Wednesday, April 15, 2015


The other day I was fortunate to listen to an online discussion in which 
Ervin Laszlo was one of the participants.

I'm sure you're familiar with the amazing life of Ervin Laszlo.   A talented concert-pianist in his youth, he is now renowned as an internationally-acclaimed philosopher and academician, founder of The Club of Budapest and twice nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.

I won't attempt to share the wonders and complexities of the Akashic Field, the main topic of the online discussion.   However, along the way, Ervin Laszlo recounted a story to illustrate his belief in the flexibility of time, and how we can communicate with past lives . . . I know you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

Not long ago, an eminent chess grandmaster, a man who shared Ervin Laszlo's belief, came up with an idea.
He was convinced that he could demonstrate such powers of communication . . . communication with those who, whilst departed in body, were still present in spirit.

To prove his point, he enlisted the co-operation of a renowned medium, someone who knew nothing of the rules and intricacies of chess.  He then invited an impartial, chess-playing observer to witness the experiment.

The medium was asked to make psychic contact with a famous past grandmaster, a player whose name was well known to all those in the world of chess.  She agreed to do her best.

On the day of the experiment, the grandmaster sat at a table along with the medium and the observer.  A chess-board and chess-men were placed on the table in front of them.  When everyone was settled, the grandmaster asked the medium to make contact with the past grandmaster who, through her, would subsequently engage him in a game of chess.

The game was keenly fought.
The past grandmaster using the techniques for which he had been justly famed in his lifetime, the current grandmaster doing his utmost to hold his ground.

Neither of the grandmasters won . . . both thoroughly enjoyed the stimulating game.

And the medium?
She came out of her trance knowing no more about the intricacies of chess than she'd done before the game started!

It's a remarkable story.
It also opens the mind to endless intriguing possibilities.

For instance . . . might Shakespeare be persuaded to come clean?
Did he really write all those plays, or did he just lend his name to a friend . . . ?