In the late 1990s in the process of moving flats I opened various boxes and cases that had not been touched for many years. In one of them I found a diary I had kept of the period I had spent in Coventry – actually it had been Birmingham – when I developed as a medium. I had totally forgotten the existence of this diary.
Now I was able to read about my first paranormal experience which the detail of I had again completely forgotten.
The presiding medium at the séance where I myself first went into a trance state had approached me with a ‘message’. She was speaking in trance in the voice of her Chinese guide. In her outstretched hands I now saw an open, golden book – a psychic vision; because of course in reality her hands were empty. This phenomenon, along with the message itself – see below for full detail – was I think a clear indication of my later career as a writer. At the time however I had no thought or intention whatsoever of writing books, and the fact that I subsequently completely forgot this incident is evidence enough of my indifference to that scenario. I did not in fact begin my writing career for another ten years subsequently.
But now on to a different matter which the reader will at this stage find much more impressive.
A year of so after the first publication of The Paranormal, in the early 1980s, Granada Television invited me on to an early afternoon chat show. During that show I was asked if I could project an image telepathically into the mind of the viewing audience. I said yes I could, and proceeded to do so.
The switchboards of Manchester and Liverpool were jammed for the rest of the day by viewers ringing in to say that they had seen the image – which was a triangle enclosed in a circle. Interestingly, only one member of the studio audience had received the image (they had been asked to draw their response on paper before I announced what it had actually been). This circumstance was I think because I had been concentrating on the viewing audience.
However, my success in this TV challenge received no publicity whatsoever (unlike the efforts of Uri Geller). Part of the reason here is because the paranoid (the politest word I can think of) academic/scientific establishment cannot cope with a professionally qualified and responsible member of their fraternity who is also a psychic. I should perhaps mention that I have written two textbooks on child development and of course published many papers in learned journals. I should mention also that I was offered the posts of Director of the National Children’s Bureau and the Chair of Psychology at Brunel University; bit I declined both because I felt they would interfere too much with my own work. The same fate of ostracism befell Marcel Vogel, the Senior Chemist at IBM – whereas of course a figure like Uri Geller can be readily mocked and dismissed.
But having voiced this strong condemnation of the establishment, I must nevertheless acknowledge that The Paranormal was reviewed, and favourably so (‘a book that even the sceptic can read with profit and enjoyment – not just for the converted’) by the British Journal of Psychology. Mine was actually the first book concerning the paranormal ever reviewed by the B.J.Psych.
Granada TV of course have video and other records of the programme described above, so that there is no question whatsoever of my inventing this item.
In short, then, the paranormal is a fact.
What follows now is an extract from the diary I kept in 1957, when I first had direct personal experience of the paranormal. Here forensic testing would of course prove that the diary was written at that time, and not produced more recently. This version of the events concerned can be compared with that given, from memory, in Chapter 1. Brian is the ‘Peter’ referred to in that chapter, whom I had met originally at gym classes. There is no need now after this lengthy interval to disguise, in the interests of privacy, the real names and locations of the individuals involved. The extract begins with the next paragraph.
Brian had at last suggested that I attend a circle, to be held at his home on Tuesday evening, to see as he put it ‘what can be done’. The irony of these words was lost on both of us.
Brian’s father keeps a general grocery and green- grocery shop. The building was originally an inn and is some hundreds of years old. Mr. Nicholas has converted part of it into a shop front, and they live in the remainder. The living room I was shown into, and where the séance was to take place, was the old tap-room. It had a low-timbered ceiling and the remains of a big wooden ingle-nook fireplace. A room with a past and an atmosphere, just right I thought for a spiritualist séance.
I had arrived sharp at seven as requested. The shop was still open and Mr. Nicholas was serving. Brian was out fetching one or two of the other people who were to be present. Mrs Nicholas was in the kitchen with another guest preparing sandwiches. She is a very likeable woman, forthright and unaffected, big of frame with a hint of gauntness, and extremely capable. She reminds me very much of Marjorie Maine as Ma Kettle. Mr. Nicholas on the other hand is a rather shy man who says very little, and when he does he says it very briefly.
Both the Nicholas’s are spiritualists, both mediumistic. I don’t think either of them ever operates as a medium, but they have certain psychic gifts and are very useful members of a developing circle, where they are said to be able to ‘lend power’ to the medium leading the circle. Most mediums are the sons or daughters of other mediums of psychically gifted people, which is at once logical and suspicious, depending how you look at it. The mother of Joan Grant (who wrote Time Out of Mind) for instance foresaw the sinking of the Titanic and cancelled the family’s reservations. She also foresaw the collapse of a house they were having built and just manages to get all the workmen out before the roof fell in.
