My Life Will Have To Do!

I went to Southwest Baptist University and got an B.A. in a double major, Theology and Speech/Drama. For the latter I got elected to Who’s Who in American Colleges and Universities. I did graduate work towards my M.Div at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary and Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. I did a pastoral internship and became a licensed Southern Baptist minister. However, I was not very happy with that denomination because they were becoming very right wing and anti-intellectual. But it was in seminary that I received an “inner call,” not to be a minister but to be an opera singer. Without any formal training in voice I entered the Metropolitan Opera Auditions of the Air in 1974 and won. I was given a two year apprenticeship with the Santa Fe Opera and made my stage debut there, then with the Tulsa Opera, which nourished me during my early years. I sang at the Metropolitan Opera in a Gala Concert in 1975 and was awarded the Gladys Axman-Taylor Memorial Award for being one of the ten National Winners of the Met Auditions. I moved to New York in 1975 and began studying with Jerome Hines and Cesare Bardelli of the Met and coached with Alberta Masiello, the head of the coaching department of the Met. For two years I had a mailbox at the Met because so many people were writing me there. Every day I would come in the side stage door and check my mail.  I made my New York stage debut in 1980 at the Brooklyn Academy with the Chamber Opera Theater of New York, in an opera by Sir William Walton called The Bear, based on the Chekhov farce by the same name, and received a great review from The New York Daily News. I became a member of Jerome Hines’ personal Opera Company and sang with him for 20 years. In 1981 I starred in the New York premiere of Rimsky-Korsakov’s opera, Mozart and Salieri, and received highly favorable reviews from New York critics as well as 100 critics from all over the world. From that point I sang leading roles in all the major opera companies in America and some in Canada and Europe. Some of the fun times were when I sang La Traviata  in Central Park with the New York Grand Opera. We also performed it at Coney Island and in Brooklyn. Also, in Lincoln Center, I sang a summer concert with the Guggenheim Concert Band.

I won several awards: Besides the Met Auditions, I won the national award for the WGN Auditions in Chicago and the Bruce Yarnell Memorial Award for Baritones in New York.

My European debut was in 1984 as Verdi’s Rigoletto which I played at the Belfast Grand Opera House as part of the Northern Ireland Opera Festival. One performance was broadcast over radio by the BBC. It was still dangerous over there then. We had a judge in the chorus who always had two body guards with him. The theatre itself celebrated Queen Victoria being named Queen of India and was ornately dressed with huge elephants all over the theatre, carved ones of course. The Director was the very famous Nicholas Hytner with whom I got along famously. Hytner went on to make many hit movies and became director of the National Theatre in England.

 

I was fortunate to sing with the great opera singers of that day who were international stars. I always felt my work in opera was to inspire my audience to look upward and ask the big questions in life: “What is Truth, Beauty, and Love.” Art cannot give the answers but it is very good at turning one’s gaze upwards. In short, I was trying to inspire people with my singing and acting. I felt that I could do it better on a stage than from behind a pulpit! But I did not lose my interest in theology. Far from it, I completed and finally received a legal Th.D degree in 2016 just out of my desire to finish something I started long ago.

I was Professor of Voice at the University of British Columbia, Indiana University, Perdue University of Indiana and the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. I am retired now but still teach a few students. It has been a long road from Carthage, and could have been longer. In 1982 I sang a concert based on war and peace, half in Russian (which I learned) and half in English, all high song literature on the subject, including Mussorgsky song cycle, “The Songs and Dances of Death” (sung in Russian). The sponsor for the concert,  which was to be held at Marymount Manhattan College in Manhattan,  invited the United Nations delegation from the Soviet Union and the delegation from The United States. The American delegates did not attend, but the entire Russian delegation came and filled the first three rows of the theatre. At the end of the concert, they rushed up on stage to thank me. The lead delegate said to me “That was real Russian you sang!” and we talked for a few minutes. He said he would try to get Goskoncert (the Soviet Art Agency, to invite me to perform in Moscow. All sorts of Congressmen recommended me to them including Rep Taylor from Missouri, but in the end it didn’t happen. In the course of my career I sang for US Representatives, Senators, Consuls, and Ambassadors. I almost sang for Jimmy Carter.  I met him in the elevator going down to my rehearsal! Stars of the Met became my good friends and even were my fans. At the Met, James McCracken, Jerome Hines, Ezio Flagello, Carlo Cossutta, Teddy Uppman, Gilda Cruz-Romo, Marilyn Niska were all my fans and I was their colleague. Those were the days!

Galina Vishnevskaya, the Russian soprano, who was exiled from the Soviet Union along with her husband, Rostropovitch, chose me to sing the leading Russian Baritone role in Tchaikovsky’s Opera, Iolanta, which she was to direct  at the Salzburg Festival. From hearing me sing, she thought I was Russian, so my Russian must have been pretty authentic. I sang the role of Boris Godounov many times in Russian. It was a role that fit me well, perhaps because I learned it from my teacher, Jerome Hines, who was one of the great Boris’ of all time. I received many reviews from world critics which placed me at the top of my operatic profession. But I developed personal enemies among the moguls who politically control opera because I would not depart from my goals to use opera to inspire people and uplift them. I would not do crazy things like wear a space suite and pretend to be singing on the moon, or sing totally nude! Such idiocies were creeping into opera even then. But I did the best I could to fulfill my dreams to use opera as an inspirational art. Hundreds of my performances are on youtube and have been seen worldwide now. I wish I could have done more, but the miracle is that I did all that I did fighting against congenital heart disease. I sandwiched my career in between three open heart surgeries.  My life will just have to do! 🙂

Joe 02-13-16

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The Case of Jonah Parr

This story is true but I have changed the names and gotten permission to share the general story which is condensed here. This is the kind of work I have done as a medium. It is sort of like being a psychic social worker but it is one of the things I was given to do. I have a ministerial degree and had pastoral counseling while I was doing my pastoral internship. Then later in life I was trained as a Social Worker by the State of New York and had to counsel abused children and their parents. Later in life when it became obvious that my gifts were mediumistic I helped people with problems on different levels. This case I am sharing with you my friends because it has so much to teach. There is so much cruelty in the world, much of it happening to children. There was and is so much work to do. We are all just big used kids!! I should advise you that this case involves, violence, bad language, and references to terrible acts…but it ends well.

Here is the case of Jonah Parr.

I must explain again that the names and circumstances have been changed so Mr. Parr would feel free to allow me to share his story. All of our life stories are grist for the mill and may help others. The case is true, the names and places have been changed, and Mr. Parr agreed to allow me to use his story.

