PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
The Pendulum Diaries
There are days
when sunlight scythes through the branches of trees and etches the world into a
still-life tableau. On such days time is banished as scintillas of light trap people
in frozen poses, like statues, or shadows in a peepshow. It can last for less
than a second but it might as well be a lifetime.
It was on a day
such as this that Paul had stood with Annie outside a dome-shaped theatre
surrounded by well-cut lawns. A straggling crowd was making its way into the
exhibition, ‘Connections’. This was a mixed bag of a show, part market, part
new age bazaar, part chicanery and pseudo wisdom, where you could buy organic
juice, fresh vegetables, candles and love potions, visit a couple of
clairvoyants, sit in a tepee, learn to meditate or buy oddball books.
Annie was eager
to get inside. She had been showing an unusual interest in anything spiritual
or even wacky. Paul had some reservations about this so-called new age explosion.
His take on the whole question of life and existence had seen him delve much
deeper than the transient world of ‘enlightenment’ that had now become a
mass-market business worth millions.
It was partly, he
supposed, because he lived and worked in a structured world of business where
computers were the new gods and cyberspace the new universe.
“I want to learn
to meditate,” said Annie as they went in, bought tickets and collected an
armful of leaflets, “like you used to do.”
“That’s fine, but
don’t be taken in by everything you see in here,” Paul replied. “A lot of this
is just commercial mumbo-jumbo.”
“Yeah, yeah!” she
smiled.
“I can teach you
to meditate,” said Paul.
“Like you tried
to teach me to drive,” she laughed. “We ended up in a shouting match.”
“I just mean,
there’s real spiritual information out there and there’s razzmatazz like this.”
They entered a
large hall with a decorated domed ceiling. It was full of colour and light,
kaftans and dreadlocks interspersed with earnest and newly converted devotees
of Hindu and Buddhist sects, po-faced Christians offering booklets, brightly
coloured tarot stalls and I-Ching readers and smiling aloe vera salesmen. A
heady mixture of perfumes and scents drifted through the packed hall. The
visitors were a mixed bag. Some looked like refugees from a third-rate rock
concert, or were gipsy travellers with snivelling kids in tow. Others were
middle income bracket devotees determined to find enlightenment on their
doorstep but the majority was just the plain curious.
Annie and Paul
drifted with the crowd, pausing here and there. Annie rushed into the tepee to
experience some Sioux Indian drumming and came out again a little later less
than impressed.
“My hands hurt,”
she complained.
“There’s a
transcendental meditation stall over there,” said Paul. “Why don’t you check it
out? I’ll have a wander around.”
Annie smiled and
rushed through the crowd, pausing to buy a silk headscarf that she tied around
her head tucking her long blonde hair inside. Paul smiled at her enthusiasm.
You can learn a lot from your kids, he told himself.Maybe more than they can
learn from you.
Paul stopped by
the aloe vera stall and listened to the sales pitch that tried to persuade him
to become an agent and make a fortune from residual income. He thanked the guy
politely and moved on, tempted for a moment by an attractive tarot card reader
who smiled at him encouragingly, as if to say, you’re special, you have a
special future ahead of you.
Paul bought a
pendant for Kate and then noticed a stall tucked away by a pillar. A number of
people had gathered around a sallow skinned little man who was pointing out
something on a large chart on the table in front of him surrounded by piles of
book, manuals and pendulums.
Paul’s curiosity
was aroused. Dowsing and work with pendulums did have some scientific validity
and whenever something unexplainable seemed to fit neatly side-by-side with
something that could be explained or surmised, Paul was intrigued. He knew, for
instance, that many elements, including metals and ores of all kinds and, of
course, water, could be dowsed. A pendulum was like a physical or quirky
version of the periodic table. A pendulum would always spin a set number of
times over or close to a chemical compound or a metal. It never varied.
He walked across
to the stall and noticed that the small man was holding a pendulum above a
chart upon which was printed a piano scale-like illustration with lines like
barcodes of different thicknesses stretching in a semicircle across the page.
Barcode was a pretty good analogy. He listened as the man explained patiently
what he was doing to a sceptical onlooker.
