Sticky post – Disclaimer

This is a sticky post – that means it’ll stay at the top of my blog, and new posts will appear underneath this one.

I feel like I need to buffer the crazy in this blog with a little intro for new readers:  I’m a psychic medium.  Most of my work, until 2011, was with animal communication.  In late 2011, I said a prayer:  “Okay Heaven.  I’m ready for all the psychic stuff now.  All of it.  Hit it.”  And they did.

Later that day I started seeing spirits from heaven and earth-bound spirits around the hospital and my home.  It was all pretty normal psychic stuff at that point. 
Then one day, my sweetie told me she talks to John Lennon.  That she’d been talking to John since she was 13.  So I decided to say hello, and he came in loud and clear – stronger than any spirit I’d spoken with up to that point, stronger than my life-long spirit guide.

We discovered that Sweetie has the ability to “call in” just about anyone from Heaven, and that I’m really good at medium work.  All those years training to communicate telepathically with animals parlayed into other forms of mediumship seamlessly.

Later we began to talk to George (formerly George Harrison) and then Kurt Cobain.  And then Jesus.  I’ll understand if you think I’m nuts.  I think all psychics believe they’re nuts at some point in their lives.  What we experience is so different, so illogical, so out-of-step with what we’re trained to expect from life.

If you need to suspend your disbelief and read this blog as entertaining fiction, please do so.  I used to tell my friends about animal communication as “entertainment”.  They thought it was a weird hobby but were able to accept it in that way.

Even if these entries come across as unbelievable to you, I also write this blog for me, to help me integrate what I learn and to document my progress.  I’m glad I did, because it seems like I’m becoming a new person every day, and sometimes it can be tough to rememeber who I was.

So as you read this blog, I ask you to do so with kind eyes an open heart.

Sid – Tough Love is Bullshit

(As I re-read this entry, I notice I even start to phrase my own thoughts in a British accent or style.  It’s common for me to inadvertently pick up an accent when talking to someone, I’d never noticed it in writing before.  Huh.)

 

After coming home from our hike and our first in-depth conversation with Sid, I asked about this image of Johnny Sid would show me, a tall guy, brown hair.  Larger than Sid, for sure.  Sweetie replied, “Yeah, that’s Johnny Rotten, his friend and bandmate.  They started the Sex Pistols.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that band!”  I exclaimed.  Sid shot me this incredulous glance, and Kurt’s voice chirped I told you, she knows NOTHING about music!  Sweetie and many of my friends have often said, “I just don’t know how you managed to grow up not knowing ____ (insert name of band, musician, actor/actress, movie etc.)”  Often I find that when I investigate the band, I have heard the songs on the radio, I’d just never linked the name of the band with the songs I noticed or liked.  I didn’t have a music collection because I preferred reading and Star Trek.

Rambling aside:  I *do* know a lot about star trek, but not as much as someone who declares themselves a trek fan.  It’s just about the only pop culture thing I brought out of the 90s, along with the Simpsons, the Fresh Prince, and a few Canadian, female musicians like Alannis Morissette, The Sarahs (McLachlan & Harmer) Biff Naked etc.  I was also familiar with Pink and Courtney Love, but not so much as to be able to pick out their songs from the radio. 

It just never stuck in my brain. 

Maybe this blank slate I bring to these readings with “famous” people is part of the reason I just don’t absorb a lot of pop culture.

I had a laugh anyway, Sid playing in a band he and his buddy named for their wieners.  Nice!

 

Sweetie & I have been talking about Sid, and she said, “You know, I think Sid has come in to help teach us about addiction.”  I’m inclined to agree.

One phrase that really stuck in my mind after listening to the Cobain biography was Courtney’s tearful and angry declaration that “Tough love is bullshit!  We just should have let him have it.”  She was in anguish, wondering if she had accepted Kurt’s full-throttle descent into drug overdose death, that maybe she would have had him for a while longer.  Maybe he wouldn’t have killed himself with a gun in what she imagined must have been a moment of pure anguish, brought on by the ultimatums of loved ones hoping to snap him out of something that was completely beyond his capacity to control.