Jonah Parr telephoned me and asked for my help. He had been having very strange dreams that were terribly confusing. He thought that he might be possessed or he might be having a partial memory of another life time. I quickly consulted my guides to see if I was to work on this man. They gave the OK and I set a time for Mr. Parr to come over for an interview. He was a tall gaunt man who looked like he had just come out of the Great Depression. He wore a well-worn suit, shirt with no tie and no hat. I exchanged pleasantries with him and asked him to sit down.
He was from a large family in Kentucky but had moved to Canada to work in a corporate office. His family of six had lived in the country about two hours East of Bowling Green. His Father had been a part-time minister of a country Pentecostal Church and farmed the rest of the time.
“Could we talk about your Father,” I asked. Jonah fidgeted in his chair and said, “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Was your Father a loving man, Mr. Parr?” Jonah almost bolted out of his chair. He was standing straight up in the room, staring into space.
“Are you uncomfortable talking about your Father, Mr. Parr?”
“Yeah, I am damned uncomfortable, but I’ll talk to you if you can help me.”
That last part had sounded so lost and hopeless. “Well, why don’t you tell me whatever you can about him?”
Jonah began to pace about the room. “He abused people!” He shouted out. “He abused me and my mother, about as much as anyone can be abused. He did it to my sister as well. Nobody could talk about it….Do you want to hear my dreams or not?”
“Yes, sure.”
“Well I have a few that I just keep having. I am crawling on the floor. I can’t walk yet. I crawl into a room and I hear someone shouting, ‘Stop, please stop John. It hurts so much.’ And she was screaming ‘Stop, Stop, Stop.’ I recognized the voice as my mother, Olivia. The man who was on top of her got off and looked down at me. It was my father, John. ‘Why you little peepin Tom rug rat, I ought to drop kick you out of the house! You stay out of this room you little prick head.’ I crawled away.”
Thank you Jonah,” I said. “Let me ask you a little more about your father. Did you love him?”
Jonah looked very conflicted and said, “I don’t know. I feel guilty for not loving him.”
“You said he was a Preacher. How did you feel about that?” I asked
Jonah began to laugh a little but the laughter mixed with tears very soon.
“I hated him,” he sobbed. “I hated him because he was such a hypocrite. On Sundays he would go into that church and make everybody feel like he was so goody goody. We had to play the part of the nice preacher’s family. After the service he would bring us all to him and we would have to shake hands with everybody and pretend we were a happy family. Nobody knew what he was really like. I hated him for that.”

“Can you tell me what he was like?” I asked.
“He was a violent, no good, mother fucker. He cussed at us all like a sailor. He used to say to my brothers, James and Peter, “You worthless little motherfuckers! Look what you have done to me! I used to be somebody but now I am just a nigger for all you.” He told us every day that he hated us and that we were bags of shit, bastards, worthless pimples on his ass.”
“Did he call you names, Mr. Parr?” I asked. Jonah was silent for a minute or so.
“Yeah,” he finally said. But he only called me that someplace I can’t quite remember.”
“That’s OK,” I said, we have plenty of time. James, Peter, you, Mom and Dad, that is five. Who was the sixth person? I asked.
“That was my sister Ellie who was three years older than me.” Jonah grew quiet.
“Did your father also cuss at Ellie,” I asked.
“WHY DON’T YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT. I NEVER SHOULD HAVE COME HERE TO BEGIN WITH.” Jonah exploded.
I quickly dowsed my guides to see if I should continue. They said yes, so I quietly said to him, “Mr. Parr, you said on the phone that you wanted my help. Do you still want me help?”
He stood up and just stared for some time and then said, “Yes…I need somebody to help me.” He began to cry and crumple up into a fetal position. “Won’t somebody help me?” He began to sob uncontrollably. I went over to him but did not touch him and quietly said, “I will help you Mr. Parr. He raised his head and spoke through the tears, “Really? Maybe you don’t know what you are getting in for.”
“That’s OK. I have a lot of helpers. We can help you. Are you able to continue?”
He stood up and walked over to a chair and sat down. “Yes, I am able.”
“Would you like some water, or coffee or tea?” I asked.
“Maybe just a glass of water.”
I got it for him and handed it to him. He seemed to be a little more calm.
“Mr. Parr,” I asked, “what was your mother like?”
He grimaced, but he softened and said, “I always loved her. She was gentle and kind. She almost seemed like she was in another world. I don’t know why she stayed with him. She let him use her like a punching bag. It was one thing for him to cuss at us and hit us. It was something else to do that to her!”
“Did your Father abuse your mother, Jonah?”
“ABUSE HER?” he asked in a sardonic voice. “He used to cuss at her the way he did us. If she tried to stand up for us when he came to beat on us, he would say, “I’ll beat you too, Livy.” And he would push her down on the floor. I so wanted to kill him right then. I would go to bed every night and beat my pillow pretending it was his face I was pounding. I would dream of getting his shotgun from his closet and just cut him down one night and laugh over him. I wanted to cut his dick and balls off and ram them up his ass with the shotgun.”
This was very revealing but I knew I could not inquire into it yet.
“Did your Father treat Ellie, the same way?” I asked.
“NOW I TOLD YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT NOT TO TALK ABOUT ELLIE! SHE WAS AN INNOCENT LITTLE GIRL. SHE NEVER HURT A LIVING SOUL AND SHE NEVER DESERVED WHAT SHE GOT! NEVER! IF I HAD KILLED HIM IN TIME….”
I asked my angels and guides to send me an angel of peace to come into the room. Soon Jonah began to cry again.
“Jonah? I quietly asked. “Can you tell me about the other dreams you have been having?”
He was silent for a moment and then he said, “I keep dreaming about the puppies,” and he started to weep again.
“Whenever you are ready please tell me about the puppies.” His face lifted up, all full of tears.
“We lived in the country. I told you that. We had about five acres. We had us a cow and two or three pigs, some chickens, and a big garden. We found lots of dogs but Dad would never let us keep em. But one Christmas mama brought home a puppy and told us we could keep it. She said she would find some way to square it with Dad. We named him Buster. We loved that dog because it loved us back. But by the time it had grown a bit we noticed Buster was really a girl. We thought about changing her name but we never did. About a year later we noticed that Buster was getting pretty fat. Mom told us that Buster was getting ready to have puppies. And one day, there in the barn, she did! Five beautiful puppies! It was the greatest happiness any of us kids had ever had. I was four years old at the time. One Sunday morning I was out in the barn playing with the puppies when mother called to me:
Mother: Jonah, come in and get ready for church. (Jonah comes inside and dresses in a little white shirt and dark trousers).
Father: (John Parr is 6 feet tall and 220 lbs.) “Jonah come here. Let me put your tie on.” (Jonah comes to him and he clips on a little tie.)
Mother: Are all you ready? We’re gonna be late for Sunday School.
When we came back from church we were sitting at the dinner table when mom asked:

Livey: what are we going to do with all those puppies? We cain’t keep um.

