Author Archives: Hey!

HAVING MY DNA RESTRANDED WITH THETAHEALING

Posted on December 10, 2011 by Hey!

It started innocently enough

“Write about my story and you will become famous,” beams Maria. I meet this soft little babushka in a Byron Bay backstreet, where she beckons frantically when I threaten to walk past her fragrant shop front.

As she administers a vigorous back massage, Maria tells me the condensed story of her life: she grew up in Russia, became very sick with radiation poisoning after the Chernobyl disaster, but completely healed herself. “My blood – all clear.”

When she learns I want to stop smoking, she becomes gleeful. “Oh! Then we’ll use ThetaHealing™,” she enthuses. “More expensive but you have already paid now. Lucky. Turn over!”

“I’ve got a live one here,” I chuckle to myself, rolling onto my back. I mentally kiss goodbye to eighty bucks worth of relaxation and prep my mind to simultaneously take notes and be in the moment.

ThetaHealing™ cures cancer, etc

So far as smoking goes, it turns out I couldn’t be in better hands, because ThetaHealing™ purports to both rewire genetic behaviour and cure cancer. Head to the official website, set up by ThetaHealing™ inventor Vianna Stibal, and you’ll find explanations like:

“We believe by changing your brain wave cycle to include the ‘Theta’ state, you can actually watch the Creator Of All That Is create instantaneous physical and emotional healing”

and

“ThetaHealing™ can be most easily described as an attainable miracle for your life. ThetaHealing™ is also best known for the 7 Planes of Existence; a concept to connect to the Highest Level of Love and Energy of All That Is”

Under Vianna’s guidance, a newb practitioner can expect to work with guides and guardian angels, balance seratonin and noradrenaline levels, and pull heavy metals and radiation out of the cells.

That’s Vianna.

I don’t know any of this yet though, as I’ve just come in for a gloopy massage, which is now off the cards. But I like Maria, and I’m happy to see what she pulls out of the hat.

With warm hands, Maria cups my heels and tugs gently on them every few minutes. This is nice enough, and it’s raining, so I’ve got nothing better to do.

“Now I’m going to look at your DNA,” she says, or something. I’m confused – particularly as Maria has a lovely thick purr of an accent – but some Googling later totally clears things up. Maria is “activating the 12 strands of DNA. The chronos, or youth and vitality chromosome is activated, the telomeres are strengthened to reverse the aging process, and students experience an opening to the Unconditional Love of the Creator.”

Back to me on the table

Maria pulls up a stool so she can peer into my face. She explains that a person absorbs their parents’ fears and neuroses while still amoebic, and thus needs to be genetically separated from them.

While asking me questions about my family, she applies her fingers to acupressure points on my feet. At first it hurts, but after a series of stroking of the side of my hands and feet, and some inaudible incantations intended to fill me with unconditional love (ending in “it is done, it is done, it is done”), the discomfort wears off.

Maria questions what I most dislike about each parent; information I feel funny about giving up, lying here on my back with a stranger poised to perform a genetic separation manoeuvre. She tells me I mustn’t take responsibility for them, nor anybody else, nor judge them, nor believe their behaviour will determine mine. It’s fairly standard therapy speak; only therapists don’t stimulate your pineal gland at the same time.

“It is your life’s mission to be happy,” she says. “No, it’s not selfish – you need to give yourself unconditional love, or nobody else will be happy.”

I’m asked to make a ring shape with my forefinger and thumb. Then she loops her own finger and thumb through it, makes a statement, and tries to break my grip: “I am worthless” (you’ll always get this; it’s any therapist’s favourite), “I am special” “I am just like my father” “I cannot give up cigarettes” she intones, and asks me to repeat each one. If her fingers easily break through mine, I apparently believe this statement to be true. If I hold the circle, bully for me.

“It’s not hypnosis,” she corrects me as I offer my opinion, “it’s kinesiology.”

Oh bugger. The first and last time I had kinesiology, the therapist took to my childhood with a pickaxe while waving crystals and sloshing Bach Flower Remedies around, made me converse with my 10-year-old self, and plunged me into such lethargic depression that I went home and split up with my husband. But I digress.

Now, the funny business

You’ll scoff in disgust at this point, but it has to be said. Our session ends without fanfare, as Maria takes a call on her mobile and I wander out having a bit of a private titter. But as I walk away, towards the sea, I feel insanely, incredibly good. I feel like a mass of buzzing energy that’s greater than my physical form. If you’ve ever accidentally partaken in a snifter of ketamine, you’ll be familiar with that fuzzy sense of expansion. I’m smiling like a loon and there’s a tremendous sense of well-being. You can’t buy good feeling like that any more; not in Australia anyway.

