Hello Dr. Amen,
I would very much like to come to NYC from western Massachusetts with my son, Oliver, to become Amen clinic patients. However, perhaps you have associates in western Massachusetts or Connecticut that we can  receive exams and scans from.
We are on the lower rung of the economic ladder, yet i feel that the best option for my son and I is to become active members of your community irregardless of cost.
As you shared with us in the CPTV specials some of the important milestones of your life, I will share a reflection i submitted to the magazine The American Baha’i.

“My Accidental Vision” – What the Year 1963 Meant to Me

“My Accidental Vision” occurred in September 1963 on the Firing Range of Fort Dix, New Jersey. There I experienced a moment of spiritual awareness that shocked me and altered my life in a primal way. In the year 1963 the (Baha’i) Universal House of Justice was first elected. The historic March On Washington happened, culminating with Dr. King’s impassioned plea for race unity. Pope John XXIII’s visionary encyclical helped millions of people worldwide to consider expanding their outlook on life to recognize “that those who are inclined to change things through revolution should be aware that to proceed gradually is the law of life in all its expressions (a. 161-62).” In addition, President Diem of Vietnam, and three weeks later, President John F. Kennedy of the United States, both died in office of unnatural causes.

In January 1963, I was in my senior year of high school. I had switched from College Prep to Technical Vocation in the middle of 11^th grade, and I had decided to offer myself for twenty years of military service to my country.

On May 13, I turned 18 years old and four days later, America’s last astronaut to travel solo in a Mercury capsule completed his 34 hours of circling the Earth. I had wanted to be an astronaut growing up. However, I was destined to search the heavens in a spiritual ship rather than in a physical craft.

One afternoon in May, I was walking home from school with a friend who lectured at the Springfield (MA) Science Museum on astronomy talking about the galaxy Andromeda, the closest galaxy to our own. I felt very happy and connected with life. All of a sudden, I was about 50 feet in front of myself and my friend John. I was fully conscious without a body. I watched. John and I converse and walk up State Street together. I did not feel fearful, or even ill at ease, but rather completely at peace. And so the “bi-location” moment was over as gently as it began. This incident served to alert me to the reality of the unknown. I told no one about this happening.

The last summer of my “youth” was spent on my mother’s parents’ 30 acre farm in Western New York, where I plowed the soil, and harvested grapes destined for Welch’s. I did not have a driver’s license – I did not need one to operate the tractor on the farmland. I spent time with my relatives, we visited Niagara Falls and Lake Ontario and Lake Erie, and then I returned to Springfield, MA  to await September 23^rd, the day I was to be inducted into the U.S. Army. I told my plans to my parents the night before.

I never watched the local or national news, nor read the local newspaper. I was not interested in other people nor their problems. Then, being thrown together in Basic Training with men from other areas of the country was an eye opener. It was a quick education about different lifestyles and philosophies.

My first three days on the Firing Range were a surprise to me especially since I did not use firearms growing up. I was scoring in the expert level, hitting nearly every target at any distance.

Then the fourth day, without warning, all sound ceased, all smell of gunpowder was gone,and time seemed suspended, and before my eyes thirty or forty young Asian men were lined up one in front of each other. I had them in my rifle’s sights. They appeared unarmed. The front man was felled with one shot, and then the one behind him moved up and he was also dispatched with one shot. And so it continued. “I” was located off to the right side of my physical self which was standing up in the foxhole, a look of pure terror on my face as I realized I was quickly becoming proficient at learning the skills for killing human beings.

Just as suddenly, the vision was gone. From that day forward, my marksmanship was altered to the point of not being able to hit most targets in the middle, but able to score with many targets at close and distant ranges. I told no one of my vision.

That day, I vowed never again to volunteer to fight others on distant battlefields, and furthermore, I vowed not to join anything ever again, not the armed forces, not a religious organization, not a political party, not a civic group, nothing.

My enlistment agreement was for three years, and so I did just that.  It was ten years later when Baha’u’llah invited me to join His Army of Light.

I amended my veto to joining any group vow to serve Him.

One last event of my 1963 was of note. It was an incident of synchronicity. There are no coincidences. My military post was at The Army Pictorial  Center, in Astoria, Queens, New York. I chose to travel by train in December to return home for the Christmas and New Years holidays. I went to Grand Central Station to get my train to Springfield.

I was walking up a ramp when I felt someone looking at me intently. I turned around to see my favorite television and film actress just avoiding my gaze. It was Susan Oliver. She went by me and I could do naught but to follow her at what I thought was a respectable distance. She walked outside in the frigid December air to catch a bus.

I put my duffel bag down on the sidewalk twenty feet away from where she stood. She ventured one look over at me, as she hopped up and down to try to generate some increased circulation to her extremities.

I regret not approaching and wishing her Happy Holidays. And then her bus arrived and she was gone. I was “to encounter” her later through her close friend on the island of Okinawa, where I was later deployed. That synchronicity was one half of the story.

So I sought out the train to Springfield. As I arrived there the same day, I met another Susan, a school classmate. She was arriving home from Oberlin College, the same school Martha Root attended. I had my first serious affection for this Susan. Regrettably, I felt too shy to say, “Happy Holidays, Susan!” I had never spoken to her in school. Rather, I had sent letters to her advice column, “Dear Crabby”,(modeled after Dear Abby), which appeared in the weekly school newspaper. I learned our written banter was humorous to others. In later years I was to experience other opportunities to interact with this Susan. With this incident at the Springfield train station, my year 1963 came to an end.

Submitted by Jim Harris, with the aid of Oliver Harris, on May 6, 2016

Daniel,

Thank you for your response to my reflection. I had not thought of it as a love story yet thru your eyes I can recognize it as such.
I will call the clinic Monday to inquire about an appointment for my son and I.

Sincerely, Jim