It was getting on for eight o’clock when Brian eventually returned with the other to be participants. These included Bob and Anna (a young married couple I had already met at a party – I like both of them – Anna incidentally is Scots and a strict Baptist), Mrs. Kite (the medium in charge of the circle) and another lady plus dog whose names I have forgotten. Doreen was not to be present – apparently she had of late been bringing disharmony into the circle. Actually I think there was an element of small-mindedness involved here, which I did not like to see, because up till now everything had been so open and above board.
In ones and twos we drifted into the living room. Mr. Nicholas was shutting up shop and every so often someone would slip away and get lost for five minutes, so that getting settled in took us some time.
We were grouped in a rough circle, men and women seated alternately. The mediums were sitting on ordinary hard straight-backed chairs – Mrs. Kite and Brian, that is – with their backs to a small television light, the only illumination in the room apart from the glow of an oil-heater and the light from a tiny altar and crucifix which Mrs. Kite had brought along. Some of the others were seated in easy chairs. I, on a hard chair, sat facing the mediums, with Anna on my left side and a Mrs. Jones on my right. We had to sit with uncrossed legs and arms, both feet firmly on the floor. Brian took his shoes off and later so did Mrs. Kite. This is apparently a normal practice among mediums.
Mrs. Kite opened the proceedings by addressing a few words on spiritualism generally, because several of those present had never attended a circle or church meeting before. She followed her introduction by a short prayer and then asked us to sing the hymn ‘Healing Light’, which we did. She now proposed to begin the evening proper with clairvoyance, and took her stand in the centre of the circle.
She turned first to the woman whose name I have forgotten and spoke to her at some length – the details being largely of concern only to the woman herself. Mrs. Kite said finally that around the woman was quite a throng of helping spirits. (I tried hard to see them too without success. Brian told me later that you never see when you are straining to see, it comes itself or not at all. I had retrospective proof of this next day.) Indeed, she felt that this woman had some psychic gifts and suggested she join one of her development circles. I am ashamed to admit that I was actually angry and jealous that such a foolish old woman should have such interesting things said about her, while the young, clever, high-minded-seeker-after truth (me!) should be left out in the cold. I had cause soon to feel even more ashamed.
‘The light now comes bobbing over this young gentleman’ said Mrs. Kite, turning to me. What followed was at some length and repetitious, so that I am giving only a summary. But part of it I give word for word.
It appeared that by reason of my high intelligence and other qualities a group of learned spirits had gathered about me and were to make me the receptacle for their learning. Mrs. Kite specified a few of them – the leader an Arab, another a man of forty-five or so ‘the manner of whose passing was not particularly pleasant or quick’ but who now returned full of vigour to carry on his interrupted work. It was now that I realised it was no longer the voice of Mrs. Kite I could hear but the voice of an old Chinaman. Mrs. Kite was now an old, bowed figure, her hands tucked inside the sleeves of an imaginary gown, swaying and nodding and smiling. Mrs. Kite’s Chinese guide had assumed control.
‘You have great gifts, my friend. I come here tonight in person to tell you this. You have much work to do…You are very sensitive. You have a mind which seeks always the truth and is satisfied with nothing else. You will have set-backs, there will be difficulties but they will not stop you’- now more excited – ‘Other men speak at second-hand, but you will speak from experience.’
At this point I saw an open golden book in Mrs. Kite’s outstretched hands.
‘Men will listen to you because you speak from experience and not as other men do at second-hand. You will see what you wish to see. Soon you will be taken over for the work you have to do. You are very sensitive. I see around you a light which is not of this earth. Tonight I place the precious gift of understanding in your hands’ – holding out cupped hands to me – ‘Use it carefully. And now I must leave you, my friend. God bless you.’
Mrs. Kite straightened from her bent position and turning to another member of the circle resumed her normal voice.
I was naturally shaken and excited by what I had heard. But not quite to the extent one might imagine, because much of what had been said had been in my mind for some years. ‘Seeker after truth’ was my image of myself – and in this respect I saw myself as unlike other people.
The clairvoyance continued and after a while the thoughts ceased whirling about in my head, so that I was able to take stock again of what was happening. Outside the two dogs barked fitfully. Brian was seated bolt upright and stock-still in his chair, with eyes closed, and had been thus for some time. I heard it whispered that Grey Hawk was waiting, but Mrs. Kite continued the clairvoyance in order, I imagine, that no one might feel overlooked. Anna, it appeared, might develop as a psychometrist.