It’s incredible, but short-lived. My phone beeps. Don’t look at your phone, don’t look at your phone, I think. But I do, and I immediately zero into its little world, to its mewling demand for attachment and its drip-feed of stimulation. The expansive feeling wears off, and with that, drug injustice™ sweeps in. (Drug injustice: the keening, self-pitying sense of being ripped off when something isn’t quite enough any more. Sounds like a silent, anguished howl.)

I don’t know how that shimmering loveliness happened, if it was me or Maria, or a form of meditation, or a sudden warm front blowing in. The conclusion I’m heading towards is: I don’t care, as long as it feels good. Which funnily enough has always been my philosophy in life anyway.

File under: I don’t know what you did, but just keep doing it.

Or: If this is the placebo effect, sign me up for more placebos forthwith.

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“Can you even cure a runny nose?” ThetaHealing gets a YouTube bashing

Posted on December 10, 2011 by Hey!

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A WORD FROM SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN ON BELIEF AND PLACEBO EFFECTS

Posted on December 10, 2011 by Hey!

Placebo effects can arise not only from a conscious belief in a drug but also from subconscious associations between recovery and the experience of being treated—from the pinch of a shot to a doctor’s white coat. Such subliminal conditioning can control bodily processes of which we are unaware, such as immune responses and the release of hormones.

Researchers have decoded some of the biology of placebo responses, demonstrating that they stem from active processes in the brain.

And from The Skeptic’s Dictionary:

The body’s neurochemical system affects and is affected by other biochemical systems, including the hormonal and immune systems. Thus, it is consistent with current knowledge that a person’s hopeful attitude and beliefs may be very important to their physical well-being and recovery from injury or illness.

Another popular belief is that a process of treatment that involves showing attention, care, affection, etc., to the patient/subject, a process that is encouraging and hopeful, may itself trigger physical reactions in the body which promote healing.

While it may be unethical to knowingly package, prescribe, or sell placebos as magical cures, complementary and alternative medicine folks seem to think they are ethical because they really believe in their chi, meridians, yin, yang, prana, vata, pitta, kapha, auras, chakras, energies, spirits, succussion, natural herbs, water with precise and selective memory, subluxations, cranial and vertebral manipulations, douches and irrigations, body maps, divinities, and various unobservable processes that allegedly carry out all sorts of magical analgesic and curative functions.

And, uh, Wiki:

Another factor increasing the effectiveness of placebos is the degree to which a person attends to their symptoms, “somatic focus”. Individual variation in response to analgesic placebos has been linked to regional neurochemical differences in the internal affective state of the individuals experiencing pain.

Those with Alzheimer’s disease lose the capacity to be influenced by placebos, and this is attributed to the loss of their prefrontal cortex dependent capacity to have expectations. Children seem to have greater response than adults to placebos.

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A QUICK FORAY INTO PAST LIVES, TO BE EXPLORED IN MORE DETAIL ANOTHER TIME

Posted on December 8, 2011 by Hey!

While I’m atop the table at Mark’s practice room in Byron Bay, we take an unscheduled excursion into past lives.

“There’s an energy blockage around your solar plexus,” Mark says, widdling away with his fingers above my hips.

“Oh. So would that be connected to a chakra which means something in particular?”

“Apparently.” (Quick recap: Mark’s not into chakras.)

“Maybe it’s just human anatomy.”

“There’s your ego mind again.”

“Oh dear, I’ve learned nothing.”

“There it is.”

I tell Mark about a weird sensation I’ve felt in two spots in my solar plexus since I was a kid; a feeling so awful I’d even dream of it. If a new ager touches me there – which I always tell them not to and they always do – they get a knee in the face.

“Jealous lover,” Mark says, on the verge of a chuckle. “You had someone else’s baby.”

“But I’ve had this since I was a kid. And I haven’t.”

“Past life. There are two arrows I can see. Yes, that must hurt. I’ll pull them out.”

I feel my new age optimism waning away and impatience leeching back in.

“Past lives. Everyone thinks they’re Joan of Arc, don’t they?”

“I try not to delve into stories,” Mark says. “People just become attached to them. But we do have past lives; no doubt about it.”

