By David Wilcock
[3/25/09: This is technically a personal update, but there are clear stories of prophecy in it, so we have filed it under "Prophecy" accordingly.
By this point I was in such a dark, miserable space in my personal life that the entire year had gone by with hardly any website updates. This tragic accident was definitely part of an initiative to jump-start me back into productivity rather than sinking even further into bitterness and isolation.]
Sometimes the fragile world of the personal collides with the global in very direct ways -- and staying on the "cutting edge" of New Thought can have quite literal implications.
On Dec. 1, 2001 at 4:35 am, after working late, I slipped on the kitchen floor with an empty water glass in my hand and caught it on the countertop, causing it to shatter.
I suffered two lacerations to the upper palm of my right hand, both perpendicular to the fingers, one on the thumb mount and the more significant one under the right pinky at about 6mm depth and 2.5 cm length.
Amazingly there was no tendon damage, no glass fragments and the cuts were very straight and symmetrical, though I did sever a nerve and superficial artery to the pinky.
I definitely screamed at first, and while running into my room in a panic, I unintentionally shed blood on my printed copy of "Convergence III" as well as O. Crane's "Central Oscillator and the Space-Time Medium," but surprisingly not on the carpet next to them. Even in my agitated state I could see that meaningful messages were being given.
As we left the house with my hand in a pressure wrap, the Buddha quote "We are what we think. With our thoughts we make the world. Speak or act with a pure mind, and happiness will follow you as your shadow, unshakable" fell spontaneously from the refrigerator to the floor, directly facing me amidst the scattered dark blue glass.
Ironically, the clock in the car said "4:44" as soon as we turned on the ignition to drive to the ER, which had an immediate calming effect on me. Yup, another planned catalyst of extreme nature was in the works -- and I wondered about what upcoming major world events this might be related to.
By the time I was there, circa 6 minutes, I was completely back to my normal personality, telling jokes and even helping wheel the woman ahead of me in for treatment using my left hand and right elbow.
The synchronicity continued as the doctor told me that it was a Full Moon night and I was the third person to have almost the exact same accident and hand injury -- which they admitted was "bizarre."
(That would explain why the twentysomethings in the waiting room were so squeamish about my injury. It was just our three hand parties, the woman in the chair and an elderly couple. "Yeah, it's pretty nasty, you gotta hand it to me for that," I told them and laughed as they studied my toweled mass in horror.)
Apparently the other two guys had more severe trauma than I, (one of whom was in the room directly next to me,) so I was the "luckiest" of the three.
Ah, the beautiful science of cycles... "I guess that makes me the hundredth monkey, doesn't it? Man, I should stick to just washing rice in my hand from now on."
It dawned on me that this would be the most expensive healing session that I would likely ever have, so I wanted to make the most of it, and the staff was exceptionally responsive to my cavalier comedy.
I was delighted to find that after repeated experience with Dr. Izumoto's at-times shudderingly brutal acupuncture treatments, the wounds and needle sticks that would supposedly "hurt" did not -- so I told the nurses in a thick accent, "Ah, you should go to Japan. Great needle technique."
After initial resistance, I ended up accepting two narcotic pills to "calm" me for surgery, and went into my first drug experience in nine years. "This is what they'd call a "free ride" in Alcoholics Anonymous," I quipped, as I wasn't about to claim it as a relapse.
From there on, everything got very bizarre, my humor more daring and brash, and I felt the most magnificent inspiration from studying the fluorescent lights above me. While waiting in this altered state, I effortlessly slipped into a very deep trance and dictated the following psychic reading at an extremely slow speed, while someone wrote it down:
The one with the most soul music wins. This music defies consideration; it relieves the pains of despair. It is you in your true essence. The pursuit is internal, and related to issues of self-respect.
My dad seems to say you are free of concerns -- my heavenly father, to be sure. It is true, lasting peace that awaits your planet, and the relieving of pain and pressure is near.
Those who transgress these concerns can again renew the joie de vivre, or the joy of living in the Now. A peaceful place within yourself has been sought, and you are equipped with the tools necessary to see yourself through it.
The cerebrum's last triune is a process of healing; it is the complete overturning of the shadow self.
I stopped dictating as staff entered to prep me for surgery. Multiple Novocain shots rendered the rest of the pain nonexistent, and I watched with interest as my inert flesh was stitched back together, completely losing my distaste for seeing blood and the innards of the hand.
