II: Appendices continued…


My Brother and Father:

My brother died in March of 2005. He died of alcoholism alone in his cabin. After he died, I contacted him by going to the “tunnel” I see when I shut my eyes and focus on my third eye area. I went to the edge and shouted his name (silently) several times. In the far distance I saw something moving, very tiny and far off, coming toward me. I waited and it came close enough to see it was my brother, lying down flat, hands by his sides, his skin was grey and his eyes were shut.

He was an atheist in his life as far as I know. He probably had expected to just die and cease to exist, so when he left his body that is the pose he adopted, just shut himself down and lay still and grey. I called his name again and he saw me standing there. I took his arm and said, “Stand up, let’s go, I will take you to Dad. He’s in a place called The Park. Come on. I’ll take you. It’s easy.”

He stood up, accepting this strange intrusion into his death experience, and willingly let me guide him. He did not speak. He seemed to feel a bit confused but he stayed with me as we entered the Park, where I always picture it with grass and many rose gardens near where I always enter. We passed benches and flower beds and ponds and came to what I call the Picnic Place, by the ocean, lots of benches and usually many people there enjoying the oceanside ambience and eating and drinking coffee etc.  There always seems to be people around there.

I was astonished, nobody there to greet us. Then I was alarmed, thought, ok, I really have been imagining all this and now I have Tom here and I can’t find anyone for him. Help!! So I stood there and hollered for Dad and yelled and yelled for him, and was starting to really panic. Then I got the feeling the whole picnic area was some kind of stage set. Over at the end there were even the “wings” of the set. From around the back “wings” my Dad came. He did not look cheerful about this event. He looked like he had been dreading it. Anyway he came over to us and I said, well, here’s Tom, and neither of them knew what to say. So I said, uh, feeling kind of awkward, this had never happened before, I said Let’s go to Dad’s place, OK Dad? So we shot off to his lovely cabin where he lives with his two dogs and his fireplace and his nice set-up in some green rolling mountains. I walked in with Tom behind Dad. We stood by the fireplace for a minute and the two dogs were lying down in front of the fire. They didn’t seem bothered by us coming in.

Then my brother looked at my Dad and seemed to suddenly really come to life. He said “So, we can build things here?” He was catching on to the new reality fast. Dad said, “Yeah. We can build things.” I said I had to go and excused myself and shot off back to my home in beautiful B.C.

I take some pride and happiness in knowing I rescued my poor brother who really had a sad life and surprised him no end with some really, really great news…his real life was just beginning!

I have caught sight of him a couple times since then while exploring. He has been hanging out with a wide range of wildlife and enjoying the woods and forests there, he was a real outdoors guy when he was sober. He is loving the animals and helping them as they arrive there, trying to offer what healing he can.  I don’t know if Dad or anyone has introduced him to any healers or guides yet…anyway.

That’s my story of retrieving my bro. One of my happy things for sure. Used Bruce Moen’s method outlined in the appendix of one of his books. (www.AfterlifeKnowledge.com)

Since retrieving my brother and taking him to The Park, I have visited him a few times. I am not accomplished at conversing with people there much, and hope to improve in that area. A week or so ago, he “tapped me on the shoulder” so to speak while I was doing other stuff, I had not been to see him for quite a while, and so I took a few minutes to go drop in on him and see what he wanted.

First, he wanted to show me that he had built a home for himself, that is, a house type of home. When he first went to the park he built himself a forest, which is what he likes best, but now he has completed work on a cedar shake house, only he has left out one of the walls, overlooking the valley below his forest, so he can be in his house or he can move out onto his cedar deck by just walking out where the wall should be, you know? It’s kind of neat, only you could only do that in a part of the universe where you could control the weather!!

He was sitting out on his deck looking proud when I arrived and he mostly wanted to show me a couple other things, one is, he has of course been looking after traumatized animals since his “demise”, lots of wild and small animals, but now he has been given responsibility for a large herd of horses who have passed in difficulty. I could see them in the valley below his forest, and he had been sitting on his deck watching over them. They were very aware of us, kind of connected to him by some kind of invisible energy field, constantly aware of his caring presence there. One horse in particular drew my attention, must be the leader I guess, and this horse is sort of roughly a creamy color and has a black streak down his handsome nose, a very proud, large horse. The other thing he wanted to show me was, he is now growing marijuana and enjoying it. I guess alcohol does not work very well in The Park so he has been looking for an alternative, I guess to satisfy his cravings, I don’t know since I don’t converse well with them there yet, but he was happy and pleased and also kind of wanted to shock and maybe annoy me a little. Still a brother, ya know?

I have read somewhere that alcoholics who pass over still crave alcohol for a long time and it doesn’t work the same way on that body, which is very frustrating for the addict. I am guessing that my brother has started using marijuana as a way of settling himself down since he craves alcohol and it won’t work for him any more. They grow all kinds of plants there, so why not Mary Jane, I guess.

When you stop to think about it, addiction is a product of our imagination, just like astral travel to the Park is, and responses to sugar pills, and probably pretty much everything, so if I were an addict and went over there, and discovered how easy it was to build things using the power of imagination, I would for sure start trying to use my imagination to get my substance and enjoy it the same, but of course that body wouldn’t necessarily process any substance the same way as this body does…or this body has been trained to, by our imagination…this is where it all goes off course since our imagination is probably an imaginary thing anyway…I never seem to get any further than that, it implodes right there.

I also don’t know if my brother used marijuana in addition to alcohol while on earth. He did smoke all his life and deliberately sat down in his cabin alone to drink himself to death after a cancer in his kidney recurred, his body must have been in pretty awful shape when he began this next chapter of his life in the Park.

I haven’t been given any info on any healing time or hospital time or whatever he went through after I left him there the first time.


Now my sister Lorna has just passed away, she was in care with dementia for a few years. I am so relieved she has passed over . I went in for a few days to try to find her and see if she needed help. After about four days I finally connected with her. I took her, as usual, to the Park, where my brother and dad are.

I went to the tunnel (behind my third eye) and found her nearby, almost waiting for me, (I had taken her to the Park previously when she was in care quite a while ago, maybe she remembered it) and we found ourselves walking through the rose garden and to the picnic area, then I took her around the pathway curving to the left and to dad’s house.

Dad mentally telepathed to our brother, to tell him to come over, Lorna has arrived, and I left them there, it felt kind of confused and jumbled, I could not settle properly. Later in the morning, as I was dropping off for a dark-morning winter snooze, I found myself in a subterranean cavern with a large crystal clear pool in it. It felt familiar, like one I saw years ago during a reading for someone, but it was smaller and had only one visible storey.

The pool was very clean and clear and I walked around it and onward and felt a presence, looked to my right and there stood my sister, smiling at me. She approached me like, she had left dad’s house to go wandering and exploring and had gone into the cavern to look around. We hugged each other hard and walked out of the cave back to dad’s house and I told her how much I loved her and appreciated all she had done for me from childhood on.

At dad’s house we hugged, the three of us, in a big bear hug, felt great, my dad needs lots of hugs, and as I dozed there in my bed in my body, half asleep, suddenly I was looking at the flames in the firepan in dad’s fireplace, and realized they resembled gas flames of some sort, and we were sitting around the fire, my dad and sister and I, and my brother was there also, and we were having a hot drink and feeling like real family feelings, so good.




Yesterday, July 18, I had a telephone reading from a popular and effective Medium. (At time of putting this post on my blog, this person has since passed over, himself.) I’ll just mention the parts of the reading pertinent to this forum. You may have read about my brother’s retrieval and then about how he has been taking care of a herd of horses over the past year. I had mentioned that I could not find my mom or my daughter in the park, and couldn’t figure out where they were.

My dad was in the Park when I first went there, I didn’t take him there though, someone else must have done so a long time ago. Probably his own Guide, most likely.

Recently I took my sister Lorna to the Park when she died last December.

During the Medium reading, it was so amazing, the medium asked me, What is all this about Horses??? I replied I liked horses but didn’t know much about them. He said, your mom is here, she wants to tell you about the Palomino. Do you know what a Palomino is? I was not sure. He said, it is a Golden Palomino. I said, Like Trigger? He said Yes!! Exactly like Trigger!!

He said, your mom wants you to know she rides this golden Palomino. I was stunned!! My poor old mom, now full of vibrant good health, sitting tall and strong, riding a horse! A horse of her own, of which she was clearly very proud!!

At some point in the reading he mentioned the name Pegasus, the name of the legendary flying horse. I am guessing that is the name of my mom’s horse.

And then I remembered that my brother has been in charge of a herd of horses for a while, and I saw the connection!

I said that I had not been able to find my mom or my daughter since they passed, and I wasn’t sure they were even in The Park.

He replied, your mom and daughter have been so busy doing things, they have not been around when you were visiting.

The other interesting thing is, he said, Your mom says, Your father is still a Pain!! I laughed but I was surprised. I had somehow thought when we moved out of body at last we left all our differences behind. Apparently not! I have visited my dad a few times over there, he lives alone I think with two dogs, though he spends a lot of time with his family.

The medium said that my mom and my sister Lorna have been spending time together in order to try to resolve many of Lorna’s issues. She had a difficult childhood. She and mom were estranged for years.

Those were some of the highlights! Interestingly, today I happened for some reason to be going through a little box of ordinary jewellery, bits and pieces of stuff, and rediscovered a favorite ring I had not worn for a long time. It is a silver ring in the shape (quite lovely) of a beautiful horse, galloping along with mane flying! I was thrilled! That I should rediscover this ring a few hours after my mom telling me about her Golden Palomino!!

I was wearing it today when I went out for coffee, and couldn’t stop looking at it!! My mom felt very close to me.

My mom and daughter, through the Medium, have asked me to consider writing the story of my life. I feel it is impossible. I have no idea how to do it. They said they would help. But I still can’t see how to even start.

I am tired today. Sort of numb and very tired and just sitting staring at the wall. My cat is missing after the move, I had hoped the Medium could tell me where she is, but he said she might come home eventually if I keep asking her to come home.

There is no way in life to keep from experiencing losses. It is so infuriating. Last week I was throwing chairs and stuff at my guides mentally and emotionally. I am surprised they are still talking to me. Really it is insufferable, that no one looked after my cat. Including me.

(Later on, some time after I made the above post, I had a message from my brother in The Park, telling me that my  little black cat was safely under big brother’s wing!! Nice, eh??)


See FB page


 The Fallen Soldier and the Nurse
Before I type in this retrieval, I just want to write a reminder to those who read my note before about the Medium reading a few months ago.  I had been wishing there was some confirmation that the family information I was receiving during retrievals was genuine.

I finally did receive that confirmation, during the Reading when my mom (passed over) informed me that she had a golden palomino called Pegasus.

This helped to confirm the previous information, that my brother had eventually been given charge of a herd of horses as part of his continuing healing journey. I had wondered if I had imagined that but since no one in my family, including my mom, ever had anything to do with horses, I took the Pegasus information as confirming the other retrieval info I had gotten.

Today’s retrieval gave me more than I expected as I went “in” to just try to connect with my darling daughter, Lori, who passed over after a car crash in 1988.

After about fifteen minutes or more of messing about in general stuff, I observed a very high red-coloured mountain range, very wild and remote looking. It was high up, the clouds drifted around the top half of the range. I flew up and phased across the terrain, thinking it was like flying in a small plane over Vancouver Island where I live, astonishingly rugged and indescribably mountainous. It doesn’t seem like that down here where we all live, in agricultural and softer countryside.

After the retrieval was completed, I thought it was probably “Afghanistan-there”, which would explain the mountains, though I am not sure if Afghanistan has mountains that high. Or if the soil is reddish.

After flying over these mountains for a while, suddenly I noticed a change in the formation below me and saw what appeared to be the shape of a hut roof. I flew down and emerged into what was I guess an army hospital hut, very long, with beds running down the length of the hut on one side.

I had requested a connection to Lori before I started. She appeared before me in the hut, her beautiful blue eyes full of amusement as they always are when I am so stunned to see her.

I asked, Are you a nurse??? I was a nurse and found it very hard work. I had always suggested she do something different, and she had become a secretary. Now, it appears, she is into healing work.

She said, well, sort of. She led me to the bedside of a soldier who had been killed in action a very short time ago. The initials I got were Fr, like the first two letters of a name. That was all. He had one leg amputated. He was lying on his side looking depressed. He clearly did not know he had died and thought he was still in the army hospital.

When working with those who have died and don’t realize it, hospital staff “over there” often create a fake drama which gently reveals to the person that they are now on the other side and, usually, there are loved ones there who have died earlier, and are waiting to greet them.

Lori explained to him that they had a new way of restoring limbs. She said to him, we can get your body to actually re-grow your leg. A surgeon has just perfected the technique and it has been used successfully on several people. He wants to try to restore your leg.

The soldier was thrilled. Lori got him up, helped him on with his housecoat and one slipper, into the wheelchair and put a blanket over him. She wheeled him, myself following (the soldier could not see me I think), to a room where a male and a female surgeon stood waiting for us.

The male surgeon explained that this new technique was successful only if the patient were willing to be put into a light coma for a few weeks. There would be an IV supplied to ensure nutrition and fluids would remain balanced during the coma. During this time, the limb would regrow. The body needed all its resources to recreate the limb, and full consciousness would hinder the process.

They put him through a period of imagining his limb back in place. They showed him photos of himself taken previously, with both his legs. It was natural and easy for him to imagine having his leg back.

This was part of the fake “drama” the team had decided upon to help the soldier understand that he had died, and his new body would be whole.

The solder agreed to the coma. He was placed in bed and injected with something and drifted off to somewhere else. In fact, he was only unconscious for minutes and they woke him. His leg was back, whole, as before. He got out of bed at once, laughing and eager to try his leg. It was good as new, of course, as it was all etheric in fact. He still thought he was alive in the physical at this point.

Immediately, his grandparents came into the hut. Both had passed over and he had been at both their funerals years before. His grandmother was a very pretty woman with silver hair and a gentle smile, very slight and tiny. His grandad was short and wiry, with a good head of grey-white hair.

He said after the hugging stopped, but I was at your funerals. I don’t understand…then they told him he had in fact been killed in action and they were all here waiting for him. “We can go visit your mom and dad later”, they promised him. They walked him out of the hut and they dispappeared from view.

Lori and I were alone together and I asked her if mom was around. She said sure, and we were transported to a group of young women, some in Muslim headdress and some western women, sitting in a semicircle. My mom was talking to them. Her job was different from Lori’s but she was still involved in healing work, but with women. I interrupted her to give her a hug and look into her beautiful (now young again) face.









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But about eighteen months before that day, while still a student, I arrived at a moment in my life which could have been one of my possible “Exit points” which mediums tell us are arranged as a possible way to re-enter the Afterlife and leave this world. Apparently we have a few of these Exit points on offer, already in place when we arrive on earth. We choose which one to accept and when. So they say.

The Hayloft Pub was THE place to go after work to relax, and many of our student crowd cleaned up and walked down there after supper.

Dressed up in a pretty red dress and heels, I strolled down to the pub with the other girls, all of us hoping this would be the evening we met our special guy, the one and only, Mr. Right.

As we mixed and chatted, I was fascinated with a very small man dressed as sharp as a tack in a black suit with an expensive white shirt, no tie. He was about five feet tall, handsome, wore his golden hair down to his collar, and wore on his face an expression of closed-down boredom with the whole thing.

I found him irresistible and vaguely familiar. I could not stop watching him. Why did his face tickle my memory? I was sure I had never seen him before…and yet….

After a bit we started up a conversation and he was entirely pleasant, low-key and respectful. After a few minutes he said he had to head home. I replied that I, too, was leaving as I was on duty next morning early. He offered to walk me as far as his own house, a few blocks away. His house was about twenty minutes further down the road from the hospital, so we started out and chatted as we walked.

Everything seemed perfectly fine. I felt a little interested in him, although he was very small for a man.

Then we reached his house, and he said, “You know, you are walking in those high heels, why don’t you call a cab instead? I have a phone right on the wall just inside my front door, you can use it to call a cab if you like.”

I agreed, my feet were getting sore. I followed him without a single thought or doubt, to his front door. Sure enough, as he opened the door I could see the phone right there beside the door. I stepped in behind him without a quaver or a thought of danger.

As I stepped in, he shut and locked the door behind me. His face now wore quite a different expression…smug, hating, full of contempt, triumphant. He turned toward the center of the huge living room, and I saw a crowd of men coming down two sets of stairways into the living room where we stood.

This must be a rooming house for men who work in town, I thought, much too late. Now I am in trouble.

The men gathered around me in a circle. I was entirely helpless. And I remembered, too late, that just one week before, one of the student nurses had been sent home, badly injured, after being gang-raped downtown, by who we were not told. We also were not told her name. We did not know which of us had been attacked in that way and was now home trying to convalesce, if indeed she ever could.

I knew right then the terror of the trapped. There was no way out. All I could think of was how to bear the agony coming my way, perhaps even to death, and what would happen to my darling girl, already living in an orphanage in a foreign country. What would happen to Lori?

I opened my mouth to say the words, “Please don’t kill me, I have a little girl.”

But before I could speak, the front door burst open, crashing against the wall, and a huge man stormed in, furious. Obviously, the landlord.

I have told you men, no women allowed in here. How many times have I told you?” he roared at them.

My “little, cute” friend quickly replied, about to be disappointed in losing his night’s excitement, “She just stepped in to use the phone to call a cab!”

The landlord yelled, “It doesn’t matter…” and so on. I did not hear the rest as I was already well out the door and heading fast up the street, as quickly as my high heels would carry me. I could absolutely not believe that I had escaped that impossible, nightmare situation.

Then I realized that they could come after me in a car and grab me, for they knew exactly where I was going. I would not escape if they did that, I knew for sure. I took off my high heels and scrambled down into a huge ditch that ran beside the road. Muddy and wet, I crouched and moved along down there as fast as possible. Then when I heard no traffic around, I would struggle up the steep incline to the road and walk fast in my stocking feet.

