I sought out friends like myself. Friends who would jump over cemetery walls, look for clues in old abandoned houses, seek out new hiding places and bike trails and climb the trees that had inviting branches for talking and daydreaming. Like my storybook idols, Pippi Longstockings and Nancy Drew, I was bold and adventurous, aware of the injustices and an explorer of life's offerings.

Being bold and adventurous, I found myself in rather dangerous situations, such as discovering a homeless man in one of our abandoned houses, following my older sister out into the deep and wavy water before I could swim, or taking a short cut through the narrow, dark alley often enough that a stranger began to take notice. Though I was frightened by these as well as other childhood situations, the worst scenario never occurred and like most children, I made it through childhood despite my inexperience and occasional poor judgment.

Like Pippi Longstockings, I had household pets. Pippi had a horse and monkey. I had a dog and cat. I remember when my dog, Cindy, died. I was nine. This was my first experience with death and I can still remember the pain as I stared into Cindy's sad eyes. After she died, I began praying every night to a God whom I knew very little about. "Please God, take care of my father, mother. sister and all my animals. And please, God, don't let me have any more bad dreams about monsters under my bed." And the bad dreams stopped.

Through my adolescent and teenage years, I continued my adventurous ways. I began baby-sitting at the age of 11 to earn money to buy a "new blue racer". I became one with my new bike. I wore a lock and chain around my neck like some girls wore their favorite necklaces. My stomach fluttered with excitement as I jumped on my bike and explored far away neighborhoods. I remember peddling home in the dark feeling protected by the moving wheels beneath me. And I needed to feel protected. Like Pippi, I had little parental supervision and I often ventured too far from home. "Please God, take care of me." And He did.

At the age of 15 , I started working at a nursing home in my neighborhood. I set up meal trays during the dinner hour and fed incapacitated patients. If the staff needed extra help, I sometimes worked as a nurse's aid. I remember how awkward I felt bathing a 70-year-old man. Or how helpless I felt, when I held the hand of a blind woman who screamed in pain as a nurse inserted a catheter into her urethra. Though I was unaware at the time, my assigned patients listened everyday for my quick footsteps coming down the long hallway. They were so lonely and appreciated my caring and youthful energy. Assisting these elderly men and women showed me early in life, the importance of giving and helping others.

I was also shown early in life that lying was not an outlet that worked in my favor. Don't get me wrong. I certainly tried. I remember taking a dime out of my mother's purse instead of the nickel she said I could have. I was five years old. As I hurried out the door, my mother said, "Carol, may I see that nickel?" How did she know? I wondered. She had her back to me reading. I showed her the dime and left the house empty-handed. When I was older, I remember my mother saying, "Carol could never lie because when she did, her face turned red." After several failed attempts, I learned early that truth would be necessary in my life.

Looking back, I can remember my life working well when I was giving of myself ... things fell into place and I felt more connected to those around me. In my senior year of high school, I had a talk with God.

I said, "God, I have been lucky in my life and I know You are responsible." I decided I needed to thank God in some way for all His help through the years. Without asking His opinion, I decided that He would probably like the idea of my being confirmed in the Episcopal faith, my baptized religion.

For the past two years, I had been attending church with my friends. Going to church had been my decision. My parents had been forced as children to attend church regularly and decided they did not want to enforce the same rule on my sister and me. Though my parents inscribed ,"Mom and Dad" in a Bible they gave me for Christmas when I was seven, learning about God was not part of my parental upbringing. I learned about God privately--just between the two of us. I liked it that way.

I enrolled in the confirmation classes. A few days after I graduated from high school, I was also confirmed in the Episcopal church. Though I found the classes to be boring, I continued going so that I could take communion and develop a stronger tie to the church and to Father Johnson, one of the two priests. Most importantly, I wanted to fulfill my confirmation commitment to God.

Years later when my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Father Johnson was there for all of us. He conducted my mother's memorial service in the church where I was confirmed and her ashes were buried under the church floor.

