Tag Archives: light beings

Worthy to Sit at the Divine Table

Icon by Andrei Rublev, 15th century

I’m posting this on International Women’s Day, which is appropriate for reasons that will probably be clear to you.

Last time I told you about the powerful experience I had in the hospice while my mother was dying, where I felt that I was surrounded and embraced by uncountable beings who loved and supported me. This feeling of ineffable love continued as my mother stayed present with me over the next few days, and then the typical disjunctions and confusions of life took hold more again, in addition to the stresses of adjusting to her absence and dealing with the many responsibilities of her estate and planning her memorial.

We allowed nearly three weeks to prepare for the memorial service and the get-together for family and friends afterward. It was a massively busy period but also one in which I was able to contemplate important matters and to have deep discussions with friends and patients about life and death. A subject that came up was one that I’d been planning to write about anyway, the pervasive feeling of not being worthy and not deserving. It was on my mind the day of the memorial Mass, which took place on February 10, a few blocks from my house at Our Lady of the Assumption church.

I was apprehensive before the service, even felt like I was going into enemy territory. I had only met the pastor once and never heard the church’s singer before, and I had no control over the proceedings. But my family and I were welcomed warmly by the pastor and the deacon, the singer turned out to be one of the best I’d ever heard in our area, and friends gathered closely around us with great love and caring. My piano teacher played an organ piece right before the Mass, and as the last chords were sounding, the church bells began to ring with magically perfect timing.  I’m not sure if one is supposed to enjoy a funeral, but I did. It was everything it should have been, and we all felt sure it was just what my mother would like.

Some of us were feeling strongly that my mother was present and did in fact like the event. That sense of an atmosphere filled with myriad kindly beings visited me again. I had felt that in certain churches before, but for some reason I wasn’t expecting it at this one, which seemed cavernous and perhaps a little impersonal. The priest told us all, a little apologetically, that although people of different beliefs were present, we were going to hear about Jesus and get the standard Catholic experience. (Exactly as it was supposed to be.) When he said “Jesus,” I suddenly felt as if a cord flew upward from my head and connected with that loving presence.

Feeling that I was cradled in the love of my mother and the heavenly entities, I was busy communing ecstatically when I heard the words, “Lord, I am not worthy….” Wow. There it was again, stated flat out. “I am not worthy.” I am not good enough for God. I do not deserve to have the Divine be with me or within me.

And you know what? That idea rolled right past me and none of it stuck. I was completely immune to its destructive power. In every quark and photon of my being I knew that I was a child of God, a citizen of the universe, an integral and indispensable part of All That Is, however you want to put it. I was deserving of all the goodness that was pouring into me and I soaked it up joyfully and with profound gratitude and with absolutely no reservation. Not only was I worthy to receive the Divine, I was doing it right then and there and with no effort at all.

Later, as I am wont to do, I spent time rationally analyzing what had happened. I considered the fundamental contradictions embodied in “Lord, I am not worthy.” I read about the Gospel story* from which this line in the Mass was taken, and worked through a few different exegeses of it. (A nice scholarly-sounding word!) I could see where they were coming from, but I just wasn’t buying them. And this was new. Although I could still recognize my inadequacies perfectly clearly, a lifetime of existential guilt and subjugation to self-hatred had evaporated. What I knew intellectually had come to live in my heart. After years of struggle, I was at last ready for this radical acceptance.

Think about it. Even a moment of attention will show you how odd and backwards that “unworthiness” is, by doing no more than following along through basic Judaeo-Christian religious thought. God is supposed to be all-good and all-powerful, so surely God must have done a fine job at creating everything. We’re told that God looked at His creation and saw that it was good. Why, then, would human beings be total pieces of crap?

I am far from the only person to bring this up. When I was reading one of the articles on “Lord, I am not worthy,” which insisted on the truth of our not-deserving, I was pleased to see that a commenter asked, simply and directly, why we should disagree with the Creator’s opinion.

Now, suppose that God is a loving parent, as we are so often told. Imagine that you have a child, and you tell that child, “I love you, but you are really a mess, and you will never be worthy of my love no matter what you do and no matter how hard you try.” Only a twisted, psychopathic parent could say such a thing. How could an all-good God say it?

To an extent I’m oversimplifying, but this not-worthiness, this fundamental self-rejection that undermines us at a core level, is one of the most notable characteristics of mainstream religion, in our society at least.

There is another way.

The work of Fr. Richard Rohr, at the Center for Action and Contemplation here in Albuquerque, has been getting international attention. Fr. Rohr stays within the fold of Catholicism but at the same time is profoundly radical. His “Franciscan alternative orthodoxy” views our flawed humanity with great compassion, and constantly points us toward union with the divine, never into ashamed isolation.

Fr. Rohr’s recent writings have had to do with the concept of the Trinity. The idea of three-persons-in-one-God has never made sense to me, nor resonated emotionally, but he uses it to present a dynamic, moving, relational energy, a “divine dance,” rather than a static deity that doesn’t particularly interact with us or the universe. Referring to the painting shown at the top of this post, he wrote:

“In Genesis we see the divine dance in an early enigmatic story (18:1-8). ‘The Lord’ appears to Abraham as ‘three men.’ Abraham and Sarah seem to see the Holy One in the presence of these three, and they bow before them and call them ‘my lord’ (18:2-3 Jerusalem Bible). Their first instinct is one of invitation and hospitality—to create a space of food and drink for their guests. Here we have humanity feeding God; it will take a long time to turn that around in the human imagination. ‘Surely, we ourselves are not invited to this divine table,’ the hosts presume.

“This story inspired a piece of devotional religious art by iconographer Andrei Rublev in the fifteenth century: The Hospitality of Abraham, or simply The Trinity. As icons do, this painting attempts to point beyond itself, inviting a sense of both the beyond and the communion that exists in our midst….

“The icon shows the Holy One in the form of Three, eating and drinking, in infinite hospitality and utter enjoyment between themselves. If we take the depiction of God in The Trinity seriously, we have to say, ‘In the beginning was the Relationship.’ The gaze between the Three shows the deep respect between them as they all share from a common bowl. Notice the Spirit’s hand points toward the open and fourth place at the table. Is the Holy Spirit inviting, offering, and clearing space? I think so! And if so, for what, and for whom?
At the front of the table there appears to be a little rectangular hole. Most people pass right over it, but some art historians believe the remaining glue on the original icon indicates that there was perhaps once a mirror glued to the front of the table. It’s stunning when you think about it—there was room at this table for a fourth.
The observer.
You!
Yes, you—and all of creation—are invited to sit at the divine table. You are called ‘to consciously participate in the divine dance of loving and being loved,’ as Wm Paul Young, the best selling author of The Shack, writes.
The mirror seems to have been lost over the centuries, both in the icon and in our on-the-ground understanding of who God is—and, therefore, who we are too!”

In this view, we are not unworthy to receive the Divine— we are invited to sit right next to it, co-equal, at the same table. Imagine if all children were brought up this way instead of in the shadow of the Antichrist of guilt and unworthiness. The world would be transformed.

I would add one more thing: to me, the angelic figures in the painting look androgynous. The Trinity is not being shown as “three men,” but as three human beings— perhaps even three women.

Never let anyone tell you that you don’t belong at this table.

 

*The story is that of the centurion who asks Jesus to heal his servant, and trusts that he need “only say the word” and the man will be well. The centurion says that he is not worthy to have Jesus enter under his roof.

https://cac.org

http://catholicexchange.com/lord-i-am-not-worthy

http://www.fromwordstoprayers.com/2011/09/lord-i-am-not-worthy.html
‘What roof do we mean? We are temples of the Holy Spirit, and our flesh is like the “roof” of this temple. We know we are unworthy to be such temples, where God is present spiritually; we are even less worthy to receive our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.’

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Being Dead Is Easy. Getting Dead Is Hard.

mystical-door-shutterstock_184672772-webonlyBeing dead is easy. Getting dead is hard.” — Gerrie Glover

Gerrie is a wise and formidable lady, and truer words were never spoken. I thought of this maxim of hers over and over while my mother, Molly, was going through the process that ended in her death on January 22, 2017.

All this time I’ve been writing about the “dead” and the spirit world from a position of being in touch with that reality, but for the most part I was not down in the trenches with death itself and its gritty and messy biological details. It all became immediate and concrete when my mother had a stroke on January 12. I’m going to write about what I observed in hopes that it is useful to someone.

First, on December 30, 2016, our 20-year-old cat passed. She had done astonishingly well for a long time with her failing kidneys, but her body reached the end of what it could handle. Sheena had been velcroed to my mother constantly for a few years, and her death was a hard thing for my mother to get through. We nursed the old lady through to the last, very hands-on because she would not allow herself to be left alone and cried if we weren’t right with her every moment. We were left with her tiny body between us on the sofa, like a perfect sculpture of a cat down to every hair but somehow no longer a cat. My mother wondered what we should do with the body overnight, since it was late and we weren’t going to bury her till morning. “Well,” I said, “no matter where we put her body, she will probably be in your lap.” And at that moment I felt Sheena crawling into my own lap, a small warm weight that stayed till it was necessary for me to get up.

For a few days it was as if we still had two cats, only one was invisible. After that, it seemed that we only had one cat.

Shepherding Sheena through her journey, being the person who listened to see if her heart had stopped, arranging her little limbs for burial, gave me a kind of dry run or rehearsal to help me deal with what would happen with my mother. In Sheena’s case, there were no wrenching medical decisions to make, no questions about whether she might get better. We had known the end was coming and that there was no treatment possible. Things are more complicated with humans and hospitals.

On January 12 my mother suffered a major stroke, affecting areas on both sides of her brain. I think the emergency room doctor had the right instinct. She told us very gently, based on what she saw, that it was time to think about making end-of-life decisions. But within a few hours my mother was able to move her left side again, and within a couple of days she was speaking somewhat intelligibly and swallowing a bit. It looked like she might recover enough to at least sit up in a chair, communicate and feed herself. We exhorted her to rest so that her brain could heal as much as possible, but for a while she was using a lot of energy to make it clear that she wanted to get the hell out of the hospital and get rid of the IV and the other medical annoyances. Which was certainly understandable.