John: (chuckles between big bites, speaks with his mouth full) You just leave that to me Livey.
Jonah: Mother why can’t we keep the puppies?

Livey: Because Jonah, We are poor. We don’t have the food to feed all those puppies. They grow up to be big dogs and we cain’t feed all them. (Jonah is silent. The family finishes dinner.)
Livey: Ellie you wash the dishes and let Jonah dry.
Jonah: (speaks loudly for him) Oh Mother I want to go outside and play with the puppies.
John: You do what your Mother says Jonah or I’ll box you.

“Jonah, you have talked about physical violence, what did that phrase mean, ‘I’ll box you!’”
“When the old man wanted to,” said Jonah, “he would knock us around. His favorite punch was his fist to my face, or a back hand. He liked that one too. He would hit me and send me flying across the room. I was four years old. Sometime he liked to blister me with his belt, and at other times, a limb of a tree. He would always pull my shorts down and hit me right on the butt. He really liked my butt.”

“How did he like your butt?” I asked very gently. Jonah turned white and said, “I have had other dreams.”
“Could you tell me those dreams, Jonah?” I asked
“I don’t know.” He seemed very cautious
“You may hate me if I tell you the dream.”
I spoke very slowly and gently to his inner child. I told him this time and place had been given to us as a safe place where dreams could be told and no judgments made.
“Well, if I tell you, will you promise not to think I am a bad man?”
“Yes,” I said, “most definitely.”

“In the dream I am little again, about three years old. Bath time, bath time, bath time, water running. Mom is gone. The old man sent her shopping. Bath time. The old man comes into my room without a stitch of clothes on. I think I have seen him this way before but I’m not sure. His penis is so big. He looks like a giant. He takes all my clothes off and I am standing there naked with him. My head doesn’t even come up to his penis. He says, “We are going to take a bath together. You are big enough now. We are going to always bathe together.”
“Then I remembered that my older brothers had gone into the bathroom with him too, but they never talked about it. He took me by the hand into the bathroom. He turned on the water to fill the tub. Then he just looked at me. The way he looked at me scared me. Then he began to use his hand on his penis and pretty soon it was standing out straight. I was scared. He got in the bathtub first and spread his legs. His big penis was stranding straight up in the air between his legs. He told me to get in the tub and sit between his legs. As soon as I did he pulled me back into him. I could feel his hard penis pushing at me. I was really scared. Then he reached around me and picked up my little penis and said, “You just have a little tiny prick that is good for nothing. Feel mine.” And he put his penis up against my butt. He seemed to like my butt. Then he picked me up by my shoulders and sat me down on his big penis. I started to cry and call for mom, but she was not there and my brothers didn’t come.
“I am just going to give you a little taste tonight. I am just going to stick the head of my dick up your butt.”
All I remember then is pain and crying for mom. He got out of the tub and looked at me and said, “You didn’t give me any pleasure at all, you little shit, you little no good prick.”
“Is that when he called you a name Jonah” I asked
“HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT? I NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT IT! YOU BETTER NOT TELL ANYONE WHAT HE CALLED ME!” Jonah was screaming.
“Was the name he called you different from the other curse words he used?” I asked
“Fuck you. How did you know? You fucking asshole!” Jonah spouted.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to Jonah. It’s OK”
“OK. You wanna know? He called me “precious.” “PRECIOUS!” WHEN HE STUCK THE HEAD OF HIS DICK INTO MY BUTT HE CALLED ME PRECIOUS!” BUT I GUESS I DIDN’T PLEASE HIM ENOUGH BECAUSE I WASN’T PRECIOUS VERY LONG.”
Jonah began to cry and go into a fetal position. I comforted him. All of this had taken place in thirty minutes. Jonah had been dying to tell someone who would not judge him. I was about to go into a gentle close of the session when Jonah said, “Now do you want to know about the puppies?”
“Do you feel like you want to tell me?”
“Yeah, you gotta know.”
“That Sunday afternoon when I was four, Dad told all us kids to take an afternoon nap. When we got up he told us all to come out to the tool shed. When we got there, there was Buster and her puppies and Dad with a hammer in his hand. He said, ‘I told you not to get a dog. We cain’t afford em. Buster this is your last day on earth,’ and he hit her on the head hard with the hammer. She cried and then fell silent. ‘Now boys, each of you are going to take one of these puppies and knock it in the head.’ He gave the hammer to James, who began to cry. ‘Hush up,’ said the old man, ‘or I’ll give you something to cry about.’ He picked up a puppy and set it on the concrete right underneath James. ‘Now hit the damn thing, James,’ he screamed. ‘HIT IT! HIT THE LITTLE MOTHER FUCKER! HIT IT!’ But James wouldn’t hit it so Dad hit him. He hit him with his fist right in the mouth and knocked James out of the tool shed. So he gave the hammer to Peter and said ‘HIT IT YOU PRICK OR I’LL KILL YOU!’
“Peter was crying but he hit the puppy and it died. ‘NOW YOU PEE WEE,’ as he hands me the hammer,’ HIT THAT ONE THERE! HIT IT YOU LITTLE PUSSY. HIT IT. HIT IT. HIT IT. HIT IT. HIT IT. HIT IT YOU LITTLE PRICK.’ So finally I hit it. It fell and cried and then it stopped crying. I so wanted to take that hammer and kill Dad with it. I wanted to see him fall down and cry and then die! WHY DID THE PUPPIES HAVE TO DIE? WHY? WHY? WHAT HAD THEY DONE TO BE KILLED SO HORRIBLY?”

“Jonah, you have experienced horrible things. Your mind has gotten confused over how to understand it all. When all of this happened you had the mind of a child. Children are not supposed to experience terrible things like these. Now I am going to tell you some things that are absolutely True. Listen.
You are not responsible for your father’s abuse. He is responsible for it. He had power over you and made you do things. You have not failed anyone and you are not a bad man. You were injured by your father because he was a bad man. You have nothing to feel guilty for.”
“But I let him do terrible things to me. I AM guilty.”
“Jonah, when you are that small you cannot stand up for yourself. Your parents are supposed to stand up for you. In your case, they were too sick to do that. But you are not to blame and you have nothing to be guilty for. You are as God created you. You are beloved as a Son of God.
“These dreams are not former lives or evidence of spirit attachment. They are your mind asking for help in solving these incongruities that your child mind could not solve. If we find anything more spiritistic we will deal with it. How does that sound?”
“So then you will help me?” he asked in almost the same tone as in the beginning.
“Yes, Jonah, I will be honored to help you. We can figure all this out. Would it be OK with you if we had just a short period of silence before we go?”
“Sure, I guess.”
I closed my eyes and went into spirit and asked my guides to bring in Jonah’s guides and healing spirits to work with us. I also called for an angel to come just to protect Jonah. He came. I asked for guidance to be able to bring about the greatest possible good for Jonah.

