An Angel on My Shoulder

by David Callinan

  None of this could be true. He refused to believe it. Dare he ask the question?

  He picked up the golden chain and positioned the pendulum over his left palm then took a deep breath,

  “Was it Terry?” he asked. “Has Kate had an affair with Terry Sullivan?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mind seduction

  The images poured into his mind. He tried to stop them but it was as though a video store had dumped hours of recordings into his brain.

  He saw Kate and Terry Sullivan clearly. They were making love in the hay barn at the stables. Kate was ecstatic. Then the images changed. Kate and Terry were in a large bed in a dimly lit room. Their passion knew no bounds.

  No, this was just some crazy hallucination. It had to be.

  Paul wasn’t looking at the pendulum. He was immersed in a powerful erotic drama. He felt cheated, bereft. How could Kate have ever done anything like this to him? He also realized with surprise and shock that he felt charged with excitement. He tried to block out the images and be appalled at his reaction. But, instead of being appalled his sense of excitement increased. He had clearly uncovered feelings and desires that had been long kept under lock and key. And not just his feelings and desires, but Kate’s also.

  The power of the sexual scenario began to ebb. Paul’s attention was drawn once again to the pendulum hanging loosely from his hand. It was spinning slowly. And it was spinning to the right. This was a no answer. What could this mean? It must have been just a momentary fantasy after all. Kate had not had an affair. But maybe there was another solution.

  “Did Kate come close to having an affair but backed away at the last moment?” Paul asked.

  The pendulum slowed to a halt and then, very slowly indeed, began to circle to the left. Paul realized that he was starting to understand and be taught some of the subtleties of this method of divination.

  Maybe what he was being told was that Kate had almost gone the whole way with Terry Sullivan but had stepped back from the brink.

  More to the point, however, had been Paul’s reaction to the prospect of her infidelity. He had never fantasized or visualized anything like this before involving Kate but he had enjoyed the fantasy. He was feeling guilty but excited.

  He placed the pendulum back into its black cloth bag and packed up the board. This all required some serious thought. It must be nonsense, he concluded. How could a pearl droplet and a chart unlock such emotional power? Sure, he had fantasies like everyone else. There was nothing wrong with a good fantasy as far as he was concerned but this had been different. This felt almost like reality; almost but not quite.

  “Reality,” said Malone. “Now, there’s a question and no mistake.”

  They were sipping beers in the dappled shade of an oak tree in the garden of their usual bar. It was quiet and serene with not many customers about. Malone had one of those lived in faces that looked good in sunlight. He ran his fingers through his spiky hair.

  “And as for women,” he continued, “well, there’s another mystery.”

  “Maybe I’ll just dump the pendulum,” Paul said. “It seems to unlock stuff I don’t want unlocked.”

  “There is nothing about our spirits or our psyches that should remain locked,” Malone pronounced. “Get your mind around this one. It’s the definition of reality, okay? Reality is that which cannot change. Think about it. If something, anything, is capable of changing or disappearing or evolving then, in essence, it is not real: it is transitory. It forms part of a creative process that emanates from an unchanging and unknowable cosmic reality. So, only the unchangeable is truly real. And consciousness is all pervading – unchangeable – and the only reality there is. Your little fantasies are just dreams and illusions. They’re like champagne bubbles popping. They taste good. They smell good. They get you high. But they are just passing through.”

  “So, am I in touch with reality using the pendulum?” Paul asked. “What about the spirit world, disembodied entities, cosmic beings? Are they real or an illusion?”

  “They exist in their own reality creation. There is no time and no space but the same creative force from consciousness central generates the whole cosmos. So they exist within their own illusions. But, the only reality in the strict sense of the world is that from which everything emanates, like champagne bubbles. That includes you and me, pal, and all human life and all spirit life. So, we are not actually real although we are solid and the world is solid and feels real. The concept of God or a creator is just another illusion.

  “Hey, but really, if you are having fantasies about your wife that says more about your repressed sexuality than anything else. The pendulum is just a tool that responds to energy flow.”

  “I didn’t realize I had a repressed sexuality,” said Paul.

  “Everyone does,” Malone replied. “It’s just that some are more repressed than others. Get rid of repression and you get rid of guilt and then you start to evolve on the journey back to reality. Have you discussed this with Kate?”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Why not? If you have the sort of strong relationship you keep telling me about where’s the harm? Could lead to all kinds of interesting developments.”

  “Could lead to the divorce court,” Paul said. “On balance I don’t think I want to rock the boat. There’s a lot to said for equilibrium.”

  “There’s a lot to be said for experiencing everything. Maybe experiencing your fantasies would be good for you in the long run. You might find yourself living at a much higher level of vibration. Don’t get me wrong. I’m envious. You are a good husband and father and that’s also good for your development. But it also means you could atrophy.”

