did. I surrounded Three Mile Island with the violet ray and was able to eliminate the radiation. After I did that, the bubble dissipated, the radiation cleared, and then workers could go in and clean the place up.”

BOOK: Walking Through Walls
13.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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