Two and a half days after the stroke, late on January 14, she was able to explain to my daughter that she was ready to go and had nothing else she needed to do. She had great difficulty speaking but was able to get a whole paragraph out and be completely clear. “I’m ready for the sky,” she said, and Lenore confirmed with her that this was really what she meant to say. We’d pretty much known that she felt that way, as she had been weak and had felt rotten most days for a long time, due to problems with her heart, but it was a great gift to hear it in so many words and be sure of it.

The hours and days had a way of running together, and I’m having trouble remembering exactly when various events occurred. It was probably the 16th when she suddenly pointed straight ahead, no trembling in her arm, and clearly called out, “Ann!” That’s her eldest sister, with whom she had had some previous dreamlike contacts. “Is she here?” I asked. My mother nodded. Since the other contacts had been extremely helpful and positive, I was glad to hear it. I couldn’t detect my aunt myself, but I knew that communication with deceased relatives was common near the end of life, and I took this very seriously. My husband and daughter were familiar with this phenomenon as well, and I think that was when we all knew she was turning the corner toward death.

I will spare you the details of the indignities and unpleasantnesses that my mother had to suffer over the next few days. We were told that most people in this kind of situation “just slip away,” but unfortunately she had to take a harder road. We had assumed that the severe agitation she was displaying so much of the time was an effect of the stroke and would likely improve, but if anything it got worse. By the time the palliative care team came to see her on the 17th, she had been through at least a day of hardly any rest or respite and the nurses and I were getting frantic trying to help her. As soon as the palliative care doctor saw her, he recognized what was going on as “terminal delirium.” I had never heard that term before, but apparently it happens a substantial percentage of the time.

The doctor said that we should stop bothering her right away, pull the IV, the heart monitor, and the other devices that could not possibly do her any good. Thankfully, we were moved to a private room where there was relative quiet. We still had a terrible night because the low doses of medications being given weren’t enough to stop the seizure-like agitation. I couldn’t imagine any of us going on like that. The palliative care people agreed and very quickly and efficiently put through an order to move to the inpatient hospice. Their nurse held me and let me weep all over her.

The Kaseman Presbyterian inpatient hospice was a revelation. Instead of a cramped, chaotic hospital room, we found ourselves in a space big enough to walk around easily, with home-like seating and nearly perfect calm, and an atmosphere that felt like it was filled wall to wall with angels and helpful beings. Soon after my mother was brought in and my daughter and husband and I gathered around her, a priest came in to give her the blessing for the sick. The moment Fr. Charles opened his mouth to pray, it was as if the ceiling opened and a thousand more angels dropped into the room. My mother had been stressed further by the ambulance trip there, and this uplifting interlude was soothing to her as well as to the rest of us. I had only once before had an experience like this with being prayed over. Not everyone has that kind of connection to the heavens, it seems.

We more or less lived at the hospice during the next few days. They had a miraculously comfortable place for a family member to sleep, such a contrast with the hospital, and I took advantage of that. The first night, Wednesday, I felt that I was embraced hour after hour by myriad beings of light, wrapped securely in grace and benediction. In that state it was easy to make a strong heart connection with my mother and feel her embrace as well. I was up often to respond to the nurses and check on things, but when I slept it was a wondrous and restorative sleep, and I dozed off and on far into the day, with the staff encouraging me to rest.

Despite that, Thursday night I felt ill and crashed at home. I intended to go back to the hospice in the middle of the night, but never made it. We all continued to limp along through the process, my mother still sedated most of the time and moving slowly toward the end, not really responsive anymore.

Friday morning there was some drama. Her body became extremely hot, not just to the touch physically, but radiating incredible energy all around. The nurse could also feel the heat and energy— I think anyone would have noticed it— and she and I assumed my mother must have had a raging infection by that time, but since they don’t take temperatures in hospice, we didn’t determine whether she had an actual fever. It was far more than that, though. I had never seen so much energetic activity around a person, and I’ve seen a lot. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, and wondered if it had anything to do with the nonphysical part of her moving away from the physical substrate. I haven’t found any information or opinions about this, but much later I did see a reference to a dying person’s skin becoming very hot at about the same stage.

I will describe my subjective perceptions of the next stages of the process. Friday night, as I was keeping watch from the sofa bed across the room, I saw what looked like a sudden opening in my mother’s chest, like a door or hatch being opened. Something that seemed whitish poured out. (This was a “mind’s-eye” vision— I was not looking directly at her.) This energy appeared to congeal into a mass near her body, with a sort of band still connected rather tenuously. It looked like a vague ribbon or stream to me, not the famous “silver cord,” though it must have been functioning in the same way as that.

Drifting through the hours in the middle-of-the night state of grace (not dreaming, mind you), I lost track of where that main concentration of energy was. Where is my mother? I kept asking myself. She didn’t seem to be close to her body anymore. Fryderyk was accessible, and I asked him what he could see and if there was anything he could explain to me about what was going on. I said something about wanting to be sure to be present when my mother actually passed and not wanting to miss the moment.

“If you wait to see it, you will already have missed it,” he told me in his usual aphoristic and slightly cryptic way. In images, he conveyed the idea that death is not a moment but a series of steps or distinct events.* I was already witnessing it, he said. And as usual, I realized that he was telling me something that should have been obvious to me already.

The next morning, Saturday, I found a distinct change. Her skin was still physically quite hot, but there was almost no feeling of energy near it at all. My mother’s body was still functioning, more or less the same as the night before, but she was somehow much less alive. She had already been mostly unresponsive, but now she seemed not to be “in there” in the same way anymore. I took this as a positive sign. It seemed much better for her not to have to experience too much of her body’s travails.

My understanding was that beneath the painkillers and sedatives, the body was still feeling some distress. I could detect a strong sense of disturbance in her heart, that is, the physical organ, and I felt pain in my palm when I held my hand near that part of her chest. I mentioned to the nurses that I was feeling pain in her chest, and no one seemed to think anything was strange about my statement. Hospice personnel hear and see all manner of things.

We began to feel like midwives, encouraging my mother to make the leap into the next birth. We talked to her and told her it was OK to go, which we figured she knew, but we thought we should say anyway. We started to wonder whether there was some unfinished business we didn’t know about. As I would with a regular patient, I poked around and looked for any emotions or issues that might show up, and worked to clear the minor things I found. (Mostly, she was concerned about leaving the mess of papers and paraphernalia in her bedroom for us to sort out.) We reassured her that we were fine and she didn’t need to worry about us.

I stayed over again Saturday night, afraid to leave, thinking that it would happen anytime. By mid-morning Sunday, I was wanting to get a change of clothes and clean up, and the nurses were gently pushing me to get out of there. (We know that often people wait to pass, not wanting to do it in front of their loved ones.) “Did your mother spend a lot of time alone?” they asked.  (She did.) “Maybe she’d like some alone time now.” So I went home, and Bob went to replace me a little while after. Hardly an hour later, they called for Lenore and me to come back right away.

It was almost comically anticlimactic to rush back to the hospice only to sit there again just as before. But things were beginning to change more noticeably. An elderly friend who hadn’t been able to come sooner arrived with her daughter, and they confirmed, based on their experience, that it wouldn’t be long. Their perspective and wealth of experience were helpful, but a little disturbing and imposing too. When they came to my mother’s bedside, I moved to the foot of the bed so that they had space, and they immediately told me not to stand there. Huh? They explained that in their belief system, the soul exits the body through the feet, and they didn’t want me to block its passage. I was completely nonplussed by this thought— I’d been brought up Catholic too and had never heard such a thing— and taken aback that anyone would try to dictate anything to me at my own mother’s deathbed when she was so near the end. I moved over, though, mumbling something about having seen my mother’s chest open and her soul pour out that way already, which didn’t seem to get through to them.

Every so often the nurses checked on the color of my mother’s extremities and the sound of her breathing. There was nothing to do but wait as the death rattle set in. I sat very close, and the sound was terrible even though I knew it was normal and expected. I was insulated from the distressing events, though. What I mainly experienced was the warm, reassuring sensation of my mother embracing me as if I were a tiny child. It was an incredible gift. I knew that whatever her body was going through, she was fine, and so was I. I wished that my husband and daughter, and the staff too, could feel what I was feeling and know the same peace.

I was the one who probed for a pulse and announced that it was gone. The nurse confirmed the time of death, then left us to say our goodbyes. We weren’t quite sure how to react. I remember blurting out, “I’m so excited for her!” and really meaning it, since so many new possibilities had suddenly opened for my mother. She was vibrantly present in the room, so I kept talking to her. Her mouth was hanging open awkwardly, and I wanted to close it for a more dignified appearance, thinking that she would not appreciate being seen that way. I kept trying to reposition her head to make that possible, and it just didn’t work no matter what I tried. I apologized for my failure, laughing helplessly. The absurdity somehow seemed natural. We found ourselves engaging in some gallows humor, and I wondered how the other families in the facility were dealing with this kind of thing. It was surreal and bizarre as much as it was sad, and at that moment I was feeling relief more than anything.

I wistfully noted that the individual cells of the body, most of which were probably perfectly healthy, were now condemned, along with the billions of commensal organisms that ride along with us and make our human life possible. But that is the way of things.

My mother was around and available a great deal for the next few days, and others besides me experienced and enjoyed her company. I couldn’t really feel grief-stricken, since she wasn’t gone. She didn’t continue to hang around so much of the time, and I expect that she’s been doing more worthwhile things than watching us, but there is contact now and then. I still haven’t found her current will; I’d thought I knew where to look, but her papers were not arranged the way I expected. When I begged her for help in locating it, she pointed me in a definite direction in her bedroom— but what we found there was her will from 1963… this would be a great time for me to be a much better medium than I am… still no current will to be seen, unfortunately.

But that situation can be easily dealt with. I have no major complaints. My mother is dead but not lost, and I’m at peace with her and with the process of her life and death. I’m intensely grateful to have been privileged to observe and perceive so much of what went on. My only discomforts have been a few small lingering questions about the medical decisions we made. I’m comfortable that we did the best we could with the information we had at each moment, though.

I understand far more about death than I did before, but there are myriad questions remaining. For one, I have been wondering, if a person dies suddenly in an accident, by gunshot, etc., do they go through the same stages, only much more quickly? Or is it a very different process? I’m sure there must be some after-death accounts of sudden deaths out there.

Friends and patients have been telling me about their experiences of the deaths of their own parents and others close to them. I would love to hear anything you would care to share, either as a public comment or privately.