As I now sat there, I felt my head swimming a little, which I put down to the closeness of the room and the general excitement. This feeling passed, but then a little later the sensation returned, more strongly. I felt rather as if inside my head the heel of somebody’s hand was pressing down on my brain above the left eye. Then my eyes screwed themselves tight shut of their own volition and my head was forced forwards and down and twisted to one side. With a jerk I pulled myself together. My only thought was that my subconscious was inducing pseudo-psychic symptoms- countless in response to my jealousy of the old woman earlier that evening. Not content with the wonderful promises which had just been made to me, I also wanted a finger in the pie of mediumship. I was angry with myself for my despicable behaviour. I told myself that if I really had any mediumistic powers then this would have been noticed by Mrs. Kite or one of the mediums in church and my attention drawn to them. Satisfied that my analysis of the situation was correct I now gave my full attention to the proceedings again. My head cleared completely and I was wide awake once more.
Mrs. Kite had now spoken to everyone and we all expected Brian’s part in the séance to begin. But Mr. Nicholas had to go out to quieten the dogs (animals are said to be able to sense the presence of spirits) and to make sure that no one was trying to break into the shop. So we waited for him to return.
After a few moments Mrs. Kite turned to me again. ‘There’s a young man here in air force uniform killed in the last war. Can you place him?’ I said it might be a cousin of mine. ‘He is with a group of other young fellows, laughing and joking. At first he was very bitter about his death, but he is happy now. He is a very intelligent spirit and has already developed considerably’.
The details fitted perfectly for my cousin. He was highly intelligent. He was recently married and had not long before his death become a father. His family, unlike mine, was very wealthy, so the world was more or less at his feet when he was killed, which would account for the bitterness. I had myself always regretted his death (when I was eleven) because I was drawn to him and would have liked to get to know him. (I never had that feeling bout any of my other relatives.)
‘He is trying to take control of me,’ went Mrs. Kite. ‘But I mustn’t let him. He wants you to know that he has been near you and knows about you. He says you have had a cough recently.’ Now I had had for the past two weeks a persistent cough, unusual for me, and so persistent was it that I was considering going for a chest x-ray. ‘He says you are shortly to do a course of study and he will help you with it.’ This referred to the Dip. Ed. which I am to do next October. Nobody present knew anything of this. ‘These things he tells you to prove that he knows about you.’ (The items concerned – including the air force uniform – are of course extremely evidential. No one could argue coincidence in respect of all this detail.) ‘He speaks of a man who has had an operation for stomach trouble.’ I said this must be my father (who has cancer of the pancreas). He speaks of a lady who has some trouble here’ – laying her hand on her right side. I said this might be my mother (she has pains everywhere!) ‘He sends his love to his parents –and his sister?’ (A medium is not supposed to ask probing questions like this.) ‘Yes.’ ‘He sends her his love too. He wants you to take his love to them.’
Mr. Nicholas had now returned and Mrs. Kite turned to Brian. ‘We have someone here who has been waiting to speak to us.’ Brian, who had not moved a muscle for about an hour, shuddered a little, grunted once or twice – and then the deep, harsh voice of a Red Indian said: ‘Good evening, friends’.
This voice was much more convincing than that of Mrs. Kite’s Chinaman. There was only the faintest suspicion of Brian’s own voice about it. (Spiritualists readily agree that there is sometimes a touch of the medium’s own voice in a speaking spirit – as I have remarked else ware, there is no suspension of critical faculty amongst spiritualists. The quality of the voice and accent depends on the depth of trance and the state of development of the medium concerned.)
‘Oh, hello Grey Hawk’, said Mrs. Nicholas chattily and casually, as if speaking to a neighbour who had dropped in for a cup of tea. ‘Please sing a hymn’, said Grey Hawk. His insistence on a hymn was, I think, for the benefit of those of us who were new, lest they might think this the work of the devil or in some way irreligious and frivolous. We sang ‘The Lord Is My Shepherd’. Still chatting, Mrs. Nicholas went on after this about the noise the dogs were making. ‘Yes’, said Grey Hawk. ‘We tried to quieten them.’ A few more pleasantries, and then G.H began to address a sort of sermon to the circle. He was saying something about ‘we now rise to the upper spheres where God is present’ when quite suddenly and without warning something began which was undoubtedly the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. It is not easy to out it into words.
A wave of sensation swept through me, which made me take a deep gasping breath. My brain spun wildly. With triumphant excitement I realised that I was being ‘controlled’. After an initial sensation of soaring upwards I was now falling. Then the feeling of movement ceased abruptly. My head fell back. Then, a great distance away, I could hear the, long laboured breathing of a body which I could no longer feel and to which I was attached only by a fine thread. I was nevertheless aware of the silent tension which filled the room. Then came a period of unconsciousness. When I returned to myself again a hymn was being sung. My head was hanging down on to my chest, my hands dangled at my sides, and I was barely breathing at all.
