"Hi, Ken. I see you're talking to the nurse when you
should be resting," says Teasdale, the tone of his voice
suggesting that he somehow has exclusive rights to me.
"I am resting," I answer, with emphasis on the "am."
"So, Doctor, you're researching miraculous healings and
yet you're an atheist? Why? Are you trying to prove
there is no God by explaining away medical miracles?"
"No. I accept medical miracles. I'm cataloging medical
miracles to support my premise that it does not matter
which God you believe; just as it doesn't matter which
fantasy you use to enhance sex. I expect to show that
true believers in all religions can have miraculous
healings and that whatever mechanism is involved, it has
nothing to do with any particular theology. As a
scientist, you know you can't prove there is no God.
But, I believe my books are presenting data that show
that the name and characteristics of one's God are
irrelevant. That's the second best thing to proving the
nonexistence of any particular God. Yes, Ken, there are
medical miracles. No, we don't understand them. And no,
that doesn't mean there has to be some God out there. I
intend to prove that miracles don't depend on some
particular God or idea."
"Fascinating. And you hope to use me to support your
thesis?"
"Why not? You had a fatal fall. Then you recovered and
now you appear completely lucid. You claim you were
given some special power by some unknown spirit or
spirits. And, to top it all off, you claim to have met
all the Gods, and they are apparently equal in your
mind. You're the first subject I've studied who seems
not to be relying on borrowed theology. Apparently, you
don't have a theology, not even atheism, like me. You're
the perfect subject for my next book. You don't have a
problem with that, do you?"
"Not as long as you can postpone any release until I go
to Israel."
"So, you still think you're off to Israel, do you? Have
you noticed your body? You have several serious skull
fractures, a compound fracture of both the bones in your
right forearm, several shattered vertebrae and both your
legs and ankles are badly broken. You expect me to keep
quiet about you until you can go to Israel? That could
be years."
"No, I expect you to keep quiet until the full moon on
April 8th, the first day of the Jewish Passover, when I
will be doing something in Israel."
"I might be able to keep quiet, but if you heal yourself
in time to make that schedule, it's going to be very
difficult to keep you out of the news."
"You do your part and my power will take care of the
rest."
"You really believe you have some superhuman power,
don't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm okay with that. This conversation is good
evidence that you have more than ordinary abilities.
Maybe you are to spiritual power what Mozart was to
music. So, do you want to start healing yourself now,
while I watch?"
"Yes, I'd like to, but I have no idea how."
"Well, Ken, maybe an atheist can help. Your right arm is
a mess and you probably can't even move it. But, your
left arm is just fine. Can you lift it for me? Good. Now
make a fist. Good. Now open your hand. Wonderful. Now,
tell me how you did it."
"What?"
"Just tell me how you closed and opened your left hand."
"Well, there are these muscles, see? They are here in my
forearm. When they pull, my fingers close up. When they
relax and the other muscles on the back of my arm pull,
my hand opens. There are nerves running from the muscles
to my brain. When my brain sends certain electrical and
chemical signals to the muscles, they pull or relax.
How's that?"
"You explained how your body did it. You didn't explain
how you did it. You have explained some of the aspects
of your body doing what you tell it to. How much of that
did you understand the first time you opened and closed
that fist?"
"None. I was an infant."
"Exactly. You knew nothing of the physical mechanism.
You didn't even know the names of the nerves and
muscles. What does that tell you?"
"Moving my hand has nothing to do with knowing how?"
"Yes! That's it. You know something about nerves and
muscles and bones. But, nobody has the slightest idea
how your mind heard me tell it to open your fist and
then followed my direction. How your mind controls your
body is still a great scientific mystery. The connection
between you and all those electrical signals in the
computer you call a brain is totally unknown. Even if we
did know all the details of the operation, that
knowledge is totally irrelevant to your ability to move.
You expect your fist to open and it does. Isn't that
kind of an everyday miracle? Now, Ken, tell me how you
improved your skills in opening and closing your hand,
such as catching and throwing a ball. Did you study the
anatomy involved? How did you develop those skills?"
"I just did it. I did it over and over and somehow it
got better and easier."
"Now do you see how inappropriate it was of you to ask
how to do a spiritual healing?"
"You don't believe in any God, yet you do believe in
spiritual healings, don't you?"
"Yes. And I think you are going to have one. Tell me
again how you are going to do it."
"I guess I'm supposed to just do it - do it over and
over as it gets better and easier."