“I am examining
your past lives for debris and detritus,” he stated. “You can clear from past
existences the trouble, crimes, sins and bad karma that have infiltrated your
present life and are causing much of the grief and problems you currently
suffer.”
“I don’t believe
in past lives,” said the onlooker.
“You don’t have
to believe,” said the stallholder, “you just have to notice the difference from
now on. Then you will believe.”
The onlooker
moved on, shaking his head. Paul stood watching the man for a moment. A sign
above his stall proclaimed: ‘Ebenezer Nuttley – past life regression and
clearance - parallel universes explored’. Here, at last, was Paul’s kind of
stall. He didn’t know if he believed in past lives or not. He thought, on
balance, that he did, but not as portrayed by any religious movement. Ebenezer
- no one was called Ebenezer these days - crouched over his chart intently.
Paul glanced
around looking for Annie. He saw her at the tarot card stall as she was about
to sit down for a reading. He waved and she waved back.
“Can I help you?”
Nuttley’s voice was thin, like a reed in the wind.
“I’m curious,”
said Paul. “What’s all this about?”
“It’s a system
devised by a minister of religion, believe it or not,” he answered. “Throughout
various incarnations in which the spirit has been made flesh and in parallel
universes where other versions of ourselves are living their lives, there takes
place, what you might call, spiritual spillage.”
“Spiritual
spillage?” Paul was now really curious.
“Why don’t you
sit down?” Nuttley invited Paul.
Paul pulled up a
small stool and looked closely at the chart. It was divided into sections with
titles such as: soul partners; recently departed; parallel lives; historical
relationships; future events; dark matter; angels; demons and spirit life.
“Time and space
are one,” explained Nuttley and Paul looked closely at him for the first time.
He had a gnome-like face, and it was difficult to guess his exact age: his bald
scalp was wrapped in a bandana and he possessed remarkably long and delicate
fingers.
“Each of us will
die with, what you might describe as, a nugget of wisdom gained from our time
in this material world. Since there is only the constant now, past and future
are mental constructs that have no real substance. What does have substance is
the imprint of our actions, emotions, hopes and fears on the spirit material we
are made from. Most of the experiences of our lives are meaningless and serve
no purpose. Other experiences have profound effects, both positive and
negative. Problems, fears, emotional upsets, scandals, crimes and anything
unresolved from past or future existences can affect our present lives and
therefore our ability to gather wisdom and grow in spirit.
“This is a system
by which we contact the supreme spirit and discover from this chart what the
blockages are and where they have come from. These can then be cleared.”
“Fascinating,”
whispered Paul.
“I sell the
system and the instruction manual,” said Nuttley. “It is money very well spent,
believe me.”
“Can you show
me?” Paul asked.
“I can give you a
small demonstration,” he replied. He handed Paul a pearl droplet pendulum on a
silver chain.
“Hold the
pendulum over the centre point,” Nuttley instructed him. “Then watch.”
Paul noticed that
all the sections on the outer ring of the semicircle had lines drawn to a point
in the centre of the chart. He did as Nuttley had asked and held the pendulum
as still as he could. Slowly at first, then with gathering speed, the pendulum
began to spin, then it oscillated until it was moving in a linear direction
exactly along one of the lines leading to a section called ‘historical
relationships’.
“You must be
absolutely sure that you are in contact with your supreme soul,” Nuttley
warned. “It is quite possible for unwanted entities to gain access and cause
trouble. You will know when this happens because you will receive nonsensical
answers to your questions.”
“Questions?” said
Paul.
“You have to find
out what is causing blockages from some historical relationship. Only the
supreme spirit can wipe this clean. If the pendulum circles to the left, it is
yes, to the right it is no.”
“How do I know
what to ask? This could take hours.”
“Not really,”
Nuttley replied patiently. “The thoughts will come into your head. Ask if you
committed a crime.”
Paul hesitated at
first, then, looking uncertainly at Nuttley, he asked the question in his head.
Immediately the pendulum circled to the right, swinging powerfully. He watched
Nuttley’s fingers as they twitched slightly, disturbing the dust motes which
floated across the room in the kind of light peculiar to church halls or
museums.
“That’s a no,”
Nuttley told him. The fingers danced then came together.