Mrs. Kite was standing in front of me. ‘Raise your hands, Stan,’ she said. I gave her my hands. Then she addressed the spirit within me. ‘Hello. We’re pleased to have you with us. Won’t you speak to us friend? Use your instrument. Use your instrument, friend.’ At this my brain, which had cleared momentarily, grew very confused again. I seemed to be in charge of one half of it, and someone or something else was in charge of the other half. This other intelligence seemed to want to say ‘hello’ or ‘good evening’ or some word of greeting. But this was not achieved. Instead I groaned and fell forward.
I could hear Grey Hawk saying repeatedly: ‘All is well. All is well. It is very beautiful. Do not be afraid.’ These remarks were to the other members of the circle.
This was, I think, the high point of the trance, in so far as I was only about half in charge of my mind and my body. After this the other influence seemed to grow weaker and weaker and to withdraw. Mrs. Kite was still urging me to speak. Grey Hawk, now speaking to me, said ‘Do not be afraid, fear will harm the condition.’
I was afraid, naturally, or at least what I felt was a mixture of fear and excitement. I was anxious not to be afraid, not to spoil things. It was perhaps my very desire to help, the over- interference of my conscious mind which prevented a more successful outcome.
I heard Mr. Nicholas say: ‘we mustn’t leave him under too long first time’. Mrs. Kite now raised me from my chair and led me into the centre of the circle. This is a symbolic welcome to the spirit visitor. Through half- closed eyes I glimpsed the immobile figure of Brian. A hymn was being sung. A feeling of great happiness came over me and I was smiling and grinning. ‘You’re very happy to be with us, aren’t you?’ said Mrs. Kite. And then almost immediately came to a complete change. The happy mood was replaced by a terribly intense feeling of sadness, which quickly overwhelmed me, so that I broke down and sobbed in Mrs. Kite’s arms as if I would never stop. They were however tears not only of sadness, but of gratitude and humility in the presence of something very wonderful. A period of blackness then, and I came to sobbing into my hands and sitting in my chair.
After a while the sadness passed and I looked up to find Mrs. Kite in front of me, controlled again by her guide. He rocked backwards and forwards on his heels, beside himself with delight. ‘Did I not say he has great gifts? Did I not say it? He is so sensitive, so pliant. And so willing.’ Then he began to speak in rapid Chinese. (I can’t prove it was Chinese, of course.) He was stroking my forehead with both hands. I felt the spirit beginning to go from me completely. Finally he ran his hands down my arms and legs as if squeezing water from a sponge, and I was completely myself again – a little bewildered but very happy, my eyes and face still wet with tears.
Brian came over to me, obviously very pleased, and laughing at my expression. From all sides envious glances. ‘You’ve been holding out on us Stan’, said Mrs. Nicholas. Questions all round – was it really the first time I had sat in a circle? Had I ever had psychic experiences before? How did I feel now? Some one asked Bob what he thought of the spiritualism now and he mutters something about self- hypnosis, but nobody seemed offended. Anna said tat far from being frightened (she is very excitable and easily gets hysterical) she had had to suppress her desire to laugh out loud (which could be a fear reaction anyway) but again nobody was offended. Mrs. Kite drew me to one side. ‘We’ve been looking so long for someone like you’. I felt very proud that Mrs. Kite should speak to me as it were on equal terms. Apparently she too had been controlled at her first séance. She warned me not to ‘sit’ alone, that is, not to allow myself to be controlled unless someone experienced were present who knew what should be done. Otherwise the consequences could be serious. In her opinion the spirit who had attempted to control me was my cousin. ‘That boy will be able to help you a lot if you let him. Turn your thought to him when you need help.’
It was now very late (about 1.30am) and one of the circle was asked to run me and another guest home in his car. I arrived back at my digs some time after 2am, with packing for the next day still to be done, the last day of term. I was planning to catch the 4.30pm train straight from school the next day. I slept hardly at all that night and went through the next day with a splitting headache and a brain which refused to focus on anything. This added greatly to the normal difficulties of the last day of any term.
The above concludes the extract from the 1957 diary. But there is one further item. A few weeks subsequently I had a private sitting with Grey Hawk. Among other matters he said:
‘You have a great future my friend. There will be much material hardship, but you will be supported by the things of spirit. You do not dream what things will happen. You will see many things. You will be shown a great plan. But not yet – you must be patient.’
Like the words of Mrs. Kite’s guides (along with the golden book) Grey Hawk’s comments very much apply to (and predict) my writing career. Despite considerable critical acclaim I have always had to struggle financially – these are not two items one would expect to go hand in hand, so full marks to Grey Hawk. And as for the ‘great plan’ – little did I know that I would one day be privileged to discover that fifty percent of our (social and evolutionary) history is missing, as is fifty percent of our psychology. Or rather, they were missing. For these now exist in my books.
Total Gooch 