Do you think you will be able to sleep tonight?” I asked.
“My doctor gave me some meds to get me to sleep.”
“That’s good. Try to listen to relaxing music tomorrow and I will see you at 2:00PM the next day.
“Thank you. I can’t believe I actually told you all that stuff,” Jonah said
“I’ll be happy to see you day after tomorrow. If you have any problems or anxiety, please call me, OK?”
“OK, thanks. Bye.”
“Goodbye for now Jonah. See you soon.”

The Next Session

“It’s nice to see you again, Jonah. Would you like something to drink?”
“Water is all, as usual.”
“Then water it shall be.”

“Did you sleep well Jonah?”
“Not bad. I took those meds and I don’t remember any dreams…just as well.”
“Well, hopefully you won’t need that medication very much.”
“I see from my notes that you are 55 now. Are you mother and father still alive?”
“Ah Christ no. Mom died of leukemia ten years ago and the old man croaked from Alzheimer’s last year.”
“And what about your siblings, James, Peter and Ellie?” Jonah became very quiet.
“James died of a drug overdose when he was 29 and Peter joined the Army and was killed in Iraq. He was blown up by a land mine. There was nothing left to bury.”
“I am very sorry to hear this Jonah. Did you have a positive relationship with them?”
“Not much. When we got old enough to leave home, we all just sort of went crazy and scattered to the wind. None of us ever got past high school. James didn’t even graduate. I tried to go into business. I would do OK for a while but just when I was about to make it to the top something would happen to knock me back down again. This job I got now in Hawaii is going pretty good so far…as long as I don’t advance too far.”
“And what about Ellie? How is she?”
Jonah was silent.
“It’s OK.” I said. “We can talk about her later when it feels right.”
“It is never going to be OK Mr. Shore…James, Peter and I tried to protect Ellie from Dad but we were just kids. My sister was a sweet girl. She was innocent. She had beautiful, long blonde hair and a perky little smile. She was really popular in school and she was doing well…until she was about seven. We heard the doors creak at night. Her bedroom was next to mine. We got out of bed and went into the hall. There he was, right at her door. ‘You little bastards get back to bed before I kill all of you,’ he screamed at us. No way Mom didn’t hear it. He went into Ellie’s room. We heard her cries, ‘No Daddy don’t. I don’t want to do that.’ Then the sound of a slap and crying, and the old man’s voice, ‘Now put this in your mouth and suck on it. It’s good for you!’ There was just the sound of whimpering until Ellie screamed, ‘Daddy don’t. It hurts too much.’ And the old man moaning, ‘You’re my woman now Ellie. Your mother’s no good. It’s just you and me now. We’re going to do this every night.’”
“And he did…every night. When Ellie was 17 she got Dad’s shotgun one day while he was at work and shot herself. James, Peter and I decided we would kill him then. James attacked him straight on but the old man beat the shit out of him. Peter and I decided we would wait for our chance. The old man had a 1953 Nash Rambler that he took to work every day. We decided we would cut half way through his brake hose. If we were lucky he would find a last resting place in some ditch. He went into the ditch alright, but he survived. We left home then and the rest brings me here.”

“I am so very sorry Jonah,” as I fumbled for words.
“Jonah you came to me because I am a medium I would like to try to help you as a medium. Would that be OK?”
“Any help, any help, please,” Jonah choked out the words.
“The first thing I am seeing Jonah is that your father put a generational curse on you when he abused you in that bathtub as a toddler! Some father figure did that to him back there in the woods and he passed it on. Let’s get rid of it, from off your back!”
I went into spirit and asked help from all my spirit guides and angels to remove this generational curse. We did it. It was removed.
“How do you feel now Jonah?” I asked
“Oh my…I feel like a terrible weight has been taken off me!”
“Yes,” I said, “it has been and there is nothing from that curse left to hold you back. That curse had made you feel guilty and you projected that guilt on to the authorities in your life. You saw them as evil so that you wouldn’t have to feel guilty yourself. But as you can see, it didn’t work. It just kept you from making a success of your business life. Now you are free to accomplish what you want.
“Jonah, do you think now you could look back on that bathroom abuse and see who was to blame?”
“How?” he asked.
“Just begin to visualize your life moving backwards and see if you can look at that scene so etched in your mind. But this time you see it, you are in a safe place. Your spirit guides and angels go back with you. Look at that awful scene and tell me who is at fault?”
It took him only a minute, “My old man, of course. I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Right,” I said. “You were just a child. A bad thing happened to you to be sure, but it was not your fault, was it?”
‘”NO…IT WAS NOT MY FAULT,” he exclaimed as though he were really getting it!!!
“Now,” I said, “take a look at that little boy there in the bathroom.” What would you like to tell him? You can now. Spirit will help you to tell him something from your heart.
Jonah looked hesitant at first, but then I saw his eyes light up just as his guides came into the room. “I want to tell him,” Jonah began. “I want to say to him, ‘little Jonah’? You don’t know me but I know you. I want you to know that I love you, and others you don’t even know love you too. You have the strength to face these awful hurdles and make your way through the roughest of tests. I am going to be watching you and I am going to keep reminding you that I love you.”
“How did that feel Jonah,” I asked. He began to cry, but these tears were good ones.
“It felt like I really helped that little boy,” he said.
“Yes, and you did help that little boy and you will continue helping him through his life,” I said with some moist eyes of my own.
“But now we may need to make trips back for others there in that home,” I said. You need to speak truth to that family. We will take our time and we will go with spirit. Your and my guides, healing angels, guardian angels, are all here to take the trips with you and make it safe. Who would be the next person you would like to speak to back there?”
His eyes filled up and he said, “Ellie, of course.” We did the meditation and were soon there in Ellie’s room. “Ask spirit,” I said, to put your words into her mind.
“Ellie? Can you hear me? I love you. I have come to tell you the truth from my heart. You are a wonderful being. I can even say now, thanks to the help from some new friends, that you are God’s child, filled with His goodness and Love. I know bad things are happening to you, but just hold on. You have angels working overtime on you. Don’t give up! Don’t let the sadness and hurt win over you. Have faith that life will bring you something good! Please, believe me. I love you.”
As Jonah spoke those words to Ellie, my angels showed her to me in spirit. She was shining and gleaming with blond hair and a full smile. In her arms were five puppies, all very much alive. On either side of her stood guardian angels and to the sides there was a great throng of angels, praising God, and proclaiming, “Only Love is real.” I was so overcome, I burst into my own tears and told Jonah the scene I was seeing in Spirit.
“Can I see her,” he said. I asked my guides and angels if they could make this possible.
“Take one hand and put it between my eyes, and the other on the top of my head. Close your eyes and ask to see Ellie.”
“I see her, I see her, I see her. I see the puppies, the puppies, all alive and well. I love you Ellie. I love you. Now you are in your true Home and only Love will be your portion. I am so happy, so happy. You are alive. YOU ARE ALIVE!”
As he saw her, the angels on either side of her began to ascend with her while the choirs of angels sang the praises of God. We continued in this state of grace for quite some time. When we came out of it, we were both shining.
Jonah Parr became an executive Vice President with his company and married very late in life to a wonderful woman. They live now on five acres in Langley BC with many dogs, cats and other beasties that flock to their light! 

