A Hamptons Story
I will always remember the first time I met Paul Hansen. I had been living in Sag Harbor for three years and was now looking for a new rental. I saw the ad and called, Paul answered and told me had just put the ad in the paper and I was the first to answer. I drove the short distance to meet him. A nice man, family man, dogs and a cat. It would be a good place for me to live while my business takes off I thought.
Paul accepted me without references, told me he felt good about it. He just wanted to know that I could pay the rent for the apartment at the back of the house. It was always good to see Paul, he would get out of his truck wearing a big straw hat in the summer, and he would smile and wave.
Almost three years to the day when I first met him, tragedy struck the Hansen family on Rolling Hill Ct., I remember Paul telling me how safe the street was, nothing ever happens.
It took me almost two hours to get into the Wake and pay my respects; such was the crowd grieving for a Sag Harbor son.
Then about two weeks later I hit my head, a visit to the ER and three staples. Then shortly after I was stung by a yellow jacket, if not for Cathy Hansen, Paul’s widow who saved my life by calling 911, I would not be here. Then a few weeks later driving on 114 my car was hit by a deer. Soon after, walking past the cinema in Sag Harbor I heard a flutter under the heel of my right foot, a tiny bird appeared as though by magic. I thought I had hurt it so lay down and stroked its wings, it let me do that, and then it took off, so free, free as the bird it is. The little bird was ‘Hope’ I had written about so many years before.
I had been a day visitor about three or four times to the Hamptons since coming to America from England. In 2008 I had the opportunity to move from New Jersey and decided the Hamptons would be fantastic, I always wondered what it would be like to live there. My first stop was Southampton, South Main Street and my neighbors for the summer, Rick and Kathy Hilton Paris and family. This was my introduction to the Hamptons. I lived on South Main for eighteen months with Harry my ginger cat I found on the Ramapo in New Jersey. It was wonderful, walking to the beach every day in the summer. Main Street and Jobs Lane with all the little shops and restaurants with so many interesting people. I met and made friends with Tony Duke, what a fine man. I am sorry he is no longer with us. Just one of a number of people I had the good fortune to meet.
I moved in to South Main April 1st and at the end of the month remembered Bamboo in East Hampton; I was getting that ‘Sushi’ craving.
I got in my car and set the GPS. By the time I left Southampton it was getting dark. My GPS took me somewhere, a dark area of houses. I reprogrammed the GPS and off I went. Suddenly I came on a little town; the first road to the right was brightly lit, amazing lights. So incredibly bright, blinding in brightness. I did not understand and then I thought “Ah the boutiques of East Hampton.” Must be East Hampton where all the shops are.
I drove past slowly, nowhere to park. Above me was a walkway with a large clock and on the left up above people waiting for a train. The town looked as though it was in the 1930’s. It was a busy little town. I drove under the train trestle and soon enough came to Bamboo, I was too late it was closed.
The next day I was asking people about the little town with the side street and the amazing lights. Nobody could tell me anything. People I asked had never heard of or seen this little town.
The Twilight Zone, (those of you who remember the TV series). I have been there, many times since 1994; proof of it is what I can do. Living in the Twilight Zone can have its benefits as the reader will soon see. It never scared me, in fact now I look forward to it.
One summer day I was at the Red Horse on the Montauk Highway in East Hampton. I saw in the distance horses and a man with them. I drove over and the man beckoned to me, back to the stable to look. The man was Dr. Dennis Banks owner together with Dawn Neway of La Pampa Polo. That is how I became the horse healer at La Pampa. It was Dennis Banks who gave me the name; ‘Stephen the Healer’.
How did this happen, all the strange and amazing things? Supernatural things. The happenings and such and what I can do. I never looked for this, never ever thought about these things for myself. Yet, it happened. In 1994 that is when it all began for me.
Coming home to Mahwah from one of the many Malls in Bergen county New Jersey, a hot summer’s day in 1994, I opened the door and walked to the bottom of the stairs, and then I began to feel the pain. Not enough at the point to really feel it, but enough for me to want to get upstairs and lay on the bed. The window was open I grabbed the headboard and began to scream, the pain was everywhere. Such terrible pain, yet for some unknown reason I did not phone for help, at least not from the local authorities. I made a pledge, a promise to do something. The pain left me later in the day, slowly subsiding and never to return. Here I am leaving out certain details relevant to getting to this point, the reason is that it would take many words and for the reader to understand what happened prior to this and what I promised and did for four years must be in the readers imagination until such time as I feel I can talk about it and also due to limited number of words I am allowed to write for this story. I may well be Gulliver in Gulliver’s Travels. After four years keeping my promise and many things happening, a tree in the Ramapo Mountains showed me that I can do what I can do. Exactly how, I will tell another time. I take away pain from man and animal, and other things. Wonderful supernatural things.
Another coincidence? The famous American poet Joyce Kilmer lived a short walk from where I was living in Mahwah and wrote the poem ‘Trees’ there.
I was in Australia and was driving from Melbourne to Adelaide on the Great Ocean Road. A most beautiful part of Australia, not too many cars, once in a while cows in the road. The ocean pristine and calm. Many times, reminding me of England so far away. Another strange story of how I got there, another time and many words. I stopped at a deserted bay and saw a wooden stair leading to the sand below. The ocean some distance away, the curving cliffs stopping me from seeing too far to my left or right. I climbed down to the beach, closed my eyes to meditate, and then felt a thud at my feet. I was afraid to open my eyes knowing about the many strange and deadly animals inhabiting this strange far away land.
I opened my eyes and looked down, expecting the worst. The ocean had come to my feet, but they were not made wet. I turned around, climbed the stairs and looked back down. The ocean was exactly where it was when I climbed down to the beach, very far away.
Then there was the deer incident on the North Fork. So many stories and not enough words. I recently interviewed with Doctors at one of New York City’s big hospitals to do the ‘Healing’ work. The proof of what I have told you is here with all the letters from people I have helped, many in the Hamptons. www.thehealingorb.com.
I have come a long way from England, where as a young man coming from a modest background I had a great English Lord as my mentor. A great connection at the highest level to Royalty and the Freemasons, I could be seen many times in the House of Lords for lunch or tea. Taking guests to impress them
So you see, The Twilight Zone is real and it can happen to anyone, anytime. And the Hamptons, so wonderful, such magic.