I was out (and sober) by 8:30 and proceeded to have incredible, grinding nausea and relentless dry heaves from the narcotics for the entire rest of the day, finally gaining enough control to eat applesauce by late evening. That was the last pain medication of any kind that I took.
A pressure bandage was applied in the ER that caused an almost unbearable, constant pain and lack of circulation in my hand and forearm for all of Saturday and Sunday, which seemed almost eternal.
Pushing my three exposed fingers back a few inches and / or spreading them on the headboard of the bed seemed to be the finest source of pleasure I had ever known, such was the stiffness and pain they felt.
Then on Monday I went to the nerve surgeon for intake, and the surgery was scheduled for Wednesday. Thankfully, a far more merciful bandage was replaced after he inspected the damage, allowing my drugless recovery process a reprieve.
I then had to face my own symbolic "death" of going unconscious with anaesthesia for the first time in my life. The night before, I rented "2010" which reminded me of where the Earth is headed.
There was some concern over whether he could just sew the nerve back together or "borrow" some fiber from my upper arm, which would have created a new wound three times bigger than the one I already had.
I was able to coordinate rides for each needed trip, and went in unafraid. The IV went in without any trouble or pain. Then they gave me a drug that would supposedly make me forget the whole thing, and in a matter of six seconds I got the classic "swimming-pool vision" effect.
Next thing I know, I was in the same pre-op room, in the same chair, had a giant, heavy white cast on my right forearm that completely immobilized everything but my thumb, and felt like I had just awakened from twelve solid hours of deep sleep.
Thankfully, he was able to reattach the severed superficial artery and digital pinky nerve without borrowing more, which eventually priced out the entire injury episode at ~4G.
I now type with my left fingers in standard position and a modified toothbrush with duct tape covering for the right half. The cast will be removed on Dec. 31, and I appear to have had a near-100% recovery of nerve sensation already.
One week prior to this, for the third time since 1996 I again had a house within 150 feet of me burn down and we were forced to evacuate for a while due to smoke. (At least five dreams had foretold of this in advance, and I may prepare a report when I can write easily again.)
Similar to the circumstances surrounding my first encounter with "Seth Speaks" in Dec. 1996 and my discovery of the Galactic Constant in Jan 2000, this fire was within less than 48 hours of an immense burst of inspiration -- in this case a new vision for my book projects having crystallized with great excitement (see below.)
Then, two days before the glass broke, we had a strange breakage of the spray hose nozzle in the kitchen sink, which somehow caused the entire arrangement to lose water pressure.
So the metaphor clearly seemed to be, "Too much fire and not enough water," and then this accident happened while I was working late on writing.
I do claim responsibility for having created this laceration in a higher sense, through allowing myself to cut off my time and feelings from close relations in my continuing self-sacrificing effort to make my scientific publications in progress as exemplary as possible.
Clearly now a greater balance must be struck between work and family, both local and extended. Ironically, this came only days after I had crystallized the vision for a final new book in the form of a complete outline.
Convergence III will still be finished, but it will be immediately followed by an entirely new project that I have termed "The Divine Cosmos."
Once again, research breakthroughs have been made (mostly through investigation of Russian physics) that are so significant that if the previous book were to be rewritten, it would be utterly gutted and altered to become little of what it once was.
The new book will be more concise, focus less on antigrav / free energy technology and more on cosmology, and draw more heavily upon references so that each point does not have to be fully explicated.
The higher forces are extremely pleased with the new vision and feel that it will be far superior to all previous efforts.
After the holidays and concomitant close social activity I am set to go into "isolation mode" and hopefully get the whole lot of projects finished by the end of January.
Any help as we reach this final stretch will be appreciated, as I have continued to postpone all client readings for the last 14 months -- and thus have been living at subsistence / poverty level through donations of a small group of monthly supporters, with almost total focus on research data gathering and compilation for the scientific books.
I haven't complained about it, but now I see that my lifestyle has affected others and I need to put the research / scientific writing phase behind me as soon as I can.
If you are interested in helping this site blossom to unimaginable new life within the next two months, please send a donation at the following address. Please do not send advance or partial payments for readings if you are on the waiting list, and know that these donations will have no effect on anyone's wait-listed positions.
Thank you for your continuing support and enthusiasm for this work, as I am doing the very best I can to release this new material for you and the many others free of charge, regardless of the blood, sweat, tears or hand-I-capped typing required to get the job done.
I am very excited at the idea of actually finishing these projects soon, and know you can relate. Peace be with you.
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