Image may contain: Teresa Dopyera, smiling

Urban Prisoners Without Hope

I was a social worker in New York City for two years and I worked in the slums. About 3 million people live under the poverty line in NYC and many of them live in slums that defy description. For one year I was a protective diagnostic caseworker for abused and neglected children. I was the one who went to the homes and investigated abuse and neglect and removed the child when necessary. This stressful job took quite a toll on people. The average caseworker lasted three months on the job! I lasted a year. The next year I was an undercare social worker and had custody of a caseload of about twenty children who had been removed from their homes because of abuse or neglect and were living with foster parents. I saw masses of people trapped in New York as if it were a prison.

When the movie Escape from New York came out I went down to a movie theatre downtown Manhattan near Times Square. It was like a group interaction event. People definitely empathized with being trapped in New York. Where people view themselves as being in prison, they will view the police as prison guards, and the situation fulfills itself when police ACT like prison guards. I have seen things I hope no one has to see again. I KNOW what the Afro-American community in Baltimore is feeling. I sympathize with them. But the problem is that most Americans do not want to empathize. They just want the problem to go away. While I was a social worker we had 100,000 homeless people living on the sidewalks. People just stepped over them and went on their way. Then one day, the police came in vans and trucks and all of a sudden those 100,000 people were no longer there? Where did they take them? We have a police crisis in North America because we have a crisis of conscience! We have a crisis of care, or lack thereof. But we are just so busy, aren’t we? We go to work and keep our house in order and that just consumes our energy. Who has the energy to care? If you want to pray for something, pray for the energy to care!!!!

Overcoming our illusions….and Easter

Overcoming our illusions….and Easter

As a child, as an artist, as a teacher, I have carried the same illusions around with me…those of loneliness and lack. I know they are illusions but they are mine to work with until I can undo them. When you are at the top of your profession it is easy to feel lonely. I was and I did. I was invited to join MENSA, and maybe I should have, but I thought it was just adding more to the illusion of specialness, which in itself comes from the ego illusion which fosters loneliness. As a result of these illusions I have often accepted “friendship” from people who were really NOT friends. Instead they viewed me as special and wanted to get something from me. When you have achieved some fame, people always want to “touch you,” as though it will rub off on them, and then they want you to treat THEM as though they were special! ACIM tells us that the “special relationship” is at the heart of the ego’s function which is to instill fear and lack. Ego’s cannibalize others in their quest to get something from others. Many of you FB friends are, I believe, really friends. Many of you can see my soul in my writing and postings and know me better than some people in my city who cannot see my soul and view me through only their projections. So, to you, I say: “Thank you. You have helped me in my journey.” I am working hard to forgive all of those false friends. Just so we are clear, a friend is someone who has joined with you in mind (spirit). They see you as a gift from God. They look on you from the bright side, even if you have done something they think is wrong. They have your back when you have forgotten who you are. If others say something negative about you, they will not join in. They enjoy being in your company, not because they want something from you, but just because they are your friend. They forgive on the fly. They do not hold grievances. They do not save up stamps to be used for another day! They give you that same love you remember receiving from your grandparents! Friends help to end the illusion of separation, lack and loneliness. They would never plot against you or enter into some sort of cabal to do harm to you. They do not attack. If you have had harsh words, they forgive quickly or ask to talk to you about it. They know no conspiracies. In the end, it is Jesus’ lesson from the crucifixion that helps us forgive false friends. He advises us that when we are tempted to see ourselves as victimized that we use his model in the crucifixion. He did not see attack. Instead he associated himself with his spirit which cannot be attacked, cannot be betrayed, cannot suffer lack or deprivation. In his association with his spirit he changed crucifixion to resurrection, not by the resuscitation of a dead body, but by placing the altar to God where it belonged, not with the body but with spirit. From that place he could say “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.” Jesus’ body became what it always was, NOTHING, nothing at all, for it never existed in truth. In his victory over illusion, he allowed the body to simply not exist. Having fulfilled his mission he exists within the Sonship as an active symbol of the love of God. We are his students.

Baby and I

SOME DEEP TRUTHS FOUND IN REAL SEANCES!

SOME DEEP TRUTHS FOUND IN REAL SEANCES! Most mediums are fakes. The true ones will tell you that. I had the deep privilege of sitting and working with one of the greatest physical mediums in the world, Rev. David LeBaron at Tower Memorial Church in Seattle Washington. I previously posted a long article about David on this blog. To summarize, a physical medium is able to allow spirits to materialize into the seance room and speak with you, walk and talk with you. They are able to bring you gifts which they have brought from the spirit world. Let me walk you through a seance with David LeBaron, who has passed over now, happily for him, sadly for us. Fifteen to twenty people meet in the seance room on Sunday afternoon after church. Most of them have been to many, many seances. They are comfortable with the process. It is a loving gathering of loving friends. Few places have I found such love in the world as I found in seances with David LeBaron. We enter the room and sit in small chairs in a circle. The lights are turned off or we may have a red light on. David is seated at the head of the room in a partially curtained off area, but he is clearly visible. He has a leader in the church sit next to him in the cabinet to act as a “battery” directly linked to David’s mind. The rest of us also link in mind to David. This connection of David with 20 other minds is part of his ability to manifest spirits in physical form. A leader will begin by leading the circle in prayer to Father/Mother God, the form of address Spiritualists use. Then we will begin by singing a number of well known hymns. The love that we feel for one another, for God, and for David, is magnified as we sing. In a few minutes, David’s control spirit, Hilda, will manifest, usually as a semi-solid, gaseous form. Hilda’s job is to manage the spirits that wish to manifest through David. At some point after Hilda’s greeting, a spirit will speak through David to someone in the circle. It may be a relative who has passed over or a spirit guide. The spirit will then physically manifest, sometimes as a gaseous vapor which then solidifies. In a red light seance this is all clearly visible. I have 12 spirit guides, and No, they are not demons, my evangelical Christian friends! I have several guides who were Native American Indians in their last life and they brought me many arrow heads and crystals as presents. My grandfather, George Ritchie, came through and materialized. It was wonderful to see him again. The leader of my 12 guides was an African man in his last life, named Jerome. He brought me an African wood carving as a present. In this experience our hearts are filled with love as we are connected together with David and the world of Spirit. During one very difficult time in my life, David wanted to help me so much that he underwent very difficult meditation sessions prior to the seance in order to allow a very high Master named Adriotis of Atlantea to materialize. He materialized in full regalia, his “body” as solid as mine, but there were lights all over him which pulsated as he walked. He and I walked arm in arm around the seance room as my mind joined to his. I will NEVER forget it. JESUS manifested through David many times. David told me, “He used to come every Easter.” When he materialized, he was semi-solid. He was wearing a white robe which shimmered as light, but it was also a fabric. We could see the weave in the garment. He spoke very much like the Jesus in A Course in Miracles. The seance room was immersed in love when he appeared.

