I am about three years of age. It is early evening in the small subtropical town of Ipswich, Queensland, Australia.

The sky is clear and the stars are beginning to show through the soft velvet of the indigo sky. My father is singing, with his exceptionally beautiful voice, a song which has the words "loveliest night of the year", which echoes and enhances the beauty of the evening. Our cat has just given birth to several kittens which haven't, as yet, opened their eyes. I am entranced by one kitten which, despite its apparent handicap, still dares to explore its environment; falling down two small steps but bravely marching on.

As I look up into the sky I am suddenly among the stars, surrounded, enwrapped, by a presence that I am sure is divine. There is a feeling of being in a place of protection, of being cared for and accepted. There is a wholeness; something totally beyond self, yet is self. God is here in this place.

This is how I remember my first exceptional human experience (EHE).

An EHE or, as it is sometimes called, a peak experience has been described in the Journal of Humanistic Psychology as quoted in a Perspective (Davis, 1991, 12, 6) article as having

some (but usually not all) of the following characteristics: an almost overwhelming sense of pleasure, euphoria, or joy; a deep sense of peacefulness or tranquillity; feeling in tune, in harmony, or at one with the universe; a sense of wonder or awe; altered perceptions of time and/or space, such as expansion, a feeling of deeper knowing or profound understanding, a deep feeling of love (for yourself, another, or all people), a greater awareness of beauty or appreciation; a sense that it would be difficult or impossible to describe adequately in words.

Within the depths of this experience I am overwhelmed by a sense of oneness, something which, because of my Catholic background, leads me to confusion. "God is something 'out there' ", is what it should be, but it doesn't seem to be that way at all.

I decide that something special has happened to me which hasn't happened to anyone else. I am special, specially chosen for God's work; I must be a saint, and God wants me to be a priest.

Thus the future was set. Everything that I did from that day on was done with the intention that I would one day be a priest. This in turn led me to take decisions regarding my relationships with all other people. Essentially, I became quite introverted, thinking that I could be, and would be, diverted from my path by anyone and everyone. In hindsight, this decision was probably the worst one that I ever made, but, for better or worse, I made it.

At around the same time -- I can't recall whether before or after, though I think after is more likely -- my brother Peter was born. This birth was especially traumatic for me for two reasons. Firstly, I was the only child up to that time, and now there was a usurper to my sole claim on my parents, and secondly, because my new brother had Down's Syndrome. This second fact was very significant in that it caused my parents to abandon me. By this I don't mean abandon me physically, for they never did that nor would they ever have done so, but rather, they unwittingly withdrew their love and psychological support from me and devoted all of it to Peter.

It was also at around this time that another incident which has had an incredibly powerful effect on my life took place. I went to a friend's place and during the visit was offered a sip of beer by his father. I took a sip and found the taste disgustingly bitter -- I had expected a sweet taste as the froth on the top of the beer had reminded me of ice cream. When I arrived home and innocently told my mother of the sip she exploded in a rage that was both totally unexpected and totally and completely devastating. I was shattered completely. Any life that had been in me was blown away. I became a shell without life, devoid of and incapable of any feeling, totally turned in on myself, thinking and acting only for my survival.

In my adult years I learnt that many things were happening in the lives of my parents at this time. In addition to the fact that my mother had just given birth to a Down's Syndrome child, one of her brothers had just left the priesthood (something which was simply "never done" in those days), and the husband of my father's eldest sister had recently died from alcoholic poisoning. My mother also told me that because I was 'normal' they thought that I would be alright.

As time went on I more or less adjusted to the situation. And, as another child, my sister Annette, was added to the family, we went on with life.

Not long after my sister's birth we headed south to Victoria where my parents eventually bought a newsagency in a beach side suburb of Melbourne called Albert Park. My youngest brother Ian was born about a year later.

It wasn't for several more years, at about age ten, that the next (remembered) EHE occurred. My mother had asked me to do something, which I promptly forgot all about. At a later time she asked me whether or not I had done as she had requested. When I said that I had forgotten to do it she said something like "Oh well, you can't put an old head on young shoulders I suppose". At that point a smile came to my lips, as a knowledge that I had been old came to me. In the previous two or three weeks I had experienced a strong desire to be a 'grey beard', and suddenly I knew that I had been an old man. In a way I knew that I was "an old head on young shoulders".