In Sid’s story, we learned about a much swifter, more brutal version of heroin addiction.

Sid & Nancy were already addicted to heroin when they met each other, but they were functional and the addiction seemed like a love affair than a torment.  They embraced it and each other.  They never thought about tomorrow.

Sid, would you like to tell us more about how you were going up and down at the same time?

Well, just as the band was on the verge of making it, just as we began to tour and it seemed we’d become these sex and punk icons, the addiction began to blot everything out.  All I thought of all day was Nancy and the Needle.  Nancy, Needle.  There was barely room for the band.  I felt like a shit, I knew I was ruining it for the rest of them (Johnny, the crew.) 

 

It (the addiction) hit a frightening new level when I used heroin from New York.  (He gives me the sensation of surprise and shock at how this heroin acted upon his system in fierce, ravaging rush.  The sensation of ice water travelling from my arm through my veins, knowing where every vein in the body was, exactly where the drug was travelling in my body, the paralysis that followed in the drug’s wake.)  Oh shit.  I knew I was in trouble, there was nothing I could do.

 

He showed me the difference in the drug microscopically.  It was like the American heroin had little shards or chunks in it, that shredded his veins.  He knew it was so much worse for him, but the withdrawl began to set in with ten times the force of the U.K. drug he had used.  He felt helpless, tricked, and would have felt panicked if he wasn’t high.  At the first sensations of withdrawl he became single-minded, focused on the next hit, anxiety setting in immediately, fear of how much worse it was going to get, helpless to do anything but find his next fix.  Nothing else mattered…

Except for Nancy.  Even in the throes of the worst withdrawl, he was always focused on Nancy first.  Nancy’s withdrawl symptoms seemed to be worse – maybe her addiction was more progressed than Sid’s, maybe she had a lower tolerance for the drug or a lower threshold for pain.  When Nancy cried and suffered in withdrawl, Sid could get outside his own head and focus on her needs.  He would always make sure she had her fix before he took his own.

Whenever I ask Sid about the Sex Pistols and Johnny around this time, he just shows me black.  I don’t know whether this means he wasn’t cognisant of what was going on, whether he doesn’t want to talk about it or look at it.  Maybe he’s still processing it, I don’t know.  I don’t have any information on how Sid got from being in love with Nancy in Europe to begging for heroin from a sadistic dealer in the Chelsea Hotel.

While talking about my sugar cravings, as I ramp up to my 3 month no-sugar-no-flour stint, I can begin to imagine the preoccupation of drug addiction.  I’m hypoglycemic, and there is a chemical dependency and addiction factor with sugar.  It’s worse for us with the oddly-fuctioning pancreas.  Observe the diabetic patient in hospital, foot ulcers, going blind, eating cinnamon buns smuggled in from outside.  Obviously sick.  He *knows* the cinnamon buns are making it worse.  But he can’t stop the whisper in the brain for cake, cookies, icing, sugar! Sugar! Sugar!  I understand why the diabetic eats sugar.  I *never* stopped craving sweet things, even after being free of sugar and flour for two years.  I would dream about donuts sometimes.  It never went away. 

Because food cravings are something we experience personally, I feel it is colossally unfair for one person to judge another’s food choices.  Of his addiction, Kurt said, It’s like a monster in your head, whispering “You know you’ll feel better.”

The guy from Guns n’ Roses, who sat beside Kurt on his flight back home from escaping rehab, who was among the last people to see Kurt alive, talked about his own heroin addiction.  You get high, and you look at each other and you say “This is the last time.  Tomorrow we’ll get clean.”  And you never do. 

How many of us have done that with sugar?  This is the last chocolate bar.  Diet starts tomorrow.

Sid chimes in, Yeah.  The only difference is, no one is going to make you beg for cheesecake.  They’ll fucking sell it to you whenever you want.  Begging for heroin was beyond humiliation.  You don’t care what they make you do, so long as they give it to you.  But there is this part of you that floats up out of your body and watches you beg, and you *know* that’s you there, that pathetic junkie, and how did it ever come to this?