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GOING TO SEE A HEALER AND OVER-INTELLECTUALISING IT

Posted on December 8, 2011 by Hey!

“I don’t know what I do for a living,” shrugs Mark. “People ask me and I say, ‘I make people cry. Sometimes they fall asleep.’”

I’m back in Byron Bay, the Most Spiritual Town in Australia, back where I started my Snake Oil Skeptic quest. I’ve bought some Aphrodite Herb Tea, Maca Inca Superfood Powder, worn a floaty frock, followed the sound of steel drums and talked rubbish to the local ne’er-do-wells while staring out to sea, but really I’m here to see the healer from day one.

So far all my experiences with healers and psychics have left me with nothing but flaring nostrils and clenched fists – all except for Mark. There’s definitely something going on with him. I shit you not, when I look into his eyes I feel a bit hypnotised, like the rest of the room disappears. I’m hoping he can give me some pointers on how to become more open to spiritual experiences while accepting none of the rhetoric. I’ve felt like I’ve had a spiritual side since I was a kid without all that; I’ve felt it buzz and pulse and hum. And then abandon ship at around puberty.

“I just can’t get past chakras,” I say, as Mark sits across from me and bores his eyes pleasantly into my head. “So they’re everywhere spinning in the body… but where’s the shred of evidence? Can I get anywhere without accepting chakras as a basic foundation upon which to build?”

“I’m not interested in chakras,” Mark says. “I just know what I can see and feel; I can’t explain it and I don’t want to study it. It was drummed out of me as a child, because I grew up in a very scientific family. Then, when I reached my thirties I tried studying healing under two egotistical healers and it was a terrible experience.”

He asks if I’ve read any Eckhart Tolle. “I’ve been carrying around The Power of Now for ages,” I admit, “but I can’t bring myself to read it.” Especially in public.

“Your ego mind won’t let you,” Mark says. “But the ego mind is just a construction. Imagine it as a voice sitting on your shoulder, trying to tell you what to do. You are not your mind, you are a higher self.”

“I would call that ‘higher self’ my unconscious mind,” I challenge. And that goes for angels, higher powers, spirit guides, coming across weird ‘signs’ and ‘miracles’, and much other new age phenomena. Unconscious mind.

“Yeah, whatever you want to call it,” he says (touché!). “Just try not to intellectualise spirituality. You’re spiritual already; your ego mind just doesn’t want you to be because it wants to be in control. People study spirituality as hard as possible and think they should be here, when they’re here.” He moves his hand along an imaginary scale. “You get people wandering around Byron who look spiritual, but they’re not – they’re terrible people.”

Before I hop on the table, Mark checks out my energy by staring at the wall a few metres away.

“It’s all over the place,” he says.

“You’re not even looking.”

“I don’t have to look right at you, I can see it anywhere. I can see it remotely, around someone in another town. You’re throwing energy out but not letting any in. It’s important to forgive yourself for things. And you’re floating a metre above the ground. It’s important to stay grounded and draw up energy from the ground.”

I’m probably on the table for about 40 minutes, with Mark moving his hands around about six inches over my body. I’ve had this done loads of times in the name of journalism and felt nothing but intense irritation. When Mark does it I bounce like I’m floating on a lilo in the sun, a pina colada in one hand. There’s a subtle sense of being pulled upwards, but more noticeable are the ripples pulsing down my body from my head, finally streaming out of my feet. It’s not an Icke-style awakening, but it’s something.

I swing my legs off the table and Mark looks into my eyes. “Wow. That’s beautiful,” he swoons of my newly arranged energy, in a totally non-pervey way. I think everybody – new ager or skeptic – is secretly waiting for someone to tell them they have a stunning aura, so I’m pleased by this.

Questions I wanted to ask but didn’t, for fear of hearing vague answers that would prompt more questions:

  • Can you mess with someone’s energy as they’re walking down the street without them knowing?
  • Are the spirit guides aliens from the star system Alpha Draconis?
  • Why did they give us critical minds?
  • Why does Universal energy need human vessels?
  • If we’re made up of a higher self and ego mind, which one does the libido belong to?

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Ho ho ha ha ha: joining a laughter club

Posted on December 6, 2011 by Hey!


In my youth, my hatred of humankind was such that I would rather sit next to a turd than my fellow man. I know this exactly to be true, because one morning upon jumping on the tube at Hounslow East, I discovered some early bird scoundrel had lovingly laid a massive brown log upon one of the seats.