A year or so later I was invited to stay on my uncle's farm in the far north west of the state, in what is called "The Mallee Country". This is a semi desert environment with a deep red clay soil. Due to large scale clearing of the land for wheat farming and sheep grazing, and the use of European style farming methods, huge sandhills had formed across the land as the thin layer of topsoil was exposed to the elements and blown away. One day whilst out with my uncle as he cleared a new land purchase of mallee stumps I climbed up one of the sandhills. This was exhausting work as with every step taken upwards the sand took my feet downwards. So by the time that I got to the top I was very tired. I sat down and contemplated the horizon. Off in the distance I could see huge wheat silos, one at each railway station, looking like tiny models, and gradually diminishing in size with increasing distance. The air was absolutely still, the sky crystal clear, and across the centre of view the magnificent red earth met the brilliant cobalt-blue sky. I felt as though I was peering into eternity. There was a deep sense of timelessness and a feeling of absolute peace. I was at peace with myself and the universe.

At about age sixteen, just as my parents were selling their small business, I came upon a book which helped me to realise that I was not alone in my experiences, that there were actually others like me, and greater than me, who had had an experience of God, Other, More, Self. This book was written by a Catholic mystic poet saint, John of the Cross (Peers, 1958). Although I didn't read much of the text -- it was way beyond my spiritual understanding at the time, and is still largely out of my reach -- it did tell me through the reading of the poem, of which the book is an exposition that there are those who have had similar experiences, and can express them, and that there is a mystical language which appears to be the same as 'normal' language but which can actually only be understood fully by those who have lived the experience.

In his last book (Peers, 1962) St. John wrote a poem which, each time I read it, awakens a deep sense of joy and peace within me which transports me to the highest heights, and reminds me of some of my own experiences.

Oh, living flame of love That tenderly woundest my soul in its deepest centre,

Since thou art no longer oppressive, perfect me now if it be thy will, Break the web of this sweet encounter.

Oh, sweet burn! Oh, delectable wound! Oh, soft hand! Oh, delicate touch

That savours of eternal life ...

After my parents had sold their business we moved to a new suburb. Because of my isolated life style and the newness of this new environment I seemed to become even more introverted. I didn't seem to be learning anything from the experiences that I was having, except perhaps a form of elitism. More and more I saw myself as separate from, and better than, those around me. I was living in fear of others, in fear of myself, in self hate. I wasn't doing what I had come to do. I prayed for guidance. It never came. I began to know the torment of the psalmists, the sense of desperation and desertion. Even though my life, on the surface, seemed to be so normal and easy I felt that God had abandoned me.

Although the spiritual dimension within my life was subtly expanding and growing so too were the effects of my traumatic earlier life in Queensland. Phobias began to arise, strange behaviours began to make themselves manifest, I was in the throes of depression, and was eventually placed under psychiatric 'care'.

One day in the midst of this inner turmoil, in a state of depression, and praying for help and guidance, Jesus came. I knew Jesus was there in the room with me, I felt as though he was behind me and above me, slightly to my left. The love in the room was tangible. I felt his love in every pore of my being. Unfortunately, this episode was interrupted by my father who saw me through my bedroom window and, because of the strange position of my body, thought that there was something wrong with me.

Again this experience seemed to increase my sense of elitism. I passed judgement on those around me, not even considering that I may be at fault in the judging of others, and certainly not living the message of the Christ, the message of love.

After this experience my love of Jesus began to grow and become more and more intense. I was already going to church each Sunday and now began going on a daily basis. This seemed to lead to another series of EHEs which I experienced through my late teens and into my early twenties. At the time of consecration of the Eucharist a deep and intense feeling of love would arise within me, and I started crying with joy. This EHE became more intense and more obvious as I got older.

From my religious instruction classes at school I remembered that this phenomenon had sometimes happened to some saints, and was known as "the gift of tears". With this knowledge I felt profoundly embarrassed and eventually stopped going to church all together, fearing that I would be regarded as some sort of saint, or as being in some way holy.

I didn't want to be seen as being a saint. My attitude seemed to be changing. Maybe I was starting to learn something, and just maybe I was becoming a little bit humble.

As I continued on through my life I experienced one or two EHEs which weren't of a religious nature.

As a student I had never really got myself involved in sport. Even though there were, and still are, laws regarding exercise etc. in schools, the school that I went to from grades three to ten had no official sports time. We were involved in study, and any sport involvement was on our own time. I played a bit of tennis and that was it. As an adult, however, I became interested in playing squash, and later, in jogging.