My mother died when I was 25. As my father and I held her in our arms, I could feel her take her last breath. Later, as I left her hospital room, I held the door slightly ajar as I took my last look at her. As I stood alone staring at my mother, I became surprisingly aware that in my mind, her body was slowly drifting away. Her body was becoming no longer important to me. The body whose hands I held tightly when I was four-years-old climbing on and off the green streetcar, the body whose varicosed veined legs taught me how to skip when kindergarten classmates made fun of me trying, the body whose arms carried too many groceries down Winnemac Street. How could her body not be important to me? An awareness quietly overcame me. My mother was still with me, she had not left. She joined me as we closed the door of her hospital room for the last time. We slowly walked together down the corridor to the front desk. The night nurse asked me to authorize an autopsy for my mother, another intrusive surgical procedure into my mother's already scarred, punctured and abused body. But as I signed the papers, I thought, "So what?"

My mother stayed with me through that difficult week. Before she left, she stood in my bedroom doorway engulfed in a bright golden light.

She said to me, "Carol, I have visited with Marge to tell her that I am fine." And she was gone. Marge, my mother's friend of several years, took her death the hardest of her friends. Marge had said something years earlier that hurt my mother very much and their friendship was never quite the same. I think my mother's visit to Marge was a letting go of past hurt feelings and the need for both to say goodbye.

As I became aware of my mother's love surrounding me , I also became aware of another feeling. Anger. "How could you do this to my mother?" "How could you do this to me?" "How could you watch us all suffer so?" Because my belief in God was so strong, my anger became stronger. I remember saying quite frankly to God, "I'm angry and I can't talk with you anymore."

I never stopped believing in God, I just didn't want Him interfering in my life. But, of course, He didn't listen. He knew that I needed help even though I refused to ask Him for it. He began by making sure I had a strong support system to carry me through the grieving process -- bringing new people into my life while letting others drift away. He made sure that a book on reincarnation came my way, a book that offered a new perspective on life and death and provided possible explanations for my mother's suffering.

A few years after my mother died, I moved to Seattle. A friend who knew that I had an interest in psychic phenomenon told me about a course called Silva Mind Control. I enrolled in this class to learn how to meditate and practice psychic healing. It was through this class that I was introduced to my "guides"---two males and one female. Actually, I only met two at first and the other one came into my life eight years later while living in Cleveland. They have been communicating with me now for the past 17 years. My mood determines who I contact. Peter has a wonderful sense of humor, while Michael is more matter of fact about things. If I'm feeling very sad about something, I go directly to Marion. Often, I will ask to feel their presence. When all three send their energy to me at once, I feel that energy surround my body and begin to penetrate through my skin. It feels like a rush. I feel energized, protected and loved all at the same time. Yes, there is still a part of me that thinks I'm a little touched in the head and I am doing the speaking rather than my guides. I remember reading that Shirley MacLaine felt she was imagining her voices now and then too. What I find reassuring is that my guides speak in ways that I do not.

When they speak, there is no hesitation between words. And they often begin by saying,"As you know Carol........" It is as if I know all and they remind me of this fact. Most importantly, unlike me, they never pass judgment. I remember asking if my friend, Liz, should continue seeing a medical doctor who was supposedly a spiritual healer. He had said things to Liz that had upset and confused her. I had also met this doctor and was comfortable with my decision not to go back. A part of me wanted my guides to say, "Yes, Carol, he is a creep and a quack and you and Liz are right!" Not so. My guide, Michael said that it was not necessary for Liz to continue seeing this doctor and that the doctor was where he should be right now and doing what he needed to do. Period. The end. No dirt--no gossip.

Perhaps my guides are really a higher part of myself. According to William Jame's, Varieties of Religious Experience, "the person contacts a higher part of him or herself and identifies with it--moreover, the person discovers that he or she can keep in touch with and enter into a relationship with this other, greater self, which is both inside and outside". Whether the voice I hear comes from my guides, angels, God or from a higher part of myself is not important to me right now. The energy is from a good place and has been with me all of my life. I called this energy God when I was young and now I call it my guides. What is important is that I open my heart to this energy and LISTEN.