Down into the ditch, hiding for my life, at the sound of a car. Up onto the road again, running, terrorized, full of fear both for myself and for my baby girl.

Eventually I made it to the hospital gates, but I knew they could well be waiting for me somewhere up ahead behind any of the buildings I had to get past in the darkness. There were some staff houses on the right. I moved behind them and crept along, expecting to be grabbed any moment. The Nurses’ Residence was not far ahead.

Finally reaching the door of the Residence, I took my keys, looking fearfully over my shoulder as I managed to jab the key into the keyhole, not expecting to make it inside safely.

But the door opened and I was in, bolting the door behind me and hurrying to my own room. I felt, unreasonably, that they would be hiding, waiting for me there, somehow.

Eventually I fell into bed, mud and all, unwilling to dare the showers in the large, dark building.

At that moment, my brain decided to pretend nothing had happened. And for many years, I forgot all about the incident.

That’s the truth.

It was many years before I remembered it, back home in Canada one day, and I spent some time thinking about it. I still could not pin down why the little man seemed familiar to me. I could still see his face as clear as that evening in the pub.

One day, when I was 70 years old, my brother was visiting me. We were talking about our childhood and so on. Suddenly I remembered this incident again, and started to tell him about it. He listened, horrified, riveted and fully comprehending the horror I myself had felt upon discovering that I was trapped in the room with all those men, staring boldly and eagerly at my body.

It felt good to tell someone about it. But it was later that night, as I was falling asleep in the safe darkness of my bedroom, 70 years of age, forty-two years after the event, that my brain finally allowed me to recognize the cute little guy I had mindlessly trusted and followed that night in Inverness.

Kevin. It was Kevin. I remembered his last name. His brother, and his sister, married to a professional in town. His mother, long time member of the Baptist Church. She ran a Bed and Breakfast I had stayed in my first couple nights in Inverness before starting my training. I remembered the whole family.

And I remembered Kevin waiting on tables during breakfast at his mom’s establishment that long, long ago morning in 1971. That was where I had seen him, briefly, but long enough to know he looked familiar when I saw him in the pub, dressed to the nines and looking adorable…and entirely harmless.

A good member of the Baptist Church. Why was I surprised? The Christian Churches hide some of the worst abuses known to the human race.

I wondered if it was Kevin who had helped to gang-rape my colleague the week before they got me into their lair. I wondered why they were not caught. How they avoided suspicion. But why would the police suspect a fine, upstanding member of the Baptist Church? Not likely.

He had probably never been caught, looking so upright and innocent, so harmless and utterly charming.

And small. How could anyone so cute and small do so much harm? No, the police would never have looked at “our Kev” as I remember his sister calling him.

I thought about his sister, a fine and decent woman, whose life would be shattered if she had to face what her brother was all these years. If she were still alive. A lot of time had passed under the bridge since it happened. In fact, he himself might have gone on to his “reward” by this time, I thought.

I realized how much time had passed. Wondered at the ability of the brain to protect us by hiding information from us until it seemed safe to let us access different facts.

The brain is a strange and mysterious organ indeed.

I talked to our own police and followed their advice, which was to write to the Inverness police but not expect much.

Too long ago. Too little evidence.

But one result of “forgetting” the entire incident like that was that I went back to the Hayloft Pub one night several months later. We were, as usual, looking for Mr. Wonderful. So entirely had I forgotten what happened the last time I’d gone there, that I had not the slightest anxiety about re-entering that pub. There was not a lot to do on days off, and the pubs did a hectic trade.

 That night, approaching the end of my three years of training, I met my future husband for the first time.

 It was one of those magical moments. Standing around with the others, holding a glass of shandy, gazing around the room, I met the eyes of a sweet-looking young Scottish guy. He just had one of those appealing faces and his eyes twinkled irresistibly.

 I thought, “Wow, he’s cute.”

 I made sure I wandered over to the bar he was leaning on and within minutes we had a date.

 Chalmers was Inverness born and bred, a product of middle class parents. He was possessed of a great and gentle, easy going charm.

 A few days later I met his mother, an old fashioned Scottish lady, a widow. Anne’s home was supremely comfortable, solid as oak with a vegetable and herb garden in the back. Trained in her youth as a gourmet chef, she cooked with lots of butter, cream and salt…everything she made was delicious.

 I remember now with nostalgia entering her home for a visit; the fireplace flickering warmly, her old, heavy, comfy sofas draped with cozy blankets in case you wanted to put your feet up and get warm; and the sideboard, gleaming with furniture polish and well stocked with booze, but in a ladylike way.

 In moments, a crystal glass of sherry was placed in my hand and I could lie back against the cushions as delectable smells floated through from her oven.

 I miss Anne. Of course. Who wouldn’t??

 On our first visit to her home after our marriage in 1975, Chalmers grinned in a conspiratorial fashion at me and whispered, “I’m going into the kitchen to ask mum what she wants Lori to call her. She is going to love being called Grandma, you wait.”

 I didn’t question his judgment. I guess I took it for granted, like him, that Anne would love being a Grandma too.

 He came back into the living room, where I sat holding my sherry and gazing into the lovely fire. He looking tense and embarrassed.

 He said, “Well, mum wants Lori to call her Auntie Anne. So that’s what we had better do.”

 I hid my shock and dismay. Lori had had her fill of children’s homes where all the adults around her were Aunties and Uncles. No mummy, daddy or granny for those children in their day to day lives.

 Now, after all she had been through, she had to call this woman, who should feel so glad to have a beautiful little girl in her life and her arms, yet another “Auntie”.

 At that moment, my lower nature took command. From that moment on, I would never forgive Anne or trust her. I knew at once what was in her mind, and in the mind of her narrow minded, resentful sisters.

 One sister, Chalmers’s Auntie Betty, had lost her son to pneumonia years ago. She had been looking forward to Chalmers’s children to love as her own. Now she had this foreign child in their place. She had been most unwelcoming toward me after the marriage, and had me in tears more than once.

 I realized as soon as I heard the words “Auntie Anne” that they were going to wait for Chalmers’s REAL children before anyone would be calling Anne “Grandma”.

 Well, I thought. OK, Chalmers won’t be presenting you with any children, Ladies. I’ll make sure of that. My baby girl is going to be the only one you get. So you’d better start getting used to that idea.

And I never did allow myself to become pregnant with Chalmers’s child. I used birth control from that point on.

 But on the day I first met my future mother-in-law, that was still a long way down the road. When Chalmers first took me in to meet his mother, she was as warm and welcoming as the mom of any adored son could be.

 We came as a double package: the young Canadian mother and a beautiful little girl. I loved my daughter with a passion I suppose is common to most mothers, and it drove me, colored my life, filled my soul with joyful light.

 She was my candle in the darkness of life. She was all I lived for. Without her, I could not have gone on.

 There were few weeks that passed, however, that I did not think and dream about my first baby, now living in a farm-based family situation at home in Canada, growing up to be, no doubt, well domesticated, skilled in many useful things, and probably highly responsible as she grew into adulthood. She would be, at the time of my marriage to Chalmers, eleven years old.

 I often dreamed what it would have been like to have had the money to buy a present for her every Birthday and Christmas since I gave her up; of placing them in a special room and one day having the room stacked from floor to ceiling with gifts for her.

 I dreamed of finding her, showing her the room and watching her select the gifts and open them, knowing that this pile of gifts showed how much I had thought of her, yearned for her, loved her, down all the years.

 Of course, I loved both my girls. I yearned for them both, and both were denied me. Indeed, the fight to keep my second baby was still underway; I still had no assurance that I could meet her needs and put food on her table.

 What a sad life it seemed at times; yet, I must say, there have been few mornings in my life when I have not wakened to a new day full of expectation and a sense of excitement at being a part of Life.

 When I met Chalmers, he worked for a construction firm in the western highlands. He had no savings to speak of, nor did I. But we became engaged very quickly.

 Lori was thrilled. A daddy had always been high on her list of pleadings.

 “Will I EVER get a daddy?”

 Well, she was getting one, and a nice one too, I thought. It would be even nicer when the day came that his family accepted my little golden girl and thereby set me free to give Chalmers his own family at last.

 I graduated shortly thereafter from nursing and received my Registered Nurse pin. There were no jobs open just then in Inverness, so I went to Ross-shire where Chalmers worked and tried to find a job of any kind at all. I quickly got work at a local hotel.

 We were married out of that hotel on a beautiful October day, the owner’s wife and co-workers carrying out all necessary wedding duties in a spirit of kindness and celebration.

 There is something wonderful in the Highland Scottish soul, despite the limitations of living in such remote places. A hospitality, a wideness of spirit. I did not appreciate their type of kindness and friendship enough. This is what living in a strange culture is about; we have to adapt, and it takes a few years to get the hang of how other people think and feel about things.

 I look back and realize I was not as appreciative of their small generosities as I might have been. I was so involved in ensuring the survival of my little family and so stressed about everything. In addition, they have ways of inserting enough good fun into life (ceilidhs, for example) to cope with the hardships. I knew little about fun, could not dance, did not drink, and in many ways I just did not fit.

 But in retrospect, I realize how open-handed and open-hearted they really were. Of course there were exceptions, like Kevin, but in general, the people of the Scottish Highlands are exemplary human beings. Used to hardship on a level we in North America feel dismay at, and expecting far less from life than we do.

 I stood in the little church and took my vows with Chalmers, feeling numb. Everything was too much and too sudden. I needed time to recover from the ordeal of nurse training and get used to the idea of being qualified. Some quiet time to think what best to do. Even as I said “I do”, my mind was reeling with doubts.

 But, in order to give my precious baby the security she had never had, and a real live daddy, I was marrying this man, knowing neither of us was probably in love with the other — yet.

 Before the wedding, I removed her from Quarrier’s and brought her to the Highlands to meet Chalmers. We were living in a double wide trailer at the time. She and I were in the door and getting settled when Chalmers came home. I said to her, “Lori, this is Chalmers. He will be your new daddy.”

 Lori began to tremble. The trembling grew till she was shaking fiercely. Sobbing, she ran away and flung herself face down on the bottom bunk in her bedroom. I went to her, completely floored. Chalmers stayed back in the living room.

 Frantic, I pulled her up from the bed and whispered, “What on earth is wrong with you?”

I held her close, but she pulled away as if in terror.

The shaking continued. I had never seen anyone tremble in such a way. “No, no, I don’t want him to live with us.”

 Desperate, for I knew he could hear everything, I took her firmly by the shoulders, my small, slender, terrified little angel.

 “Listen,” I said. “If we leave here to be alone together, there is no place for us to go. Nowhere. We have no other home, this is all we have. I can’t do anything to change this. Chalmers is a really nice person. Give him a chance.”

 The shaking kept on. Chalmers entered the room, his face full of terrible compassion. “Let me hold her, dear,” he said.

 He put his arms around her and spoke gentle highland words to her. She shoved him away. He began to get upset and angry.

 He left us to sort it out. After a few more minutes, she settled down. What it took for her to trust me with this decision, I did not know.

 Deep down inside, I had a horror of what I might find when Lori decided to talk. I made one of those strange, inexplicable decisions. When she was thirty, on her thirtieth birthday, I would sit down and come right out and ask her to tell me what made her tremble with fear the day she met Chalmers.

 Clearly, things had happened at Quarrier’s…perhaps at the Alberta home, too, for that matter…that I knew nothing about. This was just the beginning my awareness that I should have been paying more attention to what went on with Lori in those institutions. This was the beginning of my looking back at events and seeing them in a new light, just beginning to understand what I had been looking at and did not recognize.

 Now, as I write these words, and twenty one years after her death, I find that Quarrier’s has become the centre of a ferocious storm over abuse toward the children. At the same time, Children’s Homes all over Britain are being brought to task as unspeakably shocking accusations are being made, of as many as one thousand children from a number of different Homes actually missing…no one has ever kept track of these children, no one knows how many were in the homes at any time…sex slave trade predators have been using certain Homes to populate their hidden places. Some children have been found dead.

 The tragedy has not been reported here in Canada; I cannot think why. Do we think such things never happen here?

 I will never know this side of the grave fully what happened to my innocent, gentle angel. But it was clear that something did. As the years passed, those things became clearer, but she never told me everything.

 However, Lori settled down and began to love her life in the Highlands with us. She entered school in a small, old-fashioned community where schooling included subjects unknown to my school years. One morning as I packed up her lunch, Lori said, “Mummy, today we are going to learn how to make a chicken ready for cooking.”

 My mouth must have fallen open when she continued, “We are going to learn to pluck it and clean it.” She seemed unfazed by this task, which would have distressed me as a child. In the world we had entered, many practical aspects of life were an important part of the learning curve.

 She came home that night and told me all about it. They had lit paper and burnt the leftover feathers off the hen. They had opened it up and cleaned it. I listened, astonished. Of course, the children didn’t have to kill the chicken…just get the little carcass ready for the oven. But still.

 As the years passed, and she moved up to what I would call Elementary grades, not only did she fit in, but she shone. Her best friend was the pretty daughter of a local hotelier from the Caribbean, and the two were inseparable for years. Lori was given responsibilities helping with the other children, acting as Class Monitor.

 She excelled in athletics and ran like a deer, loving the long running assignments in the countryside. Lori had almost no fear of physical injury. Whereas I was always a very cautious person, Lori threw herself wholeheartedly into all activities. It was as though she believed she was immortal, as though an injury would never happen.

 But when she entered High School, she had to go to a government-run school miles and miles away, boarding there by the week. I wrote a letter to the local School Board, begging them to consider upgrading the local school to a high school level, as there were lots of local children by then, plenty to populate a high school.

  However, it seemed that some of the teachers at the boarding school so far away were angry about my letter and the impending, perhaps, loss of their positions that would result. One of them, at least, took it out on Lori, even going to far as to phone me at home.

 I had not considered the impact on her, so far away at the boarding school, when I wrote the letter.

 We always expect other people to have generous vision and to be fair. That’s not always the case.

 From the day she went off to the boarding school, Lori’s demeanour certainly changed. The happy, successful girl vanished, to be replaced by a sad, brooding teenager.

 As I have said elsewhere, how I wish I had possessed some good communication skills in time to help with my parenting. Perhaps she would not have died… perhaps so many things.

But those things were far in the future as we entered into marriage.

Chalmers and I seemed to take it for granted we would fall in love eventually. It didn’t seem to be an issue. Chalmers had a pleasant, undemanding way about him.

 After a while, a friend offered us a piece of crofting land. Crofting is a land management system based on the old feudal days, with a Laird (owner, often absent) at the top of the heap, and the struggling crofter working the land, often with sheep, at the bottom.

 However, there were perks involved. Owning a croft meant you could apply for many grants and loans for business, for example.

 We decided to accept. We wanted to start our own business and have our own home.

 We applied for and got the necessary loans and grants from the government to build our home.

 We built a six bedroom home and then approached the government again for a separate loan to build a swimming pool and another room off the end of the house, for a spa.

 I had been wondering how I could use my R.N. away in the Highlands where Chalmers’s job was, and I had hit on the idea of a residential spa and spa, one which would take mandated patients from faraway doctors elsewhere in the U.K., patients who suffered from conditions like post-traumatic stress disorder or from addiction problems.

As it turned out, we cared for many clients from the south of England who had suffered various traumatic experiences and could not work anymore without further care. Families as well as doctors sent us addiction patients who did not want to enter the usual rehab centers. With all of these, we did our best to support, listen, offer healing ideas and a healing plan as they returned home, and of course carried out the usual medication procedures of all kinds.

 The property was a few steps away from a beautiful private beach and well out on the moors. Three or four houses were a short walk away. It was remote and gorgeous.

 With some persuasion, the skeptical Loans Officer who came out agreed to present our proposal to the Government office in Inverness. But even if they agreed, we still needed a lot of money for spa equipment. I phoned the bank.

 The local bank manager turned down my request flat. I was terrified, never having asked for a bank loan before in my life. Completely intimidated, I hung up the phone.

 Then I sat down and thought, “You are pathetic. Get back on that phone and tackle that bank manager.”

 When he came back on the line, I said to him, “Donald, you refused me that loan just because I am a woman. I am not putting up with that!”

 He replied, “Wait, wait, I never said you couldn’t have it! You can have it. But I want to see your facts and figures first. So let’s make an appointment.”

 The equipment loan went through, the government loans and grants went through, and we were in business.

 In the summer of 1978 we opened our eight-bed residential spa, after an advertising campaign in the southern news papers.

 As time went on, almost all our clients came from Glasgow and the south of England with a fair number from the Continent. Our rates were low, we tried to offer everything any basic spa would offer in addition to specialized patient care, and it was truly out in the middle of nowhere…there were no restaurants nearby where clients could cheat or find alcohol.

 Chalmers was wonderful with taking care of the spa equipment, the pool, the hot tub, the sauna on his days off. He worked full time in a construction firm and loved his work there.

 I kept my books carefully, but had no experience in either pricing or in book keeping. I made use of the basic double entry system I had learned during my secretarial training back in Canada when Lori was tiny.

 Anxious that I wasn’t charging enough, I tried to get advice from our accountant, a childhood friend of Chalmers’s. He explained that pricing wasn’t something in his purview, I needed to find a better mentor for that problem.

 Well, I never did find a mentor and I continued to charge very low prices. Clients loved it…they got to go far, far away from civilization, which is the first part of an adventure, and then they got to walk on a sparkling clean, untouched beach, roam the moors, smell a peat fire, and lose weight like mad.

Journalists were the most outstandingly satisfied clients…they mostly came for weight loss, and the inches and weight vanished off them like magic. They explained that it was due to their high stress, traveling, eating-and-drinking-on-the-run lifestyle.

 Running the spa was without doubt the most fun, happy-making and rewarding job of work I have ever done. It was the right work for the right time in my life.

 Chalmers was proud, I was happy, and his mother bragged to her friends. And Lori, of course, was blossoming in every area. Watching her heading out the front gate to the car waiting there each school morning, her little kilt swinging and her neat navy blazer spotless, her fluffy blonde head shining in the sun, I loved her so much I thought my heart would burst. Everything was working out so well.

