III
MESMER AND ME
This note is written [first published in 2016] with some trepidation while the reader is asked to be open-minded. The phenomenal healings which will be presented in later essarys will be challenging to the modern viewer even as they were to many over the ages. So too, may be the following scenario. Take it as a possibility if not a fact. The writer himself still wonders about these experiences. But, I also believe the writer of Hamlet got it quite correctly when he said, “There are more things in Heaven and in Earth than are found in your philosophy, Horatio.” [For whatever it may be worth to the reader, this student of history holds the firm conviction as many others including Mark Twain that Shakespeare was the pen and theater name for Sir Francis Bacon. The evidence is rather mountainous in support of the claim.] My fellow Horatios, read my personal story about healing and history. Consider the possibilities! The setting for a key moment in my life is San Francisco, California, in the spring of 1984. I had been practicing medicine for nearly seven years when I decided to follow a woman friend from Arizona to California. She had introduced me to Steven, a holistic physician, who was open to me joining his practice. At the same time I was planning to associate with him, I was imagining doing house calls to go beyond the mundane aspects of medicine. When I applied to the California Board of Medical Examiners for a license, they wrote back saying, “If you have been out of medical school for more than five years, you will have to submit to an oral examination.” “Oh, shit!” was the brief dribble that came out of my mouth on reading those words. I have never failed a written exam in my life, but struggled on a few occasions with performance exams. And, I never sat or stood for an oral exam during my medical school days. That practice was common in olden times, but not in the present age as far as I am aware. Nonetheless, I went ahead with the process even while I spent the interlude of a few weeks working on the manuscript of my first - unpublished - book. I thought the examiners were looking to weed out others than myself and I didn’t crack a book. Testing was supposed to be on Emergency Room issues. I had little such experience in many years, but did not pay much heed to the warning. The day of the exam I set out early to drive 100 miles to San Francisco. My car had a flat tire on the way. I arrived to join the other applicants wearing a sweater while they were all dressed in suits and ties. The signs were inauspicious. The process was short but not sweet. Two sets of two examiners decided I should try again three months later. I was bummed, but proceeded with the plan for the rest of the day. I had an airplane ticket to return to Arizona to co-lead a workshop on the Chakras which are somewhat distant from modern medical interest. When I got back to Phoenix and shared the news, friends patted me on the back and said, “No problem. Just bone up. You can get past this to be a regular doctor in California.” Aye, there was the rub. I never was a regular doctor anywhere including California. Moreover, I was not particularly regular about most things in my life. Still in San Francisco biding time before going to the airport to fulfill that engagement, I took myself down to the beach at the Presidio where I had spent a year in training at Letterman General Hospital in 67-68 before going to Vietnam. While I moped along the sand, I was reminded of a moment spent with an extraordinary man in Houston, Texas. While finishing medical school there in 1977, I had found Mr. William David at the Esoteric Philosophy Center. All during medical training I had been studying and dabbling and investigating beyond the confines of regular doctoring. I took one course in Sound, Vibration and Color with Mr. David. But, I got most from two private sessions as he drew forth information for me from the Akashic Records. [Look it up if you haven’t heard of them.] I can see his wonderful beaming, bespectacled, balding round face right now - even without a photo. David had a warm, gentle, engaging manner. But, he loved to laugh and make jolly. On my second consult with only days before graduation, he leaned back, closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. He was wide awake but not fully present as he seemed to search above, within and around himself for some thing.  William
David
1923-2012 Eventually, he asked me for questions. But mostly, he just tuned into who I was and where I was going. I had told him little more than that I was going to a medical internship in the Army at Fort Benning. Mr. David first made some off-the-cuff comments about Army bases and opportunities. I remember him distinctly saying about my beliefs with regard to upcoming internship, “You can do it. But, don’t talk about it.” Well, I didn’t follow his suggestion and was put on probation within the first months of my training at Martin Army Hospital. David continued by touching on a lifetime in the 19th century, “You were trained as a physician in France. But, you studied after Mesmer and learned his methods. At some point, you traveled to America and settled in San Francisco. You had some real disappointments there. The medical officials would not accept your credentials from France. So, you set up some kind of apothecary shop and did your real healing work quietly in the back room. Do you realize, you are repeating some of that now?” Well, I realized but little of what he spoke. Because I got in trouble right out of the chute once I started my internship. I did get through it. I learned to keep my mouth shut and be more circumspect by the end of the year. But, one year postgraduate medical training was enough. I went on to finish my Army obligation as a Flight Surgeon for three years at Fort Riley Kansas. For years, I carried this knowledge or awareness or possibility that I had been a hundred years past a physician from France, who moved to San Francisco and had to do his real work behind closed doors. I have come to believe that I am not unusual in having to repeat things from previous times, and even lifetimes.  Anton Mesmer (age 72) portrait by Charpentier But, there were really two parts to the story - at least two parts - that Mr. David told me. He mentioned Mesmer. Well, who was Mesmer? Wasn’t he that man who started the process to create hypnosis? Yes and No. In any case, I missed a big clue way back in 1977. The name of Mesmer would appear here and there from time to time. Mesmerize is a relatively common word which finds its way into many vocabularies and conversations. I must have used it over the years, but I was practically oblivious of Dr. Mesmer and what it really means to mesmerize until … |
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