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*Michael Tymn posted this on his blog at
http://whitecrowbooks.com/michaeltymn/entry/guarding_against_premature_cremation/:

‘In his 1998 book, Light & Death, Michael Sabom, an Atlanta cardiologist, cites an article by Dr. Linda Emanuel, who comments that life and death are viewed as non-overlapping, dichotomous states, whereas in reality there is no threshold event that defines death. “Several scientific observations support Emanuel’s argument that loss of biologic life, including death of the brain, is a process and does not occur at a single, definite moment,” Sabom writes.’

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Inedia, Molecules, and What Are We Made Of?

While working on something else, I came across this page I’d written in 2008 while in the midst of taking a seminar in Richard Bartlett’s “Matrix Energetics.”  It explores some ideas I want to develop soon in these posts, so I think I’ll just submit it in its original form for the moment and whet your appetite.

Yesterday, before the intro to the Matrix seminar, I was reading an article on “breatharianism” or “inedia,” in which people go for very long periods of time without taking in physical nourishment and yet stay alive and healthy. The article, written by psychologist Jon Klimo, did not say that this is necessarily possible or true, but since there are recorded cases that are well studied and seem convincing, it asks whether there might be some kind of theoretical framework that could allow for this phenomenon. Klimo uses zero point energy, among other concepts, to offer possibilities.

(Seems like Chopin was attempting inedia at times, but I think being able to breathe well is a prerequisite if you are planning to live on air….)

I was thinking, “This sounds a lot like what we’ll be talking about in the seminar.” And right then I saw the Matrix Energetics book listed near the top of the bibliography. I’ve had the article for a couple of months, but didn’t read it till now, a time when it fits right in with the rest of what I’m thinking about. This is always happening to me. Sometimes the universe is so nice and convenient.

The inedia article, in part, concerned what humans are made of and what really happens when we take substances and energies into our bodies. This led me to ask a question I hadn’t thought about in a long time: What is Fryderyk made of? He doesn’t have molecules these days—or does he have them, but in a different form? (Just bear with me for a minute here.)

Not that we understand what molecules are made of. They certainly aren’t made of anything solid; if you cut them into smaller and smaller pieces, you find that there aren’t any pieces. There’s just something that could perhaps be called energy, though that’s not a particularly good term for it. I’m not sure what the fashionable term is for the fundamental Stuff at the moment. We could call it Qi, which would be fine with me; Oriental medicine says that everything is made of Qi, and that concept fits my experience. When I was a Rosicrucian, I learned to call it Nous. Whatever. Now we know that what we always called “vacuum” and thought was empty is actually seething with activity, serving up particles of all sorts at every instant and destroying them just as quickly, so that we don’t notice unless we look for them in the right way. “Solid” matter appears and disappears effortlessly and instantaneously, matter and energy transform into one another, and everything seems to do whatever it damn well pleases.

One of the first things Richard Bartlett told us in the seminar was, “You think you matter, but you don’t, ‘cause you aren’t!”

I always thought of Fryderyk and his ilk as being made of Qi, like the rest of us, but missing that one layer that appears to us as matter. In terms of energetic perception, a “dead” person feels very much like a “live” person to me—indistinguishable, in fact, if I am not in direct contact with the Earth-plane person’s skin or clothing.  (One of the entertaining aspects of being in a room containing 560-plus individual humans is noticing the different flavors of their personal fields—otherwise, I pretty much hate it. Some people I would like to have sitting next to me all the time, others I want to get away from as soon as possible, and most, strangely, I don’t notice at all unless I put forth some special effort. The field of the group as a whole, as you can imagine, is pretty overwhelming.)

But we don’t know what Qi is either. Some of the people writing on healing, Qi Gong, etc. talk about electromagnetic energy, but Qi can’t be electromagnetic. I wish it were, since that is something we sorta kinda understand, but it it’s not. It can’t be, because the strength of electromagnetic fields falls off rapidly with distance, but Qi can be shown to act at seemingly impossible distances. These effects are measurable. While there are models within physics that involve action at a distance, the EPR paradox and Bell’s theorem, as far as I know they do little or nothing to explain phenomena like remote healing. They also don’t explain the observed effects, also at a distance, of purely mental interventions like prayer or positive intentions. So saying that everything is made of Qi doesn’t resolve the mystery.

This matter (no pun intended) of Qi-at-a-distance is bothering me increasingly. It’s an obvious reality that can’t be avoided, yet it doesn’t fit known physical laws. Which has to mean we don’t know all the laws yet, because everything is ultimately physics. I don’t know what kind of research strategy could deal with it, and I don’t have the math(s) to even begin to think about this like a physicist might. If physicists were thinking about it, which only a few of them are willing to do. (David Bohm and Nick Herbert deserve mention.)

Metaphysics is physics too, just physics we don’t understand so well yet. I don’t think there’s really a “meta” anything, except maybe metaphor. And whatever Fryderyk is made of, it has to be physics.

One way, one fruitful way, to look at reality is that it is made up of interacting fields. Unfortunately, that is likely to bring us back to electromagnetism, but for a moment let’s postulate that everything is information. Dr. Bartlett said that we were working with fields of information, that that is what we are. Ah, I thought, Fryderyk is a field of information. I think that’s probably the closest I’ve gotten to the truth of the situation. But what is information made of? I have no idea.

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When Is an Entity Not an Entity, and Does It Really Matter?

2012 Marigold Parade, Albuquerque

2012 Marigold Parade, Albuquerque

Día de los Muertos and my dear departed is nowhere to be found.  I am dispirited.  Dispossessed.  Ghostbusted.  Sigh.  But he’ll be back.  He always comes back– so far.

I’ve written a lot about the tremendous, invaluable help Fryderyk has given to me over the years.  My point in this post is going to be that no matter what They “really” are, the positive effects of spirit entities can be huge.

The most obvious and well-studied help comes to those who are bereaved.  I’ve been reminded of this lately by two of my patients.  One has been reeling from the death of a young family member for almost a year, and is still deeply enmeshed in the grieving process.  Other family members have started working with a medium in the recent past, and they’ve received clear and evidential communications that certainly appear to be coming from the deceased.  While this has not wiped out their grief, it has caused a definite shift toward healing.  My patient has not yet had this direct experience herself, but hearing about it has comforted her substantially.  I’ve read about this kind of thing many times, especially in connection with Induced After-Death Communication*, but this is the first that I’ve seen it in action.

Another patient, an 85-year-old lady, was musing about her deceased husband during her last appointment.  She is doing poorly lately in some ways, and she’s been thinking a lot about the fact that she “knows more people in the next world than in this one,” as she puts it, and what it may be like when she moves on.  She had a number of vivid sightings of her husband after his death, which she authorized me to share with you.  He had suffered severely from diabetes and all the worst it can do to a human body, including having his legs amputated.  She particularly appreciated seeing him in one piece in her visions, with both his legs intact, looking happy and healthy.  That was what she emphasized to me when I saw her last, that it meant so much to her to know that he was no longer suffering.

Here are a few of the notes that she jotted down for me about her experiences over the years:

“1998  No. 3… Walking towards me on Stillwell, I had Skipper [dog] walking to him… he had both legs, and he looked good.”

“No. 12, July 1999– Saw him, he was waiting for me with his arms open to me– made me very sad.”

“No. 14, Nov. 1st, 2000 (11 am)   I did not see him but I felt him there at 8711, I was by [daughter’s] bedroom and there was a distinct loud thump in the closet by his gun room– I opened the the door and found [other daughter’s] duvet comforter that we had been searching for.  I know he was there, I could feel him close to me.  His love reached out to me.”

“No. 15, Oct. 10th, 2004   I saw him just for a few minutes, he was very agitated and did not speak to me– it was the day [cousin] had a heart attack– he was running back and forth– I had not actually seen him in four years.”

Communication with the “dead” is so common that it barely makes a blip on my radar anymore, and it is relatively easy to understand– a dead person is fundamentally not so different from a live one.  But so many times Something or Someone is there and the situation is not nearly so clear.  There has been a spate of patients bringing in entities of one sort or another in the past couple of months.  I don’t mean that I was perceiving something around them on my own to begin with, but that they told me about it themselves and asked me to help them with it– fully expecting that I could.  If you’ve been with me for a while, you know that I’ve had terrifying experiences with a demonic entity and that I had no success whatsoever in dealing with it.  (See my post “A Case of Possession.”)  I haven’t tried to work with anything like that since, and I’ve pretty much assumed that I couldn’t.  However, apparently the universe has decided that it’s time I learned and that I have to get some practice.

A gentleman about my age complained of feeling attacked by other people’s negative thoughts being aimed at him, envy and resentment and similar discordant stuff.  He has a strong background in healing and spirituality himself, and is psychologically strong and capable of dealing with difficult people, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being battered by these unpleasant intentions.  I took a look around him and saw a clear image of an arrow, like one might see on a sign, pointing downward toward his head.  It had definite edges and was almost palpable, appearing to be about a foot and a half long and a few inches wide, in a solid dark blue for whatever that’s worth.  I would interpret it as a thought form, but whether it had been created by the patient or by those who were causing problems for him, I can’t say for sure.  Perhaps I was seeing his perception of what was going on, or perhaps the image was formed by my own brain’s attempt to make sense of the situation.  At any rate, this was not a being with its own agenda so much as an energetic sculpture of sorts, and it was a relatively easy thing to clear.  The next week this patient reported that the feeling of oppression and negativity was mostly gone.

It was more difficult with another patient, a lady who has some particularly draining family issues to contend with, and who is very aware of her own usual spirit companions.  Fighting tears and looking absolutely exhausted, she told me that for quite a while she had been feeling like something was obstructing everything she tried to do, hanging around her and keeping her from moving forward in any way.  She had had no luck trying to get rid of it or learn anything about it.  While she was on the table, I looked and found something that gave me a genuine scare.  There was a mass of energy hovering over her chest, creating a heavy pressure.  It wasn’t directly touching her, but that was only because she was constantly pushing it away with all her might.  I joined in and tried to dislodge it, but it was a serious challenge.  It seemed really determined to get at her, and it pushed back with considerable force.  In this case, the thing seemed truly to be an entity separate from the patient, not simply a creation of her own.  But why would it be trying to harm her, and what could we do about it?  I used every strategy I could think of, asking what it was, what it wanted, whether it represented someone close to her, and so on, but I couldn’t find out anything about it and couldn’t get it to move.  Did it represent the difficult family member?  That didn’t seem to be the answer.  Had it simply hooked on to the patient because she was in a weakened and vulnerable state?  I never did get any clarity about what was going on.  Between the two of us we did manage to clear it away, though, I think through sheer brute force– not the way I would prefer to work.  It took everything both of us had to do it, but she did feel much freer afterward.   At her next appointment she told me that she still had the feeling that it was waiting around nearby to get at her again but that she’d been able to keep it at bay.  I am cautiously optimistic but more than a little unnerved about this experience, and will continue to monitor the situation.