"That's right, Ken. Don't worry about how. You chose to
come back to life after a fatal fall. Now, you can do
more. Do you want more coaching?
"Are you a coach of miracle healings?"
"Actually, Ken, you are not my first. I want to explore
your abilities. Maybe we can make a game of it. Maybe
you don't yet realize what a great miracle of healing
you are. Have you had any miraculous healings in your
past?"
"Well, Doctor, when I was 12, I slipped on a mat and
fell against a church door. Both my hands went through
the glass windows and my left wrist was badly slashed.
The pain was unbearable. Somebody held my arm and
somebody else drove me to the hospital. I just screamed
in pain. Then, the Bishop and his counselors put their
hands on my head and gave me a blessing. While they were
blessing me the pain suddenly stopped. It was a
miracle."
"And, Ken, you didn't know how it worked. You just
expected it."
"I guess so."
"Ken, this is great. You have had a miraculous healing
and you have convinced me that you are an amazing man
just by being alive. Can we start with your right arm?"
"Sure. Do you think I can fix it?"
"I think we both expect you to do something amazing.
Remember, you thought of opening your left fist and
somehow your mind, nerves, muscles and bones made it
happen. Maybe you can think of more direct results.
Think about the broken bones, the torn muscles, the cut
skin and blood vessels in your right arm. You don't need
to remember their names or anatomy. Just think about
them. Now, you might not know exactly how they are
supposed to look, but they know. Think about telling
them to arrange themselves as they should be. Tell your
bones to come together in the right way and form the
necessary attachments. Tell all the damaged tissue to
transform itself into healthy tissue. Tell the muscles
to find their correct connections and attachments. Bring
the nerves and blood vessels together. Tell the skin to
mend itself and then evict the sutures. Are you
following my directives?"
"Yes, Doctor," I reply, almost unconsciously.
"Good. Now, do it some more. Imagine all the parts of
your arm and tell them to be whole. Tell it to do three
months of healing in three minutes. You are the King of
the land. Your body is the land. All sixty trillion
cells are your subjects. They have to obey your will.
Will them to obey and heal. Make it happen, Ken. Make it
happen. Make it happen because you expect it to happen.
Understand that you don't need to understand. It isn't
how. It just is. Heal your arm. Heal your arm. Good. How
do you feel?"
"Huh?" I feel like I've been asleep. "Oh, Doctor
Teasdale, I'm beginning to think you might be the
world's only atheist faith healer."
"Please, Ken, call me Jim."
"Okay, Jim. I think I can feel my right arm. It hurts."
"That's expected. You can tell the pain to go away and
fix all the problems on its way."
"You know, Jim, I think we have made progress. Look. I
can lift my right arm. I can make a fist. Here, shake my
hand."
"That's very good, Ken. Just a minute while I turn over
the tape. You don't mind that I'm recording everything
for science, do you?"
"Not as long as you remember to keep it a secret until I
go to Israel."
"We'll see. Now, do you think you can transform that
plaster cast into powder?"
"I never thought of that. Do you think I can?"
"Just a minute while I make sure the video camera is
running. Okay. Yes, you can turn that cast into powder.
Just imagine it is part of your body and therefore under
your command. Why shouldn't the King of all of Canaan
have royal powers over a lowly chunk of plaster? Just
hold your arm out and tell the cast to fall to the floor
as white powder and a little gauze. Okay, Ken, think,
think. Tell all those plaster particles to let go of
each other. Tell them to disband. Tell them the meeting
is over and they can separate."
***
As
Dr. Teasdale talks and I concentrate, the cast slowly
softens and begins to fall like sand from my arm. The
gauze slips away and a perfectly healthy right arm
emerges. Dr. Teasdale gasps. With his coaching, I repeat
the healing process on my legs, feet and back. Finally,
we focus on my cranium and completely heal the bones and
other injuries.
"Ken, you have just made it virtually impossible for me
to keep you a secret. Why don't you give up the idea?"
"I think I know how to persuade you. How well do you see
without those glasses?"
"Not very well."
"Do you mind closing your eyes?" I ask.
"No."
"Okay, now take off your glasses and open your eyes."
"Oh, I can see perfectly!" exclaims Jim.
"20-20, I believe. Now, here's the deal," I explain. "If
you do everything you can to keep my secret, you keep
your perfect eyesight. If you spill the beans, you wear
the glasses again. How about it. Is it a deal?"