Paul began to
think over his past life. Suddenly, the pendulum veered violently to the left.
“What were you
thinking of?” asked Nuttley.
“It’s personal,”
said Paul.
“It doesn’t
matter to me, my friend,” Nuttley smiled. “Ask for it to be cleared then
confirm you are clear.”
Paul had been
thinking about Marion and how he had left her pregnant. He had been carrying
that guilt around ever since. His heart felt heavy and he could almost sense
Marion’s presence.
“I’m sorry,” he
thought and tears almost came to his eyes.
“Ask if it can be
cleared,” Nuttley said softly.
Paul did so,
trying to visualize the supreme soul. The pendulum stopped, then once again
circled to the right before swinging to the left in a straight line to a
section Paul hadn’t seen before which said the word ‘Clear’.
“I have other
customers, my friend,” said Nuttley.
“I’ll take one,”
Paul said.
“Good,” replied
the little man. “Remember, you have to ensure you are talking to your supreme
soul and not some errant spirit. The manual explains everything; all the
safeguards.”
Paul glanced
around and saw that Annie was making her way towards him. One or two others had
been standing behind him watching. Nuttley wrapped up a chart, manual and
pendulum and handed the package to Paul. As Paul paid him he noticed a pile of
business cards.
“I’ll put my card
in the bag in case you ever want a private consultation or need me to clear
you,” said Nuttley. “Goodbye.”
“Wow, that was
amazing,” said Annie as they walked across the lawn to the car park.
“Go on,” Paul
encouraged her.
“I can’t tell you
everything,” she said. “But, the next three years are going to be
extraordinary. I have to be careful to make the right choices. I have to follow
my heart and not my head. Maybe I should not try for medical school or
university but try to be an actress. That’s what my heart tells me. There was a
lot of other personal stuff I can’t talk about.”
“Why can’t you
study to become a doctor and act part time? If you’re not any good you’ll soon
find out and in the meantime you could have a career in medicine.”
Annie did not
seem that convinced. “I had a funny feeling during that reading,” she told him.
“Go on.”
“It was kind of
like, taking a step into the unknown. I don’t know. I’m not explaining it very well.”
“Was it like the
sudden knowledge that you have moved in a particular direction and life will
never be the same again?”
She looked at
him. “Yes, that’s exactly it. How did you know?”
“Because it does
happen to other people too, darling.”
Annie put her arm
through his. “I’m glad I’ve got you as a dad,” she said.
“I should hope
so,” said Paul as he blinked and looked away for a moment.
“What was
happening on that stall?” she asked.
“Oh, just some
wacko talking about past lives.”
“I’m sure I’ve
been here before,” she said.
“I think once is
enough for you, my girl. Come on, let’s go home.”
Paul forgot about
the pendulum and past life clearance for a while. He was involved in a
particularly difficult project that occupied most of his time. He put Nuttley’s
package in a filing cabinet in his office with the intention of exploring it
later.
In any event,
three months went by before he was rummaging through some old paperwork and
came across the packet with the name Ebenezer Nuttley scrawled on the outside.
“Why not?” he
thought.
He opened the
packet, took out the instruction manual and began to read. The concept of
karma, or the law of cause and effect, had always fascinated him. At first
sight it appeared a remarkably obvious process. But then, it implied that there
was a form of super organic organization behind the scenes. Decisions would
have to made involving millions of lives past and present lives all creating
and burning off karma until they merged unsullied into the great light of
creation, the permanent now.
This
pendulum-based karmic clearance system had been devised by a man who claimed to
have already by-passed it and reached the point where he was able to
communicate with spiritual beings by blinking. Neat, Paul thought, although,
what if you didn’t wish to communicate? Initially however, the process was
straightforward. Whatever responded to the spinning pendulum, which seemed to
act as a kind of cosmic key or telephone line, had to be identified as being
your soul guardian - rather like a guardian angel. The guardian could not lie
to you but other wayward spirits would do more than lie. It seemed the
invisible world of spirit was teeming with life, albeit dead from a human
perspective. By asking questions that you alone knew the answers to, it could
be established that you were in direct communication with your guardian angel
not with some mischievous spirit.