 

In the last weeks at the Chelsea Hotel, Sid’s dealer had them caged in.  He knew Sid was going down, and he wanted to wring as much money from him before the inevitable overdose.  He forbade any other dealers from selling to Sid or Nancy, so Sid was unable to score on the streets.  Everyone knew who Sid was, thanks to the Sex Pistols, and all the dealers knew that Sid’s dealer would kill them if they sold to him. 

The deal was, Sid and Nancy were supposed to wait in their hotel room.  The dealer would bring them their daily delivery, and get paid cash.  For a while, it worked beautifully, and Sid & Nancy felt the panic abate.  They even felt cared for.  The dealer always got to them before withdrawl set in.  He gradually sold them larger amounts, the amounts he knew would make them desperate if they didn’t get their fix.

Then he started to up the price.  They were rapidly running out of money, the dealer gave them excuses.  Said his suppliers were screwing him.  He began to be late with his deliveries; ensuring Sid & Nancy were desperate enough to pay whatever price he wanted. 

Sid couldn’t stand to see Nancy suffer.  They had difficulty keeping track of time, in the dank room they never left.  They were trapped, for sure.

We asked Sid what he thought about the “tough love” strategy when confronted with addiction.

If you see a junkie, begging on the street, and you know any money you give ‘em will go straight up their arm, just give them a five spot.  Just give it to them, grant them the humanity. 

Echoes of lessons we’ve been hearing over and over, when dealing with people who hurt you, or who hurt themselves.  Reach out in friendship.  Reach out in compassion.  Communicate love.  Set aside judgment, as much as you can.  If they sit in the smoke, there is nothing you can do.  Offer what help you can.

Courtney, We should have just let him have it.

I was lacking in compassion a couple of days ago when I sent an unintentionally harsh email to a dear friend.  I worry she’s pushing herself toward insanity, quite literally.  I’ve seen this before, with friends and family.  Having survived the emotional fallout when a friend commits suicide, or is committed, still alive, to psychiatric care, I think I hit an empathy limit with her, and in a few minutes I banged out an impulsive email with, I’d later realize, poor choices of words such as “making your friends crazy on your behalf” and “psychotic break” and “husband would sure as hell come home then.”

When she sent me back an email with the equivalent wording to “ouch.”

And then I went home and cried about it, and agonized over my feelings of frustration at seeing a friend behave as though she were trying to destroy herself, and not doing anything but wait for the end results to happen to her.  I didn’t mean to hurt my friend, but I was also angry and felt entitled to say those things I’d been thinking.

And Sweetie kept talking to me about compassion.  “Imagine how you’d feel, hearing that, were you in her position.”

I wondered whether all this psychic work is turning off some of my social filters.  In this work, you have to train yourself not to question or filter the things which flow through your mind.  You let them flow out your mouth, or out the pen or keyboard, unedited.  I wonder if some of that is happening with my *own* thoughts, as though I need to retrain myself to think before I speak when speaking as myself.

Anyway, as I agonized over it that night, Sid told me, in his own special way to calm the hell down:

Have a bath.  Have a cup of tea.  Eat some cheesecake – who gives a fuck?

We’ve been laughing about that one for days.  It’s the answer for everything!  Eat some cheesecake!  Who gives a fuck?!

A friend of mine sent me these questions for Sid:

Do either one of them have any regrets?

Of course I’ve fucking regrets. 

Would you care to share any?

No actually, I wouldn’t.  I’m still dealing with them.

Okay, that’s okay.

Did Nancy expect to die the way she did?

We both knew we would die young. 

Did you have a suicide pact?

Yes.  (So much sadness he’s sharing right now.)

Better save that for the next entry, love.  I’ll think about it, meanwhile.

What is their relationship like now?

Sid has Nancy with him, but she has yet to speak to me.  Sometimes she appears as a very young girl.  Sid has said she’s preparing to go back in.

Sid, are you going back in?

