The Miracle of the White Light
Excerpted from
Quest for Truth: A Journey of the Soul
by Patricia Fry
I met hypnotist Don Clark in 1980 and, with absolutely no background in
anything metaphysical, agreed to write a book about his work in past-life
regression therapy. I spent six months interviewing Don's clients, recording
their therapy sessions and I became a reluctant participant in hypnosis myself.
Clark died six months after we met, leaving me with a mountain of notes and no
further reason to write his book. Seven years later, however, when I realized
how much my life had changed as a result of the concepts Don taught, I decided
to write my own story. Quest For Truth is the story of my experiences and
observations while working with Don Clark and it details the events leading to
my own spiritual awakening.
During one of our many conversations, Don told me about the white light of
protection. "You just imagine the person or object you want protected
encircled by a white light," he said, "and they will be safe."
What a novel idea, I thought, but how could that possibly work? This was a
matter of going outside your realm of control and projecting something onto an
inanimate object or another person.
The first time I used the white light in this way, however, I learned its true
value.
My husband and I were in San Diego for a union meeting. One afternoon we drove
downtown to browse through used bookstores and he parked my brand new car in a
crowded parking lot tightly between two old, dilapidated cars and then he left
the keys with a slovenly man whom I doubted was really the parking lot
attendant.
I was upset. I told Marty how stupid I thought he was to park my new car
between two wrecks whose owners would surely dent or scratch my car getting
into theirs and then to leave my set of keys, including the house key, with
that man. I managed to work myself up pretty good.
Then I remembered that I had choices. I could continue worrying and carrying on
- making this a miserable outing for both of us, I could go back to the parking
lot and change the situation or I could change my attitude. I decided to change
my attitude.
Taking a moment to quiet myself, I then projected a bright white light around
my car and the keys. The change in my attitude was the miracle. I relaxed. I
didn't give my car another thought while we browsed and ate and enjoyed.
Several hours later, we returned to the parking lot. My car was in the same
perfect condition as when we had left it and the attendant was still there with
my keys. This proved to be a wonderful lesson in faith, letting go and trust.
After that incident, I increased my use of the white light. I used it on
myself, my family and friends whenever we were traveling. I often projected it
around my grandchildren to keep them safe throughout their days.
After telling my daughter, Penny, about the white protective light, she
sometimes called after a potentially perilous incident to thank me for using
it.
Once, when my granddaughter, Cambria, was four, she fell through the seats from
the top of a stand of bleachers at a baseball game. A man reached down and
grabbed her hand split-seconds before it was out of reach beneath the bleacher
seat. There, she dangled several feet above the ground while her dad ran around
to retrieve her. Penny was sure I'd projected the light around Cambria that
day. I had.
Another time, Penny called to ask me if I'd used the white light around her
family as they drove to visit her husband's parents. I had. She told me that
she was driving when she noticed something small crossing the road ahead of the
car in front of them. Instinct took over and she quickly prepared for the
unexpected. Sure enough, the other driver slammed on his brakes and swerved - a
maneuver that would surely have resulted in an accident had Penny not been
alert to potential danger.
For about five years, I used the white light almost daily. Then it occurred to
me it wasn't necessary anymore. The white light implied trust. The ritual of
projecting the white light gave me faith. When I realized that my faith had
developed beyond the limitations of this ritual, I gave up its daily use. I
still used it on occasion for added peace of mind, however, and then something
happened to show me just how powerful the white light really is.
Our oldest daughter, Terri, and her husband compete in ropings and rodeos
throughout the state. A close family friend, a beautiful young woman of 31, had
also become interested in horses and had begun participating in local barrel
race competition with Terri. This friend, Bonnie, had met a man at a roping and
they planned to be married. They set the date and Marty and I agreed to
accompany them to Las Vegas to share in their joy. The wedding was postponed,
however, when Marty's union business interfered and Bonnie and Craig went to a
local roping instead that weekend.
Late that Sunday night, Terri called to say that there had been an accident and
that Bonnie was in the hospital. She'd finally gotten the speed out of her
horse that she wanted and won her first barrel race that day. After finishing
her run, however, her horse made a sudden, unexpected turn and pitched Bonnie
off slamming her body up against a fence. Her aorta was severed.
When we reached the hospital, we learned that she was undergoing surgery. We
sat and waited with Terri, Craig and Bonnie's mother and brother.
I imagined the Bonnie I'd known for the last ten years, remembering how alive,
vital, active and strong she was. She took such good care of herself. I had no
doubt that she'd be okay. My thoughts were about the next day and coming weeks
and what I could do to help Bonnie while she recuperated from surgery. And all
the while, I attempted to protect her with the white light.
But, something was wrong. Usually, all I had to do was imagine the white light
encircling someone and it was there for as long as I wanted it to be. Not this
night. No matter how I tried, I could not get it to envelope Bonnie's body and
remain.
I could imagine the light surrounding her, but it would immediately dissipate.
I'd never had such a problem before. So I visually drew a line of white light
around her. The instant the two ends of the white light line connected, it
faded and disappeared. I couldn't understand what was happening, but I didn't
take it too seriously.
I tried to rationalize this failure. "I'm just stressed because I'm
worried about Bonnie." But I knew deep inside that these things had never
hampered my ability to project the white light before.
It wasn't until the doctors came into the waiting room that night with the grim
news that Bonnie had not lived through the surgery, that I knew the true power
of the white light. Bonnie had left her body. There was no life force there to
protect. Did I know this at some level? Was it this inner knowingness that
prevented me from visualizing the white light around the body that Bonnie had
already left? Was Bonnie's life spirit rejecting the white light?
I don't know exactly what happened in the hospital waiting room that night -
why I wasn't able to project the white light as I had done so many times before
around inanimate objects as well as life-filled beings. But this experience
spooked me so badly that I couldn't bring myself to use the white light again
for quite some time. I was afraid that I might fail again and failure to
visualize the white light meant death - something I was not prepared to see
like that again.
Quest for Truth: A Journey of the Soul (Matilija Press, 1996)
ISBN: 0-9612642-1-7, 140 pages. $10.00
Quest for Truth: A Journey of the Soul
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