I read that "new experiences can lead us to view past experience in new ways". As a child I always wanted to try new things. When I learned something well enough to please myself, I was ready to move on. As I look back, it seemed I knew when my soul was full and no longer challenged or amused. I was not a child who responded well to "Hang in there, Carol --it will get better." When I "knew" I'd had enough, I let go. Some called my behavior irresponsible and fickle. I never felt like a quitter,nor did I feel a responsibility to finish something I started if I discovered midway that I'd made a poor choice. I was an explorer and wanted to go down "many" new avenues of life. As a child, it was easier for me to let go; I wasn't aware of how people subtly impose their expectations onto others.

By society's standards, I was a real "quitter" when I dropped out of college and went into the airlines to become a flight attendant. It turned out to be one of the best decisions in my life and I finished college twenty years later when my "soul" said, "I'm hungry!"

Through experiences, my guides continue to teach me that rather than bulldoze myself through life, I am to follow the path of least resistance. When things seem too overwhelming , this is my clue to pull back, go within and LISTEN. When I do this, the "right" direction is set forth for me.

I remember two occasions when a career move wasn't working the way I wanted it too. I became very frustrated. It was when I stopped choosing doors 1,2 or 3 and instead, handed my life's direction over to my guides that my wants were realized. One situation occurred within 24 hours after handing it over and the other within 48 hours. When the fight in me dissolved and I relied on faith, I received my reward.

The events relating to my mother's death as well as my conversations with my guides are examples of what has come to be known as Exceptional Human Experiences (EHE). Many researchers believe EHEs are unreliable because the information can not be substantiated using "scientific" methods. There are others who believe that inner experiences such as mine are as valid as outer ones and the more we share these experiences with others, the more willing people will be to tell "their" story.

An example of this is the Near Death Experience(NDE). Without "scientific" research, millions of people now believe that a person can have a transcending death experience and come back to tell about it. The reason people find truth in these experiences is that there are so many similar stories being told, with the most convincing ones coming from children. Why are children telling the same stories and drawing the same pictures about their NDEs? Dr. Melvin Morse, a pediatrician in Seattle has written books on the subject of NDEs after hearing his young patients tell remarkable stories about their out of body experiences and /or experiences involving bright light. Though Dr. Morris doesn't say he believes in life after death, he finds this subject very thought provoking and deserving of continuing research.

There are several characteristics used to describe Exceptional Human Experiences such as an overwhelming sense of joy, love, connectedness, a feeling of deep understanding and knowing, psychic and mystical arousal , creative insight, and a feeling of knowing there is something greater than what we witness in our everyday lives. My EHEs did not change my life overnight. I believe there are experiences which will do this but I have not experienced one at this point. What has occurred, due to these experiences, is my continued renewal of faith that there is something MORE to life and a desire to explore my options.

I found it interesting to read that EHEs can often occur when one is involved in a loving relationship. During my engagement to Bob, my husband, I began to notice that everything was falling into place so conveniently concerning the planning of our wedding. For example, I bought the first dress that I saw. The moment I walked into the store, a saleswoman came up to me and said, "I have the perfect dress for you. This dress just arrived yesterday." All preparations continued in this manner. I became aware that everything seemed to be happening without the slightest problem. I began to feel the presence of something or someone constantly with me, offering support and love and helping me to make the right decisions for this special occasion.

A feeling of love all around me became stronger and stronger as my wedding approached. .I began thinking more and more about my mother who had passed away five years earlier. It was only natural that my thoughts were often with my mother during this special time. I wished that she was with me sharing my joy. The more I thought about my mother, the stronger these feelings became around me. On the evening of my wedding, as I stood holding my father's arm ready to walk down the aisle, my mother's presence was stronger than ever and I said to my father with all certainty, "Dad, Mom is here.". As we left the church, after the ceremony, my mother left as well. Since my wedding, I have not felt her presence as I did then, even with the birth of my children. When I talked to my father about these feelings, he said that my mother told him many years ago that she wanted a large traditional wedding for me. I never knew this. I believe she came back to fulfill her dream.