(shudder)  No, I’ve no plans to go back in at present.  I don’t believe I will.  Not with the world as it is. 

Will you go back in during the earth’s healing phase, maybe?

I can help from here.  I haven’t made a decision on that front.

Sid Viscious ~ Part 1

Sid made a brief appearance in our living room months ago, but we hadn’t sought him out in conversation until recently.  Really, Sid kept popping into our heads, showing up and sitting quietly, waiting for us to engage.

On one sunny afternoon, as we arrived at the national park to go for a hike on the back trails and the secluded beaches, we decided to initiate the conversation.  Here it goes, from memory, with Sid helping me out:

I was mildly surprised by the energy and the body Sid presented to me initially.  He was this calm, quiet fellow, small frame yet incredibly physically strong.  His language was very *precise*.  Notably different from John Lennon’s accent: John tends to draw words out.  He’s showing me his body when he was young, first getting into the scene, when he was happy and feeling free.  There was a brief period there, when I was alive, where I felt liberated.  Punk did that for me.  Drugs did that too, before I was addicted. 

I had a terrible childhood, horrible trauma. 

I hear screaming, feel the intense fear of Sid as a vulnerable child.  He was surrounded with alcoholism, domestic and sexual violence.  He was physically beaten and bullied, rather used to being terrorized.  He left home at the earliest possibility of being able to fend for himself, lived with friends or on the streets occasionally.  (I don’t see much written about this, so I have no confirmation, although one article alludes to his mother using and occasionally selling heroin “throughout his childhood”.)

He was small-framed, yet incredibly strong and healthy in the early days before heroin.  He could do sit-ups while hanging upside down from a pipe.  He was proud of his physical strength, because it came as a surprise to most people, since he looked quite small.  (After a year of heroin addiction, he lost a lot of muscle mass.)

He changed his name from something weak and nerdy sounding, like Eustace, Eugene, something like that.  (I looked it up and according to Wiki, his given name was John Simon Ritchie)

He chose Sid for its androgyny.  It could be a boy’s or a girl’s name.  He didn’t particularly identify with the masculine ideals of society, and he was bisexual, although he didn’t express this aspect of himself sexually very often in his life.  He was just aware of it.  (Wiki tells a story of Johnny’s hamster named Sid.  Sid says, “Oh, don’t ask me for the hamster story!”)

I was beaten up for being too (girlish?)  I was called “fag” all the time.  I avoided that part of myself. I never hated queer people though, I knew I was one of them.  We were all outcasts, together.  Lots of queers in the punk scene, it’s safer underground.

 

Sid couldn’t avoid violence in his life, so he learned to provoke it and enjoy it.  Part of his pride in his body came when he developed the capacity to defend himself in bar fights, although his best mate always kept an eye on him, ready to back him up should he suddenly get in over his head.

Sid would start bar fights by sitting too close to an uber-masculine man, look at him suggestively, use feminine posture and body language to trigger the guy’s insecurity.  Inevitably the guy would order Sid to fuck off or he’d get a beating outside the bar, to which Sid would respond, “Let’s go then.”

Johnny, Sid’s mate, would go outside to watch, sometimes not even looking like he was involved.

Sid gloated, I knew just how to punch a man so he’d puke.  He’d bend over to throw up, I’d kick him in the nose.  I had good aim.  Once he was puking and bleeding, he was beaten.  I learned how to absorb a punch and not let it slow me down.  I would give the guy this look like I didn’t even feel it.  That scared the shit out of them!  That’s how my reputation began, for being crazy.  The fear would kick in, then so would I, and the poor bastards couldn’t win.  Their pride always took a worse beating.

 

Sid targeted men who were taller but noticeably weaker than he, with beer bellies and dark circles under their eyes, usually quite slow and drunk.  He could get away with these fights, since no one ever blamed the smaller guy for starting it.  It was always funny to any onlooker, the surprise of this small fellow whipping the hell out of a great lout.

Johnny’s presence made Sid bolder too, and he’d pick fights with men much larger than he was, knowing that the worst case scenario, Johnny would jump in.  This backfired once or twice, (Sid admits) But Johnny was okay.  He enjoyed a good fight.