++I broke off writing this to zip over to an Albuquerque Baroque Players concert, where Fryderyk made a liar of me by showing up during a set of Handel arias and sticking around for a good while, keeping me warm and contented.  Or perhaps I should turn that around and say that he confirmed that I was telling the truth when I said he always comes back.   I’ll never stay away long either, Fryc, I promise.++

The most colorful of the recent entity experiences came about during a difficult session with a very traumatized mid-school-age boy who has been through a life-threatening illness, someone with a huge imagination, a taste for and wide knowledge of mythology, and a family background that includes some shamans.  He and I were trying to find a way to work with his intense fears about any medical treatment, including the acupuncture he used to accept so easily.  As we talked, he suddenly exclaimed, “I see a demon in that corner!  There are glowing red eyes!”

Oh, crap, I thought, because when it comes to anything that might be a demon, I’m pretty traumatized myself.  The kid had already detected the dragon that sometimes people perceive around me, and I had other reasons to believe that his intuitions were right on track.  So I took him very seriously, and gazed at the area he was pointing toward.  Yikes, I was seeing the eyes too (in my own mind’s eye, that is).  Something was there.  Interestingly, he was pointing directly at my defunct clock, which is covered in a painting of a dragon with red eyes that stared straight at us, but the clock was hidden behind a little tapestry, being used to prop it upright.  The patient couldn’t have physically seen the dragon, but it may have contributed to the imagery that came up.

The glowing red eyes seemed independent of the dragon picture, though.  I tried telling the entity that it needed to leave, and it quite obligingly started walking away.  It looked to me like a flat black silhouette, with a round head with a serrated margin as if it had cartoon fur, and skinny stick-like limbs.  There was no detail other than the eyes.  The thing didn’t seem very scary, I was relieved to see.  On the other hand, as we continued to talk about what we were seeing and what the boy was feeling, and I worked at clearing whatever I could, it was still there, still appearing to be walking away but not actually getting any further from us.  There seemed to be no more progress.

It was as if we were having a shared dream and moving through it together.  Much like what happens when I do “normal” psychic work with patients, but not quite the same.  At length, the creature turned and came back toward us, setting itself directly in front of the boy.  I was alarmed, but then it turned so that it was facing away from him, its hands raised with claws at the ready.  It was trying to protect him!  We had tamed this beast and brought it into service for him, it seemed.  By that time it appeared positively cute and winsome to me, not threatening in the least.

My take on this was that the creature provided a way for this patient to crystallize his feelings into a form he could deal with, in a visual language he understood.  I’d like to say that there was a dramatic transformation in his PTSD, as I hoped at the time, but it turned out to be only one step in the process; he’s still very fearful.  I will be fascinated to see what develops the next time I see him.

Sometimes I’m the patient myself, and invisible beings come to treat me.  Usually it’s been my familiar musical being, or another entity who has been formally introduced to me in some way.  I’ve complained of not always knowing how to tell who is who.  I mentioned this to Christine the other day (see my post “Here Be Dragons”), saying that she is better at recognizing and distinguishing them than I am.  She laughed and said, “I think I just don’t care as much”– that is, it doesn’t matter to her which one is who.  Touché.  Perhaps I am too concerned with understanding intellectually.  But inquiring minds want to know!

In the past few months I have struggled with some new physical discomforts and difficulties that have slowed me down considerably at times, but I have also had a new source of assistance available.  I’m not sure exactly when it was that I started to be aware that there was an unfamiliar entity trying to make contact with me.  She– I had a sense of femininity for reasons I can’t describe– felt distinctly different from Fryderyk, who can come in with a good deal of force.  There was a feathery softness in her touch that wasn’t quite like anything I’d experienced before, surrounding me in the gentlest imaginable way.  I wondered if she might be defined as an angel.

One night in August, not long after my mother had been hospitalized and I’d been ill enough myself to make a trip to the emergency room**, I came home from an unusually long day of seeing patients in the western part of the state with my personal fuel gauge on E.  I’d been OK most of the day, but at that point I realized I had really done myself in and was in a state that was starting to get me a little worried.  It was hard to breathe and my chest hurt.  The angel or whatever she was made herself apparent and went to work on me right away.  Almost instantly I was out of the scary state and becoming much more comfortable, starting to feel normal again.  After a little while Fryderyk came in as well, and I was interested to see how distinct they were from each other.  Whatever they did, it put me completely to rights, and I was deeply grateful, especially since I was scheduled to go out to see my most fragile and difficult patient, an hour away out west again, the next morning.  I feel certain that I could not have managed that without their help.

I can hardly describe how momentous this was, despite my years of experience with Them.  What did I do to deserve this near-miracle?  How did I attract this wondrous being?  I have no idea.  I can only say that there is a kind of healing circle or chain in which someone supplies me with energy and I pass it on to patients and they pass it on to the people in their lives who are in need, and it goes on and on.

The next time I encountered this being, I tried my best to get a look at her and to ask who she was, but I got no insight whatsoever.  Within another week or so, I again had an energetic crash, not as bad this time, with the chest discomfort very prominent.  She touched a spot there  and the discomfort vanished instantly (and then was completely gone for weeks).  It didn’t even feel like she had done anything in particular.  Pretty slick!  By this time I was extremely curious, and I asked again who she was, dropping into a channeling state as best I could.

“I am she who is the embodiment of wisdom,” I heard.  Oh!  I thought.  Sophia!  I already knew someone who channels the goddess of wisdom.

OoooKkkk… here we are again with the same problem I had over contacting Kuan Yin.  A goddess.  Uh huh.  Right.  I don’t really know what to do with that concept.  Maybe something Mendy Lou told me when I described this experience will help, though.  She wrote, “But as for Wisdom, I think that it is not something that we can possess, but rather a thing which we allow to enter into us or perhaps come upon us….”  Maybe personifying Wisdom is not so strange.  But Sophia, as I am choosing to call her, seems very much a person in her own right rather than a personification.  I await further enlightenment on this matter– still, having made little or no progress with understanding it since I wrote about Kuan Yin and the beginning channeling class a couple of years ago.  I try not to worry about it too much.  I have Friends in High Places, and that’s worth a lot whether I understand it or not.

Wisdom and discernment are always needed and in all too short supply, but I think I can benefit from an infusion of wisdom even more than usual right now.  One thing I know is that I can’t run my batteries down to nothing all the time and expect someone to swoop in from the heavens and save me.  I still have to show some sense.  I am infinitely glad to know that They are watching out for me, though, and helping me to watch out for others.

Thank you.  Thank you.

*Information on Induced After-Death Communication can be found at the site of the originator, Al Botkin, http://www.induced-adc.com/ 

You may also want to look at my posts on IADC from March 2010.

**Nothing serious was found and they were able to reassure me a lot; my symptoms have been inconvenient and uncomfortable but there is no major threat to my health.

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Filed under channeling, health and healing, spirit communication, spirituality

A Beginning Channeling Class

In February 2007, I took Betsy Coffman’s beginning channeling class, or “C1.”  This was 10 months before I started working with Mendy Lou Blackburn regularly.  While I had done a little bit of channeling at the piano with my composer friend years before, I had never done any verbal channeling, and most of this method was completely new to me.  I’m posting it in hopes that it will be of use to some people I know who have recently started into this kind of endeavor.  For a bit of background about Betsy and her work, you can check the interview with her I posted on this blog some months ago.  It would also be useful to read my post “Orion’s Net,” which concerned an experience I had with the main entity Betsy channels.

Here’s what I wrote about the C1 class at the time it happened:

2/17-18/07

It was a little difficult for me to come to terms with what I read about Betsy’s source, Orion, on her website.  Orion was supposed to be an entity from a “universe beyond and behind the Pleiades.”  Give me a break!  I don’t react well to gobbledygook like that.  However, I had a good feeling about Orion from meeting him in one of Betsy’s Monday night public sessions.  And I had a good feeling generally about taking the class.  I decided to jump in.

The main point of the class was for Orion and his associates to make adjustments in our systems that would increase our telecommunications capabilities, so to speak.  This was immediately palpable.  Almost the moment we sat down, the entities began working on us.  We were told that they would work mainly on our crown and throat chakras, and we did feel a lot going on around our heads.  Betsy told us that headaches were a common reaction, and that she still gets a headache before giving a class or a presentation.  The headache, she said, was a reaction to the pressure of the energy building up, and the best way to deal with it was to start talking or writing, to let the message out.  She described other possible bodily reactions that would let us know the work was being done.  We sure didn’t have any trouble believing that something was going on; all of us had very strong, even overwhelming sensations of powerful energies in the room.  I felt lightheaded, spinny, and oddly nonverbal, almost unable to speak.

As is typical with classes of all kinds, at the beginning we were asked to introduce ourselves and tell why we had come to this particular experience.  I had a whole speech prepared about my reasons for being there, but I felt quite unable to give it, so I explained that I wasn’t able to say much of anything and that I was going to leave my introduction for another time.

Betsy gave us the story of how she came to be there, as well.  I was amused to find that she wasn’t too crazy about the Pleiades business, either.  She said that for the entire first year that she channeled, most of the messages had to do with her former life somewhere in the Pleiades.  Her reaction was rather like mine—“Again with the Pleiades!”  And she felt that the information wasn’t of any practical value.  Finally she told the entities, “You know, I’m really not interested in this.  Couldn’t you tell me something more useful?”  At that point, apparently, she began to receive information that she could apply to her own present life and the lives of her clients.

Betsy talked a lot about what channeling felt like and how we could be sure we were really doing it.  She said it was normal to feel that we must be making it all up, since it was easy and natural, not a struggle at all.  She recommended starting with prayer, and then beginning to say something, just about anything, to give the entities a “runway” to take off from.