I do not make a habit of over-extending myself with countless activities and projects. But for some unknown reason, while I was busy planning my wedding, buying a home, renting out my prior home, planning a honeymoon and working, I also decided to get my life-saving-certificate. There was absolutely no logical reason behind this decision other than I had been an active swimmer several years prior, but had never completed my life-saving classes.

I entered the class two weeks late. Because I missed some important information, the instructor had strong doubts about my capabilities. Though I fulfilled all the requirements, the instructor said she was uncomfortable passing me; however, she would make an exception. What is interesting about the instructor is that she could have said "no" to my entering the class late, yet she did not. She seemed angry about my being there. It was almost like she felt forced to have me there and didn't like it.

It was almost one year to the date of my class completion that I saved the life of a drowning man. My husband, his good friend, Bill, and I had been in the hot Arizona sun all day and were driving back to Bill's house. On the way, Bill, decided he wanted to show us a secluded swimming hole but indicated it would be a long walk. We said, "definitely not." We were too tired. He insisted, we insisted -- but for some reason, he won out.

As we approached the swimming hole, we saw a young man standing on a high rock across the way from us. He was laughing with his friends who were in the water below him. His loud voice and boisterous behavior demanded our attention. While yelling to his friends, he grabbed a rope hanging from a branch above him. We amusingly watched him take a step back, run forward and swing out over the water, releasing the rope and jumping high into the air before splashing down. We laughed as we waited to see his head and shoulders appear above the water. Yes, his head appeared but so did his arms, flailing and splashing. He was yelling but I couldn't hear his words. And then, he disappeared under the water. I looked quickly at Bob and his expression confirmed my fear. I turned back to see his three friends swimming toward him.

"Oh no," I thought. They don't know what they're doing. Sure enough, he grabbed one of his friends for support and the two disappeared under the water. "Oh, my God". I began crying. Within seconds, the friend surfaced, gasping for air. His two friends managed to pull him away.

"Please get away from him", I thought. "All of you will drown." But, again, one friend started moving toward him.

"NO!", I shouted. "Get away!" I began taking off my shoes and glasses. A voice in my head said very loudly and distinctly ,"You will not die for him". I knew at once that I had no choice. I was being told to go after him. Hearing the words, "You will not die for him" took away all my fear. I knew exactly what to do.

As I entered the water, I was amazed to realize that I had perfect vision without my glasses. My body felt strong and capable as I began swimming toward him. Everything came back to me from the class -- "focus on your victim, don't get too close because he'll grab you from beneath the water." I continued shouting commands to his friends to move away from him. I began treading closer, circling him, looking for an opportunity to approach him from behind. But he saw me and quickly reached toward me. I felt his leg against my leg. My heart pounded as I kicked his hip as hard as I could and pushed him away from my body. I turned back toward him. He wasn't there. "Oh my God, he's under me. He's going to pull me down!" I could feel the adrenaline pumping through me as I splashed frantically through the water. Suddenly, his head appeared once again above the surface and I could see that I was now at a safe distance from him.

I thought,"Carol, you can't save him this way." So I watched, as if in slow motion, his final gasps for air. His head and arms slowly disappeared for the last time under the water. Only his air bubbles popping one by one on the surface of the water told you he was down below. Finally, there was silence. I swam closer and reached down under the water and pulled him up by his hair. His hair was long and I used it to my advantage, keeping a safe distance as I towed his over 200-pound-body to shore.