"I'll do my best," says Jim, "but I'm not sure your
rules won't prevent you from harming my eyesight."
We both grin.
"Now, comes the hard part," says Jim, getting serious.
"We will need to document everything and keep it secret
from the media. I don't know how I'm going to do that,
since I refuse to lie outright. Let me see if I can move
you to a more private room. I'll tell the staff we're
doing experiments and we need complete privacy. They
don't have to know why. I think we can trust Dr. Jones.
We certainly can't keep your healthy body from him.
Maybe you could stay in bed with all those lines taped
to your skin. I don't know, though. Keeping this private
is going to be tough. You'll have to play dead for your
visitors. If you pretend to be unconscious you aren't
violating any of Santa's rules about the truth. You
won't be saying you can't talk. Of course it will give
me time to prepare my reports without competition. On
the other hand, a press conference tomorrow, New Year's
Day, would sure be nice."
"I'll cooperate with you, Jim. But I'm not sick and
shouldn't have to pay for any more tests or x-rays."
"Oh, don't worry, I've talked with my publisher and he's
taking care of your entire bill."
"That's good, since I don't have health insurance."
"If you can't afford health insurance, how do you expect
to finance a trip to Israel."
"I thought I would test my powers on the Idaho Lottery."
"I'm not sure that wouldn't be unethical. Think about
the consequences if the world discovered you used your
powers that way. In the first place, it would destroy
the lotto. In the second place, it might give your ego
the upper hand. In the third place, people will be less
willing to support your plans for peace. Oh, yes, they
will think you somehow cheated for personal gain and are
therefore unworthy to lead them. You better let me call
my publisher about financing your trip. He trusts me and
I think I can convince him he's going to make millions
for an investment of thousands. Oh, yes, Ken, I see a
best-seller in the making, regardless of the outcome of
your trip. I doubt it will cost as much as your medical
bill. I think I'm beginning to see why so many of the
world's great mystics were poor. We better keep you
looking poor, like Gandhi."
"Thanks, Jim, I think. You do believe we can make a
difference for peace, don't you?"
"Sure, Ken, no problem," says Jim without conviction.
"You helped me see better. Maybe you can help the Jews
and Arabs see eye to eye. Whatever you do, I expect to
make a fortune being there and writing about it. Listen,
in a few minutes it will be midnight. We will enter a
new millennium. It is traditional to drink a toast and
kiss a friend. How about it if you change these two cups
of water into cups of champagne for our toast?"
The water becomes champagne. We raise our cups and
gently sip. It's surprisingly good. We kiss once on each
cheek in the European fashion. Dr. Teasdale whispers in
my ear, "I think you better forget making wine from
water in the future. This is the best champagne I have
ever tasted, worth at least a hundred dollars a bottle.
If this gets out, you will hurt a lot of innocent people
in the wine industry. Won't that violate one of Santa's
rules?"
Surprised, I jump back and demand, "How did you know
about Santa's rules?"
"Remember Billy Mitchell, that boy who sat on your
knee?"
"Yes, I remember him. How do you know his name?" I ask,
feeling a bit like Billy must have felt.
"Believe it or not, that little rascal was wired for
sound. His friend a few yards away recorded your entire
conversation. I guess Billy recorded a dozen or so other
Santas before you. He intended it as a school project.
When he recognized you in the news, Billy sold his tape
to the Deseret News and they published a transcript.
Everyone in Utah knows how to break a candy cane and put
a piece on Earth. That was very clever. I've never heard
it before. Did you think it up?"
"Santa says some amazing things when I get out of his
way. He's definitely much wiser than I am. I learn a lot
every time I channel him."
"Perhaps you could explain to me what Santa meant when
he said everything is imaginary?"
"Maybe some day Santa can explain that to both of us,
Jim."
"I see, so you aren't new to spiritual powers, you
actually believe you channeled Santa?"
"Oh, I've channeled lots of people. I remember
channeling my grandmother's grandmother. She and her two
young children were trapped by a blizzard in 1856 with
some Mormon pioneers in a place called Martin Cove,
Wyoming. She said I was her guardian angel then and now
she's mine. A month later, on a SCUBA expedition, I was
about 90 feet down when I heard my great-great
grandmother warning me to check my air. She saved me
from a serious diving emergency. Yes, channeling is
easy. But, I'm certainly new to all this. I feel tired.
Happy New Year, Jim."
"Happy New Millennium, Ken."
Chapter VI