You could isolate
past and future lives, discover who you were or would be, understand the nature
of traumatic events that may have taken place and ask your supreme soul to
clear them from your soul, spirit, psyche or karmic load. Some of the more
sinister categories included satanic possession. A slight shiver ran down
Paul’s spine when he saw this, but the problem was, did you have to believe in
all this stuff for it to be true, or, was it just the way things were
irrespective of what human beings believed?
Paul began by a
process of self-analysis, letting the pendulum have free rein. He noted that it
was purely a matter of dreaming up a question to which an answer of sorts was
given. The answers prompted further questions and answers until Paul was deep
in a kind of meditative trance.
“Do I have
problems from a past life?” he asked.
The pendulum
indicated he had. What followed then was a bizarre series of questions and
answers. Paul didn’t know where the questions were coming from. They just
popped into his head.
“Was I male?”
“No.”
“Am I male now?”
“No.”
“Hey, what is
this?”
Paul realized he
had not been carrying out the regular safety checks.
“Are you my soul
guardian?”
“No, yes.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Yes.”
Paul asked for
the soul guardian to return and this time he felt he could sense the
difference. The manual recommended using the chart to narrow down areas of
investigation and then position the pendulum over the palm of the hand to ask
questions and request clearance.
He also realized
that he could ask questions about other people. To begin with, he pressed on
about his own life or lives.
“What event in my
last life has caused trouble in this one?” he inquired.
The pendulum
moved to the section covering death. Paul paused. Did he really want to go down
this road?
This is more than
self-analysis, he concluded. And the longer he pressed on, the deeper became
the questions he was asking, mainly of himself. It was stunning how a simple
yes and no question session began to unlock emotions and fears he had long
since buried or didn’t know he had.
“Did I have a
happy death last time?” he queried.
“No.”
“Why?” Paul
thought he’d try a new tack.
The pendulum
began to spin in a large circle, first to the left and then to the right. Then
it changed direction and hit the section denoted as trauma pretty violently,
Paul thought. The pendulum seemed to contain its own life force, gentle and
passive when the questions were run-of-the-mill but markedly furious when they
got to be near-the-knuckle.
“Was I murdered?”
Paul ventured.
“Yes,” came the
answer with what Paul felt was a degree of satisfaction.
“Are you my
supreme soul?” he checked.
The pendulum
swung to a yes answer and Paul believed it. Paul asked a series of questions
relating to this death and discovered that he had lived around 150 years ago in
Syria. He was learning the technique of short circuiting hundreds of questions
and getting to the answer pretty swiftly. He didn’t know what to believe. What
exactly was he communicating with? Whatever it was, it had to be in his mind,
or in his brain. But it was wholly unlikely that he could have dug up some
fantasy story about being a Syrian in a previous life on his own account.
He paused for a
while and looked out of his office window. He needed to talk to someone about
this. The process was starting to leave a faint whiff of unease inside him. He
couldn’t put his finger on it.
He changed tack
and began to ask questions about Kate and their marriage.
The pendulum
adamantly moved to the section, which denoted discontent in this life. This was
at the opposite end of the chart to his original questions about himself.
“Is Kate happy?”
he asked.
“Yes.” the
pendulum circled to the left. Then, before Paul could ask another question, it
began to reverse its direction.
Concerned and
irritated, Paul checked out his soul guardian to make sure no wandering spirit
had happened to find the channel open. No, the supreme soul was still in
control. On an impulse Paul asked:
“Has Kate ever
been unfaithful to me?”
There was a pause
as the pendulum returned to vertical and then spun conclusively to the left.
Paul looked up stunned for a moment, alternately believing and disbelieving. He
didn’t notice the pendulum had stopped circling and had reversed direction.
Paul slammed the
pendulum down on the desk and stared at it. It wasn’t possible. He knew Kate so
well. He would surely have known. Then a worm of doubt slithered into his subconscious.
What about the visits she used to make to that riding stables with Bessie,
their bay mare? She had always returned from those visits a little higher than
normal. He hadn’t noticed anything in particular and he had met the guy who ran
the stables at country shows when he accompanied Kate and Bessie to help out.
Now, he thought back, had there been a spark between them? There was nothing
obvious at the time.
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?”
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