I played squash on a regular basis, once a week for about five or six years. The person that I played against played twice a week and was quite good at it. He beat the pants off me every week. After I started jogging my legs became stronger and our games became more even, although he still tended to beat me more often than I beat him. One day, however, I could do no wrong. It was as though I knew where the ball was going to go, and I was there ready to return it almost, it seemed, before my opponent had hit it, and most of my shots were out of his reach. On that particular day I was totally "in the groove". By the end of the match I was 'as high as a kite', euphoric, having been totally in tune with the whole process of the squash match, knowing that nothing and no one could have beaten me that day. From that day on I won more and more of our matches.

At the time that I took up jogging I had been playing squash for a couple of years and so was reasonably fit. However, running every second day improved me no end. Quite often as I ran I would talk to God. I refer to him as "Boss", and have done so for about thirty years now. On this particular day I started my conversation as I normally did -- "G'day Boss, how are ya ?" Suddenly I was totally off the planet, filled with a sense of joy and love that almost swept me off my feet. Tears came to my eyes as I felt his presence, I was filled with a deep sense of peace once more.

Oops! Wasn't this a non-religious segment ? Well it was non-religious, but that's not to say it's non-spiritual !! Ha, ha, ha.

Another 'non-religious' experience that I had was when I was learning to fly. The experience of being in the air, up above everyone else was amazing. But the most joyous time of all was my first solo flight. It was a simple take off and land procedure, but wow was I glad when I landed (still in one piece). I buzzed for days afterwards. This was an amazing feeling of still being alive after being close to death. Boy was I glad to be alive !!

As we grew up my youngest brother Ian was obviously more independent than I was. He knew how to tie a bow before I did, in fact he was the impetus to my learning this skill. I had been keeping myself very dependent on, and protected by, my parents. In a sense I was trying to be like my brother Peter, who required a lot more care because of his disability.

One thing Ian didn't have, however, was a sense of the More, a sense of the divine, in his life.

He happened to wander into my room one day as I was meditating using a candle flame as the focus of attention and started asking what I was doing. (I think I got the idea from The Razor's Edge by Somerset Maugham.) I explained as best I could and we meditated together for a while. He later told me that he thought that I had gone completely round the bend when he saw what I was doing.

In time Ian has developed a very deep spirituality. He is an extremely loving and giving person. His spirituality began to flower when he came under the influence of Swami Muktananda and Siddha Yoga. My life too changed when I was introduced to Siddha Yoga. At the time I had been praying for someone to guide me spiritually.

Muktananda came to Melbourne in 1978, and I was in the Melbourne Ashram when he arrived. This being had such a strong aura that I actually felt his presence as he entered the front door of the building some thirty metres from where I was sitting, and out of sight.

I attended one of the programmes given by Swami Muktananda called an intensive. During a certain part of the intensive Muktananda went to each of the participants and gave them shaktipat. This is a process of awakening and enlivening the kundalini force in the base of the spine, a beginning of spiritual awakening.

Many people have amazing experiences when they receive shaktipat. I didn't. Not until later that evening that is. During the night as I lay in my bed I was wondering whether anything had happened to me, was I spiritual ?, had the shaktipat worked ? Suddenly my body went stiff, I saw a large ball of blue light, a strong force of energy rushed through my body and it shot about six inches into the air. I had received shaktipat !

Because my focus was the Christ I didn't feel a strong pull towards Siddha Yoga and eventually gave up most of the practices. Ian is still very involved in this path of love. He told me that he had had an experience in which he saw the Buddha, Jesus and Muktananda join as one being, and thus he felt that his path was to follow Siddha Yoga.

Not long after receiving shaktipat I had a very strong experience of feeling love for all of mankind.

It seemed that I was changing, growing, but although I had all of these experiences and was intellectually knowledgable about spiritual things I didn't seem to be able to put them into practice. This takes a certain amount of courage and a strong belief in self, which I didn't, and still don't, seem to have.

Having been extremely introverted most of my life I have never been in an intimate relationship with another person, so Ian suggested that I go to a psychic healer to see if anything could be done to help me overcome this problem.

The method involved a sort of past life therapy. During one of the sessions I experienced being stoned to death for preaching the gospel of Jesus. We worked on this and released that being, who had actually been afraid of dying. Once the person was released my body became quite stiff and a huge surge of energy passed through it. This was apparently releasing the fear which the stoning had locked into the psyche of the one that I felt that I had previously been, and lasted for about ten minutes.

Not long after this I went to see Star Wars III. I sat in the centre of the back row of the theatre, with nobody around me. As the movie started my body stiffened and a surge of energy passed through me. Again it lasted for about ten minutes.