Brilliant, I thought. If I sit opposite that, no one will come near a 10m radius of me.

I cracked open a can of cider. Result.

Around the time of the turd, these new seat designs were introduced on the tube. Conspiracy theorists claimed the patterns were designed to look like the letters ‘S’ ‘E’ and ‘X’.

You’d think, then, that a laughter club in the middle of a park in country Victoria would be a cognitive challenge. However, I’ve come to realise since those youthful days that a) being open-minded and friendly to others can bring surprises and delights, b) the world neither owes me nor is out to get me, and c) amphetamines are best left alone.

I’ve come to investigate the club with Lucy and Stampy, who are game for a, uh, laugh, even if that means joining in with a group of 12 pensioners and oddballs at 8.30 on a Saturday morning. We’re conducted by a couple who have been laughter club devotees for years. “It releases… enzymes,” Barry says with a note of uncertainty. He slaps his beer gut. “Keeps you fit, as well.”

Gathering in a big circle, we’re run through a series of exercises: running around like an aeroplane with our arms outstretched and our “hahahahahaha” being the splutter of the propellor; having imaginary pillow fights, guffawing all the while; and running up to each other, staring into each other’s eyes, while tittering behind our hands “like Japanese women”. It’s all a bit manic and alarming, but so far, nothing ruptured.

In between each bout we retake our positions in the circle and clap with cupped hands (so that the vibrations run up our arms), chanting: “ho ho ha ha ha, ho ho ha ha ha”.

The idea, of course, is that faking merriment within the diaphragm region can fool the brain into releasing feel-good endorphins and boosting immunity. In fact, while laughter is now an innate instinct that comes into effect at around three or four months of age,  Robert Provine, a neuroscientist at the University of Maryland, theorises that the panting of chimpanzees as they play developed into laughter as our ancestors developed speech as a way of relieving stress and communicating our playful intent.

More exercises, back here in the park: roaring in a jolly manner like Father Christmas; doing a dance – “of your preference” – around the circle; mimicking a kookaburra and a meerkat, chortling and mincing our way over invisible hot coals; and chuckling in an imaginary elevator, into which we are crammed with all 12 others.

Towards the end, we’re instructed to use our laughter for the power of good. “Does anyone know of anybody who could do with some healing laughter?” Barry calls out.

“A double fatality!” one woman practically screams before anyone else gets a chance to think. “There was a double fatality in the newspaper last night. Car crash. Tragic.”

I’m not going to allege this lady may also be a funeral gatecrasher, combing the papers for meaningful moments, but as Stampy notes later, the laughter club does seem to be full of lonely types.

Focusing our energy, we laugh at increasing volume, rushing towards the centre of the circle, arms outstretched. We do that a few times, cackling our intent at the bereaved families.

Afterwards, the three of us compare notes and find: 1) we feel like we’ve had a fairly pleasing aerobic workout, 2) we felt a bit like we were in a cult, and 3) none of us found the laughter siblings-at-the-dinner-table contagious, which was a bit disappointing. But for a recovering gelotophobe, it’s a nice hurdle to hop.

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Does speaking kindly to water just before it freezes create beautiful patterns in its molecules?

Posted on December 1, 2011 by Hey!

It was David Icke who put me on to Masaru Emoto, which should be your indicator of whether to read on or not. For the past 12 years, the Japanese entrepreneur has been insisting that human consciousness can affect the molecular structure of water. Positive thoughts, songs, prayers or nice words taped to a water canister, he says, create beautiful patterns in the water crystals that can be examined with microscopic photography when frozen. Mean words create crazy, irregular shapes.

Nice crystals had been played Beethoven. Vicious blobs had received heavy metal.

One Emoto experiment involved 2000 volunteers in Tokyo vibing positive intent at bottles of water thousands of miles away in a room in California. The water in the vibed bottles, Emoto says, had increased aesthetic appeal to bottles of unvibed water in a neighbouring room. Boy, I wish I could have taken part in that experiment. Just as intrigued as me is psychic slayer James Randi, who has offered Emoto his customary million bucks to prove his theory under more controlled circumstances.

But this projecting of intent is a common theme in New Age circles. I can think of examples in which I’d agree it works. Ever had a shit massage? One where the technique is all there, but the care is lacking? Compare that to a massage by a spiritually minded practitioner, who focuses healing through their hands. And if you’ve ever made love, as I have, you will be familiar with the effect that has on every cell in your body. If you’re doing it properly.