SO WHAT CAN WE LEARN FROM THIS? We learn that all things are possible when minds join!!!! If we wish to change ourselves we need to join in mind lovingly with others. If it gets to an occasion where we really believe we have to change the world, we can do that by joining in mind. The world is soft, malleable, dreamy stuff. It can be changed if we really need it to be changed, but we have to have many minds joined together to do that. There is a horizontality in mind joining that we must attain, not 7 billion separated minds. If we can join that way, we will more probably see the world differently through God’s eyes. Regardless the path to power, to progress, to ascension, lays in the joining of minds.

David retired from the church. He still gave private readings but he was never able to physically manifest spirits again. He needed that joining of minds to be able to do that. THINK OF THE POWER OF MINDS JOINED IN LOVE!!!!!♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥Namaste♥

 

Who is a healer?

Who is a healer but one who has joined with other minds in wholeness. He looks upon the world as forgiven and sees it as it does not see itself. He has awakened yet lives in the world. What would he do to heal it? He would not look for modalities to heal, however advanced they might seem. Were he to do so, he would have to look upon the world as a terrible place where the sick and wounded come to die. He would look upon illusion and make it real so he might heal it. Can a healed healer know such madness? The healed healer need do nothing but stand in his wholeness before a world that believes in sickness and death. His healed mind affects the whole Sonship, for he is not alone in experiencing his wholeness. Then would his wholeness spark awakening in others with whom he would join in mind. Can the mad illusion of separation stand in such a holy place where minds have joined? What need can there be of healing when the healer has come?

None but the lonely heart

None but the lonely heart

By Joseph Shore

(This story is fictional in form but factual in Truth. It is constructed from actual events I have experienced and actual situations I have encountered while working in deliverance and healing. Any resemblance to any historical person is purely coincidental)

 

It was about 4:00AM when I received that call that you never hope to get.  I was half-asleep when I answered the phone but was propelled to full alertness as I listened to the voice of one of my eighteen year old students hysterically pleading with me for help. Her mother had just committed suicide in a most graphic way. She had jumped off the Second Narrows Bridge that connects Vancouver with North Vancouver and plummeted hundreds of feet to the inlet below. I tried to calm Giada over the phone. Her parents were divorced and her father was currently in Europe. The grandparents had passed away and she was an only child. She was all alone. She told me that she was in her house and that the police were there. I told her that I would get in my car and be right over.  Giada lived in West Vancouver, normally about a 45 minute drive for me. But at this hour I drove my big Cadillac like a madman and reached her house in 20 minutes.  The police questioned me and wanted to know why I was there. About that time Giada came running out of the house and hugged me for dear life. She explained that I was her teacher and she had asked me to come.  I took her inside and tried to find a private place away from the police where we could talk. I made her some tea and sat her down in a comfortable chair. She was still semi-hysterical and I needed to calm her down more to be able to talk to her.  She continued to cry and just wanted me to hug her. I hugged her and just held on. In a few minutes she was more able to speak. I asked if her father had been contacted yet in Europe. She said that no one had been able to find him. He was on a private yacht with one of his clients.  I asked her to tell me whatever she wanted to say about her mother. I knew the family. I knew the divorce had been very hard on Giada since she was an only child. Her mother was Dr. Eva Morin, a clinical psychologist, who had been married to a man, Edward Johnson, a Canadian investor.  It was not a loving marriage. The two were apart more than they were together and they had little in common. Johnson was the kind of man who saw what he wanted and got it. He had met Eva at a socialite party in West Vancouver and fell in love with her. He courted her extravagantly with cruises, fine dining, and extravagant gifts. You might think that a clinical psychologist would know all the tricks but Eva needed loving attention. She allowed herself to fall in love with him and soon they were married. Giada came the next year.  Dr. Morin was a fine clinical psychologist but she had enormous personal problems stemming from an austere childhood devoid of love. She was born in Milan into a wealthy Italian family deeply rooted in European politics. Her father was a very important man and seemed to be narcissistically devoted to his political career. Eva had been totally unwanted. Her father wanted an abortion but the mother refused. Her father reacted by simply not admitting Eva existed. He never spoke to her or touched her. It was as though she didn’t exist.  When Eva was four she painted a picture that she wanted to give to him. She walked into his study to give him the picture but he was in a meeting and did not even acknowledge her. With a small wave of his hand, he had his body guard remove Eva from the room. Her mother was not much better to turn to. Her mother was an alcoholic and a socialite who had neither interest, sobriety, nor time for Eva. Eva grew up alone and unloved. She never had a hug or a kiss as a child; never had a birthday party or sleepover. She was neglected and severely emotionally abused. Is it any wonder that she became a clinical psychologist? She wanted to cure herself! Unfortunately, her wounding was so deep she had never found the courage to work on it with another therapist. Her colleagues would volunteer but she would push them away. She held all her wounding inside and tried to cover it up by helping others. It was a technique which was not working for her.  Her marriage to Johnson failed for many reasons, not the least of which was that she had never learned to love. She did not know what love really was. The early infatuation that she called “falling in love” did not last long and she found herself as lonely in her marriage as she had been as a child. She and Johnson held the marriage together until Giada was sixteen and then they divorced. Eva threw herself into her work as the only technique she knew for dealing with her deep problems. It was not working.

Giada was my private student in singing and she confided in me about all the problems in the house. I acted as a counselor to her, a role I often took with students and friends. I had been trained in pastoral counseling when I was a minister and I had also been a social worker in New York City where I counseled abused and neglected children as well as their abusive parents.  Counseling is a role that had come with me through life.

First, I made sure that Giada had a friend who could stay with her until her father could be located. Giada was 18 and would surely inherit the house, but what would her life be like all alone unless her father came back into her life?

The police finally left and Giada began to calm down a little bit. “It was all his fault, you know?”  I thought she was referring to her father. “No, not him,” she said. “It was all Richard’s fault.”

“Who is Richard,” I asked, wondering if we needed to make a call to another involved party.

“He was my mother’s patient,” Giada said. “And mom loved him.”

Here was a development that Giada had never mentioned to me. “Would you like to tell me what you know,” I asked.

“Of course I am going to tell. I have to tell somebody.”

“OK,” I said. Would you like a glass of water?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t need anything. I am just so glad you are here. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“That’s OK,” I said. “I am glad to be here for you.”