Our first tries

I was a little surprised to find that we would be individually put on the spot.  We went around the room, with each student in turn making an attempt to channel.  All of us managed to do some form of channeling, or at least to have some sort of communication with some sort of energy, on the first try.  Betsy said that we were an exceptional class.  “Oh, you say that to all your classes,” someone teased, but Betsy insisted that we had accomplished something unusual.

My experience on that go-round was extremely puzzling, and I still don’t understand it.  When it was my turn, I felt a definite contact with an energy that was not familiar to me, but did not seem problematic in any way.  I could feel it near the top of my head.  I asked how I could make a stronger connection, and the energy suddenly flowed down through my body into my pelvis, where it seemed to pool and settle in.  I was having a lot of trouble with joints in that area, and I thought the entity might be wanting to help with that.  I felt my hands starting to move, and I reported that I was getting physical movements, not words.

Because I hadn’t introduced myself and described my background, Betsy didn’t know that this was a common experience for me.  She was not pleased, and said I wasn’t ready for that and should not let this being take over my body.  She coached me through tossing it out, and had us all say, “Begone!” and “Go to the light!”  I was a bit shocked, because I hadn’t perceived anything negative.  The entity felt comfortable to me.

When the thing was gone and Betsy felt we were all well protected and on an even keel again, she explained that the being had been an aspect of me, someone I had been in a past life.  She saw it as an imperious, ruthless queen, someone who had done great harm.  I hadn’t perceived any personality whatsoever, and frankly, I felt a little doubtful about her perceptions.  However, some of the students saw something along these lines as well.

This encounter made me feel more vulnerable and wimpy than ever.  However, Betsy’s take on what had happened was quite the opposite.  She said that I was having problems like this specifically because I was such a powerful channel.  This was certainly not something I would have expected to hear.  She went on to explain that because I was powerful, I was being noticed; I stood out energetically and attracted attention, including unwanted attention.

I told her that I had been attacked by an extremely negative entity in the past, and had had some other experiences that made me very nervous about contacting new and unknown beings.  I wanted to be open enough to get the job done, I said, but I didn’t want to be open to just anything.  How could I protect myself?  Betsy, who tends to speak rather biblically, told me to “put on the armament of the Kingdom of Heaven.”  “The breastplate and everything,” she added.  I didn’t have a clue what the armament of the Kingdom of Heaven ought to look like, but this sounded like a great idea.  I quickly built myself a medieval suit of armor, covering everything down to my toes and fingertips.  I felt wonderfully safe in there, but could still perceive everything I needed to perceive—the armor didn’t block anything I didn’t want to block.  At the same time, Betsy called on the Archangel Michael to guard us, and I had an image of Michael in his own armor, holding his sword up straight in front of his body, standing between us and anything that might wish to cause harm.   These images were a great comfort. (While Michael is apparently an extremely popular entity with whom people report contacts quite often, I didn’t perceive him as actually being with us; I just had a mental picture of him.  He might well have been there, though, without my being aware of him.)

Later, I had occasion to tell a little bit about the demon attack I had survived in 1999.  [See my post “A Case of Possession.]  Betsy said that my brushes with the dark side made me more powerful than I would have been otherwise, because I could recognize and deal with those forces.  She said I was about 80 percent light and 20 percent dark.  I’m not quite sure what to make of that.

In the early afternoon, we were given an exercise in which we were supposed to visualize three entities, one to our left, one in the center, and one on our right.  We were to ask each one for its name, its relationship to us, a message, and a gift.  While this exercise was a little bit mechanical, it seemed helpful and confidence-building to have a definite framework to start with.

I had often complained that channeled entities have such pretentious names, like Orion or Emmanuel or Ramtha.  Well, the first entity I contacted, the one on my left, said that his name was Larry!  Spirit’s really playing with me, I thought.  Larry started off with a big, warm hug.  When I asked what he was to me, I heard the word “father,” but he bore no resemblance to my father at all, in any form, and I don’t know what that was about.  His message was, “Don’t sell yourself short.”  For a gift, he showed me an old-fashioned telephone, the kind we used to rent from Ma Bell.  It was that standard beige, an early touch-tone model, and it sat on a small table with a white tablecloth, appearing to be lit by a spotlight, floating in front of me.  What a perfect gift—as if to say, “Call anytime.”  As I was taking leave of Larry, I embraced him again, and could see/feel a scruffy, stubbly sort of salt-and-pepper beard.  Larry seemed to be the kind of guy who could be found sitting around in his undershirt, drinking a beer, watching the game.  If Orion is from the Pleiades, Larry must be from Cleveland.  I wanted unpretentious, and I got it.

The next entity, in the center, was a complete contrast, and in her case I had that feeling Betsy had warned us about, the feeling of “I must be making this up.”  It was Kuan Yin that appeared to me, and having sincerely wished to contact her in the last few days, I was delighted to see her.  She held a long mala of large, deep green beads, and that was what she gave to me.  I decided that they must be jade, though truly they were too dark of a green.  I just thought jade would be properly symbolic.  Kuan Yin’s message seemed at cross purposes with Larry’s; she said, “Be humble and listen.”  She gave her name as Kuan Yin of the Spring, which conveniently happens to be the form of the goddess depicted by the porcelain statue in my office.  That part felt the most possibly made up.

The third entity caused me a lot of confusion.  Because I was looking to the right, and Fryderyk had been hanging around his usual spot there, I thought at first that the being was Fryderyk himself.  It only took half a minute or so to be sure that it wasn’t, but by that time Betsy and Orion were well ahead of me in the exercise, and I couldn’t catch up.  I never really managed to pin down just what I was in contact with.  It seemed far more abstract and nonhuman than the previous two beings.  I felt a strong sense of expansion in my head and body.  “I Am That Which Expands,” was the thought that appeared.  As I struggled to pick up something clearer, I saw an image of an intense sunset, as if it were a sunset in the dark somehow, with a deep orange slash of cloud just above the horizon, against a background of nearly all charcoal grey.  At that point, Betsy took us on to a discussion of what had just happened to each of us, which was too soon for me.  For a while I kept trying to let the experience run to its completion, but I was inevitably pulled back into the class, and I never reached any definite conclusions about this entity.

Since Fryderyk was around much of the day, I wondered if Betsy would notice him.  At one point, when he was only in a tenuous and delicate contact with me, I said to her, “Look over here. What do you see?”  Betsy gazed at the space near my shoulder, where I was perceiving a little spot of gold light, and exclaimed, “Oh! It’s like a leprechaun!”  Then, more seriously, she said, “It’s someone who loves you.”  Leprechaun, that’s a new one.  He was compared to angels, woodland sprites, and similar ethereal beings during his life, but never leprechauns!  (I might have compared the image more to Tinkerbell, as in the movie, myself.)

Marie

We had another try late in the afternoon.  As we went around the circle, I felt my contact with Orion, the three beings I described above, and everyone else I had encountered in the room slipping inexorably away.  I couldn’t seem to do anything about it.  When Orion got to the person next to me, I felt that there was absolutely no hope of any channeling or anything else of use coming through me.  I felt completely disconnected from the phone lines.  But Orion started to tell me that there was someone trying to come through.  I think he said specifically that it was some part of me, but I couldn’t hear or process very well at the time, so I’m not sure.

Until the last moment I thought nothing would happen.  Imagine my surprise when I opened my mouth and meaningful words came out!  The words made sense and they were delivered with force and conviction.  It was my inner Queen, but no energy was coming into me from the outside, and I had no sense of being invaded.  I knew that she was nothing more nor less than an aspect of myself, and I was not afraid.  Rather, I felt filled to the brim with strength and power.

“I know,” she began. “I am the one who knows.”

Betsy asked, “Should we address you as the knower?”

“No.”

“Would you give us a name?”

Nothing bubbled up in my head, but without warning I found myself saying, “Marie.”  I heard the French pronunciation, or at least I think I did, but as I was having enough trouble speaking English, that was not what actually came out of my mouth.

“Will you be speaking through Elene again?”

“No.”  This sounded definite.  Hmm, why not?

“Just this once?”

A nod.

“Do you have a word to give us?”

“Confidence.”  This came out with utter ease, and I was astonished to find the speech continuing.  “Do not be swayed.  Have confidence.  When others speak, listen to yourself.  Be sure.  Do not be swayed.  You know.  You know.

Betsy asked if there was anything more.

I smiled.  “Elene is quite surprised.  But I’m not.”  There I felt more like I was editing.

Then Marie indicated that her presentation was over.  However, as the next student began, I could still hear and see more words on the same theme.  I felt like I could have continued to speak for a good half hour.  I also noticed that I could have written the words down just as easily as speaking them (and I wish I had).  That made me feel better still—that I could potentially do this work without the assistance of another person to take notes, and without having to remember everything later.  And most of all I was greatly relieved to find myself truly, inarguably channeling something, absolutely not making it up.

I thought that Marie must have been the queen personality that Betsy had described earlier.  However, although Marie appeared to be a person who expected to be heard and obeyed, I didn’t see her as “ruthless.”  She seemed to be interested in helping the members of the group to find their own power, not to take power for herself.  I still don’t feel that she was the being that had slipped into my body that morning.  Betsy could have been right, though.  One way or another, I experienced the heady feeling of knowing myself to be a multidimensional, complex, damned impressive being, capable of tremendous strength and clarity.  (Just like everybody else….)

The last student channeled her deceased father, with whom she had had a difficult relationship.  For much of the weekend, this student found herself surrounded by family and friends who had passed on, and Betsy felt that she was likely to turn into an able medium.  The conversation with her father was perhaps the most useful and significant event of the entire class.

Some themes kept repeating as we moved from entity to entity: roses, the name “I Am” or “Je Suis,” queens and their attributes.  The entities or guides were a varied lot.  A couple of people said that they were channeling Orion himself, strangely enough.  Or maybe that’s not strange at all.

Betsy mentioned that often people get uncomfortable when someone appears to receive a message from a source they think is too big or important, particularly when the source is Jesus.  Then we really think we must be making it up.  Surely Jesus isn’t speaking to us—he must be awfully busy, after all, and we are so insignificant.  “But think about it,” Betsy said, with great seriousness.  “Shouldn’t Jesus be our best friend?  Of course he loves us and wants to talk to us!”

I’m never quite sure what to think about Jesus or what to expect of him, but at one point when Betsy just spoke his name in passing, on the subject of asking for protection, I felt a new and truly immense energy enter the room, just for a moment.

