When I was 22 years old my wife, newborn daughter and I moved into a small 1950’s house in the eastern hills above St. Helena. We shared the old orchard property with the original 1920 farmhouse, in which three elderly gentlemen lived. Fred was 101, and had moved to the United States from Ireland at 14. Bev was around 65 and mostly blind but hiked the hills each day nonetheless. Gordon, who was about 70, was the caretaker; he drove, marketed and “took care of business.”
Shortly after we moved in, Gordon came over to talk; I found him engaging and extremely bright. Over time, he further revealed himself: he had been an astrologer, making money charting corporations and writing under pen names like Angelo Saxon and Milo Mills for astrology magazines. He was an “advisor” to a the Schramsberg winery owner. He had “clients” in the area he kept healthy and alive. It all sounded rather mysterious.
He brought me books – about Madame Blavatsky and the The Theosophical Society, The Laws of Seven, Journeys Out of the Body, among them. Exploring mystical and occult traditions, the books were interesting, and I thought they were pretty “cool.” One afternoon, Gordon said he communicated with beings “in the other world” such as Hermes Trismegistus, and “physicians” who had performed “psychic surgery” on old Fred’s arthritic neck.
His claims struck me as rather fantastic; I found myself thinking perhaps he was quite mad. He announced he had been a concert pianist, and to test his claim, I invited him to sit down at our upright piano. He agreed, and delighted us with an extraordinary concert of classical piano pieces by Joseph Haydn. My doubts began to fade. He continued coming over every day, bringing a new book, and expounding on the nature of existence. I became more and more caught up in his world. As our relationship grew, my wife became concerned about how much time Gordon and I spent together and complained. It became a source of some conflict between us.
Then one night, as I was in bed falling to sleep, I heard Gordon’s voice. He was not in the room, nor outside the window. Gordon’s voice was in my head. “I’d like to review some material with you, Larry.” As we said in 1972, I freaked.
“Get out of my head, Gordon,” I thought. “This is completely unacceptable. I am not ready for this, and I am not ready to be your apprentice. I have a family, and a job. I can’t do this. Don’t invade my thoughts again!” Silence answered. My heart pounding, I lay in the dark waiting for sleep.
Gordon did not come over the next day, or the next week. Finally, he appeared at our door and politely asked for the books he had given me. His manner was friendly; neither of us mentioned the nighttime event of the week before. From then on, he would wave hello, but our conversations were over. We moved away six months later.
That there are things our limited senses cannot detect is without doubt. Science informs us that the electromagnetic wave fields in which we are constantly immersed carry many types of information. I have no explanation for what happened so long ago, but I do know that there is vast unseen magic in the world.