There was something about this bar fight period that gave Sid great confidence and pride in himself.  He was no longer a vulnerable child, but a freak and a weirdo who could do whatever the fuck he pleased.  He couldn’t avoid trouble – he was targeted for not measuring up to the standard masculine ideal.  So he embraced trouble, caused it, became it.  He loved it, it made him powerful.

Around this time, Sid started to foster the “crazy”.  He would carefully cut himself, he knew the layout of the veins in his body intimately.  He’d trace surface cuts up his arms before performing so that he’d bleed dramatically on stage.  The cuts would close off by the time he was off stage, and were “pretty much healed” by the next day. 

This was our first conversation with Sid on the walk.  A few days later, we watched the movie “Sid and Nancy” with Sid joining us and making commentary.  Kurt showed up too, and I was aware he was giving support to Sid somehow.  Kurt seemed senior, stronger, wiser, somehow, than Sid in this context.  He was helping a friend talk about difficult times.

When the movie started, Kurt shouted, “There’s my baby!  Isn’t she beautiful?”  We knew Courtney Love was in the movie, and for a moment we thought she was the actress playing Nancy, but soon decided that wasn’t it.  When we watched the credits later, which were in order of appearance, it turned out that Courtney was one of the first people to appear in the movie, a few seconds in a scene where they brought out Nancy’s body.

The movie picked up around the time in Sid’s life when he met Nancy.  Nancy was portrayed as a really annoying, needy, whiny American who utterly consumed Sid.

“God, was she really that whiny?”  Sweetie asked.

Sid showed me how he felt.  Nancy enveloped him, wrapped herself around his body and all of his thoughts, like smoke.  She was better than any drug for him.  She loved him completely, desperately, sexually, a complete love he hadn’t before experienced.  He was enthralled, addicted from the first hit – he smiles, that half-wink squint, referring to the rumour that Nancy got him hooked on heroin.  I was using before I met her, I would’ve gone there anyway.  She showed me how to love the drug, I fell in love with both of them.

Sid and Johnny had a bromance thing going, a mutual love between close male friends that borders on territoriality.  Johnny was not impressed with Nancy, nor was anyone else who met her.  Her presence was like nails on a chalk board.  To them she was pushy, annoying, invasive.  To Sid, she was a balm for all his wounds, and misunderstood – just like him.  He felt relaxed around her, he could surrender, he could lay down the hyper tough-guy bravado that kept him alive and become this quiet, soft-spoken, introverted lad he truly was, yet seldom allowed himself to be. 

This calm, quiet, almost shy Sid is the first energy I felt from him.  The stage presence he developed, the fuck-you attitude was a survival mechanism, an alter-ego that allowed him to defend his space and find respect among his peers and his dark little corner of society.

That’s enough for today… we’ll continue in the next entry.

Hermit

So yeah, this has been me the past few days.  Feeling hermity.  I spent the last two days in retreat, since Sweetie was working and I had the house to myself.  I felt all ready to face the world this morning and right now I just feel…. tired.

No awesome entry today, poop.  I was going to write about Sid & Nancy too.  Damn, you’ll just have to wait for that one, won’t you?

You know what else makes me tired?  Atlantis.  It just makes me tired.  I don’t know why this topic just keeps coming up lately.  I was having this automatic writing conversation and heard, “Look at your pen.”

It said “Atlantis” on the side.  Evidently, Bic has a line of “Atlantis” pens.  Haw, haw.

I purchased an e-copy of Edgar Cayce’s Atlantis readings, and I can only read a few pages at a time before I start to feel so heavy and just… depressed.  I’ve re-listened to Christopher Reburn’s podcast with guest Nanari, a woman cognisant of her Lemuiran lives.  I filled my little ipod with all things Atlantean, trying to get to the bottom of something I can’t articulate.

