Eric Robison - Bending God: A Memoir

Copyright 2007 by Eric Robison

Higher Balance Publishing

515 NW Saltzman Road #726

Portland Oregon 97229

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: N/A

To you, whom I give it all for. May I truly say at the end of this life, I used everything you gave to me and gave everything I had.

To my teacher, who's giving and grace knows no bounds. Never a soul has walked this Earth and devoted so much, asking so little.

To my parents, whose open minds and giving hearts gave me an infinite sky in which to fly.

To you the seeker, may you find your way home.

May you find your way home.

Alison.

Everything in this book happened. Many of the events that took place had several witnesses all of whom can testify to their accuracy. It is important that you remember this because, as you read this book, you may doubt that this is true.

I have made no exaggerations or distortions. Everything is exactly as it happened except in the case of conversations, which I had to reconstruct from memory, notes and journal entries.

As to the unusual or, 'paranormal', events which took place, every detail is exactly as it occurred.

To you, my reader, I give this warning as it was given to me. It is not because I believe that this book will match the power and presence of a personal journey; I do not.

I give it to you because I know there is truth in this warning. There is a conscious acknowledgment.

Whether you choose to continue reading or not, you have made the decision.

You have chosen your path.

You cannot unlearn what you learn. You cannot un-know, what you know.

This knowledge will change you.

Perhaps subtly, perhaps utterly, much of that depends on you. Once the seed is planted, the flower will grow. You may find that you will not be able to relate to things or people the same. You may find you cannot relate to yourself the same.

You may find everything that you have been searching for, or... perhaps it will find you.

This is my wish for you.

To You,

My dearest reader. I do not know when you find yourself reading these words. What I do know is this; for you, it is the right time.

If it is not the right time, you will know, as you will never see this book to its end. Every obstacle and reason in the world will arise and distract you from reading it.

You see, this story, this true story... has a special purpose, which for now, I must keep from you. There is a mystery here. Within these pages, a trail of clues.

The events I have recorded are not supposed to be possible. Yet, by everything that I am... they are.

They defy reason and scientific explanation. Of this time. Moments that push too far beyond the scope of my life. Our shared flickering moment.

Who are you? The question is an identity. A few years ago, through Eric Pepin, I became aware of a certain group of people. Quietly, through the years, I have observed them slip in and out of the world around me. Their presence has left me with much to wonder.

This is my conscious acknowledgment of the reason. It is my invitation... and my permission.

You who have walked with Eric Pepin will have opportunities others will not. Your reasons will be very different. For yours is the time of 'the moment.'

Beyond 'the moment' will be those trying to piece together the why and the how.

In part, this is what I am trying to give. I'm trying to help you understand the 'why' and the 'how'.

The permission I give is to come. Understand these 'paranormal' and 'metaphysical' experiences. Take them inside yourself. Science will eventually unravel many of the in's and out's of it all.

But, the human mastery of it... the navigation of the mind to the final frontier and the mystery of who Eric Pepin is and how he is able to do the things he does... well, these are the ripples of my time.

It is for the future, to dissect and make use of the waves ringing out from now.

It is true that Eric Pepin often says the future is not pre-written, it is only predictable. With too much at stake I offer you this account to learn what you can and make of it what you will.

Come along with me. You are a visitor here - I know. Let me be your guide as I share all that I have been witness to. Let me try and help you on our way.

I owe you a great deal, for, I would not have done this without you.

Eric Robison, January 1 2005

"A floating head?"

"Yeah man, I know, crazy right? A disembodied floating head." Justin tells me. His peaceful, small blue eyes quietly contrasting the madness coming from his mouth.

Sitting on a single bed used for a couch, I lean back against the living room wall for a moment. Crazy isn't exactly the word I would choose. Mentally detached from the fine, upstanding and highly reputable state of insanity, is a bit more like it.

Rubbing my rough, perma-stubbled face I sit up and stare into my cereal. Man, how did I get into this? I turn my head ever-so-slightly to peek at Justin out of the corner of my eye. I slyly survey his pale face contrasted against his light, almost bright, reddish-orange hair, scouring it for some answer. Not that you ever see his hair. One of his favorite things to wear is a round-brimmed Gilligan type hat. He pulls it down and flips it up, depending on his mood. A small flavor-savor patch of hair under his lip is the only facial hair he ever seems to have.

Ahh Justin, what's your game? He's a struggling actor, like my younger brother Matthew who lives with me. They met on a movie set about eight months ago.

Justin's young, Matthew's age, about 22, but he doesn't ever really act it. Seems older except for the raver clothes he wears. Huge flaring pants. His voice is deep, rich, mature and he's always calm, in control. Never does any drugs. Intelligent, even sincere, now that I think about it.

He's a regular at our apartment. There's a reason my apartment is nicknamed, 'The Hostel'. On any given night 3 to 4 other people crash here. It keeps things interesting but there's a downside to living this way. Enter downside; soggy cereal. My cereal has turned into mush.

My dear brother Matthew, 'The Shepard of Lost Souls', brings them all in. Matthew's to blame for this. My soggy cereal. Justin and the freakshow of a morning I'm having. Yes, his fault. Because of him I can't enjoy my cereal in peace.