 Having this new kind of life, a business person in a caregiving role and with a family as well, proved to be an absolute joy to me. In the first five or six years, in particular, before the burn-out, the fatigue, set in, as it must do eventually, I felt as though a woman buried deep inside had finally found a window through which to showcase herself to the world…”This is who I really am.”

In the autumn of ’79 I took the bus to Inverness and made a pilgrimage to a woman’s dress shop. It had been many years since my wardrobe had felt like an important matter. That day, I bought three outfits. I have no memory whatsoever of the two, but the third…oh, that dress. Without exaggeration, I can say that till I draw my final breath I will never forget that dress. When I saw it on the rack, I stood immobilized. It was every woman’s glamour-dream come true. I had never, indeed, seen such a frock in my life, except on soap operas like Dallas.

 It was a delicate mauve color, made of several layers of filmy material; very snug to the body, it clung to every curve. Across one shoulder swept a mauve frill in a slightly darker shade, and it traveled the length of the dress, diagonally, till it curved its way around the hem.

 I would probably never have any place to wear it but that was utterly beside the point. I knew if I left the shop without that dress, I would regret it forever. I could try it on at home and look at myself in the mirror, no one need know a thing about it.

 At home, I showed it to Chalmers, who curved his mouth downward and asked what was for dinner. I sighed. Such was life. Although I would never be the kind of woman who wore things like that, still, I could hang it in my closet and wear it once in a while and just let myself float away in a dream.

 A couple of months later, we were invited to one of the big events of the season…the annual Christmas party given routinely by a huge construction firm in the highlands.

 Having a limited experience of parties, I did not know what to expect. It was at a good hotel, and we would enjoy a great dinner, I knew that. I wondered what to wear.

Chalmers informed me that this was the BIG ego event of the year. Only the top people would be there from all the construction companies and related industries. The only black tie construction affair in the area, he assured me. It was the one everyone wanted to be invited to. And WE were invited!! He was thrilled, I could see that.

 I asked him what he would wear, should he rent a tux?? He snorted. “Of course not! I’ll wear what all the men will be wearing…a full kilt dress outfit, dagger and all.”

 Suddenly I thought of The Dress, hanging inside a plastic cover in my closet. YES!! This was almost certainly a function important enough to warrant taking out the mauve dream gown.

 As if that decision alone were not enough to make me a marked woman forever in our area, I added a further, even more major, misdemeanor. I decided to wear my long blonde Dolly Parton wig.

 Sometimes I am a real idiot. It is to be hoped that the years have added wisdom, however. I wouldn’t make that mistake again. Some other mistake, yes, but not that one.

Could it be that the REAL woman inside me had not yet found her window to climb out of? Could there be yet ANOTHER woman in there screaming to be let out?


 With total happiness, I prepared for the dinner dance. Beginning in the morning, I bathed, cleansed, moisturized, chose lipstick, packed my little overnight bag, got out my contact lenses, polished my gorgeous three inch high heels that made me as tall as Chalmers. Oh, I was going to be a knockout. My heart floated with pleasure as something inside me was given full, unhindered rein.

 At the hotel, we unpacked and got dressed for dinner. Chalmers went down a little ahead of time for a couple of drinks and came back up to escort me to the ballroom and dining area.

 I don’t remember him saying much, or doing much, when he saw me. He didn’t seem to be overwhelmed with admiration. He didn’t burst out singing, “You Look Wonderful Tonight”, one of my favorite dreaming songs.

 I knew I looked stunning, curvaceous, beautiful. No doubt about it. Well, anyway, I HAD to look PRETTY good, after all that moisturizer and makeup. Maybe not stunning, well, maybe not. I didn’t know for sure. The lack of response when he saw me was puzzling.

 However, as we moved down the hallway together, Chalmers in his swinging, sexy kilt and me in my Dallas gown and long blonde wig, I thought we made a fabulous couple.

 As we approached the doors of the ballroom, I could hear the strains of a beautiful waltz emanating from the small orchestra hired for the night, there to welcome us all as management and staff of all the area contracting companies. We were gathered for a true Scottish ceilidh and a dinner to remember.

 But once in the room, as we moved around the tables and the bar, saying hello to everyone, I realized in confusion that the other wives were all dressed in the same old dresses they wore to every other party and dinner we had ever been at. Buttoned up to the neck, dark colors, discreet dresses that could not be called “gowns” at all, some not even floor length. Little makeup. But tidy, very tidy. Neat, proper Highland housewives out for a modest evening of tatties and roast beef and a few reels and waltzes.

 Well, I had so blown it. I wondered why Chalmers had not said anything to me when I had showed him my dress that morning at home. When I told him I would wear my blonde wig, the sexy long hair I had been wearing the night he first saw me in the pub a few years earlier. He had loved it that night.

 But he didn’t love it this night. He moved coldly to the bar, turned his back on me and left me alone for the remainder of the evening.

 Still, I could not help loving the gown. I felt thrilled to be wearing it. The dress seemed to be alive, to have a life of its own. It had been waiting for someone who adored it to pick it up off the rack and take it home. It loved the whole thing as much as I did. We were meant to be together, the frock and I.

 For a while, following dinner, I sat at our table alone and watched the couples dancing. A local dentist and his slender, tall wife moved around the floor to a two-step, the pale blue layers of silky fabric she wore drifting around her like the wings of a fabulous bird floating on a high breeze. They danced like Hollywood stars. I could not get enough of watching them. It seemed someone of her stature, a professional’s wife, could get away with a gorgeous gown without criticism.

 I wanted to be able to dance. To move around a dance floor like her. She was so lovely, so fragile, in that elegant, floor length, glamorous creation.

 I did not dance, partly because I did not know how, and partly because no one asked me…especially my husband, still with his back to me, still standing at the bar.

 I looked around the room. Everywhere couples were seated together talking and laughing. No one looked at me, no one spoke to me. And suddenly I remembered the women in the church in Inverness… “Over here, only prostitutes dress like that.”

 And that was only when I was wearing my best church-going outfits!! What must they think of me in this high-falutin’ gear fit only for women of the night? And the wig!!

But nevertheless, my heart still swelled with joy at the dress I was wearing. This was who I was. This was the woman who would never see daylight in this lifetime, but I knew she was in there, waiting. Maybe another lifetime.

 Someday, in some world, in some century, I would whirl and float around a dance floor somewhere in the arms of a gorgeous, clever man who loved and honored me. I knew it. Not in this lifetime, but someday.

 Nothing they did, or didn’t do to me, that night, could touch the pleasure I felt at wearing that dress. I still feel such gratitude that I owned it, wore it, felt its beauty upon me.

 I never felt that way about an article of clothing before or since. Probably never will. Thank God I bought it that day in that little shop.

 After a couple of hours of sitting by myself in the middle of the room while everyone else socialized and drank, whirling to reels and singing Scottish songs, and looking at my stupid husband’s broad back at the bar, I got up and made my way up the carpeted stairs back to our room.

On the way, I lost my sense of direction, limited at best, there in the maze of hotel hallways, and wandered for about twenty minutes by myself in high heels before I found the right corridor. At about the fifteen-minute point, I began to feel distressed. I saw myself wandering forever, like someone on The Wreck of the Mary Deere, on the decks of this hotel, trying vainly to find my room. Never finding it, forever lost.

Forever lost.

Just as I approached our room, my feet aching, my husband appeared and quite cheerfully asked me how I was doing. I explained that I was rather tired and was going to hit the sack early.

He nodded as though that was fine and disappeared back downstairs to the bar.

I lay there in the overheated darkness of the hotel room, pondering the mystery of why the dress affected me so.

A few months later, a girlfriend asked me if I had ever worn the dress since, and I replied no, and probably never would have an opportunity to do so either. She blatantly came right out and asked me if she could have it for her sister, who was a well known ballroom dancer. I thought about it, and said “Yes.”

I would never be able to do the dress justice, and maybe she could. Besides, I had only needed to wear it once. That was enough. Its purpose fulfilled in my life.

However, returning to our home and business, I soon recovered my aplomb and regained my focus. The joyous business of attracting new clients was an ongoing challenge, and advertising was my obsession. Advertising was the lifeblood of the spa, and I understood that well. Leaving no stone unturned, I managed to interest a national Scottish paper in doing a spread of the spa, which came out with full color pictures of our equipment, our beach, our staff. It was great.

When a famous glossy magazine did an item on spas in Britain, they phoned me and asked permission to include our details. I delightedly obliged. We were becoming known!!

Some of our clients were millionaires. One Saturday, as we hurried around adding the finishing touches to the house for new guests arriving, a Rolls Royce drove up to our gate. I was thrilled. I had never seen a Silver Shadow before.

This delightful couple from Tyneside (north of England), were the most down to earth you could find. They had made their money collecting junk from other people and selling it.

Where there’s muck there’s brass,” he told me proudly.

Mick’s problem was the diet food. We offered a range of salads in addition to fish, chicken and steaks if they wanted. We did not offer tea or coffee because of the caffeine. Most of our guests needed to wind down, so we avoided any stimulants.

Mick couldn’t cope. He had to have his meat and potatoes and his coffee. And his beer. He argued me into accepting this unusual request, saying he didn’t need to lose weight, but his wife loved the salads, so she could have the diet food.

In the evenings he headed up the dirt road to the nearest pub for his evening pint.

There was something so lovable about him, it was difficult to be hard. Maybe it was the Rolls. I don’t know. I never yielded to any other client in all the eight years we ran the spa, however.


Posted in Child sex abuse and paedophilia, Creating Reality, Life Story | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Bill Alexander/Bob Ross painting course

In October I took four classes from a certified Bill Alexander painting course instructor. This method, known in the old days as alla prima or wet-on-wet, involves putting wet paint on wet paint, so an entire picture can be completed in a few hours. The colors are gorgeous, techniques make sense and I did turn out a picture on each of the class days…to my own amazement and disbelief. I now know that I can actually learn this stuff, so am set up at home and today getting ready to put brush to canvas, a frightening thought. If I keep doing this, I can say I have finally found something to do that will make me forget everything else around me, including the CNN news, to which I am normally addicted. The “everything else around me” includes food, which I have always loved, being a Goat in the traditional Zodiac and also in the Chinese Zodiac. As we all know, goats eat anything, including the washing on your clothesline if you forget to lock the goat gate. So it is my fond hope that I will lose a few pounds as I turn out pretty pictures.

Some students go on to make good money from home with this hobby, although the sheer joy if anyone offered me money for one of my creations would be pay enough. On the other hand, it’s nice to feel you have something of value to offer other people too. 

Did I hang my four pics on my wall in a WalMart frame? No. I am a novice, and I made that mistake about thirty years ago and won’t do that again. While operating my beloved spa in the UK, to which many well known and highly placed people actually came to enjoy the homespun atmosphere, I painted a pic of my golden lab, Paddy, and hung it over the fireplace where eveyone from the Lieutenant-Governor (Cdn sp) of Aberdeen and shopkeeping millionaires had to look at it. 

Not one of those graceful souls made any comment whatever about my novice effort. On the other hand, not one person said, Gee it looks just like her. Wow, you should take up painting for a living. Well, maybe that was a good thing. 

Each life has certain experiences that are best forgotten, but are always the hardest ones to misplace in memory. That is one of mine. Yes, there is more than one of those! I could tell you stories about embarrassing moments…some people call them teaching moments. Or opportunities for growth.

I am going to try to put my four pics here on the blog, but I am not sure I can do it, being technologically challenged. Here’s hoping.

Posted in Creating Reality, In Love With Life | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment



Yesterday, July 18, I had a telephone Reading from a popular and effective Medium. I’ll just mention the parts of the reading pertinent to this forum. You may have read about my brother’s retrieval and then how he has been caretaking a herd of horses over the past year. I had mentioned that I could not find my mom or my daughter in the park, and couldn’t figure out where they were.

My dad was in the Park when I first went there, I didn’t take him there though, someone else must have done so a long time ago. More recently I took my sister Lorna to the Park when she died last December.

Well into the reading,the Medium asked me, What is all this about Horses??? I replied I liked horses but didn’t know much about them. He said, your mom is here, she wants to tell you about the Palomino. Do you know what a Palomino is? I was not sure. He said, it is a Golden Palomino. I said, Like Trigger? He said Yes!! Exactly like Trigger!!

He said, your mom wants you to know she rides this golden Palomino. I was stunned!! My poor old mom, now full of vibrant good health, sitting tall and strong, riding a horse! A horse of her own, of which she was clearly very proud!!

At some point in the reading he mentioned the name Pegasus, the name of the legendary flying horse. I am guessing that is the name of my mom’s horse.

And then I remembered that my brother has been in charge of a herd of horses for a while, and I saw the connection!

I said that I had not been able to find my mom or my daughter since they passed, and I wasn’t sure they were even in the park.

He replied, your mom and daughter have been so busy doing things, they have not been around when you were visiting.

The other interesting thing is, he said, Your mom says, Your father is still a Pain!! I laughed but I was surprised. I had somehow thought when we moved out of body at last we left all our differences behind. Apparently not! I have visited my dad a few times over there, he lives alone I think with two dogs, though he spends a lot of time with his family.

The Medium said that my mom and my sister Lorna have been spending time together in order to try to resolve many of Lorna’s issues. She had a difficult childhood in some ways. She and mom were estranged for years.

Those were some of the highlights! Interestingly, today I happened for some reason to be going through a little box of ordinary jewelry, bits and pieces of stuff, and rediscovered a favorite ring I had not worn for a long time. It is a silver ring in the shape (quite lovely) of a beautiful horse, galloping along with mane flying! I was thrilled! That I should rediscover this ring a few hours after my mom telling me about her Golden Palomino!! I must try to find out what she has named her horse.

I was wearing it today when I went out for coffee, and couldn’t stop looking at it!! My mom felt very close to me.

My mom and daughter have asked me to consider writing the story of my life. I feel it is impossible. I have no idea how to do it. They said they would help. But I still can’t see how to even start. Or why they would want me to.

I am tired today. Sort of numb and very tired and just sitting staring at the wall. My precious cat has been missing since we moved house, I had hoped the medium could tell me where she is, but he said she might come home eventually if I keep asking her to return.

There is no way in life to keep from experiencing losses. It is so infuriating. Last week I was throwing chairs and stuff at my guides mentally and emotionally. I am surprised they are still talking to me. Really it is insufferable, that no one looked after my cat. Including me.

(Later on, some time after I wrote the above post, I had a message from my brother in The Park, telling me that my little black cat was tucked safely under big brother’s wing!! Nice, eh?? Wherever she is, she is not alone.)


 This is a simple, gentle and non-invasive way of helping those who are near death for long periods of time but seem to hang on and on, and in great discomfort and sometimes fear.

If you want to offer someone who is terminally ill reassurance that death is not to be feared, and that they are safe in letting go, this is how I, at least, go about it.

Many will find these techniques puzzling and unbelievable. Why? Because they are based in the power of the human imagination.

The power of Pretending cannot be overstated. If you are a student of the many metaphysical Masters offering all types of courses these days, you will realize that Imagining clearly what you want and pretending it has already come to pass, is a vital step in the manifesting process.

So it is with assisting the terminally ill.

There is no need to talk to the patient about this. If they are not interested, they will not join you, or if they choose to “hear” and “see” you and go with you to explore the Beyond, they will still make their own choice based on their new knowledge…that knowledge will likely remain buried in their subconscious and they will not discuss it, nor should you try to discuss it with them.

To attempt to intervene physically with words in any form, would be borderline illegal, unethical, and probably quite disturbing to the patient and family.

So this is a practice that takes place in your own psyche, silently.

You are connecting with the etheric body/mind of the patient on a non-physical level entirely.

This is what I do:

I decided one day to take my atheist mom, who had lain in hospital for years with a series of strokes, to The Park so she could explore it with me a little, perhaps meet her Guides and hopefully run into some of her own loved ones who had passed over.

One afternoon I lay down on my bed and went into a quiet meditative state. When I had opened my third eye and opened the tunnel (which is always there), I sought an area of the non-physical I particularly enjoy. This is an area which appears deep red and dark black, and which moves in mesmerizing, soothing waves that always take me deeper.

Not everyone accesses this particular area, it is just one that I like and try to visit often.

If you choose to practice entering the Afterlife via these methods, you will find other areas you like.

When I was calmed and my rattling, busy mind was finally quiet, I imagined myself standing at my mom’s bedside.

Taking her hand, in my imagination, I softly invited her to come with me for an enjoyable field trip, out of the body. I assured her she would return to her body at any moment when she wished to and that her body would function fully as usual while travelling with me.

Holding her hand, I gently tugged so she could easily move out of body if she wished to. These patients have always, so far, wanted to get out of their body and go somewhere more interesting.

As we moved away from the bed together, I said, “There is a lovely place called The Park where there are terrific rose gardens I’d love to show you. Let’s shoot over there for a few minutes.”

The next minute, I “saw” the edge of a massive landform in space. The place I usually choose to enter (although sometimes I do enter right at the picnic benches by the ocean instead) has an inviting, carefully tended rose garden with willows and pools, birds, and sweet perfume on the air.

Just like you’d imagine it!!

We step onto the path through the roses and occasionally we stop and smell the roses! The coral colored ones are my favorite, though the white ones are stunning too.

Then we access a grassy path/trail that winds around a low mountain from which we can look down on a small city. We can see buildings and temples, fountains, flowers, lawns, and people moving about.

There do not appear to be gas-powered vehicles of any kind in The Park. Perhaps they could be created, if you wanted one, I don’t know. No one has, so far, that I am aware of. You don’t need them to shoot around, of course. Everyone can fly by some kind of telepathy instantaneously. Just as I can while in that state.

If no one appears to talk with us as we move along the trail, then I head for the picnic benches and the ocean, where someone always appears for the patient who is with me.

At some point, then, as I continued this Pretending, Imagining the trip together, which is surprisingly easy to do, suddenly someone approached us. Someone I do not know, had never seen before. In mom’s case, I think it was one of her Guides. Sometimes it is a relative or friend.