The same thing happened when I went to see Were Once Warriors, a film about the New Zealand Maoris in urban society. This time when it happened I felt as though I had become one with the spirit of the Maori people. The experience lasted for about twenty minutes.

The last time that this energy surge happened was with another spiritual healer. I apparently had a life in which I had been burnt to death. Again the energy flow was apparently releasing the fear which had been locked into the psyche of the one I seemed to have been, at the time of death. Again the experience lasted for about twenty minutes.

As far as I can see there is no scientific explanation for these experiences in terms of conventional science. The experiences were real to me, and I would say that ultimately that is all that matters.

Intuitive drawing classes

A few years ago, at about the same time that I first went to the first psychic healer, I started attending an intuitive drawing class. Basically what was involved was that at the beginning of the class all participants meditated, and when we indivudually felt that we were ready, we started drawing whatever came to mind.

The class was held once a week. Initially I thought it was a bit of a wank, but I liked the person running the class so I persisted with it. After I had been attending for about six months I started to get a sense of something rather momentous about to happen, something great was gradually coming to me. I got a picture of a being of light approaching on a wave of light. I tried to draw it as it developed over several weeks. Each week it seemed to be more and more difficult to draw. Then came the final vision for which I would need multi-dimensional paper if I could even begin to draw it. This is something which cannot be described fully in any meaningful way. I will write some words of description but they do not do justice to what happened and what was present to me at that time.

There was music which must have been "the music of the spheres", a sound so beautiful that the memory of it as I write brings me to tears of joy. The aromas too are overpowering in their delightful subtle intensity. The light is bright, but it does not hurt the eyes. I feel almost overwhelmed but somehow there is also a sense that this is familiar, "I know this place, I've been here before". As I stand in the light I realise that I am surrounded by an infinity of points each one giving me support and love. Each one another being. The light is coming out of each point and going into each point simultaneously, going into me and out of me simultaneously. I am being created and renewed every instant but there is no instant because there is no time. Then I notice that an incredibly brilliant Light is approaching me through the other lights, the other points, the other beings of light. This is the Source. Again it doesn't dazzle. This Light has the form of a huge bearded man. As it comes towards me it begins to take my form, and it enters my body fitting itself as it does so to my bodily shape, including turning around so that we are both facing in the same direction. I am full of JOY, and PEACE, and LOVE. I know no bounds. I AM.

Conclusion

Fortunately I never became a priest. (This was not from want of trying though. I applied to about five or six religious orders during my teens and was rejected by every one of them.) I say fortunately because if I had become a priest I might never have had the opportunity to tread the path that I have so far trod.

Although my parents thought that I would be alright, it took quite a bit of time and effort to finally break through the barriers that I had set up for myself. Of course I'm still not there yet. Nothing happens by chance, and the life situations which I have given myself have allowed me to grow both mentally and spiritually.

I came to love Peter very much. It is almost impossible to not love a Down's Syndrome person, they seem to be made of love. Such expressions of love and hope help we who are emotionally disabled to get back on track. Peter died in January 1984, just after his 34th. birthday.

Both my parents did everything that they knew how to help me get back on track after they realised that things were not going so well for me. I came to love them too. I can't remember that I ever got to tell my mother though. She died suddenly in January 1971, just over three months before her 61st. birthday. My father knew that I loved him. I told him many times before he died, although in many ways I failed to act in a loving way towards him as he grew older. It is a very sad thing to see a once strong man reduced to a weak old man before your eyes. I failed to live the love that I professed. My father died in July 1990, aged 83.

I am mostly over the phobias and fears now, although I still find it hard to co-exist with a spider.

These experiences have gradually awakened me to a life of service, a life which I always knew I had to lead. If I had not had these experiences I am not sure where I would be or what I would be doing today. It is as though I have always known that there is a More. If it didn't exist then neither would I. I am still on the path, searching out the practice of the ideal of love. It seems to me that in order to walk this path most fully I need to be living amongst people in community, for only in a situation of community can the gold of love be truly tested in the fire of service to our fellow human beings.

Yours in Love and Light,

References

Davis Hiding the Light: Why People Don't Talk About Their Peak Experiences Perspective Vol. 12 No. 6 April 1991 A.R.E. Inc.

Quoting Journal of Humanistic Psychology Winter 1991 Vol. 31 No. 1 pp. 86 - 94.

Peers, E. Allison (Trans.) Ascent of Mount Carmel (3rd. Edn.) Image Books 1958.

___________________ Living Flame of Love Image Books 1962