I wondered over the weekend about the topics I’ve been exploring too, how heavy they feel.  Sid, another rock-star on the other side crashed and burned in the flames of a heroin addiction.  Talking to Sid, he’s such a likeable guy.  Damn he has some funny stories!  Inevitably I’ll have to contrast his personality (as he presents to me) with John and Kurt. 

As I struggle with sugar / flour addiction, approaching my “hardcore three-month cleanse” starting date of June 1, I think about how this unhealthy diet of mine might kill me over several decades.  How much worse would cravings for herion be, a substance so addictive and destructive it has killed people in a year? 

Oh well, another day, another entry.  Not today.  Today, I’m going home, going to meditate, going to bed early.

 

Books for Readings: maybe June 2nd?

I have an idea.

I’ve received a few emails from people interested in readings from me.  Thanks you guys, it’s hugely flattering to get these requests.  You may have noticed the new Wondering About Readings? tab, which explains why I have to charge for individual appointments.

Some more detail behind my obligation to charge for single-person, one-off readings is that I do not have a landline or internet at home right now, and likely won’t have these things until I move in October.  This means that phone calls cost me $0.60 per minute, and right now I’m saving up for phone calls with my own family.

The thing is, I understand and appreciate that money is tight for everyone, especially “in this economy” (gawd, don’t you just love that saying?)  I would like to figure out a way to provide sliding-scale readings to the awesome readers who’ve requested appointments, but then can’t afford the rate.  I think we can come up with a creative solution, here.

It’s very easy for me to do “marathon” readings.  I can really get into a “reading groove” which is so much fun!  This is why I do by donation readings for locals.  It’s easy, it’s low-cost for me, time and energy wise, and it is so much fun, and best of all it makes psychic services available to those who need it.

I have a friend who has an amazing long distance plan, with free calls to the US and Canada.  She’s offered her landline up for my use, if I need it.  I’ll have to bounce the proposed dates off of her, but I’m certain we’ll work something out.

If you’re in the US or in Canada, and would like a sliding-scale reading, would you be interested in doing a reading in exchange for purchasing a book from my amazon.ca wish list?

It’s beautiful!  You get a reading and then I get something new to read!

You would get an hour reading for around $25, depending upon shipping.  I’m thinking Saturday, June 2nd, or Saturday June 9th, pending the OK from my friend with the landline.

If you’re interested, please leave a reply in the comment field, or drop me an email at tofinopsychic@gmail.com  (My next access to internet will be this Tuesday.)

Have a great weekend, everyone!  And a great LOOOOONG weekend, fellow Canadians!

Small Wonders II

Am I in the dessert?

No, I’m on the beach.

It’s 7am.  Quiet.  The mist is retreating.

I’ll sit here, drinking my coffee, make drawings in the sand.

Sweetie crosses paths with a cougar.

She thought she saw a man walking in the mist ahead of her.  Instead, she found large cat prints, back foot stepping into the print of the front foot, silent walker, quiet watcher.

Better stay close, Happy pup.

It sure is magical.

Reader emails from Kurt’s Suicide Entries

I received a couple of emails in response to Kurt’s Suicide Revision entry.  I thought I’d share them anonymously here, since I know there are other readers struggling with the same issues.  Thank you both for your feedback & contributions.  I am deeply moved by the experiences you have chosen to share, and I know I’m not the only one who appreciates it. 

First one:

Sorry to hear you’re not feeling well! I’ve been on the edge of feeling gross myself. Do you think sometimes we get knocked out of commission for a reason? Like, maybe you were supposed to listen to all 15 hours of “Heavier than Heaven.” Damn, I’m sure that WAS disturbing for you.

But I have to say what happened sounds completely in character for Kurt — it’s like he distorts things, but he’s sincere about it. The distorted version is actually his truth, right?

 

I get it, because years ago, I had similar drug issues and overdosed on heroin (once, not 12 times!). Turned blue, flatlined and everything…and the thing is, after that happens, the people in your life never look at you the same way. (Not that I blame them!) But when you’re the one who overdosed and you want to move on, it gets…frustrating, I guess? You feel like that experience defines you. And you just want to pretend it never happened at all.

