Where Was I?

Five months before this writing, I had gotten a fantastic Akashic Records reading from Joanna Salerno. Not knowing my background or connection to shamanism, Joanna began the reading with the revelation of a past life I had as a wizard within a Seventh Century shamanic community in Scotland. As she explained, the Records indicated that “the unseen” had formed me and framed me from that point forward, which totally resonated.

A few months later, I got an email from Garry Gewant, a friend whose spirituality-based events I had attended from time to time, over the years, in various parts of New Jersey.  I hadn’t seen Garry in a while and was feeling drawn to the past life regression workshop he had scheduled for Saturday January 18, 2014.  My inclination was to determine if I could connect with that Seventh Century existence Joanna had mentioned, and learn what I could learn.  So I registered for Garry’s full-day event. 

On the day of the event, the weather wasn’t all that cooperative.  It was snowing and the roads were slippery.  Still, a dozen of us past life regression seekers did make it to Garry’s venue. 

The morning session involved Garry’s leading a discussion of past life regression in general, and in the afternoon, after some preliminary exercises, he was to guide us to wherever it was we would be going while in a hypnotized state he would induce.  This being a group-session and not a one-on-one event, Garry’s guidance could only be general, and there would be no interacting between him and any members of the group during the regression. 

We all closed our eyes and relaxed, as Garry began guiding us into a trance state. 

The vision came quickly for me.  Entranced, I was transported back to what I took to be Seventh Century Scotland, and saw a ghostly version of myself there.  I was indeed part of a shamanic community.  We were gathered in a clearing in a forest.  The community appeared to be nomadic, and it registered that we were from the future somehow, time travelers of a sort—at least that was the information coming to me as I envisioned.  I did not see any children there, nor any living quarters.

While inside the vision, I was walking among the gathering and became very consciously aware that I had absolutely no fear or concern of the men around me—this in stark contrast to how it was on the streets of Brooklyn of my youth where I was always on guard.  (Why the streets of Brooklyn of my youth were my frame of reference, I can only surmise.)  I wondered why I had no fear and looked down at my body.  It was then that I realized that I was a woman (as Joanna had noted in the reading), seemingly in her twenties.  At that point my consciousness (such as it was) was thrust out of the vision itself, and I became more of a third-party observer. 

I watched as the woman I was came further into focus.  As she walked, it was as tho she were gliding thru the grounds.  “A very light body,” I thought.  (For ease of reference here, I will at times refer to the woman in the vision as “Rhona,” a name I selected from the list here.  

On a prompt from Garry to look around for someone we knew, I found a version of my internet friend Cindy (who, in this life, had recommended Joanna to me initially).  In the vision, Cindy was male (as Joanna had mentioned during my Akashic Record reading), young and handsome.  He was pursuing Rhona, but she perceived him only as a friend.  Finally she gave in, almost as a favor.  They made love only once.  There was no vision of the act, only a realization.

Rhona knew, and I sensed that the entire community was aware, that their souls had incarnated knowing that they would be slaughtered one day.  That was their destiny.  It was what they had signed up for.  And that's exactly what happened in the vision.  

When an invading horde entered the village, Rhona walked up boldly but peaceably to confront the horrifying bearded hairy monster who was the leader of the gang of blood-thirsty warriors.  She stared him in the eyes, fearlessly, and said nothing.  In one sudden swipe with his huge heavy sword, the horde leader cut off Rhona’s head.  It came to me that she was actually happy about the quick death because she did not want to be raped.  And because, as the shamans say, “It's important how you die.”

The horde leader reached down to the ground and grabbed Rhona’s bleeding head by the hair.  He held it up and mockingly yelled to the community now gathered around, “Here’s your great mystic.”  Then he and the rest of the horde proceeded to slaughter everyone in the village.  

I saw Rhona’s spirit/soul exit her body peacefully.  In spirit as in life, she was beautiful.  As a spirit walking away from the horror, she would not turn around to witness the atrocity being committed; but she knew what was happening.  Nor was I permitted to watch, as a third-person observer, which was okay by me.  However, I did at one point see wild dogs eating at Rhona’s body.  

It came to me that somehow as a result of this horror, when the souls of the community were outside their slaughtered bodies, their energies spread out, and seeds of spirituality began to be sown far and wide.  That was apparently the goal they had, as souls, before agreeing to incarnate and be slaughtered.  That is, they were there to die as they did, and as a result (somehow) spread spirituality for the overall betterment of mankind.  Why they had to go thru such a horrible death in order to accomplish this result was not revealed.  Nor could I help but wonder if there were not a better way.

