Parapsychology Journalism: The People, The Theory, The Science, The Skeptics
Please welcome Neil Miller to The Weiler Psi.
The astrologer’s reading swept back and forth across the stars in the sky and then made his bold prediction. “You have tremendous psychic ability,” he said. He then set down his horoscope of the moment of my birth and gave me a searching look, “which you’re probably not aware of (true) but you will be later in life.” Oh?
This was the first time I’d ever paid a professional astrologer to do a reading for me. “Well”, I said to myself, “he’ s just a fortune teller.” Anyway, I’m suspicious about this tremendous business; it’s probably not all it seems to be. Later in life? HAH! The year was 1979.
Back in 1971, an ex-girlfriend was recently married and pregnant with her 1st child. She and hubby rented a cute little house on a quiet block, while he finished his degree. They were the picture of middle class kids in training to be middle class adults. We stayed in touch with regular phone calls and on of them I asked her if she’d heard Lady Day, which was then a new song by Rod Stewart. She said “sure.” I blurted out, “Well, that’s you.” “Thank you Neil,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. While she was taking a moment to feel good about her hubby who was a little boring but always made sense, I’m was having an unforgettable moment of “Why?” Why did I say that? I knew I didn’t want to win her back and, for me, the “that’s you” wasn’t even a good compliment. I had it in me to be a lot more sincere than that, (or at least, smoother.)
Gradually, my ex and I lost contact. She became a working mom, which sadly transformed into a divorced working mom. I hitchhiked around the country and lived in a couple of communes. I dug ditches, mixed some cement, unloaded a few trucks and emptied a million trashcans. After a long while I acquired a job with a desk, a telephone and The Prime Directive, “Neil, you must go forth and build yourself a base of clients.” Now, back to my personal “that’s you.”
Sweep forward in time from 1971 to 1988. She has just remarried. This time hubby is some lesser member of European nobility, a Duke or Count or something. She acquired a title, Countess I guess, and he was quite wealthy. She wasn’t middle class anything anymore. Now wealth and position made it quite clear: She was, in the strictest sense of the word: a “Lady.” That was her title. Back in ’71 all I had was a song I couldn’t get out of my head and my blurting out “that’s you.” Noting we all can remember things differently from how they happened, here’s how I remembered the words of the song (you can look up this song; use lyrics, Lady Day/Stewart); “North winds have made my face a little older and my back is bent from trying to hard,
“Dusty boots would shame your name Lady Day, are we really that far apart?” There’s that word: Lady. Clairvoyance: 1, Normal 0.
Is there a job description for guys who are tremendous? Is having a glimpse of something 17 years early a requirement for being tremendous? It doesn’t matter to me what the heck this is, I want someone to include me out. Let’s assume that astrologer was accurate, please believe me, my particular tremendous is more complicated then your pleasant daydreams of the word might imagine. Here’s another layer of complicated;
During the summer of 1997 I drove around the country. It was my custom to call my mother every Sunday. One Saturday morning that summer I had a dream. In the dream my mother told me she’d gotten a letter from my sister. In the letter that was within the dream, my sister told mom she was flying in for a visit. Nothing special, my sister just wanted to spend some time with mom. The next morning I called mom and she told me -don’t wait to exhale- what you just read. Clairvoyance: 2, Normal: 0.
Here’s something tremendous doesn’t mean. I think it was Edgar Cayce who believed it was a sin to make money off of his psychic ability. I tried sinning. Please don’t ask me to buy lottery tickets for you, or bet the horses, or whether or not the spread on the game will be covered. I’m the sure thing no one wants. On paper, I’m probably worth $20 million, but every January I still get a W-2, because I still need a job. Tremendous as I imagined I was, when I placed my bets I’d get very tangled up in my emotions. And, I’d feel the strong emotions of every one close to me on every one of those “Ladies and Gentlemen place your bets” days. After waiting half a lifetime to learn that astrologer was right about my discovering my psychic ability, tremendous may the best adjective to describe the effort I need to put forth to discipline and focus my ability. I’ll start with no more imagining big money scores. I’ll stick to a regular paycheck and trying to uncomplicate my life. The simpler my life becomes, the easier events such as the following true story will be for me to handle;
1999. A little voice pops into my head. The voice says to me, “Neil, within a year your troubles are over.” The voice sounded both bemused and a little snarky. If my troubles are truly over, I figure I’m either dead or someone will leave a me big inheritance. What happened? Within a year a relative died and left me $62,500. That’s a nice piece of change, but every year I still file a W-2. In an Alice in Wonderland sort of way, I guess this means I should trust the timbre of any voice I hear more then the words. I mean together snarky and bemused seems to be uniqueness writ large. I should have heeded the cautionary tone I heard in that voice and scaled down my expectations about early retirement. Still, Clairvoyance: 3, Normal: 0.
For those of you with some understanding of astrology there were two parts to his prediction. My psychic ability seems to be linked to my birth chart having a grand trine in air. The later in life prediction is probably because I was born with retrograde Saturn 1/2 degree from the mid-heaven in the 9th house of higher consciousness.
And from these symbols and angles and aspects voilá a piece of my fate. The astrologer told me my fate was to be able to see my fate. Well, he didn’t say EXACTLY that, but it seems a precise synopsis based on my experience.
So, what does all this mean? From moment to moment it means my psychic vision often feels like I’m looking through a glass darkly. It means clouds. I see bits and pieces of my future between the clouds. A cloud of emotion; Neil, your troubles are over. A cloud of time, 17 years. Always a cloud over reality: I don’t know if it would have mattered if I called my mother on Sunday. Saturday’s dream made the real time event of a phone call seem, seem, seem what? Sundays phone call was unnecessary because of the dream except Sunday’s phone call was inevitable and vital because of the dream? This paragraph is a gigantic question mark.
Since 1979 I’ve learned I have a high degree of precognitive ability -a.k.a. I’m, uh, tremendous.- I mentioned three precognitive moments, but if I’d revealed a log of a thousand moments the number would have been a lot closer to accurate. To be this psychically aware often feels overwhelming. I hardly know where my fate ends and my freewill begins. This is, for me, the grayest cloud. I know I need more light. But, how do I get to more light and what does it feel like? That question is, for me, tremendous.