 

A second one:

This entry triggered a past life memory:

 

I committed suicide around 1817 in Dublin, Ireland as a runaway teenager who had gotten knocked up by her father, got a job at a butcher shop in town by a man who I believed actually cared about me as a person, but who was really after my ass as well.

 

All I can tell you is that all this suicide business has given us a momentum to help and heal others which would not be anywhere near as powerful had we not experienced it.

The Garden of Shadows

Sweetie & I had an idyllic weekend.  Gorgeous weather.  The kind that reminds us why we live here, in vacation land.  Happy ran on the beach for hours, ripping up the sand, fetching sticks and ocean-buffed rocks. 

Somehow, while walking in this heaven-on-earth, we started talking about “darkness”.  It started when Sweetie blurted, “What is up with Lucifer?  What is his deal?”

Many months ago, when we’d previously touched upon dark energies, parasites etc.,

http://psychicintraining.wordpress.com/2012/01/10/oddities/

http://psychicintraining.wordpress.com/2012/01/13/oh-hell/

 I had caught a brief view of the angel known as Lucifer, tending his garden of shadows.  He seemed like a gentle soul, surprisingly.  His body language, appearance and voice are how I imagine Morpheus, from the Sandman comics, would appear in “real life”. 

So I said to Sweetie, “I think you’re going to need to ask some more specific questions.”  So she did.  Here it goes, to the best of my memory…  (at some point in writing this entry, I picked up the conversation thread and started talking to him directly again):

Sw:  “So, what does Lucifer think of Satan worshippers?”

L:  “There is no Satan.  No king demon.  Those who declare themselves to be worshippers of evil do so because they are facing their fear of darkness.  By declaring themselves children of darkness, they attempt to neutralize their own fear.  It is not so different from (shows me what I believe is a catholic church.)

Those people who decide to drink the blood of animals in ritual, many often purchase the blood from the butcher.  There is far less violence perpetrated upon the planet by self-declared satan-worshippers than by the followers of Christ.  (said with deep, sad irony.  We commented upon him expressing irony and he said,)  A sense for irony is a recent and necessary development in the human consciousness.  It shows an elevated understanding of the complexities of society and culture.  It is part of the evolution of the species on this planet.  (notice he did not specifically say Humanity, but species as a whole.)

It is my job to keep the equation in balance, to keep it spinning out of control.”

S:  “So he actually *prevents* evil from completely taking over the planet?”

Me:  Yes, he’s showing me this graph where a gently rising line hits a tipping point and starts exponentially rising.  It’s like, if you add minus two to one side of an equation, the other side has to match with minus two.  He prevents it from going to minus two billion.  He keeps the evil from building upon itself exponentially, to prevent the whole planet from being overtaken.

L:  “On this time vector/plain, there are three planets, including earth, who are undergoing similar exercises.  (He shows me the other two planets in different galaxies, outside of this one.)  I focus most of my efforts upon maintaining the required balance on this planet, although occasionally my assistance is needed on the other two.  The caretakers of the other two planets occasionally assist us on this planet.

There are three planets undergoing similar exercises, because this stabilizes the experience.  (Shows me a three-legged milking stool, and a three-point pyramid.  I’m reminded of Kurt showing Sweetie the three translucent beads on a string, then shifting the perspective to the side where the three beads overlap and merge into one, which can also be the point of the pyramid.  So many ways of expressing one concept.) 

L:  If one planet’s balance begins to warp, we can tap into the energy of the other two planets to help bring the energy back, to prevent spiral, a buildup of energy that would result in the planet ejecting all life from her surface.

In this phase, several other planets in this (area of the universe?  Who are focused on earth?) are sending their assistance to this planet, in the form of energy or incarnations.  (He shows me this blender with three blades.  The blade is stiff, and requires some energy to get it moving.  I understand the blades represent the three planets he spoke of.  The transformation on earth is also happening on these two other planets, simultaneously.  Together the three will gain enough energy through their transformations to get the “blades” spinning.)

Me:  What happens when all three planets transition successfully? 

