Владимир Дубковский – Nectar for Your Soul (страница 19)
In Cleve Backster’s book are also described experiments regarding biocommunication between people.
Backster’s laboratory has been located in San Diego on the west coast of the United States since the ‘80s. One woman, who lived on the other coast of the US, came to visit her daughter in San Diego where she donated some white blood cells from a throat swab for experiments in Backster’s laboratory. After that the woman returned home. When Backster’s lab technicians learned that this donor’s daughter was having some slight troubles, they asked her to call her mother and relate these problems to her at the same time that the vial with the mother’s oral samples was connected to special equipment. During the daughter’s conversation with her mother the recording device noted a deviation at the exact moment when the daughter told her mother about her problems, to which the mother reacted in a worried fashion.
Backster performed similar experiments with different people of various ages. As these experiments show, the recording machine registers a deviation from the norm in the instance of mental activity in the donor which is caused by various life situations; distance was not a factor.
Cleve Backster proceeded exactly as demanded by traditional science: he performed experiments, repeating them many times under laboratory conditions, and registered the results of his experiments using mechanical instruments. And how did the scientific community react to this? Did they express admiration at the labor of a talented scientist? Did they bestow an honorary title on him? Nothing of the sort! For many long years, Cleve Backster fiercely and courageously fought with the fools of modern science, who refused to accept the discovery of biocommunication. The academic world en masse met Backster’s experiments with great skepticism and prejudice, while average people expressed their admiration for Backster’s discovery, the popularity of which rang all throughout America. Backster himself made appearances on television and radio programs, in the press, and even once gave a testimony before a commission of the US Congress. Backster everywhere staunchly defended his point of view. In the end the scientific world warmed up to these years of labor to understand biocommunication. And today nobody is surprised by discussion of the fact that in our world there exists a form of exchanging information and energy such as biocommunication.
We have so many of our own examples of biocommunication and the materiality of thoughts that just a description of them would consist of several fat tomes. But we will limit ourselves to just one story, told by one of the authors of this book.
From 1975 to 1982 I served with departments of the naval prosecutor’s office and upon discharge from duty handed in my naval officer’s dagger. I admit that I dearly wanted to keep it in memory of my military service, but the law didn’t allow for this – the dagger was considered a deadly weapon, and average citizens were not allowed to own such things.
This story, fantastical for those who don’t know about psychic power and don’t believe in the Law of Attraction, takes place twenty years later. It begins in Moscow, where I traveled to visit a relative, Pyotr Bondar, also a retired officer, on his birthday. Among the guests were many of his comrades-in-arms, all, of course, with gifts. One of the gifts in particular attracted my attention; it was an officer’s dagger. I have to say that at this time the Soviet Union had already ceased to exist ten years ago and many of the former laws had stopped being observed. In the Moscow markets honorary decorations, medals and various military equipment was freely sold. I immediately remembered with what regret I had parted with my dagger during my youth, already so long ago, and suddenly wanted to find it again. Events were in my favor, my own birthday was in a week, and I requested a specific present – the same sort of dagger. My relative approved; I had taken away the problem of choosing a gift, which is always complex when you want to give something a person will truly appreciate rather than simply to mark an occasion.
“I’ll send it to you in a week,” Pyotr assured me. “I can’t come personally, but the dagger will surely come.”
I arrived home satisfied in Veliky Novgorod the next day, but on my birthday received from Moscow not a dagger but a telephone call with an apology.
“I was at the market yesterday, but there weren’t any sabers there,” reported Pyotr. “But you don’t need to worry, they promised me that they’ll bring one next week, so just be patient a little while.”
I felt upset; as they say, a spoon is dear when lunch is near (things are good when they come on time). Additionally, I had already gotten so used to the fact that my strongest desires were always fulfilled, that I began to think: why didn’t it materialize this time? What wasn’t done properly on my part? Maybe I didn’t desire it strongly enough? Or I allowed myself to doubt that my wish would undoubtedly come true? But I had even pounded a special decorative hook into the wall, on which to hang the dagger! In my thoughts it
Day had already given way to evening when there was an unexpected knock at the door. I looked into the monitor of the intercom; on the doorstep stood a whole group of men and women, among whom, to my surprise, I recognized students of our School of Business. I was amazed not by the fact that students had come without invitation to wish their teacher a happy birthday – such surprises are fully acceptable and even welcome – I was struck by the appearance of these particular students in Novgorod. They were all part of the group from the Urals branch of the School! The same Urals branch that was located in Chelyabinsk, almost 1,500 miles from Veliky Novgorod!
I opened the door and let the whole team of seven people inside. They were all employees of one company, a group of managers led by the charming twenty-five year old Natalia Barasheva. She stepped forward, shielding the embarrassed students behind herself.
“Please forgive us our brash intrusion,” she said, holding out to me a small wooden case. “We just wanted to stop by for a minute and wish you a happy birthday, and then we’ll head straight to the hotel.”
I opened the case. From its crimson, velvet holder flashed the gold of a naval dagger. And not just a common officer’s saber, like the one I’d asked after in Moscow, but a real work of art! The gilded scabbard and the blade itself were decorated with fine engravings, and the hilt wrapped in fine gold wire.
“This is a copy of an admiral’s dagger from the time of Empress Catherine the Great,” Natalia hastily began to explain, even more embarrassed as a result of my amazed expression. “We thought for a long time about what to get you, and decided you might like this. They make these in Zlatoust, an old city of bladesmiths near Chelyabinsk. They retain old designs there, according to which masters make souvenir copies…”
Of course, I wouldn’t allow my unexpected guests to stay in any hotel and we sat all night around the fireplace in interesting conversation.
That’s the extent of my unusual story of how I came to possess the dagger, but no less interesting is the second side of the story, told by Natalia herself:
“When we decided to travel to Novgorod, the question of a gift immediately came up. We all racked our brains trying to find an answer to this riddle. Finally, I remembered our famous workshop and that they produce masterfully artistic works. I travelled there and was confounded by their exhibition. There was such an abundance of uncommon beauty for my eyes to run over: various goblets, cups, swords, sabers, knives, and the like. I liked everything so much that I simply couldn’t choose; this was so beautiful, and that as well… And suddenly I heard a voice inside me, which clearly and loudly said: ‘Get this dagger.’ Listening to intuition, I chose it. Did my intuition suggest the right thing?”
I then simply reassured Natalia of the correctness of her choice and began to think myself. Comparing the dates of my trip to Moscow and Natalia’s to Zlatoust, I revealed that the idea to go to the workshop for a gift came to her the day after my visit to my relative. What happened? This was in truth no miracle, but an exchange of informational energy. My thoughtform “I want a dagger for my birthday” had already been hung in the informational field. Natalia’s thoughtform “I want to get a present for my teacher’s birthday” also found its way there. The vibrations of both thoughtforms coincided ideally and attracted one another. And so the idea first came into Natalia’s head to travel to Zlatoust, and once there she distinctively heard the word “dagger.” As a result, my wish materialized on June 4, 2002.