The second day

That evening, I was quite energized, and I was up till 3:00 writing.  I didn’t get a headache, but I did have severe itching over much of my body, which went on for hours, and I had an overall discomfort that felt a lot like jet lag.  I slept poorly, waking often, then waking earlier than necessary the next morning.  I was fairly wiped out when I got to the class.  The group was about evenly divided between those who had gone to bed early and slept longer than usual and those whose experiences were more like mine.  A number reported headaches or other annoyances.  We spent a substantial amount of time debriefing and speculating.

This time I made sure to give a little bit of the introduction I had skipped the day before.  I confessed that my fondest wish was to truly converse with a particular being with whom I had an intense and long-term relationship.  He wasn’t a leprechaun, I explained; he had been a pianist and composer in his Earth life, during which I, as far as I knew, had been close to him.  I gave his name, only his first name, which Betsy naturally had a little trouble with.  I said that the name was Polish, but nobody flashed on his identity, which was fine with me.  Everyone seemed to receive all this as perfectly ordinary.  As we worked through the day, Betsy did her best to facilitate the communication I so desired, but there was no success.  Fryderyk hung around but also distinctly hung back.  I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t trying harder to come through; I felt sure that he was capable of it, and that if I couldn’t speak for him, surely Betsy could.

Again, I felt largely nonverbal through the morning.  This time, I also felt unable to stay awake.  I could hardly hold my head up, and reclined into the couch with my eyes closed.  When my first turn to channel came around, I realized that I was essentially asleep.  I could hear everything that was going on, but I wasn’t really in the room with everyone.  Maybe I’ll do an Edgar Cayce, I thought; as far as I knew, it might work even better if I were asleep.  Nothing much happened, though.  I could feel a whole cloud of entities hovering in front of me, but I couldn’t make any clear contact with anything or anyone.  Betsy tried to perk me up, saying that I was in too deep and needed to sit up and come to attention, but I was just too tired to do anything about it.  Mine was the only apparent failure of the whole weekend.  I still learned something important from it.

When we made our next and last attempt of the day, Betsy made me go first so that I wouldn’t fall back to sleep while the others worked.  She coached me in great detail to keep me from falling into an overly deep trance.  It wasn’t such a concern by that time—I had gotten over the weariness of the morning.  It was a good thing that I was more with it at that point, because the exercise consisted of answering questions posed by other students.  What a responsibility for us fledgling prophets!

“Drop into your heart”

To get me properly off and running, Betsy coached me carefully and in detail.  Her basic description of getting into the channeling state is that you “drop into your heart.”  This felt very literal to me, and was easy and natural to do throughout most of the class.  Betsy watched closely as I “dropped” this way, and whatever I noticed about what I was doing, she saw at the same time.  At some moments, I felt that I was starting to think too much, and Betsy immediately said, “You’re getting into your head again.  Drop into your heart.”  At one point, I went too far down, and she immediately told me to come back up.  The feeling was like getting an elevator to the proper level and exactly lined up with the edge of the floor.  When I had it right, it was obvious.  Betsy pointed out that it wasn’t necessary to go very deep in order to channel.  I suppose I had thought that more dissociation or slower brainwaves or something would be required.

The experience this time was rather undramatic.  I did feel an entity close in front of my face, hovering.  It did not seem to be anyone I knew or had contacted before.  It may well have been facilitating the communication somehow, but I must say that I did not feel it was speaking through me.  This time around, the sensation was that I was perceiving more through my typical, everyday methods, seeing energy patterns in the subjects’ bodies and picking up emotions.  I seemed to come up with useful answers to at least some extent, but I didn’t feel that I was doing anything more than what I often do in the context of giving treatments.  Perhaps it was a bit clearer than usual.  Whatever was happening, it was accepted by the group as channeling.

For example, the first student who questioned me asked about a relationship problem.  I could vividly see a knot in her heart, and I told her simply and directly, “You have a constriction in your heart.  You need to let go of it.”  I spoke without thinking first, and I was perhaps less diplomatic than I would have been in my normal state, but it just felt like me talking.  She wanted to know if this relationship was able to progress and whether she should pursue it.  In the back of my mind I was thinking that she should ask herself, not me!  I told her that I didn’t know what was going to happen, but that if she kept herself all closed up and terrified the way she was, she would be sure to prevent the relationship from working out.  I didn’t like being forced to come up with an answer to such a grave question; my impression was that this woman was relying a great deal on outside guidance, maybe more than was healthy, and that she might give too much weight to my answers.  This worried me even though I am used to being an authority figure in my regular job, and I have to advise people on important matters all the time.  I guess in my capacity as a doctor I am only human and my guidance isn’t seen as supernaturally potent, as might happen with channeling.  [This has changed to a degree– these days patients often ask me specifically to do psychic work for them.]

I seemed to be operating on at least two different levels as I continued answering questions.  I responded directly to what I perceived, without consciously judging the messages, at least not too much.  At the same time, I was entirely conscious, and in the background I was thinking in an ordinary way about what I was saying.  However, I wasn’t planning what to say before saying it.  It was an interesting state.

When it was my turn to ask a question, I took the opportunity to ask about one of my health problems.  The student who was channeling said that there was an issue about forgiveness, and that she heard the word “mother.”  Betsy was receiving a message too, and jumped in on this.  Her impression was that it was a past life issue, while the student was speaking of my present life.  Another reason not to give too much weight to specific answers, I would say; impressions may be essentially true but slightly off.  (Which should be obvious to even the casual observer.)  Betsy also said that I had a tooth that was contributing to my problem, which was what my chiropractor found a couple of days later.  I haven’t been able to make much out of the forgiveness issue as yet, but I am keeping it in mind.

All flavors of channeling

I think that, among all the various attempts by all the students, we experienced practically all the possible flavors of channeling within that one weekend.  We contacted everything from dead humans to apparent deities to our own higher, or at least different, selves.  My own experiences ranged from working almost as my usual self to being almost completely bypassed by another personality.  Perhaps the most important thing I learned was that channeling, in a broad sense, is something we do quite commonly, even when we don’t think of it that way.  Writing a poem when I don’t know where the words are coming from is not so different from having Queen Marie speak through my voice.  Doing spontaneous choreography or trance dancing is not so different from having another entity move my limbs.  Directly perceiving the condition of a patient’s body is a lot like being told.  Even when we get information ourselves, unmediated by any outside entity, we don’t necessarily know where it’s coming from.  A great deal of the time, we’re doing what Jon Klimo calls “open channeling,” where the source is unknown but we’re getting something beyond the capabilities of the quotidian self.

But who or what were the entities with whom we spent the weekend?  For the most part, I have no clue.  I do feel confident, however, that they were far more than just our own selves, even our far larger selves.  There was an incontrovertible sense of “otherness,” and more importantly, I felt distinct energies that were definitely not part of my own field.

Betsy has a relatively simple and practical answer to this overarching question, one which is espoused by many in the channeling world.  It’s all Spirit, she would say. Right now this is Spirit being Orion, this is Spirit being Betsy, this is Spirit being Larry, or Saint Michael, or Susan’s father.  It doesn’t really matter how we divide things up and make distinctions, it’s all One.  That explanation goes a long way for me.

Aftermath

A few hours after the end of the second day of class, I repaired to my room, determined to talk with Fryderyk somehow.  I could still feel a pretty strong connection to him, and I hoped there was a chance.  I sat down with a notebook and a pencil.  And at last, at incredibly long last, we talked.

I didn’t want to be overheard, but I did want to use definite words, so I tried whispering softly, almost silently, to him.  When words seemed to rise out of the darkness in my head, I whispered them back to myself.  It felt like a real conversation, even though I was speaking both parts.  It wasn’t exactly that I heard him, more that I was just hearing my own voice, but saying things that were not my own thoughts.  Limited though it was, it felt like a miracle after all these years of struggling to communicate.

It started with a rush of romantic drivel on both sides— “I’ve waited so long for this,” that sort of thing.  It was predictable, but wonderful and exciting and miraculous.  I wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity, though.  When we had settled down a bit, I asked about Rose, about whom I was intensely curious.  [Rose Creet, Leslie Flint’s friend, with whom Fryderyk has/had long-term connections.]  “You must have spent a number of lives with her.”

“Only a few.”  After a moment’s pause, “But you, I have contended with you many times.”  Contended?  I didn’t think I would have come up with that word.  “I have contended with you, and I have been content with you.”  I liked that.

But I would like to meet Rose, I insisted.  Would that be possible?  He was oddly coy and evasive.  She was too far away, she couldn’t come here.  “But I could go there,” I suggested.  No on that, too.  Everything I asked about was met with resistance of some sort.

I switched to another touchy subject, the piano.  “Have you given up on me as a student?”

“Yes.”  Not unexpected, but not what I wanted to hear!  I tried to ask why, and couldn’t get anything clear.  I started to argue with him, telling him that despite my severe inadequacies, I had a good musical mind and I was worthy of his attention.  To my horror, I found myself dissolving into tears and begging pathetically.  I was far too emotional to understand any reply, except that there did seem to be something along the lines of, “Well, you might try practicing more.”  However, I felt a huge, unrelenting love and tenderness from him the whole time.

Finally, I turned to matters of healing.  I tried to explain that I felt that he and I had some problems in common, and that it seemed to me that somehow if I could heal him I could heal myself, and vice-versa.  I wasn’t exactly sure how to explore this idea, but I wanted to see how he reacted to it.  He said, “I am beyond the need for healing.”

Yeah, right, I thought.  Even at that moment I could clearly sense a deep pain in the center of his being.

During this part of our interaction, the intensity of love and longing increased to almost an unbearable level.  He moved around my right side, wrapping himself around me.  There was just a moment of him sinking into my body, and then he faded away.

It turned out to be impractical to write while all this was going on, but I was able to remember and jot down the highlights afterward.  It made perfect sense to me that he had not spoken to me during the class in this way.  Our conversation was not at all for public consumption, and would have been inappropriate and embarrassing in that context.  He had been not shy but wise.

The sense of power, strength and solidity I had gained from Marie stayed with me for a few days.  I also felt physically more solid and stable, and my problem joints held together better—perhaps a gift from that mysterious first entity.  Of course, as is wont to happen, all those benefits faded after a while.

