The boy was in pain and his whimpers were growing louder and more pitiful by the minute. His father sitting next to him, trying to make time with the good looking blonde on his right was not helping my mood in the least. I had been sitting in airplane seats which are designed for maximum occupancy rather than passenger comfort too long today. I was still trying to relax during the tedious flight from Guadalajara to Mexico City then to Houston and culminating with this last leg to Colorado Springs. Relaxing was proving difficult to accomplish considering the business meetings that took place in Mexico were a bust and had been thoroughly disgusting. We were about a half hour from landing in Colorado Springs where I would pick up my truck hidden somewhere in the vast long term lot and drive the hour and a half from the airport to my home in a small mining town up in the Rockies called Cripple Creek.
We had just started our descent when I became aware of the young boy of approximately 8 – 10 years of age sitting in the row behind me. Within 10 minutes the boy was complaining of his face hurting and having a headache. The father was still ignoring him which was starting to get on my nerves because the boy seemed to genuinely be in distress and getting worse.
Since the father was too busy to pay any attention to his son, I decided to take a hand and help the boy. I looked over my shoulder to see the boy in tears and told him that I would take the pain away for him. He did not pay any attention to me but kept holding his head and crying. His father was still too busy to pay any attention to him. I felt like turning around in my seat and looking him in the face and letting him know what I thought of his parenting technique. Miraculously I stayed calm and decided not to do this.
I settled comfortably, or as comfortably as you can in an airplane seat, took a deep breath, blew it out slowly and cleared my mind of distractions. I looked into the boy’s mind and found that the problem that was causing his headache was not sinus pressure or anything as mundane as that. It was fear of crashing. This fear is understandable by anyone who has ever watched the news and seen the aftermath of a plane crash. This picture in the boy’s mind of falling to the ground coupled with the eerie feeling of falling that everyone who has flown has felt during landing, which was also being radiated from many of those seated around us, was causing the pains that the boy was experiencing.
I corrected the neural pathways causing the problems I found and did the necessary cleanup work to get rid of the memories and other things that were triggered by the plane descending to the runway. During this last bit of the treatment the crying subsided and stopped. The boy became calm and appeared quite surprised at his own calmness. When I was finished I again looked over my shoulder at the boy who looked back at me and I asked if he felt better now.
He replied with a quiet nod of the head.
I asked if all the pain was gone now.
Again he replied with a quiet nod.
I said, “Good,” and turned around in my seat to face forward again just before we touched down. I never heard another sound from the boy and his father was blissfully ignorant of all that had passed being completely engrossed in putting the make on the girl next to him.
I just let out a quiet sigh as my only validation of the experience and started preparing to disembark the plane. Home, quiet and a little solitude was waiting at the end of the hour and a half drive up the mountain. This solitude is something I look forward to now as it has been my whole life. The crowding of all the others around me, both corporeal and spiritual, takes its toll. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do and wouldn’t quit even if I could. Nothing gives me the exhilaration I feel like being able to help someone, especially when it is someone who has nowhere else to turn like the boy in his moment of distress.
Time to go through the hassle of getting the bags and finding the truck out in the acres of parking lot. As I pull the truck through the bottleneck at the toll booth I look forward to the long quiet drive which usually gives me some time for reflection.
As my conscious mind relaxes into the familiar twists and turns of the mountain road I begin to think back. As I think back about the strange and wonderful things I have seen, heard and felt throughout my life I realize I had never mentioned these things to anyone. This was probably because my family never talked much. They were down to earth hard working people who I loved dearly but we rarely talked about anything except the day to day chores. Perhaps this is where I realized that being alone with my thoughts and perceptions was very pleasant and desirable. It wasn’t until many years later that I realized the pleasure I derived from using my skills to help others. However, now that I have spent so many years in this life, I marvel at what I could do then and now and think it a shame that I did not see the value in these things sooner. Ah well, se la vie.
There’s the driveway up ahead. Now I can unpack and get some lunch. Since the airlines no longer serve any food onboard, and the coffee & donut which served as breakfast in Mexico City being just a vague memory, I’m ready for a nice quiet sandwich and a beer out on the deck where I can observe the trees and animals from a seat that isn’t moving.
Opening the front door and stepping in with my bags I instantly become aware that someone had filled my house with cotton candy. None was in sight of course but the smell was overwhelming. This is one of the typical ways that spirit contacts usually start. They get my attention using smells or voices or moving inanimate objects or making me feel physical sensations, amongst others. Ah well, time to get to work so that sandwich will have to wait for a little while. That’s the trouble with spirits, they just don’t have any sense of propriety when it comes to my wants and needs and they have a real problem with making an appointment versus just barging in. At least this one didn’t try to get my attention in the car while I was on the road.