They always know the patient and they are delighted to see each other. They always stand chatting for a bit and at this time, I excuse myself and make sure that this person will accompany the patient “home” back to their body with no problem when they are ready.

That is all I do. After that, I leave it alone and usually within three to eighteen months, they choose to leave Earth permanently and head to The Park, or to the person they met there that day.

There are two people I did this exercise for who have chosen not to leave. That is their prerogative, and none of my business. I just make sure they have the opportunity and the knowledge and reassurance they need, so that they know Death is not to be feared.


When I began this Quest, on July 30, 1989, when my daughter appeared in my apartment, I was a firm atheist. To be shown beyond all doubt that there IS an Afterlife and that people can travel to and fro, talk to us, continue on in their own personalities (not disappearing into the God force as some believe, thought that might happen by choice as development continues on) and that we apparently are IMMORTAL beings, these new awarenesses made an immeasurable difference to my life.

For one thing, I gradually realized the incredible wonder of being born…the gift of life…that it means that this personality, ME, not as I was in some past life, but me right now in the 21st century, this ME that is sitting here typing, will live forever.

By virtue of having been born of earthly parents, their feet made of clay, imperfect, flawed and wonderful all at once, just by that one thing, I have been placed in God’s star-sprinkled universe for all time. For some reason, I am that special, that beloved, that valuable.


The Me I tried to destroy more than once as despair overcame me at times.

That person could never be destroyed. I now realize that.

Those I love on Earth, and those I…have trouble with!

All are precious beyond measure, all are immortal, all reach and aspire and struggle to improve, develop, do better next time.

All are worthy of PUL…Pure, Unconditional Love.

I learned that animals, too, live on forever, despite religion arguing to the contrary.

My pets await me there. When my little old black cat passes on, her warm furry body and little paws no longer sleeping beside me in my bed, she will arrive on those beautiful shores where my brother, Tom, will be waiting to scoop her up and add her to the menagerie he already is caring for.

My brother, who disapproved of everything about me all our lives here on Earth, now loves me so much that he took special care to protect her when she was lost, and made sure that she was returned to me.

They were watching. They knew my suffering and sorrow when she was lost. They knew every scary dark night she slept alone under logs and hidden in deep brush.

By the way, one of the other things all this means is…There is no privacy!! Discovering this new aspect of Life, we know we might as well quit worrying about privacy. There can be no such thing on the metaphysical level.

So many things come with this new knowledge. When it is time to let go of physical life, how easy that will be, knowing that tomorrow I will be riding the little black mare my family gave me for a gift, waiting for me over There. Knowing I will be eating ice cream in The Park, watching the sun glitter and sparkle on that ocean. Knowing I can wrap my arms around my beautiful daughter, also now immortal…because I gave birth to her.

Knowing that, after all, Lori achieved her heart’s desire to get to know her family. To work in her chosen field, whatever that may be.

Knowing that after I release my breath at last, Lori and I can finally sit down together and have that conversation. I can ask her what happened in the Children’s Homes. I can ask her what troubled her. I can apologize for not being able to communicate better, to be a more perfect parent.

And I can see my darling sister Lorna again, now free of debilitating old age and memory problems, Lorna as she was, brimming with life, caring for others, protecting the weak and vulnerable.

Lorna, who also had to tread her learning path, growing in grace as she aged. Though when I remember her loving kindness toward me, her little sister, so many times when we were both young, before her disaster when she fled home, I find it hard to believe she ever needed to grow in grace. 

And she will have her beautiful auburn hair again, swinging when she tosses her head, and she will look as before…so lovely!

I will come to know my mother and father I never did while we were all here. Forgiveness, apologies, sorrow for my failings as a daughter, for my judgemental attitude, my unkind words I would dearly love to take back even now!!

And knowing that I can visit with them all, and others as well…old friends. Boyfriends I once loved and made love with! Old girlfriends I have not seen for years, people I have lost touch with.

Many of these will be in that area and over further experience (I hesitate to use the word Time) I will find areas where the rest are.

I will be able to sit in a beautiful natural setting under the Sun and Moon and talk and share and love all these people…and all my pets.

I wonder, sometimes, if Udo, the precious dog I so neglected, will be there. Or will he be with the family who lost him to the thief, Wilf Armitage.

And I, myself, will be young again. My waistline will be 26 inches again! Imagine! Whatever I wish. I will be able to run and jump over logs in the forest again, to play badminton, to sail without being seasick, whatever I want.

And I will be able to go to University and learn to paint and play music and argue philosophy…whatever I want. It’s all there. Actually, I hate philosophy, so maybe I won’t bother with that one. 

Everything people have created, are now creating even as we share this page.

One of my dear friends here on earth, who has now passed over, Garth, used to sit in his favorite chair here on Earth and put on music or a good movie…and channel it to his beloved wife and friends in The Park. He learned those skills after a great deal of work.

He used to set up a time and date to channel things he thought they might enjoy over There, and the notice would go round The Park…be at such and such a place at a certain time and Garth would be channeling some great movie or whatever. He told me there would be considerable gatherings for these events, and others, he said, did the same.

Well, to say that my Quest has been fulfilled is an understatement. I, the confirmed Atheist, learned far more than any imagination could have prepared me for.

There is no fear of Death when this knowledge enters. Of course, we all hope to die painlessly and quickly…preferably in our sleep. Except perhaps for a few brave and reckless souls who prefer to die “with their boots on”. Whatever you want.


Greyhound Bus:

I used to be going somewhere on the Greyhound bus, chugging along the highway, and I would be “daydreaming” that I was outside the bus, as though on a horse, and flying along, competing with the bus for speed, for the fun of it. And I used to think it was just a daydream although the sheer speed sensation was very delightful and real..but suddenly I would “see” what was about 4 or 5 miles up the road further, and when we got there…there it was, just like I “saw”. It used to puzzle me, because I didn’t feel like I had a body out there, but now I realize I was a point of consciousness. And in the retrieval the other day, flying over the forest toward the cliff where Kathy Carreira fell, I again had no sense of body though I was abruptly, suddenly, flying over the forest after struggling to get out of my body and do something. No sense of body, just a mind flying along.

Just off subject but interesting I guess, is when I was at TMI doing Gateway back in 2000 one of the things I saw in the darkness of the CHEC unit was one of the “Greys”. A great many people see the Greys. They are like people, but I guess from somewhere else in the galaxies…tall and slender, at least the ones I have heard about and seen, and bald heads…hairless people. I think when we see them we maybe aren’t seeing clearly or all the details but anyway, I was attempting to enter the Afterlife while in my CHEC unit that day and as I entered these buildings, I passed a desk at which sat a Grey, who looked at me very bored…they always know when students are incoming it seems. Other students that day also saw them and sometimes at home when meditating I would see one taking note of me in passing…I just don’t understand how all this is laid out, I mean it must be layers of reality or something. Bob Monroe and Bruce Moen both talk about the visitors who are watching earth’s events unfold (from a safe distance, it sounds like). So maybe they are assisting in the AL as part of our development.


This was one of the most memorable trips I have made while phasing or OBE’ing.

One day I was contemplating the Grays, who I have perceived once or twice while phasing or visiting the Park. They are frequently at an entryway office type of structure I have encountered while entering one of the Focus levels, I can’t remember which though. I am not good at knowing which Level I am at anyway.

One day I got the notion of daring to try to phase outward to a far off galaxy, to the original home of the Grays. I wondered what would happen if I dared to try such a thing. Some say the Grays are often quite crabby anyway. Well, so are we, to put it mildly!! That’s probably what they say about us I expect.

I was a bit nervous but I thought, hey, I never failed to return to my body yet. I’ll try. So I lay down for a while and thought about the two or three Grays I had seen while phasing previously.

I thought about the fabulous photos of the Milky Way I’ve seen, taken by astronomers. I imagined a faraway Galaxy by combining pictures of the Milky Way, imagery from Star Wars,  and other photos of faraway space which I have seen sometimes.

I also used the wonderful imagery from the movie Contact where Ellie approaches the golden world in the shining galaxy where she weeps and says “Beautiful…So Beautiful…I had no idea.”

As I pondered these images, I found myself suddenly in a very foggy image, which often happens to me in strange places where I can hardly hold onto the image, a lot of fogginess and vagueness, I was inside a private home of two of the Grays. I realized at the same time that this was imposing our cultural expectations on them and their planetary culture…namely, that of couples inhabiting a home and having a family.

I could only “see” the upper bodies and heads of the two grown up Grays. They seemed bemused and surprised but not hostile, angry or wanting to kick me out or anything. They seemed very patient…very like the Gray I have encountered at the Entryway to one of the Focus levels. A bit bored and like, “Oh here’s another one, they’re all over the place…well, it seems to be our job to be patient and try to assist…” They tolerated me in their “home”, if that was what it was.

I felt grateful and a bit vulnerable. After all. What would I think if one of them turned up in my home unexpectedly. As a matter of fact, two of them did once…at a very sensitive moment so to speak and I was furious and dismissed them (an adult and a child) without any apologies and admonished them never to do that again. Like, I have the power, right?

As I hovered in their home for a few moments, hanging on for dear life in case I lost it and zoomed back into my body, I realized there was a little Gray standing in the room over to the right. He (seemed to be a little “boy” to me) stood without fear, just looking at me. Maybe this happens quite a bit over there!! Us intruding, I mean. I was totally overcome to see a Gray child in his own home on his own planet.

(Was I really on his planet? Who knows?)

As I looked at him and looked with gratitude at the parents watching me without fear or condemnation, I suddenly and inexplicably yearned to take him in my arms. Knowing this was perhaps crossing a personal boundary and I might be in trouble, I moved toward him, knelt down in awe and adoration, and could not help myself, I drew him to me and held him tight. My face was awash in tears. I sobbed and could not stop sobbing. The emotion of overwhelming love flowed through me and into him in terrible gratitude and wonder.

A small life, a dear, precious little life, faraway on another star system. Life burgeoning, unstoppable, everywhere, unkillable, the force of love everlasting.

The parents and the child accepted this unplanned demonstration of LOVE quietly and calmly, but with some anxiety, I felt, too.

I let go of the child, turned to the parents, and then suddenly I was back in my body. WHAM.

I lay there with my face wet with tears for a while, feeling my whole body impacted with the force of the emotion I had felt, the love I had poured out to the child.
The gratitude and awe.

Then, feeling sure I had imagined the whole thing (I mean, really, of course I imagined the whole thing! I still think so!) I reached for a special set of tarot cards I keep by my bed, it’s a set by Rae Hepburn, Tea Leaf Fortune Cards, and shuffled and selected a card, asking, Was that experience Real, or did I just make it up?

The answer came in the form of the card :

Handshake – A meeting with a Stranger Could be Important.

It showed a picture of two hands reaching out across outer space, from a planet with a moon in a crescent shape to a far-off planet with a round moon. The hands reach out through galactic clouds and far distances to shake in comradeship across vast spaces.

I cannot tell you how I felt when I drew that card. I felt blown away and frightened, humbled, having partaken of an event I was not developed enough to understand.

I have never forgotten the little Gray child. Or the huge ocean of emotion that poured through me to “him” (if it was a “boy” in fact.)

I have never posted this before because it seems so Far Out!!


There was a situation in which I used angelic beings once several years ago, and the result was unbelievable. A violent, abusive, hopeless situation was totally healed for about ten days straight, because the house became filled with angel beings who also hovered over the house and filled up our hearts. Everything in the house changed for about ten days.

I remember looking at the evidence that this could be used continually to keep healing the situation, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe I deserved this help. I was embarrassed to keep asking. Of course it rapidly deteriorated after a while back to the same old, same old.

But I never forgot the incredible transformation in the behavior of the abuser with all those angels around. Proving, he needed love very badly and was getting it from them. When my confidence wavered, he lost his source of love energy…it was up to me to keep it coming.

So then, when I think about all this, it seems to me, we have, like, a TOOL to use and we have a responsibility to use it, often, for healing of difficult and painful situations we encounter for ourselves and others. It seems there is no limit to the number I can call on, that night, I called “Calling All Angels, Calling All Angels” and imagined hundreds of them coming in to caretake our home.

So that is probably just the use of conscious awareness of LOVE and using it to make things better.


There isn’t much left to tell you. Well, I’ve kept a few secrets, of course. Some, just because they are ordinary boring stuff and some because, well, there is a limit to the amount of personal exposure we are willing to brave.

It is, I think, unattractive to expose too much. A little mystery must be held close to one’s chest.

But if you have read every page of this tome, you know me as well as my very best friends do.

You will have disapproved of things here and there no doubt. I have avoided dwelling on various boyfriends who turned out to be meaningless relationships, and whether I should have let them into my bed or not. I have avoided talking about my two abortions, painful but necessary experiences in my own opinion.

For those who fiercely disapprove of abortion, I must mention that, as far as I can ascertain at this point, if we are choosing to re-enter Earth’s challenging atmosphere yet one more time, and the parent of our choice decides to renege on the unspoken contract by choosing abortion, we simply select another suitable parent, one who is more committed to the baby experience.

There is no trauma to the soul/spirit of the unborn child in abortion. They have a massive pool of possible parents to select from, and not only parents, but countries, cultures, religions, body types, genders, disabilities, whatever you can think of. The opportunities are endless for a soul seeking re-entry.

(On the other hand, I can think of some testimonies I have read from people who have had Near Death experiences, and they discover, to their great surprise and happiness, that they have children over there, who are growing as the years pass into adults, in the afterlife…having been aborted for some reason or other. So, I don’t know about the discrepancies here, just more stuff that I don’t understand.)

The discovery of personal Knowns, replacing personal Beliefs, which you will discover if you pursue this path of Afterlife Knowledge, will challenge a multitude of your approaches to life as well as death.

So immense can this experience be, that sometimes we need counselling and much time to adapt to all that this new field of knowledge carries as its vast, curling wave sweeps toward the shore of our established cultural life.

There are so very, very many of you out there, who cannot imagine living a life like mine, so full of change and challenge. Who have lived lives full of quiet common sense, good judgement, sound parental training for life, and steadily managed investment funds.

Some of us find ourselves as babies, born onto a wild beach with thundering tons of water pouring around our little ears as we began a lifelong gasp for breath that never seems to end.

And we make it through somehow, and discover the wonderful nature of life, no matter how difficult.

I prize my daughter’s life, being lived to the full and beyond…somewhere I cannot go, not yet. Somewhere different from this in many ways, but so much the same in many ways, too.

And when I remember her unexpected, life-altering appearance in my apartment that day, July 30, 1989, one year after her “death”, I recall how I troubled myself …did she have her hair cut the way I liked it, or was she still wearing it with her bangs (fringe if you’re British) in her eyes?  After she disappeared, I could not remember. But looking back over those years, so many years now, I think she had her bangs cut…I think.

Next time I saw her, caring for a wounded soldier who had yet to understand that he had died…I was pleased to see that she looked thoroughly professional from the top of her golden head to the tips of her spotless shoes.

Once a mom, always a mom.

That’s the way it is, folks.

P.S. It’s always the right time to begin again.

PPS: The Medium I mention in the book has passed away.

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APPENDICES: The Art of Rescuing Stuck Pilgrims


Young Woman Falls Over Cliff in Winter

Beginning my retrieval session, I settled down quietly, closed my eyes and moved into Focus 10, then 12, then 15. I offered to assist any Guide who could use my help with any deceased and “stuck” person.

after a long time, I finally was flying over a vast forest, I felt scared, it was really, really wild country and far from any place I knew. Then I saw and “felt” that I was scrambling for balance on the very edge of a cliff, the edge of the cliff was giving way, I couldn’t get my balance, I sort of tripped or something, and then I was a long way from the cliff and watching as someone fell and fell and fell, the mountain side was sheer and thousands of feet to the bottom. There was snow, it was wintry. I floundered around there in the air far above the scene for a few minutes, blocked by something, could not move downward, but struggled against the block and suddenly I was actually already down on the ground looking at a frozen figure, cloaked entirely in ice. It was sitting upright, its arms around its knees, its head half down, dejected and lost, very bewildered and very very cold. The ice was so thick it felt like I could not get through to the person but I approached and said, “Hello” and spoke very firmly and said they should get up, get to their feet, I would help them up.

The figure got up and suddenly the ice was gone and I could see the person, it was a woman dressed for the mountains, a young woman, perhaps in her thirties, she said her name was Kathy. Kathy Carreira. She was blonde with green eyes. I told her she had passed out of her body (hard to lie under the circumstances) and she flashed a furious look at me, she was very hard, this girl, athletic hard I mean, solid as a rock, very fit and healthy and very smart and no-nonsense. A lot of confidence, beyond my own experience.

She had on some sort of brown outfit, warm and expensive and made for adventures in rough places. The outfit also had leather belts, like around her waist, a wide heavy leather belt, a heavy leather strap going up over her shoulder, and so on, I don’t know the purpose of the leather strapping she wore. She was quite beautiful in fact and definitely an intimidating woman, used to power. I tried to behave confidently and kept hold of her arm and guided her out of the woods and took her to The Park. At this point I don’t know any place else to take people. She was indignant but didn’t know what to do but obey me. She was a bit confused but not about to take any nonsense from anyone either. I moved quickly because I knew if I fiddled around and tried to persuade her much, she would refuse to go with me.

I got her into The Park and, to try to help her understand she was dead, but in fact, still alive in a new but real sense, I asked her to stop for a moment and I lifted a rose branch toward her. “Smell these roses”, I said. “They’re great.” They were white, heavy, old fashioned roses. She smelled them and said, “They smell wonderful.”

We moved toward the Picnic Area and as we moved down the path to the benches and the people, a man stood out from the crowd, a dark man with a moustache, handsome and again, definitely a dominant, confident type, but very gracious, and moved toward us and said “Kathy!” She immediately moved away from me toward him, saying “Uncle Fargas!” (A name I have never heard in my life). I left her in his care and as I turned around and hurried away back down the path, I heard him say “Tell me what happened”.

