Many years ago, when Papa was finding his bearings with the in-laws (YOUR blood relatives), the name Uri Geller popped up. It was undoubtedly at a “long table” dinner conversation. As background for you, many times family, friends and a wide assortment of passer-bys gathered for food and provacative conversation. At least at the time I felt the talk was stimulating. I naturally wanted to please. Papa was young and enthusiastic about education and having an open mind. But, buried deep inside me was a Mid-West anchor that had its roots in very different folks than I was starting to encountere out east. My hometown was decididly blue collar. Out east I wasn’t getting any vibes that my favorites of sports, history, movies or politics would be forthcoming.
Initially, I heard repetitive conversations about sex. I was all aboard with that subject, although it always felt like the doing should out pace talk.Along with sex, more sex and even more sex, other topics in favor were psychology ( Your great-grandmas profession), spiritualism, some arts and music and a tinge of the occult. Actually, much of it was very interesting to me at first. Open my mind etc. Different directions would be good for me. The topics were pretty far afield for me so I mostly sat and listened. However, that I was in the presence of what I’ve come to refer to as Woo Woo land was driven home to me one evening when I asked a simple question of a stranger seated across the table.
I received no response. The young man with straggly hair had a blank look on his face. I asked my question again. No response. Giving the benefit of the doubt I rised my voice a bit. After a few seconds he looked up at me, as if startled. “Did you ask me something?’ he offered.
“Yes, could you please pass the gravy?”
Reaching for the gravy he did not skip a beat and said, “I’m sorry. I transported myslf to India in order to check on a good friend. He’s having significant issues. I feel better if I can personaly see that he is okay at the Asram.”
Why didn’t I think of that flashed through my mind. After all, I have family and friends back home who needed watching over. Especially that one older brother. Expensive long distance calls were still a thing back then. Transporting one’s mind would have really helped stay in touch. Of course, Papa had no idea how this feat was accomplished.
No worry. All my questions would be answered. The table conversation became all atwitter about the young man’s spiritual ability. A few claimed the same ability but not on demand. They so envied getting away to India between courses at dinner. Papa’s foray into the intelligensia began to take an off ramp. Within minutes I was back on the smooth road of reality. That happened just about the time my dinner companions started to examine each others auras. (I never got the hang of that either.) Soon they were besting each other on the worst experinces from their past lives Beheadings, torture and serfdom had created great obstacles in this day and age for them. Until they captured and slew their inner demons. (I had missed out on therapy also.) Mostly I was silent during these types of conversations. Smile and nod while I enjoyed the humor of it. ( I will spare you the dazzling mirrors event from one memoranle evening. Too raw.)
But, it was all intersting and fun. Which brings me back to Uri Geller. His name came up at a dinner long ago. I’d never heard of him. Of course. The other attendees of that particular night were very much up to date with his mind bending of spoons and forks. So, when the Greta activist recently set sail for Gaza, Papa knew that the threat of knocking her off course had merit. I paid attention fifty odd years ago. (Or, does trivia simply get locked in?) Yuri Geller announced that with his mind he’d mess up the navigation system or twist the steering wheel or some such and thwart her getting to Gaza. Perhaps her ship was blown off course by mental powers into the hands of Isreal’s navy? I know of some dinner companions who’d have believed it.
Years later I now regret not learning the basics of mind over matter. At my remote cabin in the wild I could have diverted a beer truck up the lane and jostled a case or two off the back to land near my path. Through the years there were many magical things Papa was exposed to but never got the gist of mastering the inner workings.