Added 2/20/07

Last night I found myself in touch with Fryc again, but I was extremely sleepy and couldn’t work up a good communication with him.  I hope it was only the fatigue and nothing more that prevented it.  This morning, though, I had a nice chat with Kuan Yin.  She kept calling me “daughter,” which kind of bugged me for some reason.  She was big and warm and enveloping, and I saw a lot of pale yellow.  I asked whether she would be available to speak to me at other times, and she said no.  Surprised, I asked why not.  Her reply was, “Daughter, you don’t need me.”  I protested that I did too need her, but you know, all the messages of the past few days seem to be pointing in the same direction, that I need to rely on myself and my own intuition.  Which, interestingly enough, was my own point of view in the first place.  Go figure.  At any rate, I asked Kuan Yin if I could at least visit sometimes, and that seemed to be OK.

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Filed under channeling, spirit communication

Interview with Betsy Morgan Coffman, Part II

Originally posted November 30, 2009 at Gaia.com


One of the most interesting parts of this conversation, to me, was the matter of Betsy’s falling down the stairs in her house while putting out food for her cat, which left her with a fractured hip.  Betsy was certain that this was not caused by her own clumsiness, and after experiencing the atmosphere around that stairway, I was more than ready to believe her.

E:  Now, sometimes people will find themselves in contact with beings that seem just great.  They get healings from them, they have all kinds of wonderful things happen, and yet it turns out that those beings are not what they purported to be.  They’re caught in a lie at some point.  I just wonder if you have any comment.

B:  A little, for whatever it’s worth.  The people that I have met and associated with, we are all so concerned about being authentic and coming from our integrity that we almost go overboard to make sure that what we’re saying is the truth.  We take immense responsibility for communicating from love accurately, with compassion and non-judgment.

Now, I have seen other people do that.  My interpretation is that their ego is a little bit bigger than their ability, and so they’re enjoying swimming in this ego, like putting on a shoe that’s too big, but the shoe is so beautiful they don’t want to take it off.  And they get compliments on it, and then they identify with the shoe, thinking they are the gift, and they don’t want to give up that identity, rather than recognizing that nothing in the world makes us better, we are already perfect.  Nothing in the world makes us smaller, we’re already whole.  So I just try to steer clear of people like that or readers like that, and give people a heads up to try to go to someone who you’ve gotten a good recommendation for, or to trust your own senses.  If you start to feel, “This doesn’t feel good,” then it’s not good, and you should leave.

Be really careful what you ask for.  When my son, Gannon, was six years old, or seven—he also is gifted and very interested in star beings—he has more gifts than he’s interested in having, actually, so he hasn’t developed them.  They’ve been too frightening.  Like, when he’s asleep at night, blankets get pulled off, or he’ll hear the ocean and the sound of universes rumbling and exploding in his head, and he’s gone into objects and seen what they’re like from the inside and out.  Anyway, when he was six or seven he wanted to have an off-planet being, a little boy off-planet being, as a buddy.  So we prayed, we got down on our knees together, and we invited in an off-planet being that would be around seven years old and that would like to have an earth being for a friend.  And he went to bed that night in his room; he had a bunk bed and he slept on the top.  And I went to bed in my room.  It was a small apartment.  My daughter, who was a year younger, five or six, slept with me.  In the middle of the night I woke up with a start, like mothers often do, knowing I had to get into my son’s room immediately, and I walked through the apartment in the dark.  I went to his room and I stood there with my hand on the light switch, looking around.  I didn’t want to turn on the light and scare him, but I could feel I needed to be there.  And something felt disconcerting and alive, and I thought, “I need to stay here.”  And I didn’t want to wake him up, so again, I didn’t turn on the light, I just lay down on the bottom bunk as quietly as I could.  And I stayed awake for ten or fifteen minutes and went to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up again, and my son was shaking me, and he said, “Mom, thank you so much for coming in my room.  I was scared to death.  I was praying you’d flip that light switch on.  I could see your hand on the light switch.”  He said, “They came, they came!  A daddy and a young boy, and they wanted me to go with them, and they wanted to take me, and I was scared to go, and I was scared to stay, and I didn’t know what I was going to do, and at that moment you appeared at the doorway.  And they stopped, and they stared at you and you stared at them, and then when you wouldn’t leave they went out the window.  I don’t want that to happen to me again, Mom.”

And we found a hair that looked like it might have come off the body on the floor, and he pictured what they looked like.  And we got down on our knees, and we prayed to them and told them never to come back again, he wasn’t ready.  And so we released them, cleansed them, and they never came back.

Amazing, huh?

E:  Awfully, awfully amazing.  I don’t even begin to know what to make of that.  It raises so many questions.  I definitely understand the “be careful what you wish for” part, and “be careful what you open yourself to.”

B:  It seems like the clearer you are, the more light you have, the more you can bring in.  So Gannon has immense light.  He is the most Christed being I’ve ever met, and I’m honored that he came through me.  I can’t claim anything to that, because kids choose their own parents, but I feel that I’m fairly light.  He and I got down together and asked for something, not knowing who we are, or the power that could happen.

E:  He got exactly what he asked for, but it wasn’t what he really wanted.

My daughter had an invisible dog for a while.  She didn’t ask for it, but we’d be out walking, and she’d say, “I keep feeling like there’s a dog following me.”  There was nothing adverse about it; it was just like there was an invisible dog walking with us.  I would bend down and try to find where it was, and I could feel something there, not anything very strong, but I could definitely believe that there was a dog.  She didn’t see it; she just had a real strong sense of a dog being there, and she could describe it.

B:  Amazing.

E:  But she doesn’t do anything like that otherwise.  Maybe at some point she will.

I guess in a lot of ways the question is answered, but I wanted to ask you about the demon attack that I experienced.

B:  My experience is that there is such a thing.  I don’t like even… but for us, I’ll talk about it.  Yes, I know what you mean, it’s horrible, it’s hard to get rid of them.  I don’t do house clearings, but a girlfriend of mine, a gal I taught—some of her gifts she was born with, her name is Melissa—she likes to do house cleanings and she likes mediumship and she likes to investigate the paranormal, very much like what they do on TV, like investigating deaths and murders and stuff that I would never, ever have any interest in doing because there is a lot of negative energy.  But thank goodness there are some psychics that are not afraid of it and find it quite delightful.

E:  I wasn’t trying to do a cleansing, but this was a patient of mine who had this thing stuck to her—that was her main complaint, that was what she was actually trying to be treated for.

B:  I don’t even work with that!

E:  But people who were considerably more advanced had tried to help her.  I mean, I was just treating her for the strokes that she had had while this was going on, I was just treating the physical stuff.

B:  Which may have been caused from the entity.

E:  That’s what she thought.  Anyway, some very high-level people….

B:  Between you and me, I think I got pushed off the steps.  That’s how I broke my hip.  There’s something I need to cleanse in this house, and it hangs out right there [pointing to the upper part of the stairway].

E:  I’m interested that you mentioned that, because I was real uncomfortable when I walked in, and I thought I must be crazy because I know what goes on here, and I thought, it can’t feel like this!

B:  At what point did you begin to feel uncomfortable?

E:  I just walked in and sat down in here, and—

B:  Right here, mm hmm.  It’s right there [pointing again toward the stairs].

E:  Well, I kept kind of looking up in there!  Yeah, I think you’ve got something, and that’s weird because [laughing, to the entity] how dare you be in here, the Archangel Michael is protecting this place!

B:  I know, but what he says is, “I was here first.”  I’m somewhat protected, but of course I got pushed!  Now, Orion was telling me, “Put the cat food—you know, when that happened—put the food on the paper plate, and slide it through the banister.  But I didn’t listen.  I went up and I put the plate down, and then I got to the fourth step, and… it wasn’t me.  I didn’t miss that step.  I don’t know what happened.  I can remember going down, thinking, “What the heck is happening?  How did this happen?”  It was almost like I was taken out of my body, and it was the strangest experience I’ve ever had.

So, I’ve had the house feng shui-ed right there, and that up there, where the ceiling comes together, means “to fall.”  And I also just know, because when I go to bed at night, I keep all the lights on, because I can feel the energy.  And this morning when I woke up, I thought, “Oh, he fiddled with me last night.”  Not sexually, just with my mind.  I woke up and was still tired, and couldn’t sleep really well.

I kept telling my friend Bill, “There’s something in this house,” and he kept saying, “No, no, no.”  I said, “I know there is, I know there is.”  So finally today I called him, and I said, “I’ve had it.”  I said, “I know.  It’s either I’m possessed, or this house is possessed.”  I said, “I’m really feeling crazy, I can feel the emotional swings in me.  I’m a good and happy person, but I could feel the swings, like craziness.  Craziness!  And I thought, “This is not me.”  And so I called him, and I left him a message; he was doing dentistry.  He called me back and he said that he did swing the pendulum, and he said, “You’re right.  There are entities, and now this is one way to handle it.”

So he called Terry Cast [spelling?], whom I adore.  She does radionics, and so she’s broadcasting electricity to me right now.  And they can’t take electricity; they have to leave your energy field.  And so what we’re going to do is do a house cleansing, but I’m going to get a whole bunch of people.  This is making him very mad right now, that I’m even talking about it.  I can see him getting mad.  I’ve told him, “Let’s peacefully coexist,” but last night he fiddled with my sleep, and that is not peacefully coexisting.  I’m saying, “You can be here, just  don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.”

When I first walked in here, I thought, “This is everything I’ve ever wanted.  Why am I not excited?”  I had no excitement about it.  I did it purely from another level of, “This is everything I’ve ever wanted.  I should take the house.”

E:  Well, if this could happen to you, it could happen to anybody.

B:  Thank you for saying that.  It was quite a compliment.  Yep, it could.  Because I wasn’t willing to think.  I didn’t ask myself really deeply, “Why am I not more emotionally connected?”  And at a superficial level I thought, “Well, you’ve been knowing for a long time you were going to move, and so this must be what’s next.”

E:  I guess it’s another learning experience, but still, it’s a pretty tough one!

B:  I know!

E:  Well, it makes me feel a little more confident, because really, when I walked in, I thought, “I don’t like it here!”  And I thought, “I must be incorrect, because Betsy would only pick a place with good energy.”

B:  Oh, you know, it’s strange, isn’t it?  I need to get this area right here all feng shui-ed.  It needs to have something different.  But there’s some energy that lives here in this house.