If I had to extrapolate further on the experience of meeting her, I’d say my “sense” of Cathy was that she was some sort of police person, like FBI or something and was working when she fell. That is just a sense, and probably because she was a powerful young woman in herself and accustomed to being in control of things.

What I didn’t say was that as I flew over that forest and felt like it would go on forever, and felt a bit scared, I was relieved to catch sight of a wide clearing in the forest and a cabin away off in the distance, and then suddenly I was in that body trying to get my balance on the cliff edge, and my feeling is she had been staying in that cabin.


 In the distance there is a factory town, smoke coming up into the sky from the chimneys. There is a little boy riding in the back basket of a bicycle. He looks about 4 years old. Lots of traffic driving by fast. A man is on the bicycle. I don’t see what happens.

The little boy is suddenly somewhere else in space. I can see galaxies in the distance and possibly the Milky Way. He seems to have been knocked right out of his body by something. He is still in the basket on the back of the bike but I can’t see the front of the bike any more. I reach out my hand and put my hands under his arms and lift him out and put my arms around him.

He seems quite shocked, he is not fighting me.I get the name Foi. We are now in a home somewhere in China, a Chinese woman is preparing a meal, his mother I think, a square sturdy table with a white cloth on it, she is at the stove, she does not know what has happened. I have the boy with me.

An elderly Chinese man enters through a wall in the kitchen, he has a long beard and a brown robe, like pictures of very old Chinese men that you see, and he seems to be a relative of the boy’s, he approaches us and indicates, without words, that I should give him the boy, the little boy seems to know him and his face lights up, maybe a grandpa or favorite uncle, and he lifts the boy up lovingly and with serious expression on his face, and leaves via the wall with the child. I am left in the kitchen with the mother cooking the meal, she is unaware of anything being wrong.

Soon someone will knock on her door with the unwelcome news.Wish there were something we could do to assuage the incoming grief of those left behind.


OK, I think it is downtown NY, I recognize up the street the Nasdaq sign that I see on the news sometimes. Some guys have come out of a restaurant, some are fighting with others in the group, a guy is being pushed by the others, on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, the one guy is wearing a tight black sweater, young, maybe late 20’s, Asian, good looking guy, maybe Korean or Taiwanese, someone grabs his arms, pins his arms behind his back, he is furious and wants to just have a go at this other person, I can’t see the other person, I seem to be way up high in the sky on top of a skyscraper looking down at this, they are out in the street in the traffic, yelling at each other, a yellow cab and another car both hit him at the same time, he is lying in the road, in the street. I don’t see anything else yet.

OK there is a policeman on a motorcycle just come up, more than one, two I think, there is a bus has had to stop, a busload of people, traffic tie up. I see this guy, he is scared, he is out of his body, very aggressive, can’t see who I am but wants to take a swing at me too, he feels very aggressive, he doesn’t understand what is going on.

For some reason he is sitting in a vehicle and he is wearing some kind of helmet. He is in a racing car, I think he is a racing car driver. Maybe professional, maybe not, drives cars for testing purposes or competitions. He climbs back out of the car and throws his helmet down in disgust, he can still see me there and I really don’t know what to do, you know, he does not welcome my presence at all, doesn’t seem to understand that anything has happened to him, he is sort of rubbing his forehead now, looking around, one hand on his hip, looking around, rubbing his head, looking at nothing, we are in a black place.

Someone has appeared, thank goodness, a light person, my first experience of seeing a light person in a retrieval, a long stream of light, and an arm is sort of out, like, you know, sort of stuck his thumb back over his shoulder, like a hitchhiker would, like, come on we are going that way, to the guy, and the guy is not looking at me now, he is focussed on this light being, the guide is speaking to him in a very familiar relaxed way, seems to be someone he recognizes and the guide is smoking a cigarette and wearing some sort of cap and wants him to go with him and he forgets all about me and steps out in step with the guide and now I am, for some reason, still present with them and entering a building somewhere, a sort of military seeming place.

I am not needed any more but being taken anyway, being taken along for the ride, entering the building up in elevators, men with rifles, at attention, military place and yet this guide is not exactly super-military looking kind of guy, our guy is looking around nervously, saying what is up, where are we? And they stand looking out the glass sides of the building, outside you can see either a dam or a huge waterfall, maybe a dam, we could even be in a control building for a large dam in a dictatorship country, I don’t know where this is, don’t know if they still want me to be here, um, the guy is kind of scared, obviously he is in trouble of some kind and he is expecting to be in trouble.

I am just going along to see what is happening, there is an awful lot of testosterone in this building! You know, I think this is Korea, I think his friend has taken him to a place in Korea that he knows, this is certainly a military regime, soldiers all over this building, he is being told to sit in this chair, he obeys and sits down, I think he is on trial, he expects to be in trouble I think, there he is, he is on trial, a courtroom here, going through some sort of process, he seems to expect this, reason he was fighting in the street, trying to get away from kidnappers to avoid this very thing, fighting to escape from them, facing charges, this is what he expects, doesn’t know he is dead, doesn’t know what is going on, a courtroom, men at a long desk in front of courtroom, a military person, man, approaches him with a sword, he is holding the sword on his hands, like, the sword is resting on his two hands, the hilt on the outstretched palm of his right hand and the end of the blade on the palm of his left hand. They present him with the sword, offer it to him and it is quite clear he is to despatch himself, execute himself instead of being executed.

He is very upset, overcome with despair and terror, leaning forward toward the floor, leans down, one hand touching the floor, and I see that he has been beheaded. He was already dead but for some reason, he created this out of his own expectations but he has been posthumously executed if that is possible and I was allowed to come along for the ride and see this strange event, now he is dead and he understands at last that he is dead and was executed. That is quite convoluted.

I am seeing a long, long, long rope bridge, quite impossible, stretches from one mountain across a huge chasm to another mountain, streams of Asian people going across it, we are in a place he expects to be, I wonder why they go to so much trouble for one person when there are obviously kazillions of people out there who are stuck and need to be retrieved, why spend so much energy on each person, anyway, who knows, I am quite tired out.

These people must be going from C1 (our current state of consciousness) to the Afterlife, but this bridge exists in his own mind after he has been killed, this is where he goes so he is creating all this. And he understands he is dead and he died in the way he thought he would die. My brain Interpreter is getting in the way. Now I see a stained glass window and a towering cathedral…I dunno…time to quit.


 I am seeing an old deserted mine on a rather bare hillside somewhere. The shaft is sunk into the mountainside and I see a long metal channel leading from the shaft down to the ground, which would have carried all the mud and dirt etc down from inside the mine. On the left side of the shaft a fence made of fence posts and wire comes down the hillside marking the mine boundary or something.

I am seeing various forms of bird life, small birds and large birds of prey, indicating difficulties encountered by the bird life due to the mine’s operation. This scene reminds me of the Zorro movie where they have all these captives working in the mine as slaves. The focus I am getting is the need for a hero to ride to the rescue.

Now I see a log boom and the sky above the log boom is full of northern lights, flashing and dancing in the sky. For some reason.

Now there is a circular shaped elevator which took men up and down the mine shaft. I see a slide has occurred inside the mine. There are signs of a slide right near the elevator shaft.

I am outside looking up at a high cliff. Mesa is the word that comes and over top of the mesa comes shooting through the sky,a shooting star or else a flare.

I see a man with a pickaxe beside him, sitting in the mine near the slide area. He is a rugged looking guy, sitting among the dust and rubble of the slide, coughing. He wears muddy trousers, covered in mud, and an old checked shirt, twisted around on his torso and the collar hanging open toward his left shoulder.

And there is an old fashioned train on a track which runs cross-ways from the front of the mine, some distance from the shaft and the train is waiting there, got one of those old boiler stacks or something, on top of the locomotive, waiting for a load or someone, or something.

Now foul weather. Sky is overcast, high winds, lashing rain.

I am seeing inside the shaft, the man sitting there with his breath heaving, he is exhausted, one of his legs is possibly broken, he sits with one knee bent up and the other is straight out. He is either exhausted or in pain, can’t tell which.

I can see down the tunnels, I can see there is a little track inside where the trolley comes and goes to deliver the “stuff” they have mined up to the shaft.

Does the mine have a name I ask? All I get is the word Lea.

(In looking up mine disasters and trying to find the name “Lea” the only mine I can find that sounds like that is LeHigh Mine Disaster of 1912. Don’t know if this is the correct one or not. But here is the link if you are interested to read about it: http://www3.gendisasters.com/oklahoma/12551/lehigh-ok-coal-mine-explosion-feb-1912)

There is a bit of light where he is, I think the lamp on his hardhat is still working. He is aware that someone is with him, namely me, but he seems to be drifting into unconsciousness, struggling to remain awake.

I see a flying horse come out of his dreams, his mind, a horse with wings, a beauty, it has flowers braided into its mane. In the darkness of his mind, it stands beside him on the floor of the shaft.

He is looking at this horse, thinks it is the horse he had as a boy, come to get him. He tries to get up but can’t because of his leg and I watch as he just rises out of his body, leaving a shell behind. He stands by the horse in spirit, so happy to see this horse, talking to it, he gets on the horse and they just streak off and I am with them to see what happens.

Looking at his body left behind in the mine, which has still got some life force left in it, and his eyes are shut, he breathes with difficulty, I think his ribs are broken, his body is failing fast now.

I see he has died, his body has died.

I see the mine shaft, resembling a tomb with a gravestone rolled in front of it.

And now there is a fire in the mine shaft, clouds of black dirty smoke pour out, it is a real fire in the mine.

I would like to know where the miner has gone on the horse.

The miner has taken on the form of the boy he once was, riding his horse once again, chosen this age immediately to be the boy riding his beloved horse again. I am with them, want to see where they go.

They are galloping around a globe of the world in a miniature sense, like the horse is a carousel horse and in the middle of the carousel is a big globe of the world, looking at the continents and cities as they go, in his imagination, when he was a boy he used to dream he was riding his wonderful horse all around the world. He is reliving that fun.

Here is a cottage. Nice little house. Got a little creek running in front of it, a wooden bucket there by the ditch/creek. You have to walk across a little bridge to get in the front gate, and it is all well and solidly made of stone, a good solid fence in front of the house and a vegetable garden, some sort of granite or stone in the fence posts at the gate, a little paved walk to the front door.

I see there is this gleam of blue white light in the house now, the miner in spirit in his house, no longer with the horse, horse has vanished, he is in the house, His children are asleep in their beds, he goes into their rooms and looks at them, I feel the warmth and orderly coziness of this house, he goes into their bedroom and watches his wife asleep in their bed, he thinks of their wedding night and the start of their lives together and how much they love each other, grappling with the sadness of having to leave them. I see an image of a white envelope on the bedside table with a red wax seal on it, he has put it there, an image or symbol, like a certificate inside it, that they did well, that they lived well and did good things and had a good life together. (I have a sense that the envelope contains something, perhaps a Will, that will benefit her.)

I see him looking at the house wondering what she can get for it on the market. He is just standing there. I see a bright light approaching him from the wall by the window, a bright light, he thinks about the diamond ring she wears, he thinks of the diamond and that it is forever, and he thinks of the diamond itself, and he looks at the light and thinks, I am going into a diamond, I am going into forever, and he hears the room full of music, coming from where the light is by the window, he is moving into a tunnel, a light tunnel, being swallowed up by the light.

And his memories of the mine and the mine shaft float through his thoughts as he moves into the tunnel of light, and he thinks of how dark the mine was, and how bright this is, a different kind of tunnel and he is comparing the two, and thinking about his horse, and I see him now on the other side, he is in a green, soft beautiful valley, with rising hills all around, he is up on one of the hills overlooking the valley on a horse, black and white patches, horse stands switching its tail contentedly, he is looking at the valley at the world he has created in the valley, a beautiful place and it strikes me how immensely courageous we are that we move out of all the hard work we have done with our lives here on earth and move cheerfully and readily into a new world and find ways to accept the past is the past and others must go on without us, and we wish to create something new and we go forward with our hearts in it, and we put our hearts in it, and

Wherever you go, Go with all your heart, and that is what he is thinking as he looks at his valley, and you must go forward with all your heart and without resentment and without arguing, and he is contemplating how easy it is when we move forward without fighting or arguing over what we must leave behind and how hard it is when we fight and argue and fight for the past to come back and that Life is not Meant to be a Struggle, and we are meant to move forward to betterment and more expansion all the time and it is the nature of things. And the tape ran out..

And this miner was/is a real philosopher…must have been a reader, a thinker in this life. Regret I did not try harder to get more of a name.

(After completing this retrieval, it struck me how often horses seem to play a part in The Afterlife and the fact that I have never seen an automobile or any gas-powered engine there yet. Wondering about that.)


I intended to go to the Australian fires or Oklahoma tornado or something obvious, but upon asking where I might be of help, I found myself standing in a used car lot somewhere, could see the rows of cars and the plastic pennants flying in the wind.

Then suddenly I was looking out the back window of a quite-nice car, and we had just exited a tunnel somewhere in a big city, it felt like. As I watched, the tunnel receded into the distance very quickly and I felt the car was just flying along at great speed, much too fast, but very smoothly. I knew I was a young person.

Then I saw the back end of the car upside down on the roadside and knew we had crashed, not surprisingly. I saw a young man’s body with legs hanging out of the back side window and I was inside the etheric body of an adolescent boy looking at the mess and at my body.

I thought with anguish, Oh no, I had so many plans. I was going to do so much. There is so much to do…I have to get back somehow. Then a great light expanded down from the sky and he looked at it, and was enveloped in it and was drawn gently up into a bright place.

But the awareness that he had lost his chance to do so much drove him back, and he turned and “fell” back to the earth, beside the crashed car. He made a conscious decision to go back to his school, where he had friends, all of whom were working together on some valuable project.

First of all, we were in the Chem Lab. He stood looking around at the empty classroom (weekend) helplessly. The he moved to a different room, forget which one it was. He was so frustrated and a very, very intelligent kid. He just wanted to work, to make something wonderful with his intellect and his huge motivation. Now it was all lost, all over. He was anguished. He thought about his friends who would need him on the project. He was powerless and frustrated.

He was dressed in a nice smart wool gray jacket of loose, knubby knit and gray trousers. Not a uniform, but for some reason, dressed that way for this day with his parents or parent (out in the car).

I moved toward him, suddenly aware I could do something at last. I touched his left arm, he was standing facing me, looking around the room.

I pointed out to him a scene that was developing behind him. As he turned to look, a lovely image of an old, weatherbeaten country fence appeared, one of those kind with two pieces of grayed wood horizontally and some stuck and nailed vertically, making a kind of casual fence, easy to climb over. There was a meadow beyond the fence, lovely, and behind the meadow a bright yellow, yolk-like sun arose above the earth.

I said to him, You know this place, Spence. I knew his name was Spence or something like it. You used to visit this place. Where is it?

He said, That’s my Uncle Oggie’s farm. I used to go there and play in the meadow by myself when I was young. He indicated the farm was not far from where they had been living.

As we looked, I saw a figure clad in a dark outfit, with dark hair, approaching across the far side of the meadow. Guessing it to be Spence’s Guide, I ignored him and turned back to Spence and said something like:

“You had a great future here on earth, and you had planned so much. You have an enormous, generous heart that throws out vast fields of electromagnetic energy to all around you. You have a great intellect and huge imagination.

You wanted to work with your friends to do a specific thing in life. But because of your strong motivation to do good, and your maturity, higher powers than you and I have decided that, if you are willing, you can do so much more for the world from a higher level frequency. It means giving up your physical body and adopting a more highly tuned one…one that will match your high level motivation and dreams more effectively.”

“Spence, can you deal with that, or are you determined to stay in the physical?” I asked him.  He stood looking at me and at his classroom with regret and confusion on his face.

How did I know to say these words? They were somehow transferred from the Guide’s mind to mine and out my mouth, as I was surrendered to assisting in this retrieval.
This boy had been wandering stubbornly around his school for perhaps years, unaware of the passing of Time in this realm.

At that point, the approaching figure stepped up to us. I could see that the Guide/Teacher had chosen the costume of a SuperHero for Spence’s transition.

His costume was black and grey and very official looking. He looked like a Superhero.

He did not touch Spence’s arm, but just stood in front of him, gazing into his eyes.

“Well, Spence,” he said, “what’s it to be? You can stay here and operate at a lower frequency and do certain good things. Or you can come with me and be my student, and we will show you how to do infinitely more good for the World and everyone in it, from the higher realms. You are needed at that level more than you are needed here. What’s it to be?”

The next moment, Spence, riveted on this dramatic, confidence-inspiring guy, made a move to reach out to him. They two of them vanished before my eyes.

I thought of Luke Skywalker! We have all these new archetypes in our subconscious nowadays, thanks to the great writers and directors of Hollywood in recent years…wish there were more of them today.


This morning, May 12, I offered myself if I was needed to help anyone.

This is what came through:
First thing I see is a deluge of water pouring down a steep hill, it is dark out, I can see the white, churning water ahead of me and it is pouring down beside a metal fence, chain link type of fence, I am standing looking at a corner of a yard, and beside the fence on the outside is a very narrow path, I follow the path uphill, quite steep uphill and come to a break in the path, there is before me a deep chasm, looks like the earth has fallen away and taken about half or two thirds of the house and property with it, leaving the front bit intact.

I feel nervous about the chasm, asking myself, is it an earthquake? Or an explosion? Maybe a volcano erupted? Or is it war, and this was a bomb that was dropped? I can’t figure it out. There is no one around that I can hear. It’s very dark, no moon but by starlight I can see quite a bit.

There is no way to go except over the fence, so I grab the mesh on the fence, hoping everything will hold and not collapse with me under it, and over I go landing on the other side. I don’t know how secure this piece of ground is. No idea where I am in the world.

That water rushing down hill maybe was a break in a water main or in a dam.

There is a man, I’m given the image of a man hanging on to the fence along the front of the property, his feet dangle over nothingness, he is trying to hang on and not fall into the abyss that has opened below the edge of this property.

