“Once everyone is psychic, there will be no more wars.” That was a comment uttered by my friend Vicki this last week.
It seems to make sense. Our sensitivities are increasingly refined as travels down the information highway pick up speed. A natural consequence of jamming more and more sensory input into our collective consciousness is that consciousness itself will find better and better ways to utilize all this density of information.
Our intuitions have a way of extrapolating quantum knowledge and making sense of events that our minds view as unrelated.
Many years ago I had a dream in which I was traveling at the speed of light. It was a vivid dream that found me in a wooden maze that was seemingly endless and had high, white walls that twisted and turned in always unique permutations of angles and direction. The walls were about two stories high. As I flashed through the maze approaching the first turn, I realized my thought was traveling woefully slow and had to speed up exponentially if survival of that first turn was to be possible. I craned my neck and back, became infinitely pliable, adjusted my thought to the appropriate speed, and navigated the turn.
That was the easy part.
As I flashed down the next shorter corridor, the angle decreased and I found myself rolling and tucking to generate enough thrust to kick my way into the next corridor. There was no room for error as each new angle and segment presented itself. Death awaited me if strict obedience to an open-ended learning curve was not applied. Each new turn presented fresh difficulties, and it took all of my consciousness and adaptive capabilities to streak safely to the next and next.
Finally I was able to free up a small portion of my concentration to examine my surroundings. I became aware of someone helping me. Above the maze was a young woman. She had a big freckled smile, a distinct low part in the tight waves of her brown hair flecked with grey, and wore a patterned cotton dress. She was mentally helping me in my navigations at this impossible speed.
I woke up.
I had that dream in August 1970. In November of that same year a friend informed me that he had a friend who would like to meet me. He brought her to my door one night and there she was — the same young woman with the unique, unforgettable smile, hairline, freckles, and distinct brown hair. We dated for a few months, married, brought Kashia into this world, parted the marriage, and she (Judie) and her husband of 18 years (David) remain two of my closest friends and confidants.
Judie not only types all of my manuscripts for publication, she also serves (with David) as a pillar of Saint Francis Liberal Catholic Church, within which I am the rector. She has helped direct and guide the church through the maze of the last 40 years.
Our psychic abilities may manifest in dreams. They may manifest in wakefulness. They are a product of being open to utilizing our ever-awakening sensitivities.
Love really does conquer all — and to paraphrase Vicki, “Once everyone is psychic, there can be no more war!”