“My mom told me she had fallen in love with one of her patients,” Giada began. “Mom didn’t usually talk about her work with me. We were not really close. I mean, we were pretty much enemies in my teens, until maybe this year. She thawed a little bit.”

“OK, so she thawed a little bit?” I responded.

Giada continued: “I always knew mom was fucked up really bad from her childhood. Her dad never loved her. He wouldn’t even treat her as really there. And I know her mom was no prize either. Poor mom grew up without hugs or kisses, without any emotional support. I always knew she had this hole inside of her. She needed love so badly. I don’t know if she ever really loved daddy, but I sure know that daddy did not love or respect her. It made me feel really badly for them. And there I was caught in the middle and they would take their stuff out on me. It was so unfair. But I didn’t want them to get a divorce and I sure didn’t want mom to kill herself,” Giada said, crying.

After she calmed down, I asked her, “What role do you think Richard played in your mom’s problems?”

“Mom told me that Richard came to her to work on problems just like hers! He had not been loved as a child. When he was little, his parents would not even get a babysitter if they wanted to go out. They would just lock Richard in the closet! ‘Now be good! Mommy and daddy will be back in just a few minutes.’  Shit like that. Mom said his dad was a real piece of work. He thought he was an inventor and was always building things in the back yard. One time he even built a big sail boat and bought a trailer for it. One day he called the family together and said, ‘We are going to take a little sail on the ocean in our new boat. Everybody get in the truck!’ They drove to the ocean, off-loaded the boat and everybody got in. Richard’s dad did not know how to sail. Nobody did. His dad just thought he could figure it out on the ocean. They sailed for three or four hours and a big storm came up with huge waves and rain. Richard’s dad yelled at the family to all get under the tarp that was on deck.  They continued going into the storm and Richard raised his head out from under the tarp and said, ‘Are we all going to die now dad?’ Somehow they managed to get back to port.  Shit like that. Mom said Richard did not know what love was and he wanted to find out.”

“And so was their therapy successful,” I asked.

“Yeah, to a big extent, mom said. Richard began to make real progress. He was really beginning to open up. He started doing nice things for people. He said that he had hated his neighbor for years and didn’t like feeling that way anymore. So he knocked on his neighbor’s door and asked him if there was anything he could do for him! The guy thought it was a stupid joke so he said, ‘Sure. You wanna help me? You can wash my car.’ So Richard did. He washed the guy’s car. His neighbor was so stunned he thought Richard had gone nuts. But it made Richard feel really good. He would volunteer to help out in soup kitchens for the homeless. He was always bringing flowers to mom. NOBODY had ever brought her flowers. I think the roles got changed. Richard had really found something and he was giving it to mom.  She didn’t know what was happening. Richard was doing therapy on her. She would find little ways to get him to come over. Once she turned off the water and broke a pipe so she could ask Richard if he knew anything about plumbing. He came right over and fixed the pipe and mom asked him to stay for dinner. Richard really liked mom and he thought her therapy was really helping him. But mom liked Richard a lot more. She loved him. She was receiving more love from Richard than she had ever received before.”

“So what was the problem,” I asked.

“Well, my mom is 62. She had me really late. Richard was 30. I don’t think it ever occurred to Richard that my mom really loved him. He certainly could not imagine being in love with a 62 year old woman. But my mom was changing inside. She was a lot nicer to me and we actually started being friends. She stopped thinking of herself as being old. She really started to live for the first time because of the love she was getting through Richard. It was more like the love was there when Richard came and she just absorbed it like a dry sponge. I mean, she actually was happy in the morning and that had never happened.  She would hum little tunes around the house and work in her garden. She would play with the cat and she never paid any attention to him before! It was like she was really changing! Then she asked me one night, ‘What would you think of having Richard for a step dad?’ I said ‘WHAAAA?’ Then she stepped back and said, ‘Oh well, it was just a hypothetical question.’ But it was pretty obvious that she was in love with him. I didn’t see anything wrong with that. Mom deserved love after all she had been through. And I didn’t see anything wrong with a 62 year old woman loving a 30 year old man! Like, it happens, right?”

“It can happen,” I said.

“Right. Well mom was really happy. Richard would come over to dinner and tell us all about the people he had just helped and how good it made him feel. Mom would just sit there beaming at him and thanking him for sharing. She began to do loving things for Richard too. She knew his brothers and sisters were also really fucked up so she volunteered to counsel them for free! It made her feel good to do that and she brought that home to me. We began to have really wonderful talks. She spologized for not being a better mother to me, and she began to cry. She never cried before. I cried too and we just sat there in front of the fireplace crying together. God how I loved my mom right then,” Giada said as she began to cry again. She was sobbing, almost uncontrollably. I asked her if it were OK if I hugged her. She nodded yes and I hugged her in my arms as though she were a child.  When she had calmed I asked her, “Where did the problem come in for your mom and Richard?”

“Richard began to sense that mom loved him. At least that’s what mom said. At first he was just surprised and startled but then he began to feel uncomfortable. He started to cancel his therapy appointments for funny reasons, like his car kept having trouble just before an appointment or he would come down with a cold and just not want to come. Mom is a good therapist and I am sure she saw what was going on but she wanted Richard. She loved him as best as she knew how to love. You can’t criticize that. She could visualize a great relationship with Richard but Richard was hung up on the age thing. If mom had been 30 years old I am sure they would have gotten married and been really happy. But she wasn’t thirty and she was looking at love in a wholly different way than Richard. He was still looking for young chicks with big boobs who liked to screw, even though he was learning about another love by helping people. Richard hadn’t put the big picture together yet. Mom got sort of desperate. She would break something in the house and ask Richard if he could fix it. Richard would say he was too busy. She would ask him over to dinner and he would say he already had plans. And all this time my mom was still being faithful to her pledge to counsel Richard’s family for free. She never once tried to use that to try to manipulate Richard. She just suffered. Gradually she started to change back to the old sad mom. She wasn’t happy anymore in the morning. We wouldn’t talk at night. We started to fight. She would criticize me for my choices in boyfriends, what I wore, or the way my room looked. One night she was laying into me and I just starting crying very hard. I just blurted out, ‘Why don’t you go talk to Richard and tell him how you feel about him?’ She stopped still and just looked straight ahead for a minute and then left my room and walked out of the house. I heard the garage door open and her car pull out, and that is the last I ever saw of my mom.”

Giada was now sobbing harder than ever.  I comforted her as best I could.