He is dark haired with a dark beard and dark eyes, a big strong man, he reminds me of Fiddler on the Roof in his appearance and dress. Wears dark trousers and grey vest over a cotton light blue shirt, the sleeves billow out in the wind that is blowing. He wears black heavy-soled lace-up shoes. He is hanging on by one hand, then by both. He is afraid.

At first I think he is the one I am to retrieve, perhaps he fell and died.

That imagery passes now and I am being shown that when this thing hit, I am being shown there was a light strafing through this area and it moved around all over and brought harm with it, maybe a war zone, an explosion of some kind that split the property in two and actually left the one part of the property collapsed at the bottom of a newly created cliff.

This imagery is passing and I am being shown that when this happened, the family was moving to the table, I smell the warm supper smells, see the tablecloth on the table nicely, I can see stencils of red flowers have been painted on the table around the edges, there are painted boards around the table edge and they are decorated with these colored stencils, red, large flowers. The table cloth drapes over the sides of the table a bit, but at the ends, it just fits the table top and reveals the stencilled decor at the ends.

There are platters and bowls of food for a good sized family on this table. I see hands placing these containers of food on the table, I see a bowl of mashed potatoes, can smell peas, like pea soup, a dark roast of some kind on the table too.

I am being shown an aerial view of the city, looking down on the city somewhere in the world, thousands of feet up, looking down. A port city on the ocean, being shown some kind of cement block setup, there is a dock thing jutting out and the piers are joined along the ends, almost like a ladder effect looking at it from the air.

As I am looking down at the aerial view, I can see far away below little blue lights happening like small explosions around the pier area, coming from the water underneath. I don’t know what those are.

Now they show me a garden gate, the gate opens. A lady steps through the gate, wears a white dress and white bonnet, very dress up material, stiff and crisp billowing white fabric in layers with cotton and silk petticoats underneath, a wide pink sash around the waist and a bonnet on her head shaped like the kind of bonnet you see in fairy tale figures, tied in a ribbon under the chin.

The sleeves of her gown are puffy where the fabric meets the shoulder and it puffs down to the elbow, where it is less puffy down to the wrist. At the shoulder area, where the fabric comes away from the neck to meet the shoulder puffy fabric, there is inserted a crisp, starched piece of heavy lace which juts up high in a curve around the shoulder, very nice.

She is very pretty, short looking dark wavy hair, wears bangs, her eyes are wide and dark, a pretty pink mouth, she is kind of a Betty Boop figure to look at her. Too perfect.

She is wearing little shoes, very pretty, little jewels on her shoes. She is holding something in her hand as she slips through the gate and she joins two other ladies in the garden there, this doesn’t add up with that metal mesh fence which looked like a modern fence, wondering if I am looking at past history of this property in a different time period.

I am really trying to tie all this together and so far it makes no sense at all. The man dangling, the women in period costume, all the same property with different fencing.

One of the other ladies is wearing also a cream colored dress sitting out in the garden in a swing alongside another woman who is seated. The lady who came through the gate joins them.

They are talking about a catastrophe that has happened somewhere in the area, involving an explosion or collapse of the earth. Very similar to what is happening to the property in the current time where the man is dangling from the mesh fence.

This is an old event that happened that is similar. Somewhere in the world where there are either natural explosions from under the ground, maybe earthquake, or else places where the earth tends to collapse without warning for some reason.

When I saw the little explosions of blue light coming up from the water around the pier, I wondered if the city is sitting over an underground volcano?? Maybe. I wasn’t given any info about the source of the catastrophe.
I am seeing a tree uprooted and turned over on its side laying on the ground, some details of this event far in the past. At that point, in that previous disaster, this particular property and area of the city was spared.

OK, now I get it. This is a case of people who died in the “past” not leaving the house they died in. The three ladies dressed in white are in this much more modern day yard where the man is hanging on to the fence over a chasm, and I thought he would drop and be killed and these ladies from the past are approaching him with great concern looking at him.

I realize suddenly that this whole thing is backward from most retrievals I have participated in. The man hanging from the fence is the Guide and is drawing the women toward the fence so I can address them.

At some time in the past, these ladies died while living on this property, and they all three stayed after death and have been “haunting” the house ever since, unwilling to move on or not knowing how, perhaps unable to hear the Guides talking to them.

They have been dead for probably hundreds of years now.

The collapse of the ground has given an opportunity to draw these women out, since the house they have been haunting is about to totally disappear and they will be left bereft of their “place”.

Seeing the dangling man all of a sudden, they approach where he hangs from the fence, very concerned. How can they help?

This is my opportunity. I watch this going on and find that I am in the garden approaching them, wearing old fashioned men’s clothing, dressed in skinny type trousers, a powdered wig, maybe dressed like a business person or an assistant to a professional person, strange looking pointy toe shoes, a vest and so on. I approach these ladies who appear to accept my appearance.

Now my attention is fully on the women, I can forget about the dangling man, he was just drawing the women near to this corner of the garden.

The man disappears, the ladies think he must have fallen, very frightened, one of them says, “The property is falling away, we have been here forever, there is nowhere to go, what shall we do?”

I reply that it is necessary to escort them to a safer part of town where the damage is not so severe. We walk along to the other end of the garden, where the corner has been torn away, there is a path which has also been largely torn away, we follow what is left of it down to the street below which is still whole. I begin to lead them along this street, it is so dark out I can hardly see, a late summer evening, and  looking at the four of us from above, and I see the ladies following closely behind the other “me” as we proceed along the street. Some kind of old lamps light the street here and there, maybe old Victorian gas lamps or something like that.

A lot of trees and shrubs in the darkness.

As we walk along, quite suddenly there is, out of nowhere, the sun shining, we move across a demarcation point from the darkness into the sunlight, and in front of us, across a green lawn, is a brick building, it looks like some kind of business or educational building. The ladies are silent as this transpires.

I realize that they all three now know what is happening, and that they know they are moving forward into the Afterlife at last. I step behind them and place my arm behind them to sort of “herd” them up the single step into the doorway of the building.

I say, “Now we are coming to the big building where we have to sign in” and though they look gravely worried, they step forward and for the first time in a long time, they stand in full sunlight, warm and welcoming.

Some person opens the door of the building for us from the inside, and we enter the doorway into the building.

The ladies are ahead of me, I make sure I get them all in the building before I disappear. But there is no one to greet us so I accompany them down the corridor, the sun is streaming down onto us from tall windows on the left.

As we approach the end of the corridor there is a stairway leading up and someone comes down it to greet the ladies. I can’t see them very well. Dressed in some green material, can’t see if they are male or female.

We are now outside the building, some procedure is completed and there is pretty carriage waiting for the ladies. It is drawn by three white horses. The upholstery is new looking, cushioned and very comfortable to look at it. Green again, with small silver flecks in it.

They climb in and are beginning to enjoy this adventure now they know they are safe. They turn away from me and the horse and carriage draws away.

That’s it. One of the strangest retrievals I ever was part of. Multi-layered in time zones!!

I’m looking first at what I thought was a small group of African children. But then the picture changes to a mass of people standing in a crescent formation across a wide wide plain, could be an invading army stretched out across a plain. I’m seeing branches breaking into bud and bloom and flowers opening. Spring sap is running. Life is growing.

It’s like they are saying, since ancient times, wars, invasions, suffering up to today with all the children orphaned in Africa, alone with no one to look after them and the natural disasters too, everything in human history, it has been the Winter of our time and although I can’t see how this can be, we may be entering the first touch of real springtime in human history.

The scene switches to something else, I see black storm clouds, lightning, thick, deluging rain, black skies. There is a young woman walking along listening to a tape recorder, earbuds in her ear, she is holding an umbrella.

It’s black out, pouring rain, packsack on her back, a black shiny raincoat, long blonde hair, bleached, damaged, straw quality to her hair. Some sort of factory, long shiny metal tubes, turning, and like turbo prop is the word, long cylinders being inserted into other cylinders, above me is the keel of a boat in a shop, this is a boat building yard and I am in the shed with her. She stands looking up at the keel of the boat.This young woman is smoking. She is a hard nosed young woman. Old for her years. Am I supposed to be retrieving?? If this is not a retrieval, I need to get out of here. This seems to have no purpose. She is inhaling the smoke deeply, I can sense her lungs, see her body with the smoke entering her body, see the state her body is in. She is coughing and smoking. I see the light around her body is very close in to her body and very narrow, her aura is shrunk right down to inches only. What am I supposed to do?

I just felt the “shift” take place in my body, up my spine, my shoulders, head, eyes, I am in my third eye now finally. (Still struggling to find where I am supposed to be going. What happened to Africa?)

OK, now I am in retrieval mode. Wherever I was before, I’m in Africa now. There is a horrific scene before me of several huts in what was a semicircle, and now they are on fire. There are a lot of people inside the huts.

I ask to help one of the African children who has died. I am in a room, dark, full of smoke and flames. There is a little girl there and other children. I can barely see them through the smoke. One little girl, I can see her dark hair clearly. She is the one I see most clearly. It is so full of smoke in here.

There is a little pet animal, maybe a chicken or something, running around in a panic.

I see a man standing in one of the rooms not yet aflame, with a raised torch, looking around trying to see what is going on. I can see the flames in the room beyond. The children are in some kind of, not exactly a cave, but it is like a few homes have been built interconnecting, so to speak, long rooms, and this man (white shirt and black trousers) is going along one of these tunnel like rooms, corridors, to where the fire is in an effort to get the children out and he is carrying a torch.

He has in mind an image of a little girl in a red and white dress, a happy little girl, these are all African people. He gathers the children around him and I send out like a rope or something, and say hang on to this, and they all grab hold of this rope coming from my back, and it is so confused in there, and we are transported instantly, the whole group of us, to the green grass of The Park in the Afterlife, and they are sitting there in the sunlight, in the Park in the grass, all these African children, and this man, his hand is still up but no torch in it now.

I don’t know if I feel like this was very truly a retrieval or very successful but it is all I got this morning and now standing in the Park I am hoping a Guide will appear because I have no idea what to do with all these people.

I am being shown in the same focus level a city, I think it is the city I have seen in pictures from authors who have drawn pictures of the Afterlife, I think Sylvia Browne has some pictures of this city, statuary and marble, this is where I am to take this group of people, I can see the city in the distance shining, a bit away from this part of the Park.

I have not been in any other part of the Park except the Picnic area, so I am casting a beam of light to gather up these people, the man is just on his last legs, he is so tired, the children are all looking to him, I am putting some light around them and I tell them I will take them to the Sanctuary where they will be taken care of and I reach out to the man’s hand and throw light around them all so we leave all together, and we are now standing by a central pool with a fountain coming up out of it and the water splashing down. We are in the City and there is marble everywhere. I have all these people and the kids are dazed and looking at the fountain and this beautiful city and the marble and it is all full of sunlight. Now there is a troop of people coming down the stairs toward us dressed in blue and carrying stretchers, at least I guess it’s stretchers, it is for the victims of the fire to be just taken to a medical centre, checked over, ensure they are ok and the man is still very worried about the children but he is ready to collapse and I am going to leave them there and I am coming back home. The only name that comes to me is the name Abdelah.

I have to remember this, that Spring is coming. So it says. That’s it for today.



Posted in Afterlife Contact, AFTERLIFE EXPLORATION, Life Story, Out of Body Practice, Remote Viewing, Soul Retrieval work | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment


My new short story, “Love, Food and Heaven”, by Vanayssa Somers, is out on Amazon!

Where can true romantic love take us? For this mystery woman, lost in dreamy memories of her first romantic love affair, it took her to far, unimagined pavilions of self-development and self-love. Leaving her country home as a naïve young woman, she fell in love with the one man on earth who had the experience and understanding to guide her into a full knowing of her own potential.

Introduced to worldly passions on many levels, from intense love-making to gourmet dining and the company of the finest minds on the planet, she grew beyond her lover, beyond her own wildest dreams.

Gazing into the leaping flames of her fireplace, on this evening she once more becomes the wide-eyed novice arriving in the big city, re-enters the body and soul of that vulnerable child-woman she was. Relives the tender moments of learning how to touch and be touched, how to turn every common event of life into something sensual on its own terms.

As flames leap in a winter fireplace, memories wander to her life choices, at the many gifts this profound romance provided her, the life path she finally chose, and the implications of true romantic love on an evolving human eternal soul.

Get it now! Here’s the link and the cover pic:

Product Details


Posted in Finding Love, Vanayssa Somers, Vanayssa Somers romance | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: The Angel of Tiny Paws and Mighty Prayers

I was out of the little blue house at last! I took the dog to a friend’s house for the day and carried Louise in her carrier, meowing frantically, up the stairs into our new, rented home.

Placing her sand box and fresh water in a corner where she could find them easily, I filled a bowl full of roast chicken to calm her down and proceeded to help the movers get stuff in up the steep stairs.

She had never been lost before, not in her entire sixteen years of life. She had never run away. She was a smart cat who knew to stay close, and was almost always indoors.

But the commotion of the movers and the sheer newness of everything was too much for her old nerves.

She stepped down the stairs and outside just to get away from it all.

I wasn’t worried about her. She had never ever gotten lost in her life.

What I didn’t know was that domestic house cats have no sense of direction. Did you know that? I had never heard that before.

When she crossed the street to the back alley, just a half a block away, she had no idea where I was or how to get back to me.

Thus began a desperate search for her mommy which was to last six weeks in one of the hottest summers in living memory.

She was this most special little cat, unique in the whole world maybe. And I had lost her, in her old age.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. My friends had no mercy. “One move too many,” one helpful person commented.

Should have had her in her crate,” others said, over and over.

She had accompanied me, in her soft travel bag, by bus and plane, wherever I went for work all over the continent.

We traveled together to the far north, Alaska, California, New Mexico, and around Vancouver Island.

It was hours before I realized she had not come back inside.

Confidently I stepped outside to start calling her.

She had always been very nervous of the outdoors, seldom going beyond the doorway, unless I was sitting outside. Even then, she would sit safely under my chair.

So I expected her to come sauntering in from some quiet bushy area nearby.

This town has a lot of bushy areas. Wilderness forest is right there, within five minutes of our homes!

Where we now lived, the actual original old growth forest itself was only three blocks away.

After owning a cat all my life, I still had the entirely wrong notion that cats have a great sense of direction.

While I’m sure that big jungle cats must have a terrific total hunting system in their brains, including direction finding, small house cats have very little.

I found this out during the six week hunt for my pet.

For some reason she had crossed the street to the South and gone into the alleyway there. And unbelievably, once she had done that, she could no longer figure out how to get back to the new house she had just left, or how to get to her old house four blocks away either.

I never thought about how the driveway and doorway to our new home had none of my scent anywhere…the movers would have obliterated any of my scent as they went back and forth all day as I stayed inside, organizing things.

She was stuck in the alleyway across the road, hollering and yelling for me periodically, and it was finally around three in the morning when I wakened from a fitful sleep to hear her distinctive Himalayan call…a high pitched, very loud call that would do an opera singer proud.

Followed in despair by a long “WOE” that dragged out lengthily and despairingly.

I was up and in my housecoat, grabbed a flashlight and the dog and out to find her.

I called softly, not wanting to wake the neighbors. I knew she was RIGHT THERE somewhere. But silence reigned. Wherever she had been five minutes before, she wasn’t there now.

As the days and weeks passed, and I no longer heard her call, I became obsessed.

One mistake, one little mistake, after sixteen years.

I should have kept her in her big cat carrier. Why hadn’t I done that???

The excuse that she had never needed it before felt very lame indeed as I pounded the pavement relentlessly, week after week.

This is a town of steep hills. I had just moved house. I was exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally.

My new neighbors tried to help, were full of sympathy. No one could do anything to change the facts.

I had not only lost my darling Louise, I had abandoned her out in a terrifying world of deadly 40 degree summer heat, dogs, cougars, bears, and heavy industrial traffic which thundered past on a nearby street all day.

For a cat who had stayed safe inside for sixteen years, I could not even imagine how she would survive. How she must be suffering and frightened. Lonely. My mind wracked with agony.

OK, I thought, I needed a system or I would never find her. I made a list of what to do and put it into practice quickly.

First all the obvious things.

Phoned the SPCA and all the Veterinary offices in town. Put ads in all the local papers.

Decided to print off posters. Searched through the boxes in vain for my printer. Couldn’t find it for three days. Then, having set it up at last, could not find the printer paper anywhere.

It was a nightmare that wouldn’t end.

Finally, a week late, printed posters off on my computer and trudged for miles putting them up on telephone poles.

I don’t drive, so this was all on foot.

Printed off more posters and put them in mail boxes at two weekly intervals, so no one forgot.

I knocked on doors and met my neighbors for miles around. They had all heard about old ladies and their cats, so they were friendly but cautious. “Why didn’t I just get another cat??” was written all over their faces.

Very nervous, going up to doors and knocking and putting posters in mail boxes while dogs inside threatened to tear me limb from limb.

Exhausted beyond words, I forced myself to persevere. Not a day passed I did not look for her.

Into the woods, calling.

Then a neighbor suggested getting a live trap from the SPCA. I paid $100 deposit and came home with the trap, not knowing how to set it up whatever.

Using logic, I put some tuna in place and set it up at the back of a neighbour’s property where Louise had been spotted.

I eventually caught one scared ginger cat and one terrified-out-of-its-mind tabby. What I was putting the innocent neighbourhood cats through!!

Trudge, trudge, trudge, down the road, onto someone’s private wooded property across to where the trap was hidden in the bushes, check it, reset it, more fish.

I phoned a trapper one day and asked him why no cats were entering the trap. He explained that when it rains, traps don’t work because animals can’t smell the bait in the rain.

It had been raining at night. Great, just what I needed.

Eventually it dawned on me that any cats trapped in there would need water. There were no guidelines supplied with the trap, taking it for granted we all have ordinary common sense, I guess.

I started carrying water to the trap as well as tins of tuna.

I lay awake at night worrying some cat was caught in the trap with a cougar prowling around. I sometimes went out in the dead of night in darkness with my flashlight and dog, throwing some clothes on over my pj’s, to check the blessed trap.

Never anything in it. No cougars prowling. Not even a bear.