  Malone went to the bar to order more beers. Paul watched him. Their friendship went back many years but still Malone remained an enigma. He had inherited a library of esoteric books of wisdom from heavy duty Buddhism to outlandish diatribes on magic and the occult and he spent most of his time in contemplation or meditation mixed with bouts of intense socializing. Malone seemed to know everyone from the rich and successful to celebrities and adventurers. And there were always old and long forgotten girlfriends appearing out of the blue to renew their acquaintance with him. Money didn’t interest Malone – he had very little of it – yet he seemed to be constantly invited to parties and social events, first nights and concerts as well as trips on yachts and holidays in Europe.

  Paul had thought Malone would be scornful of pendulum work, as it was called in some quarters, but he had not been surprised by Paul’s experience. Paul knew, or sensed, that this experience had only just begun. He had to decide whether to throw the pendulum and the book into the garbage or press on in a spirit of open exploration.

  Malone returned with fresh cold beers for them both.

  “I’ve been doing some extraordinary meditation lately. I’ve been to regions you would not believe,” he said.

  “Question is,” said Paul, “maybe it’s all in your brain and nowhere else? Even contemplation of cosmic consciousness ends up being generated by synapses, cortexes and neurons.”

  “The brain is just the machinery. The brain turns chaos into order. Consciousness existed long before brains evolved and is the founding force behind everything, including evolution. And, don’t forget, humanity is just a blip. All of human history and the future of humanity could be written on a single atom. When the human race dies out, consciousness will still pervade everything.”

  “That’s not a comforting thought,” Paul shook his head.

  “It’s the ego that tries to persuade us that we can live forever. Listen, you ought to carry on with this pendulum business. They are weird things, pendulums. You know about dowsing and how pendulums can recognize elements and chemicals, well, why not use the pendulum to communicate with something outside yourself?”

  “Sure, but what is it I am communicating with? I used to do all this ouija board stuff years ago and ended up talking to myself. You didn’t have to push the glas
s, even though you were of course, even subconsciously, but still I could think something and the glass would respond.”

  “That’s all low level stuff. I guess you will be able to tell immediately if some force you are in touch with is from inside your head or not. If you made contact with a powerful entity you would know it. And you would know it wasn’t your imagination or anything in your subconscious.”

  “I suppose so,” Paul said.

  “It’s exciting. Go for it,” said Malone.

  Later, Paul returned home. Kate had to go out to a meeting and the kids were glued to the TV. Paul took his black shrouded box containing the pendulum and the instruction manual out into the garden room. This was situated a little way from the house and was part shed, party conservatory and part craft room. He sat down at a wooden table and laid out the instructions before him.

  He could clear other people of blockages and bad karma that was affecting their lives without them being aware of it. He decided to first of all clear the family and then have another session clearing himself. He was also fascinated by the prospect of circumventing the pendulum and using eye blinks to communicate. But, that was for later. For now, he picked up the pendulum and let himself slip into what he believed was the correct frame of mind, a cross between a meditative trance and an open door to his brain to allow nothing to block or judge whatever took place.

  He thought about Rory and how unsettled he was. This was to be expected at his age but Paul didn’t like the thought of his son drifting.

  He let the pendulum hang loose and thought of his son, letting the memories enter unedited. Rory had always been a little comedian and a risk taker as a child. He used to do stupid stunts, often terrifying his parents. But he was, at heart, a loving boy, just confused.

  “Am I in touch with the supreme spirit?” Paul asked.

  The pendulum circled to the left.

  “Can you clear my son, Rory?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you indicate where his problems lie?”

  The pendulum began to spin then straightened out to the line which indicated past family conflicts.

  “Are there issues from Rory’s previous life?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you clear them?”

  The pendulum moved again, this time to the section ‘Clear’. For a moment Paul recalled his earlier conversation with Malone and his own comments about controlling the ouija board, which became a vehicle for his own psychical and mental conversations. Maybe this is what is happening here, he thought. Nevertheless he pressed on.

  The pendulum started to move without being asked a question. It spun strongly and then swung wildly along the section relating to sexual matters.

  “Not again,” Paul muttered. Still, a lot of the problems of the human race could be traced to sex in one way or another, and not just as perceived by Freud. Paul continued to let the pendulum have its way. Paul was reminded again of Malone’s comments about knowing if you were in touch with something outside yourself.

  Almost as a joke he asked.

  “My son doesn’t have sexual problems, does he?”

  The pendulum performed a wide circular spin to the left; the movement growing stronger till Paul could feel the pressure at his fingertips. Then, as if on cue, it stopped.

  The pearl droplet shimmered in the uneven light of the garden room. Paul felt nervous. It wasn’t moving with its usual alacrity.

  He glanced up and saw Rory watching him through the large glass window. Trying not to hurry, Paul scooped pendulum and chart to one side as Rory popped his head inside the door.

  “What are you doing, Pa?” he smiled.

  “Oh, just experimenting with something.”

  “You’re not going through another Woodstock phase are you?”