Once on shore, he came to and began to scream and cry hysterically. His friends helped calm him as I sat dazed on the rocky ground. As I looked up, the sky began to spin and I felt sick to my stomach. My husband and Bill helped me to my feet but I was unable to stand. My legs ached. I tried to focus on his friend's faces as they came over to thank me. Finally, after about 15 minutes, I was able to stand, and Bob and Bill helped me back to the car. I was OK by the time we got home.

I realized after the incident that during my life-saving-classes, I was especially intrigued with the rescue method of allowing a drowning victim to go unconscious so there is less chance of risk to the rescuer. I also remember thinking how the hair tow was a good method since it kept the victim at a safer distance. I had never heard of either of these life saving skills until my class. As it turned out, these two methods, which I found intriguing in class, were what I used to save this man's life.

I truly believe I was guided to take the life-saving-class during a time when my energies were directed elsewhere so that I wouldn't give much thought to why I was taking this difficult class. Not only did I find this class physically exhausting, it frightened me to have students unexpectedly grabbing and pulling me under water pretending to drown me. These frightening drills, however, prepared me for what was to occur one year later.

I have often wondered ..... Did I take this class to save the man's life, or my own life? Because I'm a swimmer, perhaps I would have made the same mistake his friends made and tried to save him without knowing the correct life-saving methods. For reasons I am unaware, we both needed to have this experience in our lives.

In 1993, two EHEs occurred within a three week period. I believe the first experience opened the opportunity for the second one to occur. Several years earlier, my sister-in-law and I severed our friendship. Needless to say, this situation caused great distress to the family. Over the years, I knew that she was experiencing much unhappiness and pain in her life, but I continued to hold on to the anger, mainly because of a letter she had written to me. I kept this letter for several years as my evidence of her cruelty toward me.

Having time alone is very important to me and I often go away for a few days each year so I can meditate, read and attempt to bring more balance into my life. While staying at a peaceful Bread & Breakfast in Maryland, I decided to go outside one sunny afternoon and meditate by the pond. I remember feeling very relaxed as I lay back on the grass and let my mind wander.

Almost instantly, I heard my guide, Peter, say, "Carol, it is time to write a letter to Janet." Before, I knew it, a letter was being dictated to me, word for word, without pause. "Dear Janet, I am returning this letter to you. I have kept it all these years out of anger and fear."...... As the words continued, my body felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and concern for Janet. I became aware, as I listened to the words, there was absolutely no judgment being made. It was a letter telling Janet how special she was in so many ways.

When Peter finished dictating the letter, I thought about what he had said. Not only did I wish never to communicate again with Janet, the last thing I would have seriously considered doing was mailing that letter, my "evidence" back to her. It was my proof of being "right" and her wrong. Of course, it only made sense. How could I let go of my anger with that letter in my house? Peter knew this.

As I began walking back to the inn, a long, thick, black snake came from the bushes, right in front of me, and looked directly at me. I am not one to see snakes and I am terrified of them. But my body and mind were in such a state of love, acceptance and relaxation that I felt no fear. After staring at one another for a few seconds, the snake retreated back into the bushes. I shiver now to think of this snake so close to me, yet it's appearance at the pond was almost natural. Perhaps the snake appeared to let me know that I need to look more closely at the things I fear in life. When we are coming from love, there is no fear.

Since my letter to Janet, she has developed a relationship again with my children and her brother. ....something that is very important to her. Her friend told me that he is seeing positive changes in Janet and that she is working hard to make these changes. For several reasons, it was important that such a letter come from me. But I truly believe I was only the messenger.

Three weeks after my visit to the inn, I had a dream. My dream began on the steps of my neighbor's house. I was asking, Suzi, if she could go somewhere with me. She said she was sorry, but couldn't go. I felt disappointed. I said goodbye and began walking down her path toward the street. As I turned into the street, I looked across the way at the house directly across from mine; it was completely lit up with a bright white light.

