MANIFESTING OUR REALITY Part 2

Some personal examples to ponder

Here is Part 1 (in case you missed it)

MANIFESTING OUR REALITY

I thought it would be fun to share some examples of my experiences when gisming. I am not always successful and I imagine that this Universe has it’s reasons for denying requests occasionally but, generally, I have some pretty spectacular stories to tell.

The earliest successful gism I remember centred around placing thoughts in my Mum’s head. I was being breastfed and not walking at the time, so I must have been about a year old. I loved to suck coal….. I know, it is a bit odd but a good lump of coal was delicious to me and still is actually. I like the really shiny black anthracite coal the best.

Back then, in 1953 to be precise, coal was delivered around London homes by a horse and cart. The coalmen used to yell something incomprehensible and the mums would pop out to the street to buy their supplies which would be dumped into coal-holes in the basements. Then my mum would refill our coal scuttle, place it alongside the fireplace and lay the fire ready for when my Dad got home. In nippy London winters we did not use the living room until evening, keeping warm in the kitchen by the heat of the cooking stove and water boiler which cleaned my nappies. Our kitchen was always a steamy place as I remember.

Mum was usually careful to keep me away from the coal scuttle.

On this occasion I watched closely, wanting her to leave the living room door a little ajar just this once - and she did….. then I wanted her to go out of our flat and she did! She went to smoke a cigarette and chat with the neighbour, old Nat, through the stair landing window! Without a moment of hesitation I crawled into the living room and helped myself to a tasty lump of shiny black coal. I must have been sucking it for quite a while because when she returned she shrieked in dismay! My lovely white dress was festooned with black drool. I had the face and hands of a coal miner apparently!
I was very happy, I remember that!

Sending thoughts had now become my new hobby. When my brother was born, at home in the living room, I was standing in my cot, still only 18 months old, anxiously listening from the bedroom next door. I was frightened by my Mum’s cries. I wanted my Dad and right on cue he appeared in the doorway, swept me up and took me to meet my new brother. Phew. Mum was OK.

Receiving thoughts began with my brother.
Roy was not inclined to talk much, he hardly needed to. I always knew what he wanted. I was always there to fight his battles when we were roughing and tumbling in the streets. We played outside a lot. Well, you could in those days. A car passing through our street was such a rare thing that all the kids would chase it, whooping with joy. Nowadays that same Islington street is considered “up market” and the very poshest of cars are double parked!
How times have changed in my lifetime….

Now let’s fast forward to 1969.

Roy had become a Mod. This entailed wearing a parka jacket and riding a Vespa scooter over-dressed with rear view mirrors. A bit like this:

We were living on the east coast of England by then. One cold and wet day I was at home with my nan, knitting a jumper. Suddenly I felt a searing burning on my left outer thigh which made me jump from my seat wincing in pain. In that split second I saw roadway speeding beneath me and Roy’s hands clinging to the scooter. Nan was alarmed. “S’alright Nan!” I said. “Roy has just slid around Butlin’s corner on his scooter! He is getting up….. he’s OK!” Half an hour later Roy came limping home, wheeling his damaged scooter. The denim on his left thigh was in shreds and he had a nasty friction burn. Interestingly, he knew that I knew. We have never figured out how that works.

When I was 18, the following year, we were gifted with a new baby brother, Harvey. The whole family doted on this unexpected little cherub. One evening my Nan and I were babysitting, watching TV. I suddenly felt something tighten around my throat and closing my eyes I saw the cot bars. I shot up the stairs and found Harvey with the sheet wrapped tight around his little fists which were behind his head! I had a job untangling him but he did not wake up. Tucking him in tight, I returned to my seat and explained to my Nan what had happened. Ten minutes later my Dad’s car came roaring up the street, screeched to a halt and my panic stricken parents burst through the door.
”What’s up?” they blurted. Apparently they had been at a club, dancing cheek to cheek, when Dad had the strongest feeling that I was calling him….. amazing, huh? Who needs mobile phones, when you can transmit your feelings wordlessly?

Incidents like these were regular occurrences in my life - some of them were amusing too, like the time I decided I needed a bike. I casually gismed, in a rather non-specific over confident way. What do you think happened?

Within a week I had six bikes given to me from different sources!
Not only that but they were all different styles!
One was a BMX, one a drop handlebar racer, one an old fashioned bone-shaker but the one I finally settled on was red with a very comfy seat and a wicker shopping basket on the front. I had no trouble finding homes for the others!

I concluded that my future gisms would have to be more carefully defined.
The Universe clearly had a wicked sense of humour!

The best gism that I remember transmitting came about because I heard that Hackney, in London, had become over-run with cockroaches. My mum’s mother lived there and she was widowed and fragile by this time. I think it was during the late 1990s. My Mum was doing her best to run a business and care for her mother but it was wearing her out. She should have been retiring herself by this time.
Meanwhile, my brother Roy had become a very successful millionaire businessman with his own roofing company in Colchester, Essex and a collection of vintage Jaguar cars. I gismed him to buy our Mum and Nan a lovely bungalow near to my coastal home where I could be on hand to help them if necessary. This time I was very specific about the details. I could see it clearly in my imagination.

I gismed for this bungalow for about a fortnight until my Mum phoned, brimming with excitement, telling me that Roy had bought a lovely property about half a mile away from me. She was insisting that she should pay rent (my mum was fiercely independent like that).
“Is it a 2 bedroomed bungalow?” I asked “With a big garden and a garage?”
”YES!” She replied, and hesitated for a suspicious moment.
“How do you….. Oh Frances! YOU DIDN’T!”
I giggled and confessed to my cosmic meddling but made my Mum promise not to tell.
“Let him believe it was his idea!” I said.
To this day he does not know. Or maybe he does….

Those are just a few examples to give you an idea of what to expect from a good gism. I have taught lots of people how to do this. They either laugh at me or come back to tell me of their amazing results.

All it takes is unwavering confidence, trust and belief.

Be in no doubt. I am not special.

YOU CAN GISM TOO!