  Woodstock was Rory’s catch-all description of anything wacky, new age, dancing in the moonlight, oh wow, alternative lifestyle, even though ‘Woodstock’ was just a word he had picked up. Rory had never heard of Santana, for Christ’s sake. Music began and ended with Eminem. Rory could never quite come to terms with the fact that his father also liked the Pittsburgh poet.

  “No,” said Paul. “It’s just some stupid idea dreamed up by a client. Anyway, is everything okay?”

  “Mom just called. Would you put supper on?”

  “Sure, give me a minute.”

  Rory shrugged and loped back into the house. Hurriedly, Paul re-assembled the chart and pendulum and asked the question again. The droplet began to swish to and fro along the line indicating sex and dark matter.

  With the kind of sudden inspiration that was beginning to define this process of divination, Paul asked the first question that popped into his head.

  “Is Rory gay?” He regretted asking it as soon as the ludicrous question popped into his mind. However, the pendulum circled to the left. No, thought Paul, this is not possible. Paul wasn’t sure how to react to this. Then he asked.

  “Am I God?”

  “Yes,” screamed the pendulum spinning ecstatically. Paul was relieved. It was just some kind of wayward spirit attracted to the psychic focus he was generating. With a grunt, Paul swept everything into the black bag and went back into the house. He would have to carry out further checks. Maybe there was a repressed sexuality in all of us, he thought. Who knows what’s going on in the subterranean hormonal maelstrom within other people – even your own children? What about the powerful images involving Kate. Where had they come from?

  Later, after supper, Annie was immersed in homework while Rory had gone out with a friend. Rory looked at Kate. She was reading while the TV was on in background. Their lives had reached a kind of balance. It was a comfortable balance. But could she have been unfaithful? Wouldn’t there have been a sign he would have picked up? And, more to the point, would he have been sitting here wondering about this if it hadn’t been for the pendulum? No, he comforted himself. He would have known if anything had happened. The pendulum could go screw itself.

  Paul forgot about the pendulum for a little while. He was working on a project involving an educational foundation that was taking up an inordinate amount of his time. On odd occasions, however, in the middle of a particularly tedious meeting, for example, the pearl droplet would appear in the front of his mind, as if it was trying to signal to him. Some weeks passed before he found himself taking it out of its black bag. The pendulum shimmered in the artificial light of his office, glimmering with the reflections from his computer terminal. Paul remembered something in the manual. It was how the originator of this clearance system began to have conversations by just blinking. One blink for yes, two blinks for no. A very elegant, semaphore-like, system thought Paul.

  He held the pendulum over his palm and asked mentally if he was in touch with his soul master. The answer was yes. Paul carried out various checks, asking questions with only one correct answer. He spent a few minutes clearing himself and the family from past karmic scars, checking each time as he did so and not venturing down any oblique avenues of questions. He was in control. He could see how allowing stray thoughts, fantasies, or flurries of imagination to intrude on the discipline could enable something other than the supreme soul to dominate. He steered clear of leading questions, such as Kate’s ‘affair’ or Rory’s sexuality. Now, he would see if it made any perceivable difference to their lives. It was all nonsense really, he remembered thinking, before it happened.

  The pendulum began to spin. Paul immediately recognized that this was some other force and not the supreme soul. He didn’t panic this time. And he thought, why not? Why not have a conversation? After all, whatever is trying to communicate need not necessarily, by definition, be a crazed disembodied spirit force. And if, like with the ouija board, he ended up talking to his own subconscious, then the mystery would have been solved. The answer to the question, what was happening, would then be fairly simple. Yes, there were times when a human being could be in contact with something outside of himself but, of course, would have no clear
idea of what that something was. Most of the time the pendulum, ouija board, I-Ching, runes or other divination systems just enabled a personal conversation to take place between conscious and subconscious and there was nothing alien or externally spiritual involved. It was the overlap between the two experiences that clouded the whole process.

  Malone was probably right. If spiritual forces existed that made contact with a human being there would be no confusion. No one would believe it, of course, and a person could end up in the funny farm.

  Whatever was trying to get through was in a hurry. Paul decided to play the game. He would keep his imagination and fantasies in check and just treat this as a normal conversation.

  “Do we know each other?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you alive?”

  “No.”

  “Can you indicate when you were alive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it in the last hundred years?”

  “No.”

  “The last thousand years?”

  “Yes.”

  Paul persisted, establishing a life sometime around the end of the Roman Empire in Italy. He also established that he himself had been alive then, but as a woman, and that he, or she, and this disembodied spirit had been lovers.

  Paul paused, oh no, here we go again, he remembered thinking. He put down the pendulum and looked at his computer screen. It flickered.

  That’s odd, Paul thought and re-booted the system.

  On an impulse he clicked on a search engine and keyed in the name of Ebenezer Nuttley. There were a number of references to Ebenezer and a batch of websites involving the word Nuttley but no trace of the specialist in past life clearance and explorer of parallel universes.