If you subscribe to Emoto’s theories, positive intent affects all the molecules around us. This is good to know, as regular readers will remember I have been challenged to tune into the electrical frequencies of three people in different moods, as chosen by my skepto cohort Esther. This is one instance where my skepticism has taken a slide (I’m predicting further slides, just to pre-warn you). Being a sensitive – some may say over-sensitive – type, I’m confident I’ll be able to read their moods by the vibes in the room. Esther reckons not. Dr Emoto would be on my side, as would the Mayans, who thought everything in the universe was made up of energy vibrating at different frequencies. Still, why should we listen to ancient civilisations?

Oh, incidentally, if you’d like to drink some sacred geometry, you can make your own poor man’s Divine Energy Activation Water, like these healers in Texas. And THEN, you can send a sample to Emoto, who’ll test it for lovely patterns for just 55,000 yen.

Further reading: http://is-masaru-emoto-for-real.com/

Do it yourself.

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EVEN MORE REASONS TO LOVE PRINCE CHARLES (A KING IN ANY OTHER DIMENSION)

Posted on November 29, 2011 by Hey!

A kid once threw a clod of earth at my dad, after my dad told the kid to stop throwing mud at the car. Dad had got out of the car and had his thunderous face on. The kid didn’t care, and got him on the side of the head. I wanted to kill that kid. I wanted to kill him dead. I feel the same when people take pops at Prince Charles.

You just know the Queen would rather die than relinquish the throne to Charles. She’ll hang on grimly to her handbag and her title until William psyches himself up. But do you know why? Not because Charles is potty, talks to plants and got a divorce. No, it’s because Charles is a menace to modern society. Just hunt out some of his lesser-known speeches.

In an introduction to the Sacred Web Conference at the University of Alberta in 2006, Charles sings his praises for the biannual magazine devoted to theosophy and the study of Tradition and modernity, Sacred Web, and then offers his theories on the same.

Watching a Royal – arranged, as ever, in front of a fireplace – speak in metaphysical terms is a surreal, slightly eerie experience. Charles talks of mystics, of the oneness of all life, and how it is only achieved by tapping into the Divine. I feel like I’m watching an alien invasion flick, in which the President is forced to address the nation about impending doom.

He warns that the human race is on the brink of extinction, and calls for a rejection of modernism, of an age where every man is an island, and a return to Traditionalism – in which perennial wisdom is handed down from generation to generation; kept alive and revered. He references royal astronomer Martin Reese, who wrote Our Final Hour: A Scientist’s Warning: How Terror, Error, and Environmental Disaster Threaten Humankind’s Future In This Century, On Earth and Beyond, but says in his more optimistic moments he hopes it may not be too late for a mass awakening that will allow mankind to take the planet into its next, transcendent cycle.

While Charles’s commitment to environmental causes and sustainability is well reported, his spiritual and philosophical side (he is is Patron of the Temenos Academy – ‘for education in the light of the spirit’) is not humoured in the media. Last year he published a book, Harmony, written with environmentalist Tony Juniper and BBC broadcaster Ian Skelly. There was an accompanying doco. Oh – you missed it?

True enough, some of his theories would make Dan Brown blush, but his dismissal in the British press was so thorough that The Guardian commissioned three reviews that made personal attacks. Giant lizards, much?

Guardian review 1) Discovering the same organic patterns everywhere you look is a familiar symptom of paranoia. In the prince’s case, however, it represents an insight into the fundamental rhythms of the universe. If you press your face on a large piece of paper on a wall, he tells us, and let your arms describe natural arcs with a couple of pencils, you would find yourself creating certain cosmically symbolic circles. He forgets to add that you would also look a complete prat.

Guardian review 2) If I’ve learned one thing in the more than 30 years I’ve been faffing around waiting to be king, it’s that we have to listen to Nature … So this book, which has been dictated to me by Tony Juniper-Berry, Peter Penstemon and Diana Daffodil, is Nature’s plea to us to save the world before it is too late.

Guardian review 3) He knew he was right all along.

In his speech for the Sacred Web Conference, Charles irritably acknowledges the ridicule he’s suffered for decades, but he might expect nothing more in an age of superficiality. He quotes TS Eliot: “Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?”

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Did John Butler 12-step me?*

Posted on November 26, 2011 by Hey!