While this was going on, where was Louise?

She was at that point hiding in the woods not far from home, but far enough she never heard me calling her. And, at 16, she probably had hearing problems anyway.

Many times she went to back doors off the alleyway across the street, begging to be let in.

One house in particular, with a back porch resembling the porch on our old house, became her obsession.

She would bang at the back door till they opened it and she would plead to be let in out of the deadly heat.

Thinking she was some feral cat, and probably pregnant (she started out with a low slung belly) they repeatedly chased her away. The neighbors next to them did the same. I will never know how many people chased her away from their doors.

One day a lady phoned to tell me she had chased a black cat away from her door early on, the first week she was missing.

I realized it was Louise and began to wander that block, hoping to see her hiding somewhere. I discovered a water fountain in the front yard of that house, and for the first time had hopes that she was finding water at least.

Then after about a month of pointless searching, fighting off despair, another neighbour told me a black cat had come over and over to their door, begging to be let in, and they had always chased her away.

But the husband said, “You know, I just have a feeling this might be your cat. I don’t know why. I just started wondering about that yesterday. My wife is allergic to cats, so we never let her in.”

I told him it sounded like my cat, and he promised when she came next time they would let her in and call me.

I got calls from all over the town and headed out on foot any time, day or night, to check. It was never my cat, but I never gave up.

Since I have been a Reiki Master for many years, I felt I should have a special ritual for helping Spirit return her to me.

I pondered what to do. In the end, I selected a number of items:

-My box of beautiful crystals

-A small china ornament of a black cat which had once contained perfume belonging to my deceased daughter (it still smells the same after twenty years…Avon Occur)

-A tiger’s eye crystal

-Photos of beloved people now in Spirit who might be willing to help


I set up the photos, cat ornament, tiger’s eye, and candles at the top of the ritual area.

I lit the candles and placed all my crystals, large and small, in a circle big enough for me to stand in the center of.

I kept the biggest crystal to hold as I meditated.

This was a system which, with variations, I use when sending Distance Healing to someone.

I made the Reiki Dai Ko Myo symbol and three other symbols in the air in the center of the circle.

I opened my crown chakra and heart chakra, third eye and throat particularly and went into deep meditation, standing there.

Every appeal, offering and promise I could think of was sent out to a listening, attentive Universe.

The main promise I made was to quit using bad language. (Some of us are not perfect yet.)

I offered my right arm. Yes, they could have it. Of course, they had no particular need for my right arm, so they appear to have ignored that one.

What I am still learning spiritually is, that I am myself marvellous Creator.

I fall frequently into the old habit of begging some exterior Creator to give me what I want.

Then I remember that new skills are required, if I am to master the art of Manifestation.

There are actions to take. Like moving my energy in a sparkling ball from the base of my spine up to my Third Eye.

Then I must bring it out like a bright ball full of visualizations of my wishes…and then I explode it in a sharp, explosive breath, so the visions shower all over my body’s and spirit’s cellular structures, multiplying by ten trillion cell visualizations as they sprinkle throughout my multi-layered physical/spiritual system.

There are many things I am still learning – some of them, very important things.

I repeated this meditation to Find My Cat several times during the six weeks she was missing.

I also placed the Tiger’s Eye and one of my mother’s favourite rings under my pillow at night, thinking she might help from where she was in her beautiful Afterlife.

As the fifth week ended and the sixth week began, hope was failing in my poor heart. I broke down while standing in a doorway or making the bed or vacuuming.

Then I remembered The Secret and all the positive things to do, and stopped weeping. I would plan once again for any positive Action I could take.

At some point at the beginning of Week Six, I felt impelled to respectfully instruct Spirit to carefully take her four little paws, which I loved so much, and place them carefully on the Right Path so she could get home to me.

I pictured her little paws and saw them stepping on mossy places, over rocks and streams and around trees and toward some Special Destination that would lead her home.

But the most important and effective thing I did, out of all that, I believe, was to follow meticulously the instructions in the movie The Secret.

Dennis Waitley says in the movie “I believe, if you see it in the mind, you will hold it in the body”.

So I held Louise. Frequently. Over and over.

Held her in my arms, petted her, felt her little back paws balancing on the palm of my hand.

Ticked her ears, scratched under her chin, looked into her eyes, felt her tail flicking against my side as I petted her and told her how cute she was.

I buried my nose in her fur and thought how clean she always smelled, like a cucumber.

I felt great love for her rise in my chest and up through the top of my head.

This I repeated often.

It got easier and easier to believe she was really in my arms.

At night I put my arms around a small pillow and snuggled it against me like it was her little fluffy body. I patted her tummy and gently squeezed her little paws.

I kept watching The Secret. I had to stay positive in the face of continuing absence of my desire.

At the one month point people began to feel sorry for me and murmur hopeless little mutterings… I should give up.

After another week, people began to say plainly I should get another cat.

Never!” I would reply. “I could never replace Louise!”

The week before I got her back, I was out shopping one day in the grocery store. Suddenly a voice said very clearly inside my head, “Black Cat is Safely Tucked Under Big Brother’s Wing.”

I knew then that my brother, far away in spirit, in his work with animals, knew about her plight and was taking care of her. But could he bring her home?

A few days later, as evening fell and still no sign of her, I finally began to give up. Standing in my bedroom doorway, I leaned my head against the door frame in defeat. I closed my eyes and whispered, “If you don’t bring her back to me, I am going to leave earth. If you can’t even do this for me, then I am not going on. That’s my last word on the matter.”

I meant it.

Next day it was almost exactly six weeks since she had left. The phone rang mid morning. It was August 13th. It was the SPCA.

We think we have a match for your cat,” they said. I couldn’t believe my ears.

They gave me a man’s phone number in another part of town, across from an extensive area of totally wild, virgin forest. A forest full of cougars, bears and raccoons…a forest she would have had to cross to get to his house.

It turned out the man who had found her looked after stray cats and had erected a very tall fence to keep out bears and dogs. He had made four holes in his fence for stray cats to get in.

She had entered through one of those holes on August 1st and staggered into his back yard, collapsing on his lawn, almost dead. Her little paws had indeed been guided to the right place.

Although she had an identification chip in her head, she was not wearing her tag, so he could not have known.

She had lost several pounds and was drinking copiously, having developed kidney problems from thirst.

He started phoning the SPCA to tell them about her. He called five times before the busy volunteer staff realized they had a match, and called me.

I dialled the number, afraid to even hope.

A man’s voice answered.

I said, “Is this Tom?”

He said “YES!!”

I said, “The SPCA say you might have my cat.”

He was confident it was her. How did he know?

Well, she had a lump on her tummy from an old surgery, and this cat had a lump. I had mentioned the lump in all my ads and posters.

She must be smart to be able to speak English words, as I had said in the newspaper ads, and he said this cat was very smart.

She also had a jutting out lower jaw, and when he said that, I knew it was my Louise.

The long search was over. Could it be??

He said, “I’ll drive her over right now. What’s your address?”

A few minutes later he drove up and climbed out of the truck with a black cat in his arms.

He placed her on the ground between us.

Distressed, this small pile of bones and fur began to move in aimless, frightened circles, looking dazed and confused.

He began to look as distressed as she did. “I don’t know…” he began slowly.

I said, “Tom, can you pick her up and hand her to me?”

As he handed her to me, and I took this lightweight little bony bundle from him, I could hardly believe my fat, fluffy cat could have come to this.

I could feel every bone in her spine sticking up through her fur. She was tiny, like a kitten again. She looked at me as I spoke to her, but without recognition.

She still seemed confused and dazed.

I asked him to wait a moment as he chatted to the neighbours, and took her into the house.

Once inside the bedroom with her, I gently placed her in her cozy box on the floor beside my bed. Petting her gently, I spoke to her a bit, then moved her into the bathroom where her old sandbox, water and some food had been placed waiting for her.

I settled her at the water dish, then walked out, shutting the bathroom door behind me firmly.

I went back into the bedroom and opened the connecting door to the bathroom so she could get in to her cozy safe bed, and shut the bedroom door behind me.

Going outside, I told Tom she was definitely Louise, I could feel the lump on her tummy, though it was now as small as a marble.

It normally was a little handful of fat, a result of repeated stitchings to stop her milk flow when she had her one set of kittens so many long years ago.

He refused the reward I had offered. Nothing could change his mind. He shook his head as though insulted

I knew it would take quite a time for her to recover.

I bless Tom for his loving care for all these stray cats, lost mostly from caring homes and unable to get back to their safe places.

How had my little cat evaded bears, cougars, dogs, birds of prey, and huge industrial traffic to stay alive for so long, at such an advanced age?

And in that awful heat.

Clearly, she had not been able to use her innate hunting skills, since she had been inside for so many years. And she was down to nothing but skin and bone.

But somehow she had found enough water to stay alive and the strength to keep searching for me.

I sometimes imagine her lying in a little hiding spot somewhere during the days of her ordeal, sobbing into the moss. For Louise was a cat who could cry real tears when something upset her enough. 

I wonder where she hid, what her adventures were.

At night, as we sleep snuggled up together, she leaps out of her deep dreams in a panic when a big truck goes by on the road a block away. When I move my hand to pat her gently, she jumps in fright as my hand touches her.

The terror is still there and I can’t do much to chase it away, except give her all the love I feel for this brave, smart little animal.

This gift from Spirit, which I neglected to care for on Moving Day. Dumb, Dumb Mama.

Frequently, I go to where she sleeps in a chair outside in the sun, and standing over her, make the Dai Ko Myo or the Hon Sha Ze Sho Nen symbol over her, sending her healing from her ordeal.

She is getting better, bossier and more demanding once again.

Her old self.


I will add just one more note about my cat’s health and well being. A year after her return home, some of her problems persisted despite my best efforts. In desperation, one day I asked the angelic beings who help me, “What can I give her for her constipation?”

There seemed to be no answer in anything I had read or researched, so I was going for divine help. The answer came shooting back immediately: “mashed peas.”

I thought I was imagining it. Mashed peas?? After all the things I had ordered off the internet, after all the suggestions the Vet could offer, something as simple as mashed peas? It seemed unlikely.

I said to myself, I’ll get some tinned peas when I shop next…but I think I’m imagining that.

When I did eventually open a tin of ordinary garden peas and mash a tablespoon into her cat food, she had a successful BM within a couple of hours. And every day after that…as long as I mix mashed-up peas into her food.

I wonder if our way on this Earth has to be so difficult, or if we make it that way?

But perhaps the entire lifetime of events will one day, in that Other realm, fall into a meaningful pattern and make sense as I look at my spiritual development.

In the meantime, I continue to learn and expand my awareness and understanding.

The simple enjoyment of small things fills my life nowadays…my pets, my fluffy featherbed, exercise, my friends, healthy delicious food, meditation…whatever feels good.

That’s where you’ll find me these days.

And, oh yes, if you learn to mind-travel into the Afterlife, sometimes you’ll find me sitting at a picnic table in The Park. Probably laughing over some family story with my fun-loving sister Lorna.

Or riding my little black mare – a gift from my family on one of my “visits” there – across the plains of a far off country. You will see thundering along beside me the majestic form of the palomino Pegasus, my mother’s horse, as they fly along the ground beside me.

Or sitting on my brother’s porch, or having coffee with my dad, in his house in The Park.

Sometimes I wonder why I have to wait so long to move on to that easier, higher level of experience, and yearn to be with my loved ones there. Yet, this world is so full of things to discover.

My Quest to find my long-lost daughter, has been fulfilled, as you’ve seen. Her life on Earth was far from perfect, the life I was able to offer her. Many parts of that life were unfair, and her death was the ultimate injustice.

But the result of having been born is that she now enjoys eternal life. She is an immortal being, ever learning, ever enjoying.

She has gone on to become a highly responsible nurse, retriever and healer of souls, whatever she wants.

Still moving toward a goal of passion…the search for God. For the Life Force.

For that source of Pure, Unconditional Love, that one Force of Nature for which we eternally thirst.



Recently, at the age of almost eighteen cat years, Louise began to experience a bleeding ulcer. Should I take her for surgery? I struggled for days over the issue.

My friends felt she was too old to undergo one more ordeal of that magnitude. As the days passed, I could see that she was weakening and succumbing to true old age.

So Louise went to The Park to be with my family there, to continue being loved, praised and admired. Our local Vet gave her a strong sedative followed by an injection that would put her into a final sleep.

I held her as she fell asleep from the sedative, and continued to stroke and praise her as she passed from her tired out little body into a better place…where she could have her favourite delicacies…for the asking.

I know my brother, Tom, is looking after her requirements for healing and loving support, as he looks after so many animals there, both large and small.

My big brother, so changed and so healed, himself. Now caring for others.


Posted in Afterlife Contact, AFTERLIFE EXPLORATION, ANIMAL INPUT, Life Story, Lost animals | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments


Paranormal Fantasy Romance Author Vanayssa Somers Releases New Contemporary Romance Novel, ‘Sacred Trust’

Somers writes paranormal fantasy romance and contemporary romance that revolves around trusting one’s heart, overcoming challenges and transformation.
[Wilmington NC June 11, 2015] Paranormal romance author Vanayssa Somers has announced the release of her latest contemporary romance book, ‘Sacred Trust’.
In ‘Sacred Trust’, Jan Kendall is the wife of a U.S. Congressman, enjoying the limelight and all its privileges. One day, for good reasons, she flees their elegant home, private jet, holiday homes, and big bank account.

In west coast wilderness she settles to build a real, meaningful life founded on strong friendship and true connection to the earth. But as time goes on, Jan realizes that her high-flying, immensely powerful husband is looking for her and won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Crime in high places is going to change her life even more than she could have imagined. She sees two choices, run scared for the rest of her life or bring the man she once loved to justice. Taking her own power for the first time, she sets out on a path that will test every ounce of courage she ever possessed.

“Although romantic love is often set aside as a frivolity of life,” Somers stated, “the truth is quite different, as anyone who has loved and won or loved and lost, can tell you. Whether we face up to the constraints and joys that true love brings, or flee from it for any one of a thousand perfectly believable reasons, what we may be really doing is surrendering our power to our fears or moving through them to something new. That something will be packed with mysterious rewards and predictable perils. Whether we learn to sail, to develop athletically, to climb the deadly Himalayas, to write good poetry, or to become someone’s life partner, anything that offers new horizons and vast hidden properties and experiences, is a place where we stand our ground or back away. It all takes tremendous, invisible transformative courage and personal will.”

“Romance, much like the summit of Mount Everest, stands in the distance, always in our view, challenging us to do better, become more, stand and be counted. Be a lover, a good one. Be a wife or husband, the best kind. Be a mother or father, the most outstanding you can be. It’s all tied in together…all tied in to Love. Trust. Step out. Be transformed. Yes, it might hurt. But oh, you will be more, so much more, when you reach life’s best and final turning. And the basket of talents you bring to God at the end will be so pleasing…to both of you.”

Somers’ previous work includes ‘Pagan Flames’, a paranormal romance novel set during the Spanish Inquisition in 15th century Majorca. In ‘Pagan Flames’, a young orphaned girl who lives with Nuns commits to undergo secret training in the Brilliant Arts. Knowing she will die an agonizing death at the stake if discovered, she chooses to trust her Teacher in the Wizardly skills of Shapeshifting, Time Travel, and Flight.

‘Pagan Flames’ has received rave reviews. One reader stated “Pagan Flames is one of the best supernatural romance books I have ever had the pleasure of reading.” Another said, “I loved this book. I couldn’t put it down. Vanayssa Somers made the story and the characters come to life in a way that few authors are able to do.” Another called ‘Pagan Flames’ “absolutely delightful . . .”

Vanayssa Somers is available for media interviews and can be reached using the information below or by email at horses21@shaw.ca. ‘Pagan Flames’ and ‘Sacred Trust’ are available in paperback and Kindle versions at Amazon. More information is available at her website at http://www.paranormalfantasyromance.com.

About Vanayssa Somers:

Vanayssa grew up in the deep forests of Vancouver Island. Over the years she trained as an R.N., working in hospitals in different parts of the world, before she earned a B.A. in Sociology from University of Victoria. She has worked as a Reiki Master, Psychic and NLP counselor.

She is a graduate of The Monroe Institute and a follower of Bruce Moen’s books and website, She works in soul retrieval and connection with her family in the Afterlife. She believes romantic love to be one of life’s highest experiences. Writing romance is her joy.


Vanayssa Somers

Posted in Finding Love, Paranormal Fantasy Romance, Vanayssa Somers | Tagged , , | Leave a comment


Now, you’d think that having a comfortable pension and peace at last, I would have settled into that and enjoyed the next twenty or so years in pleasure and amusement, wouldn’t you?

Oh no. Not this kid.

I felt guilty about not working. It played on my mind. Surely there was some kind of work I could still do?

After a while, I just had to plunge into the workaday world one more time.

I decided to try renovating a house and flipping it. Even though everyone told me those days had passed, try something else. I decided it would be a learning experience.

Oh, was it ever.

Looking around the Island, I picked a town where property was still increasing in value, probably the only such town left in fact. All the others had peaked.

Getting a pet sitter to stay with my dog and cat, I boarded the bus with an MLS list of what I hoped to look at.

Just before that day, I had a dream which set a chill upon my soul. It was full of crows. One was dead, lying upon a tombstone. As I wakened that morning, I had a strong feeling that I was being warned to stop! Don’t buy a house, was the feeling! But of course, being me, I chose to ignore the dream and carried on to confront what would be a disastrous period in my life.

Since I had renovated the triplex with fireplaces in all suites, new windows, etc., most of the equity Henry had enjoyed in his home before I came along, had disappeared into the apartment building. I had sold to the first offer that came along, so had not made a whole lot of profit.

They say, when you lose a spouse, wait a couple of years before moving or doing anything big! This is a good example of WHY they say that. Thinking is not as sharp as it will be a little further down that road.

There wasn’t much left for a down payment on a new home, so the purchase of a house would involve heavy financing.