I remember thinking, "How is it that I can look into such a bright light without it making my eyes close?" The white light was illuminating everything around me. I looked at my house and then up to the sky. The clouds were bright white and I could see them moving slowly. The moon was perfectly round and glowing. As I stood in the middle of my street, I began to feel a part of this whole scene. I wasn't just looking at the sky, I was the sky. A "familiar" feeling of love, knowing and acceptance unlike any feeling I have had in this life was inside me and coming together with all that surrounded me. I knew that I had been in this "place" before. I kept thinking, "I can't believe how wonderful this feeling is," yet from deep within, I knew I belonged there. This was "home".

The feeling lasted for what seemed about 15 seconds or so. As I gradually awakened, my body felt like it was "coming back", unlike the feeling I experience coming out of deep sleep or relaxation. I felt I had "really" been outside in my street. My body continued to feel the relaxing effects of this experience for the next few days. I believe when I let go of the anger and fear directed toward Janet, I opened myself to receive this overwhelming participation of love.

I have read Exceptional Human Experiences can also be frightening. I had such an experience several years ago. Before I was married, I accepted a six week assignment on the island of Guam, in the South Pacific. I was very excited about this trip since I would be going with several friends.

I remember my arrival well. As I stepped off the airplane, an overwhelming feeling of uneasiness took over and stayed with me the entire time I was on the island. I could not seem to shake the anxiety, irritability and unhappiness that I felt continuously through the days and nights. I had previously visited far away places, such as Viet Nam, Thailand, Russia and I had lived for three months in Laos. Being in a country with a different culture was not new for me. Though I had been meditating regularly before my trip, I was now unable to meditate. Friends noticed the change in me.

Late one evening while I was alone in my hotel room, I felt a presence. It was so strong that I could feel my bed take on weight as it moved closer to me. I was being warned of danger. For some reason, I knew the messenger would not harm me but I was not comfortable with "his" presence. What was the danger? Why was this happening to me? I became so frightened that I strongly considered asking that I be allowed to leave the island. But what would I say?

I believed I was picking up bad energy on the island. I imagined a white light around me and I contacted friends at home and asked them to send good energy to me. They did so and as the days continued, I could tell that the negative energy was not as strong. I spoke with another woman in my group about my meditation difficulty. She told me that she was unable to read her Bible or pray since her arrival on the island. She also said she had started drinking beer again -- a habit she had stopped doing several years earlier.

I began counting the days until I could leave. On the night I was finally going home, our plane was roaring down the runway and just before liftoff, the plane blew an engine and the flight was cancelled.

"Why can't I get off this island", I screamed. I left the next day on an uneventful trip home.

These exceptional human experiences confirm to me that I'm receiving information from a powerful source, and the more connected I am to this source, the more experiences I will encounter. Thinking about my experiences with the assurance of more to come enhances my purpose in life.

As I was thinking about a closing paragraph for this paper, the doorbell rang. It was the electricians to fix a few minor problems. They said I needed to turn off the computer while they made some adjustments.

As I stood watching them work, my eyes drifted to my class notebook. -- Transpersonal Studies TS 501.

"Why not?", I playfully thought.

"The reason I need this heater connected is because I'm working on a paper for school and it gets pretty cold down here," I casually said.

"Oh, really -- what are you studying? asked the older electrician.

"Well, it's a type of psychology called Transpersonal," I said. I heard movement under the desk. The younger man's head popped up.

"Did you say transpersonal? Isn't that kind of like, you know ----"

"Yes", I said. It's kind of like parapsychology." I looked directly at him. He smiled.

For the next 20 minutes, we talked nonstop about his exceptional human experiences which included a UFO sighting. You could feel the energy flowing between the three of us.

The older electrician said , "I have always believed that the human mind is capable of so much more than we are willing to acknowledge. Years ago, people laughed at me when I said we would one day walk on the moon. And see, we did. I knew we would. I get feelings about a lot of things. What is it they call it? Intuitive? Yes, intuitive, that's what I am".

As I continued listening, a smile came to my lips.

"Carol", I thought. "Keep sharing your experiences ---- people have a lot to tell you."