When I was in college I took a couple of great philosophy classes. I had them with a wonderful Indian professor who opened my eyes to some of the great philosophers. Her delightful sing-song-y voice brought glamour and depth to the different philosophies. When I learned about Rousseau’s “tabla rosa” (Latin for “blank slate”) theory; that is, the idea that we are born into this world knowing nothing, I immediately thought, ‘That isn’t right.’
After class I went to my professor and told her what I thought. She looked at me pityingly and said that this was not so, and of course she had years of training and education to back that up. Still, I felt my theory was correct–but stopped talking about it.
I believed then, as I do now, that we do come into this world knowing everything. I believe that we forget things as we get older, and I think that most of the forgetting happens when we are still children. There are people I’ve met in my life with which I had an immediate ‘soul recognition’ and was drawn to them; I felt I had known them forever. Then there have people I met to which I had an instant aversion; they felt somehow toxic to me, and my guard went up any time I was near them. My only explanation for this is that we are born to and with this knowledge.
There were many things I saw, heard and thought as a child, and of course I thought that everyone else in the world saw and heard and thought as I did. Where I grew up, there was a beautiful field across the street full of tall grasses, wild flowers and the smell of what I later learned was chamomile. I spent a lot of time in summer in the middle of that field, lying on my back and making shapes out of clouds. Birds and bugs were busy in it, and as I lay there motionless, they seemed to forget I was there. Grasshoppers sprang from my ankle, to one of my knees and then to the other; a bypass for them through the waving heads of flowers. Once a tiny gold finch landed beside my hand.
One day as I lay in my field, sun-dazed and happy, thinking of nothing in particular, I realized that I could see things in my mind. I’d hear a boat zooming along the lake front and knew that a family of five was in the boat. A plane would fly overhead, and I’d think to myself, ‘they’re flying to someplace in the mountains.’ A neighbor lady would call out the window to her husband, and I knew that they had just been fighting.
Now, I had no way of knowing if any of these things were true, but they seemed so to me–there was a kind of certainty about it. Later on, I also began to see colors in and around people; anger was red, pain was purple or pink, blue meant that something needed attention, grass green meant health, pea green meant sickness, and gold or white meant happiness.
Innocently, I started talking about the colors with other kids at school and what they meant. It didn’t take me long to realize that I should keep these thoughts to myself. I rapidly gained fame as a liar and a showoff, neither of which endeared me to kids or teachers. Once I realized that no one else saw what I did, I stopped talking about it. After a while, I also stopped seeing the colors. It took a long time before other children asking me, ‘hey–ya see any colors on me? Is my head green or what?’
My answer was always the same, ‘nope, nothing.’ After a while the novelty wore off, and they found other kids to pick on. Decades later, when I began taking *Noreen McDonald’s wonderful metaphysical classes, I realized I wasn’t crazy; that I actually had a gift. And what do you know–the colors came back!
I still believe that we come into this world knowing a great deal. Also, I now know that many people can see colors, hear things, feel things, and know things because that is their particular gift. I am sure that these gifts were part of us as we came into the world, and that we are meant to share and use them.
The best thing I learned was that what we may first view as a curse often turns out to be our greatest strength.
*To find out more about Noreen’s classes, please visit her website at http://noreenmcdonald.com.