The police came back and questioned me again in my involvement with the family. I asked them directly if the body had been recovered yet and if they had any information about what took place after Eva left her house. They answered that yes the body had been recovered and was in the city morgue awaiting identification. I asked them if that had to be done by Giada. They replied that usually a relative would need to make the ID but since Dr. Morin was well known clinically, one of her colleagues could do it. I prevailed upon them to call the counseling center where Eva worked and request that one of her colleagues indentify the body and release it to a local mortuary. Apparently, after Dr. Morin had left the house she drove to the apartment of Richard Langley where she roused him from sleep, demanding a meeting with him. According to Langley she blurted out that she loved him deeply and wanted to be with him the rest of her life. His reaction was one of shock and disgust. He said something like, “You woke me up in the middle of the night to dump shit like this on me?” He had no compassion for her and certainly could not envision marrying her. He told her to get the hell out of his apartment and go sleep it off!! Apparently, that was more than she could take. She drove her car to the Second Narrows Bridge, parked it and jumped.  When she did not return home Giada called the police. They had traced the car parked on the bridge to Dr. Morin and had come to the Morin house to investigate. Shortly thereafter a witness had called in a report of seeing a woman answering to the description of Dr. Morin jumping off the bridge. It was about this time that Giada called me and I arrived on the scene.

Now there were some practical things that I had to do. I asked Giada if she knew where her mother kept her check book and bank records. She took me to her mom’s dresser drawer where bank records were found.  I showed them to the police. Apparently Eva had been thinking of suicide earlier because she had made her banking accounts into joint accounts with Giada. The house and all its possessions had been signed over to joint ownership with Giada. There was no will. Giada was the sole owner of the estate and we could now plan for a funeral service. The checking account had over $300,000 in it and other accounts held much more. Giada could just write a check for the funeral. I explained all this to her. It was now 6:00AM but she could not sleep. We sat up together. At 10:00AM one of Eva’s colleagues, Dr. Lawrence Fogel, identified the body and we asked for it to be released to Park Lawn Mortuary in West Vancouver.  Giada’s father had been located in Morocco but declined any interest in returning to Vancouver! There I was, with an eighteen year old girl, planning a funeral for her mother. The family’s friends and Eva’s colleagues were notified and a simple funeral was conducted two days later. I road with Giada in the  limo to the funeral, burial and back to her house. The family doctor had prescribed sleeping medication for Giada but I also stayed over with her. She was just about to take her meds when she asked me, “Did I kill my mother? After all she just did what I told her to do.” Her face was full of pain and the tears were welling up again.

“No. It was not your fault. Your mother had been thinking about ending her life a long time. The cause of her pain was in her early life and she had carried around those past hurts her whole life.”

She began to cry. “Is my mother in hell now? I mean, we were never religious but I always heard that suicides go to hell.”  She burst into inconsolable tears. I thought to myself, “Dear God what am I to say to her now?” My inner voice said, “Stay in your compassion for her and you will be guided in what to say.”  I put my hand out to see if she wanted touch. She grabbed it with a desperate grip. “Do you want me to hug you,” I asked?  She nodded yes and I hugged her like a loving father does with a frightened child. Then I told her of people I have known who died and came back to tell of a life after death. One of the people was Sandra Rogers, a nurse, who had tried to kill herself. She was surprised to find herself out of her body as a spirit in another dimension of spirit. Instead of being condemned she was surrounded by Divine Beings who helped her to see her life fully. She came back to life and became a very loving, wiser person.

“But my mom is not coming back,” she said.

“I know. But it may give you comfort to know that people who kill themselves out of pain and confusion are not met in the afterlife with judgment. We can pray for your mother’s spirit to find peace. Would you like us to do that?”

Giada nodded yes. I closed my eyes and extended my mind into Spirit, inquiring of my guides about the soul of Dr. Eva Morin who had just passed over. Giada knew about my work in Spirit. We had discussed it in the course of our time in lessons.  The message I got was, “inquire again when she asks you.” This was sort of a cryptic message but I tried to stay true to it. I advised Giada that it would be good for her to sleep now. “In your sleep you can pray for your mom.” I really did not know what that meant. She took the sleeping meds and within an hour had managed to go to sleep. I sat up. I did not feel it was right for me to sleep.  After about three hours I was just beginning to nod off when I heard Giada’s voice say, “Mom? Mom?” I quickly came to her bed side. Giada was sitting up looking at the ceiling. “There was a woman here all shining and dressed in white. I thought she was mom but the woman said she was an angel. She asked us to pray for mom. Will you help me?” That was my cue. I extended my mind into Spirit once again and this time I was met by golden orbs of Light who I knew to be angels. They said, “Look there. She is down there.”  I looked down from the spirit dimension I had gone into and saw a dark layer that we call the Astral level.  There I saw her mother’s soul wrapped in layers of a dark substance. I asked two of the angels to take me there and in that instant we were there. She was surrounded by malicious spirits who enjoyed the state she was in. But at the sight of the golden orbs with me they fled. She was in a fetal position, rocking back and forth, saying something over and over again. I asked the angels to let me hear what she was saying. Over and over again, she repeated the words, “Nothing good will ever happen for me ever again.” I was filled with such pain, the angels had to sustain me. “Help her,” I shouted to them. They conveyed to me telepathically,” Call in the missionary angels to help.” I did not know who they were at that time, but I had faith and called for them. Instantly that spirit space was filled with the most amazing Light Beings I have ever seen. It was their job to rescue lost souls from the hell minds had made. In the deepest part of hell, no souls are alone. These angels are there, trying to turn their gaze upwards to the Light. As I stood in their presence I also had hold of Giada’s hand. “Pray for your mom right now,” I screamed. These divine Beings moved into that Astral layer as though it were not there. They unwrapped Eva’s soul from that bondage. As they did Eva’s eyes opened and all the Light of Heaven moved into her soul, washing out all of that pain and illusion. A great smile came to her face. Down below Giada screamed, “I love you mom. GO, GO, GO. You will find what you have always been looking for.”  Those amazing Beings took her under each arm and ascended with her. Giada saw her too as she ascended and we both gave thanks. As I came back to Giada’s bedside, all her tears were gone. There was just the same bright smile that I had seen on Eva’s face.  “My mother is in heaven,” she exclaimed. Words failed me. I just cried tears of gratefulness, for in the darkest hour for both Giada and her mom, Love had come at last to show its presence. All pain had been wiped away as easily as a breeze disperses a little cloud. Love truly is all that is real. Everything which is of fear and pain is an illusion which confused minds have miscreated. Love truly is present. It is our natural inheritance. The pain and confusion we miscreate on earth cannot harm us in truth. Only Love is real and nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists in truth. We are truly as God created us. No cloud of illusion can be left to obscure the truth of God’s creation.

In the days that followed this great event of ascendance Giada came to peace within herself. Her father returned from Morocco and begged for her forgiveness. The angels had touched him as well. They eventually sold the big house and moved into a smaller house in the interior of British Columbia. Giada has entered Nursing School and her father works at home.

Amazing are the works of peace and blessed are they who know Love’s Presence.