When I was in kindergarten and the early years of elementary school, I often felt puzzled by differences in perception—wondering why others seemed to experience the world differently from me.
Now, I’m able to switch my spiritual sensitivity on and off and check whether what I see is visible to others as well. However, I only acquired that ability after becoming an adult.
This happened when I was taking a bath with my mother and younger brother.
When my brother soaked in the tub, a white, mist-like substance poured out from his entire body with incredible force—like steam billowing from a steam locomotive.
It wasn’t steam.
After all, I could see it clearly underwater.
When I looked closely, I noticed that something similar was coming out of me as well, though nowhere near as forceful or abundant as my brother’s.
As for my mother, it was very slow—just a tiny amount, gently seeping out.
I didn’t know what it was, so I asked my mother, but it seemed I couldn’t explain it well enough for her to understand.
At first, she said, “It’s just air bubbles clinging to fine body hair.”
But that wasn’t it.
If you look carefully, you can indeed see bubbles attached to body hair.
But what I was talking about was a white mist forcefully gushing out from the entire body.
That white mist was pure white, like white paint dropped into water, and clearly different from bubbles.
It burst out energetically from the body, but after a while it gradually became transparent.
I was desperate to know what it was and asked again and again.
Then, for some reason, my mother said, “Well then… it’s probably just body grime.”
My brother violently expelling that much grime… it was shocking.
I had been in the tub with him, but I jumped out in a panic.
If it really was grime, that would be far too filthy.
After that, I told my brother to wash himself thoroughly.
But no matter how carefully he washed, once he got into the tub, the white mist burst out again.
The same happened to me. Even after washing my body twice before entering the bath, the white mist appeared just the same.
This probably wasn’t grime after all—or so I thought.
But I still didn’t know what it was.
Many, many years later, I was watching Aura no Izumi, and Hiromi Ehara spoke about something that seemed exactly like that white mist.
I felt a shock run through me.
He explained that it was called ectoplasm, a kind of energetic waste product.
When soaking in a bath, it can come out of the body in the form of a white mist, he said.
Realizing that there are people in the world who truly have spiritual knowledge—and who can see such things—gave me a sense of reassurance.
It was a strangely comforting experience.