E:  I guess I just did something that was a little violent, that maybe I shouldn’t have done.  I just put a bubble around me.  I went like [gesturing].  I thought, “It’s not coming home with me.”  I really pushed at it.

B:  That’s not violent.  And it really likes it here; it won’t go home with you.

E:  Wow.  Okay.  I guess I only have one really major question left.

One more “danger” question.  I don’t really think this is dangerous, but I’ve been told that it was, and I wonder what your experience is.  Now, what has always been natural for me, and I’m trying to learn to get information in other ways, but what’s always been natural with me is to get emotional, like, tone-colors, and to get kinesthetic information, you know, for things to come through me physically.

B:  I’m not sure I understand.

E:  I mean for my body to be moved.  Physically moved, or at least to experience physical sensations or tendencies.  That I would get the experience in my body rather than verbally or visually.  I still can hardly get anything verbally.  I am getting more visually these days.

B:  That’s good, that’s still good.

E:  You know, it seems like people just operate on these different channels, so to speak.  Because my main contact is a musician, in fact, one of the greatest pianists of all time, I have gotten some channeling at the piano in past years.  This was one of the greatest experiences of my entire life.  I want more of it.  A healer I was working with at the time was absolutely convinced that this was doing great harm to me, and that it needed to stop.  I’m meaning this as more of a general question, but here I am going into the personal story.  I really didn’t believe it, but I told him that she was saying that this was doing harm to me, and that he needed to either find another way to do it, or not do it.  And he must have believed that, because he’s never done it again.

B:  So you had one of your spirit guides on the other side, and he was a pianist.  And he was coming through you.  And then somebody told you it was bad for you.  And so what happened?

E:  And so he stopped, and he’s never done it again.

B:  And you miss him.

E:  I’m with him many times, but I miss that experience.  I don’t even care if it’s  harmful!

B:  Why is it harmful?

E:  She was saying that because of the particular way he was interfacing with my body, that it was actually doing harm to me.

B:  I don’t see this doing any harm at all.  I think you should have it.  I think that maybe the only thing you might have felt and wondered what do to with is I see that he loves you so much he has a kind of ownership of you.  In one lifetime you were completely committed to each other, and you might feel that.  As long as you recognize that he feels that way, you don’t have to… you can say, “You know I love you that way too, but we’re not in the same dimension right now.  But while we’re sharing what we can, I’m all yours.”

E:  Definitely.  I just really liked the piano lessons.  Actually, I got some technical problems solved.

B:  And you can invite him back.

E:  Oh, I have, over and over and over.  And I mean, we have often a very, extremely intimate relationship.  I don’t see him all the time, and this is something I’ve also been told was strange, that people just call on their spirit guides any time, and I don’t find that to be true.  He just doesn’t always seem to be hanging around the Earth plane.  He has other things to do.  He’s not at my beck and call, but sometimes he’s around for days at a time, and sometimes he’s around when I’m not really available, and he can even be pushy about it.  But then, I’m pushy with him too.  It’s like, if I want him, I want him, and I kind of grab at him.

And various people are saying, well, he’s stuck, he shouldn’t be here.  But he’s been part of a number of large projects, rather in the way of what you’re doing.

B:  He’s not stuck.  He comes and goes.  I’m seeing that sometimes he retreats, almost like somebody who is a genius and very, very gifted needs to almost go into a black hole.  Did he have depression or did he just have to get away from people?

E:  He was extremely ill.

B:   Okay, so I’m seeing him go away for periods of time.  But there are three, if not including the black hole place, a fourth place where he goes when he’s not with you.  Then he’s designing and creating somewhere, and there’s times when he retreats.  He goes to a star, and he comes to you.

E:  As far as I know, he’s working with other people.  There are a couple of major mediums that he’s been involved with.

B:  Great.

E:  I didn’t know that when I first met him.

B:  That’s probably that creative space that he goes to, still being very creative.

E:  But it seems like there’s a lot going on with him, and because I can’t generally get verbal information, there’s only so much I know about it.  I know more about it because of what other mediums, who are very well-known, have done with him.

B:  What was your question?  I forgot.

E:  My question was whether channeling by means of physical movement was dangerous, or what you might have to say about it.

B:  Physical movement meaning playing the piano?

E:  Or anything else.

B:  No! Not at all.  There’s healers….

E:  He does that too.

B:  A smile could be channeled.  They influence us energetically, transport us, and so they do impress our thoughts as well as our feelings, and they impress our bodies.  You know, Ramtha is a full-body channel.  It doesn’t hurt her; maybe it tires her for the energy to come in and walk her around.

E:  You did make mention of full-body channeling in the class, but then we didn’t really get into that.

B:  That was the first way, that was how I first channeled.  Hatshepsut came in, the female pharaoh, and I was being moved around, and she had a really bold, loud voice.  It didn’t hurt me at all.  I enjoyed having the experience.  It doesn’t hurt you, not unless you feel the guide, the channel, or the energy that comes through, would harm you.  Like whack at yourself or something!

E:  No, he’s done quite a bit of healing for me.  He can’t seem to get me out of most of the physical problems….

B:  You know, the channels that hurt are the bad energies, the entities that fiddle with us psychologically, screw up our minds.

E:  Yeah, I can imagine that happening.  That demon character had an aspect of that, like it made you think certain things about yourself.

B:  Yes, that’s the bad energy.

E:  And it didn’t want you to express yourself.  It would go for the throat.  It seemed to want to choke off your speech.

B:  Some cause people to get depressed, and some give them hypertension, and some stroke.  You know, there is a demonic world.  My sister, who saw the Archangel Michael, is a Christian, and she says, “Put on the full armament of God, the breastplate, the sword, the shield, and the helmet, and ask for a legion of angels.”

E:  When you said that in the class, also, you said, “Put on the armament of the Kingdom of Heaven,” and I instantly visualized this medieval suit of armor, with the visor and the gauntlets.

B:  Yeah, me too, I see that too.

E:  That was really helpful.  Out of all the things I’ve tried to do for protection, that very simple thing seemed the most helpful.

B:  Well, it’s in the Bible.

E:  Medieval suits of armor hadn’t been invented yet at that time!  It just happened to come out that way.  When I thought of armament, that just happened to be the way it came out.

B:  Yeah, I could have said it that way.

E:  You’ve given me a great deal here, and I’m very grateful.

B:  Wow, thank you.

I’m just going to say thank you Lord, thank you Jesus Christ, thank you Michael, thank you Orion, thank you Hatshepsut, thank you Frederick, thank you to all the angels and archangels and master teacher guides that are with us.  Thank you.  With the name of love we accept this for our highest good.  We accept that this house is more cleansed because we did this work today in the name of love.  And so it is.  Amen.

We agreed that the unpleasant energy in the room felt a lot lighter; in fact, the room felt pretty decent by that time.


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Orion’s Net

Originally posted November 22, 2009 at Gaia.com

I mentioned last time that I was somewhat acquainted with Betsy Morgan Coffman’s guide, Orion. Here’s part of what I was talking about:

At a session last March, Mendy and I were talking about large entities that appear to be composed of multiple beings, such as the “Michael” of Messages from Michael.  Orion’s name came up, and I commented that I still didn’t have much understanding of what Orion “really” is.  As I said that, I felt a sudden resonance, and I thought that if I took a look I would get some worthwhile insight.

So I held the intention of looking at Orion, and I began to have quite a vivid vision.  First, against an image of space with stars, there was a huge burst of white light coming through what looked like a wormhole in a science-fiction movie.  I could see a round tunnel behind it, and on the other side, an equally huge, bright mass of light.  This seemed to describe where Orion was coming from.

Then I felt myself flying or being pulled through the hole, and found myself on the other side, in the other universe.  I had only had the intention of looking at all this, but suddenly it was like actually being there, though I was still quite aware of the usual room around me.  I could feel tingling, like little sparks, and warmth all over my body.  As I more or less adjusted to my surroundings, I began to see the sparks as small, twinkling points of light all around me.  Somehow the points of light seemed excited and happy, as if they were glad I was there.  It felt like the entire space was filled with love and joy—and fun, a sense of lightness, as if I had walked into some wonderful celebration.  Mendy was observing all this, and she could see the same little lights and feel the sensation of love.  There was absolutely no seriousness or gravity about any of this.

I asked the sparkles, which seemed to be conscious beings, what they wanted to tell me.  I never received much in the way of imagery, and there were no words, but I felt pressure on my third eye.  I got to wondering just what sort of beings the sparkles were, and it occurred to me to ask how they would perceive themselves from the perspective of their own lives in their own universe.  In response, I was shown an image of myself, which I took as meaning that their nature was similar to my own.  Mendy’s impression was that they were indeed similar to us, but further along in their evolution.  I don’t know.  I can only say that they were an awful lot of fun and I liked them a lot.

And then I was back in the room and in my normal consciousness.

This was an unusual experience for me, though a couple of other times I’ve received information in the form of a journey like this, which pulled me along on its own terms and with its own apparent agenda until it had told me whatever I was supposed to be told.  It was also quite different from my previous impressions of Orion, except for the mass of white light.  I’m feeling inspired, but puzzled.

The sparkles were somewhat like swarms of tiny lights I had perceived before, which Mendy had identified as fairies, but they seemed far more powerful, and they seemed to exist in a matrix or continuum that was filled in every direction with conscious points of light.  Mendy has experienced visions of the universe that were very much like that, with all of us, all beings, represented as points of light filling space everywhere.  Perhaps I simply wandered into Mendy’s field of perceptions, so to speak.  I found myself thinking of Indra’s Net, the Buddhist concept of an infinite network of jewels, each reflecting all the others.

I mentioned this experience to a few other people and got some interesting responses.  My friend Patrice, a talented channeler in her own right, wrote, “Oh, i e-mailed your story to my friend Daywah and she had the same experience about 3 weeks ago.”  And Hania [see earlier posts] had this to say:  “I recall that some years ago when I used to meditate several hours a day, I had these intelligent living sparkles (like little fire sparks but I felt their intelligence) always in my room.  Later on, when I meditated very infrequently but held on to my path, they still lingered around my new bedroom.  In both situations, when I had guests, they, too, could see these living sparkles.  I have always felt their good will and great aliveness, although I never knew what/who they were.  Now I see them very very seldom.  Were they beings from another universe?  I don’t know.”


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