I was enchanted with the little blue house I eventually settled on buying. When I first saw it sitting there, it seemed sad and neglected, its little white shutters smeared and faded. But the lovingly carved tiny hearts stood out and shouted…pick me!! I am so cute!!

I could hardly wait to sign the papers.

Looking at the inspection report, I noticed that there were six inches of water in the crawl space. Yuk! But oh yes, the sump pump was broken! That was the problem. Fix the sump pump, buy a new one maybe, and that’ll fix that, right?

Ignorance is bliss…for a few weeks.

Having installed a new sump pump, I asked an electrician to go down and hook up the switch properly for the pump. As he climbed out of the crawl space he commented that the clay ground down there was still very wet…he squelched when he walked.

But,” he said, ”sometimes it takes a while for a crawl space to finish drying out. Try a couple of blowers down there for two days, that’ll probably do it.”

So I rented two blowers and got a handyman to go down to that scary crawl space, where spiders no doubt lurked, and set them up. After two days, he came back and pulled them out. The crawl space was still squelching. I discussed it with all my many handymen, and got several different suggestions.

It seemed it must be the perimeter drain, maybe it was blocked here and there. What was a perimeter drain, I asked myself. Well, I’d find out, right?

I went to the free newspaper and found a couple of guys who charged an arm and a leg. They were not keen to dig out a perimeter drain, but they would do it, reluctantly. I was lucky.

After digging just a small area out, they found the problem. The elderly drains were indeed leaking. What this meant was that as the sump pump pushed unwanted water out of the crawl space, it trundled along the perimeter drains around the house till it came to a leaky place, then it ran out of the drain and back under the house into the crawl space. Eventually, the sump pump would eventually burn out, and the owner would spend another two or three hundred bucks to replace it.

This had been going on for years, because none of the owners wanted to spend $4000 – $6000 to entirely dig out the perimeter drain by machine and replace all the old pipes.

It’s very, very bad feng shui to have six inches of water underneath the floors of your house. Unless you live in one of those houses on stilts in parts of Asia, where the water is supposed to be there and you can catch breakfast in it.

The men repaired the one leak they found, charged me $600 and went home. Or to the bar to celebrate, whichever.

But I learned all about perimeter drains…how the drainpipes that run down the sides of houses are supposed to go into the perimeter drain, taking all the water off the roof and away into the sewer system nice and tidy.

Also, the entire roof had to be redone. The siding needed paint. In fact, it would have been nice to remove the shingles and replace the siding. But I was a little uneasy about removing the shingles on an old house. You never know what’s under there. Running rapidly through the renovation money, I was alarmed at how much else still needed to be done.

I would need another loan. I groaned. Did I know what I was doing? No, I did not. But I was in over my head now and had to keep going…else I would never sell the sucker.

I was entering the beaten pathway trod by so many who bought renovation projects that proved to be much worse than expected.

During this ordeal, I did meet a couple of other people who were in the same boat. One of them was even an experienced Appraiser from a large city. Both were over their budget by more than $40,000 only a year after buying their reno project. So I was not alone!

It wasn’t just the house though. Finding my handymen in the local free paper, where they could place ads without paying for them, was not wise.

They say the best handymen come by word of mouth. Anyone who has to advertise in a small city to get reno work, probably isn’t very good.

All very well, but what do you do when all the good ones are already busy?

I didn’t want to face the winter without the bulk of this work done. And I wanted to get it on the market quickly. Things were changing in the financial system, and that weather forecast was not good.

An old house like this, neglected for many years, often has drainpipes sadly broken and bent, the connections at both top and bottom destroyed. It was amazing how hard it was to get a handyman to go to the hardware store, get the right fixin’s, climb a ladder and install them. It was amazing. In the end, a painter did one or two for me as he painted a portion of the back and the porch.

I had previously gotten my original young guy to work on the porch, replacing rotted walls, and removing acres of ivy from house seams where it was climbing into the interior of the building. I discovered an exterior electric plug and a motion sensor light, long buried under the ivy, in the process.

I had found young Malcolm from the free paper. A strapping healthy guy by the look of him, initially. As time went on, and I found he had no tools, needed endless advances, was using drugs and alcohol, had just been diagnosed with cancer, and did not know how to prepare his own meals or eat properly, I realized I had to be more careful.

At one point, he had started three jobs on the site, finished none, had received $400 from me in wages and was becoming rude on the phone when I called him to come back and finish something.

I was paying too much cash to these guys when work was not done yet. As soon as they had a handful of money, they bought drugs or beer and stayed home to enjoy themselves. When they ran out of their substance, they would come back and put in a few hours.

I was slow to figure it out. I went deeper and deeper into debt. Each time I went to the loan company, they were so polite, interested and happy to sign me up, not only for the amount I asked for, but several thousand more.

It was wonderful to have such caring, helpful lenders. I felt great fuzzy warmth toward them.

Another of my collection of handymen was Bennie, who eventually gave up being a handyman and went into House Inspection instead. He did a lot of jobs for me…over and over and over again.

The screen door I bought for the front of the house cost me $150. It was not stained, but had some pretty carving which I thought would be nice.

Now, one thing I could do myself was stain a screen door. But I didn’t want to. Those were the days. I have gotten past those self-indulgent attitudes since then.

I asked young Malcolm to stain and hang it. He made a valiant effort and drove away leaving the door, half-stained and covered in runs, leaning against the side of the house. After several days of yelling at him on the phone, I eventually got him to come over. He struggled some more with the door to no avail. I finished staining it myself after he went home.

Hanging it had proven too much for him, so I found someone else to complete that part. I called on good ol’ Bennie, who came over with his sawhorses and measuring tapes and set to the task himself.

Eventually, after two days, Bennie got the door hung. It had no handle on it yet, and the little knobby things at the top of the frame had to be screwed on, he didn’t know how to do that. He sounded indignant when I protested and said the door wouldn’t close like a screen door should without those things at the top.

After he left I noticed that there was a gap of several inches at the bottom of the door, which I then closed up against spiders with two widths of duct tape.

Thank God for duct tape”, the cry goes up around the civilized world.

After a couple of weeks I found someone who actually knew how to install the little pieces at the top to make the door shut properly. That was Mick, who did actually know what he was doing. A good guy.

He wanted me to join his Baptist church, where he said I would meet lots of nice people. Although I liked him and his son, who had finished my screen door for me at long last, I said to him very clearly, “There is no power on heaven or earth that would ever get me back inside the doors of a Baptist Church, but thanks anyway.”

What a victory. I felt like buying a bottle of champagne. My screen door was up. It had taken only three handymen and $300 in wages to get it there, on top of the original cost of $150. But I didn’t have enough money left to buy groceries, never mind champagne.

On July 15, or thereabouts, Canadians who receive the Guaranteed Income Supplement in addition to their pensions get a note from the government telling them if they still qualify for the extra monthly stipend or not, and how much it is. The government checks up on our tax returns, and then decides how much supplement we get.

So on July 15, I opened a brown envelope which told me quite impersonally and without a trace of malice that my income was being reduced by approximately $500 a month because…well, because I had had a good pension income the previous year and therefore did not qualify for the full amount of GIS this current year.

Of course, I had qualified for so much the first year of my pensions, because the previous year I had been a housewife…Henry’s wife…and had no income of my own.They gave it to me. They should have known. Why give it to me one year and take it back the next??

It appeared I still got some of the extra assistance, but no longer the full amount.

I understood the way they figured it out. But I also understood within minutes of opening the letter, that I was probably facing complete ruin.

That $500 reduction, which would start with my next pension check was the money I used to repay my renovation loans. Without that, I could not go on.

For once in my life, I sat on the sofa, totally defeated. There was nowhere to turn, no one to argue with.

Realizing I had to get the house SOLD RIGHT NOW, I got busy and started staging the house for the realtor to come in.

As winter approached, I began the toughest few months, financially, I could ever remember since my 21st birthday. That was a long time ago, and I was not happy to think my long lifetime journey had brought me full circle once again to a kitchen with no food in the fridge.

I had moved into the house on March 3. By the following February, I was in more debt than I could handle, the house was almost finished, and I had found the GREATEST brand of gourmet dog food ever made.

This particular brand of dog food had roast duck, turkey and beef in it. I love duck. There were different ways to prepare the contents of the tin…stew, goulash, you name it, none of which really enhanced the duck flavor. And this brand also contained fruit and vegetables. So I was getting full nutrition at only $2.30 a can.

Too good for the dog. He was getting a basic, cheap brand, the kind in the oversized cans with uninteresting labels. No duck for him.

The other day, when all this was long-gone history, I was talking to another dog owner out in the park. Asked what he fed his beautiful, shiny-coated pet, he replied with a certain brand name and said, “It’s four dollars a tin. But she has health problems, and she’s all we have, so it’s worth it.”

I felt annoyed that I had not known about that brand of dog food when I lived in the little blue house. It might have been better than the one I had so enjoyed, with the roast in it. On the other hand, maybe his brand had no duck or turkey.

Louise hated this experience. She was getting old by now. Born in ’92, we were now in the winter of 2008. It was time for her to be getting tender cuts of whatever she fancied, not the most foul-tasting cat food on the market. She was something like 112 years of age in human years.

She had also developed the domestic cat’s old-age problem of overactive thyroid, leading to weight loss and constant hunger. She began to throw up hairballs day and night, a sign of chronic constipation.

I was overwhelmed as usual, knew little about old age problems in cats, and yelled at her a lot when she cried to me for help. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. I couldn’t afford to feed her every five minutes, as her thyroid condition demanded.

Yes, I was back to yelling at my poor little cat again. “No money” will do it every time. My spiritual journey was far from over.

My dog was pretty happy, as he had friends to roughhouse with in the nice little fenced back yard and some great woods to play in nearby. He was young and resilient. He managed to force down the low-market dry food I provided.

I had forgotten that I was creating my own reality. I was doing this to myself. I could quit anytime.

But I was way too buried inside the broken little house by then. No voice of optimistic sanity was available to pull me back into the light.

My happy eight foot banner was still up in my bedroom though, and its power would soon become visible. “Rivers of golden, effortless wealth…etc.”

This is the pension girl I am talking about here. The fabulous-pension-income-for-life girl.

I just couldn’t sit still and enjoy my pension, oh no. Hadda find something constructive to do.

That was my old Marxist childhood background coming out. “For a Life With a Purpose…” That motto was still burned into my brain, long after I couldn’t even remember the details anymore.

Everything had to be constructive. It had gotten into my bones and into the driver’s seat.

Well, I decided that if I ever got out of this alive I would sit very, very still for the rest of my life. No more constructive financial adventures for me. No sir.

However, there was one truly redeeming event during my little-blue-house experience. As all this was going on, I continued to read metaphysical books, listen to the CD’s I had brought home from the Monroe Institute back in 2000, and practice meditation, prayer (oh, lots of prayer) and instructions for achieving OBE’s. (Out of Body Experiences.)

It was during one session of such practice that I did, at last, succeed in exiting my physical body and travelling outside my house.

In the past, when “travelling” I always had to do it by a process called “phasing” which is done using the mind alone. Phasing is much easier to learn, at least it was for me.

But I had yearned and struggled for eight years, determined to find out what it was like to stand inside the “second” body and look out at the world through its eyes.

I had heard that when using that particular body, that the sensory systems were at first not well developed, through sheer lack of practice…kind of like a newborn baby’s eyesight, which is not very good at first.

It was true, I found out. After laying on my bed one afternoon and practising the “vibration” technique, which many recommend, I was astonished to find myself outside on the street, looking at my neighbour’s front door, on which hung a garland of flowers.

Bewildered, I thought, “Where am I??? What am I looking at?? Where on the street am I??

At first I thought I was further down the street, where I knew there was a garland on someone’s door.

But when I was back in my body, and went outside, I noticed that my neighbour directly across the street had placed a similar garland on her own door, so I guessed that was where I had been standing.

It was a huge moment for me, an unforgettable moment. The body I used for that experience had felt like clear jelly as I briefly stood there in it. The world around me had no colour, was sort of transparent, clear-jelly-like in colour. It was as  teachers had said, the sensory system of the spiritual bodies are not as well developed as our physical one after years of use.

I did not use that technique again for a long time, as it was actually quite hard work. You have to start focusing on one part, like say a leg, and get it vibrating slightly, as fast as you can. (It’s surprisingly easy to do, but it’s work.) Then you move on to the other leg, then eventually your whole body and head are vibrating like sixty. It’s weird, but it’s ok.

I’m glad to have had a marvellous breakthrough of some kind during that very hard, challenging time. There are often such shafts of sunshine during even the most awful of life’s trials.

Around that time, a bizarre thing happened while visiting my darling Lorna who was now in a Care Home with Alzheimer’s.

Finding the money to travel that far was difficult. I was wringing every penny out of every current and future dollar available to me. To visit Lorna in the Care Home, I had taken my small collection of jewelry to a pawnshop for the bus fare.

The hours I spent with her were so precious. Though confused, she was as gentle as ever and so happy to see anyone who loved her.

Her sense of humour was unmarred even though her memory was shot. We would go out to the courtyard benches and I would tell her funny stories of things that had been going on, often things with an activist tone to them, as she had always been a passionate activist for several causes.

She could still laugh out loud and see the humour in situations I described. What a pleasure it was to sit out there in the sun and still be able to laugh together.

I close my eyes and am there again, in that Care Home courtyard, telling her real-life stories. And together we double up with laughter at the shared understanding of the political undertones to the issues involved. She could still access a lot of knowledge at that point. But each visit, of course, saw deterioration and further loss of comprehension.

On my next visit following, one of the strangest experiences of my life occurred so unexpectedly.

A small, dark haired on-call nurse was acting as charge nurse that afternoon, Doreen I’ll call her. (not her real name).

After I finished my visit with Lorna, Doreen approached me and asked me into her office.

She sat me down politely and asked who I was. I explained that I was Lorna’s sister from out of town.

She seemed very fixated on my identity. As the conversation proceeded, it became clear that she did not believe I was Lorna’s sister.

You know that ice cold rush that floods your body when you know something incredibly insane is happening without warning and you can’t figure out what’s going on or how to stop it?

As that icy anxiety poured into my veins, I kept very calm and detached. Without more information, I could not handle this properly.

The interview went on for about an hour and she became very serious indeed. She did not believe for a moment that I was Lorna’s sister but did not come right out and say so.

I turned the conversation around to chat pleasantly about Lorna’s marriage to her ex-husband, Tod, who now was deeply involved in her safety and her care. It was Tod who had first arranged for her to get special housing when her illness became so terribly apparent, and he continued to care for her as though the divorce had never happened. He was often in the Care Home as musician, playing for the elderly.

I talked about their married lives together and tried to make it apparent that I was indeed a family member. But no matter how much detail I gave or what I said or how calm I remained, she was sure I was some dangerous kind of interloper.

As we talked I realized that this nurse and my ex-brother-in-law had a relationship of some kind going. It was clear they were attracted to each other. But that did not seem to be relevant to the problem I was facing.

Finally she said to me, “If you come to visit Lorna again, you will have to go through the Director, so please contact him before you come next time.”

I really was without words. I had no idea what was going on.

Then Doreen called in another nurse and introduced her to me, clearly as a witness to the fact she had talked to me.

All I knew was that here was something new and awful to deal with.

It was later that I remembered a key part of that day…as I had been waiting for the elevator to go up to the Ward, the doors had opened and my former brother-in-law had come out. Apparently he had just finished visiting Lorna himself, and probably providing some music for the Care Home clients.

I did not even notice him, as I was intent on entering the elevator. But I heard a voice say my name.

I turned to see Tod standing there, good-looking as ever, but in a more mature way. It had been years since we had seen each other.

He had called me by my birth name. Of course, he did not know that I had changed my name back in the 90’s.

Then his eyes lit up as he put two and two together and realized that the “fake” sister who had been visiting Lorna was, in fact, her very real sister…me!

I gave him a big hug. I did not stop to explain the change of name, he was in a hurry. He was always in a hurry.

Later I realized that when Doreen had described me to Tod as one of Lorna’s visitors, he must have told her that Lorna had no sister by that name, that I must be a fake.  Maybe one of the street people she had been spending time with as her condition had deteriorated. And I did not have Tod’s phone number, could not contact him.

Wondering how to proceed after I returned home, I faced the fact that it was pretty difficult to prove you are someone’s sister! How would you do that, when you have gone and changed your name and your surname, as I had? I would have had to carry all my ID’s…through from my original birth name, to my married names, to the name I picked for myself in the 90’s. Not likely.

I took a good look at my finances and knew that it would be months before I could return to visit Lorna anyway. Perhaps by then, this madness would have worn off. And by then also, Tod would have explained his mistake to Doreen. So I would wait till I could afford to go again, and then worry about it.

As it happened, Lorna was moved to a different facility not long after so the issue never arose again.

When I next saw Tod at the new facility, he gave me a very apologetic, embarrassed look, but said nothing about it.

I let it go.

I put the little blue house with the freshly painted shutters on the market in January, just to see the hopeful sign out front.

It sold at the end of June, and I moved out of there into a rented house on a day when the summer heat was hitting 46 degrees in my neighbor’s back yard. Like New Mexico all over again.

The good news was, it sold at a better price than any realtor had told me I could ever get for it. My realtor said to me some truly magic words: “You have created a new reality.”

I knew it was my magic banner that did it.

A neighbour from two blocks away, trying in vain to get her house sold, appeared at my door while I was in the midst of packing. A bit embarrassed, she said, “My husband was looking at MLS online and saw your house there, and in the picture of the bedroom you have a big banner on the wall. He is convinced that the reason you got such a good price is that banner.

“We are wondering if it is possible to borrow it from you and put it up in our house for a while. Since you have already sold yours, you don’t really need it right now.”

Very surprised and a bit flattered (I had invented the banner, after all) I lent it to them, after getting a firm promise that it would be returned before too long.

True to their word, they did return it within a month or so, after their house finally sold.

By now, I had a small moving team assembled in the summer heat. Our faces were like lobsters by mid afternoon, but we completed the move and no one took a stroke.

The little blue house was history at last.

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