L:  Why, we all return to heaven, my dear.  (Calm, serene smile.)

Sw:  Sounds like Revelations.  Is that right?

L:  The story, the many prophecies of the end of our time upon this planet, has been told many different ways over tens of thousands of years.  They all tell the same truth. 

Me:  I don’t believe there’s a separation of the wheat from the chaff – good, evil, it’s all the same when you get to heaven, isn’t it?

Sw:  Yeah, heaven really seems like this place where judgment doesn’t exist, there’s no need.

L:  (silent to this, no response.)

Me:  Is there a separation of good and evil?  Is there a hell? 

L:  Many live in hell on this planet.  Many perpetuate their own hell after death.  The possibilities for joy are endless, as are the possibilities for suffering.  Each soul participates.

Me:  Will some individual consciousnesses / soul bubbles be left behind?

L:  (silence, no response)

Me:  How can we be sure that we return to joy when we leave our current bodies?

L:  That is inevitable.  Separation is temporary, return to love is (shows me a magnet and iron filings being drawn to it.)  While my creatures (he uses another word, I can’t recognize it) work to neutralize the accumulation of negative emotion on earth, your kind (said in another language, wtf?) work to transform the negative back into love.  This is the work you do.  You teach others to be lightworkers (not a word I generally use, but the most appropriate here.)  You and your kind facilitate the transformation, you apply the change.  I maintain the balance, that is all.  The transformational energy comes from you (the plural you).  That is the journey of your kind.

Me:  Holy shit.

L:  gentle smile.

Me:  Could you please tell me about your shadow garden, the creatures, the plants and the various demons?

L:  I love this garden, it is so beautiful.  Many do not recognize its beauty, or the necessity of my creatures on this planet.  As so few understand their purpose, I love them all the more.

The plants and animals are just like the ones you experience physically.  They are creatures of nature, evolved for a purpose.  Many of these animals, (shows me drooling coyote-like dogs, shadow cats, bats, large hairy humanoid animals, large, troll-like animals) assist in the essential work of maintaining the crucial balance of light and shadow (metaphor for love vs. suffering) on earth. 

When humans experience anguish, they emit emotional energy.  It is very powerful, can affect others.  It can build up in areas of the earth.  In rooms, on battle grounds, entire cities.  This energy would build and suffocate all life on earth if it were not neutralized.

These creatures consume the negative emotional energy, prevent the build-up to toxic levels.  (Shows me houseplants dying.)

Me:  I understand, this expands on my earlier lessons.  I understood that these creatures can become attached to areas or people, and they can manipulate a person’s life or health to amplify the negative energy they put out.  Is this right?”

L:  They are but creatures of nature.  It is natural for creatures to alter their environment to suit them.  (Shows me humans expanding their cities ever-outward, shows me the very poor and how it’s connected to the very rich.  I understand that for the most part, humanity does most of the damage to itself.)

Me:  I see that the greatest negative impact upon humans on earth originates with other humans.  Why is that? 

L:  It is another control.  When part of humanity requires an experience (shows me Rwanda, genocide and starvation) it is better to control the introduction of this negativity through incarnated human beings, with limited lifespans, rather than unleashing creatures of shadow.  That would create chaos.  The wars, the genocide, the extreme dominance of few over millions, these scenarios are very closely monitored and controlled. 

Me:  (he is showing me all of this from the perspective of being in orbit around the planet) I see from up here that humans have the capacity to alter the negative energy.  Because, if the evil is coming from a human source, there is no limit to the transformative good of humanity as well.  I see this as love transforming and neutralizing evil on earth.  I get it now.  That’s why Marley was telling me about it.  That’s why we need to learn how to love those who perpetrate evil.  It’s so fucked up, but it actually makes sense to me right now.

L:  nod.

Me:  Anything else I should know?

L:  I may only impart information which you (have already received?  Are ready for?  Have already integrated?  Something like that.)  I may not tell you more. 

Me:  Thank you for the chat.  And thanks for coming back as I wrote this entry.

L:  solemn face, nod.