I was locked in a Tarago with the John Butler Trio, concentrating fiercely. They were playing Newcastle; I was leeching along with my dictaphone. Beneath all the talk of new songs, uranium mines and the importance of cracking the States, I could hear an undercurrent of something – a hidden message of some sorts.

John talked about the importance of being fully present, about putting out his intention and handing over his will.

My ears pricked up. I’d recently started going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and I recognised these patterns of speech. Up till that point I’d been about as spiritual as a sock; suddenly I was the empty vessel into which talk of ‘acceptance’, ‘handing it over’ and ‘living in the now’ poured – usually in the form of a rhyme or acronym. Now John was revealing he’d heard them too. I was possum eyed with excitement. He was one of us.

Veering wildly off the interview script, I started throwing in some unusual questions. “Do you have a few drinks before you go on stage?” I asked. “What about after?”

John frowned, perhaps presuming I’d run out of Wiki ammo and was about to ask him his favourite colour. He might, he said, perhaps have a few beers. It was my turn to frown. So that wasn’t it. He must be Narcotics Anonymous.

What I had failed to realise, being a wet-behind-the-ears newb, was that while the foundations of AA may be built upon Jungian theory and cognitive restructuring, in recent years it’s acquired plenty of Eckhart Tolle-isms, mindfulness, and an appreciation of pop spirituality, like The Secret.

As Jung himself wrote to AA founding father Bill Wilson, “‘alcohol’ in Latin is ‘spiritus’ and you use the same word for the highest religious experience as for the most depraving poison.” No wonder the same spiritual path that attracted John – who has often spoken of having an awakening, aged 20 – is adopted by reformed boozehounds who have both lost their religion and had an awakening themselves.

AA wound up being a crash course for me, as I decided to home school myself after being told I was spiritually sick and unlikely to get better… but I’ll never forget that illuminating moment of identification the day I interviewed John.

* No. I snuck a peek at JB’s rider when he was on stage. He’s definitely not a friend of Bill W, but he does read The Secret.

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DAVID ICKE Vs. ECKHART TOLLE: WHOSE AWAKENING WAS BETTER?

Posted on November 26, 2011 by Hey!

Puzzlingly, Oprah has never embraced Icke.

I’ve been reading Eckhart Tolle’s description of his awakening in The Power of Now, and it’s strikingly close to David Icke’s, minus the mountain accoutrements.

TOLLE (aged 29)

“I cannot live with myself any longer.” This was the thought that kept repeating itself in my mind. Then suddenly I became aware of what a peculiar thought it was. “Am I one or two?” If I cannot live with myself, there must be two of me: the ‘I’ and the ‘self’ that ‘I’ cannot live with.” “Maybe,” I thought, “only one of them is real.”
I was so stunned by this strange realisation that my mind stopped. I was fully conscious, but there were no more thoughts. Then I felt drawn into what seemed like a vortex of energy. It was a slow movement at first and then accelerated. I was gripped by an intense fear, and my body started to shake. I heard the words “resist nothing”, as if spoken inside my chest. I could feel myself being sucked into a void. It was as if the void was inside myself rather than outside. Suddenly, there was no more fear, and I let myself fall into that void. I have no recollection of what happened after that.

ICKE (aged 39)

There were magnets pulling my feet to the ground, and then I felt a drill going in the top of my head and through my body, through my feet, into the ground. And then another one coming the other way. And then my arms go out at 45 degrees, for the best part of an hour. This energy coming through me. My body started to shake with it, and I had two very powerful thought-forms pass through my head.

The first one said: “They’ll be talking about this 100 years from now.” The other one was: “It will be over when you feel the rain.” This energy just kept coming through me. And I kept going in and out of, if you like, awareness, consciousness, like driving a car and you go: Crikey. Where did the last two miles go?

One of these times when I came back to kind of awareness, I noticed that over the distant mountains there was a light grey mist. It got darker and darker very quickly, pouring rain on the distant mountains.

I watched this storm come out of the mountains. The cloud was a straight line. It was like drawing the curtains across the sky. This thing’s coming towards me, and as it got closer, the sun’s gone. It’s been covered. All the clouds are billowing and I’m seeing faces in the clouds. It didn’t make sense to me, but I saw faces in the clouds.

And then it’s a wall of rain. I’m watching it coming towards me. By this time I’m hanging on, you know, with this energy coming through me. Eventually it hits me – torrential rain – and everything stopped. That’s when I staggered forward and my shoulders were agony and all the rest of it.

Winner: Icke.

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