Once the vision was over, I meditated on how that life of mine as Rhona was impacting me now in this life—which was the reason for doing the past life regression to begin with.  In the main, the answer was twofold.

First, in this life, I am into spirituality, and help to spread spirituality via my book, website, participation at circles, seminars, mediumship and spirituality events, meeting people of a like-mind, and sharing stories; all of which tends to strengthen our connections, and reinforce our beliefs.

Second, I have undertaken my 9/11 truth efforts to help bring about justice for innocent victims ruthlessly slaughtered.  

On a macro level, my take is that energies (known as archons***) possessed the horde back in the Seventh Century, and that these are the same energies (or family of energies) that inhabited those who massacred the nearly three thousand people in the false flag atrocity known as 9/11, and millions later in the name of the bogus and endless “War on Terror”  (which would be more appropriately named, the “War of Terror”).   I did not get that the same souls were involved.  

A third impact on my current life from that life of mine in Seventh Century Scotland, is the death wish I seem to have at times (but never take too seriously) in this life.

So, where was I, in actuality, during this past life regression?  Was the vision I experienced an accurate portrayal of a slice of my soul's personal history?  Or just a dream.

In short, I am not sure.  For all the paranormal experiences I’ve had throughout my life, I am still somewhat of a skeptic.  It seemed at times that this vision was too pat, fed by prior references and revelations, and that i might have been “making it up.”  

But then again, I was in a fairly deep hypnotic state which (for me at least) is usually a trustworthy environment.  Also, the vision was very vivid and independently directed, thereby providing authenticity, in my view.  

At the end of the group past life regression session, Garry brought us back into our current selves.  I shared my vision with the group.  There was no feedback, except a pat on the back from Garry. 

Later, I asked Cindy for her take and she said, “I feel it probably happened as you saw it.”  

I would say that the vision is true in some symbolic sense, and maybe historically as well.

I had also asked Garry in an email, “with regard to the experience i had/shared at your workshop—what was your take on what i experienced, as shared?  [did it] seem valid to you, or [was it just] me ‘imagining things?’”

Garry responded, “That question is in all of our thoughts after a PLR [past life regression].  There is only one person who can answer that and that’s you. If it felt real to you, it was. If you think it was your imagination, I would ask: is it possible that what you interpret as imagination could really be your subconscious access to a past life experience that you perceive as imagination?  More food for thought.”

Yes, and that is the bottom line.  I have indeed thought about the experience and decided to blog about it.  And so that’s where I am,  at the moment of this writing.

Thanks for reading.  As always, comments welcome.

***For more on the archons, see my Amazon review of Hank Wesselman's The Bowl of Light here  where I point out a. . . 

. . . somewhat disturbing discussion of a "the deceivers" (called "archons" by the early Gnostics, as Hank observes in a footnote on page 250). Makua [the great Hawaiian mystic] describes the deceivers as those 'free-ranging psychic entities, invisible beings [not spirits] who function as mind parasites...they especially attach themselves to our political, economic, and religious leaders--to all the major players in the game.' During Makua's discussion of the deceivers, Hank pointedly interjects, "I thought furiously and responded, 'The Christian massacre of the pagans...the Dark Ages...the Thirty Years' War...the Inquisition...the witch hunts...the Holocaust...9/11...' Makua smiled sadly and simply nodded in agreement" (page 226).

Article Posted on the Shaman Portal

On the shaman portal, they ask for people to "Share with our global community the ways in which shamanism impacted your life. A shamanic moment of discovery after which your life were changed forever." I posted the article pasted below at http://www.shamanportal.org/display_impacts.php


I began studying shamanism and attending drumming circles and workshops in March 2001. In August 2008, my employer moved us to the NYC financial district. Whenever I was there, a horrible depressed feeling would overtake me. One day while I was walking despondently around the World Trade Center area, I telepathically called out to my spirit guides and spirit helpers and asked “Why do you have me in this godforsaken place? It’s killing me!” They replied, clearly and matter-of-factly, “We need your energy here.” A few days later I attended the September 2008 New York Shamanic Circle. Visiting that night was Susana, an Ecuadorian medicine woman who brought a marvelous energy into the room. The final journey was “In honor of 9/11.” Once we started to journey, I was immediately asked by unidentified but benevolent-feeling spirits to allow their energy to flow through me while I was in the WTC area. I agreed. I shared the experience with the circle and Susana said, “Thank you for sharing that. It was very important that you shared that.” I was honored! The following Sunday morning while I was in the shower, a group of “9/11 restless spirits” came to me and telepathically asked that I do a little more. Specifically, I was to research what really happened on 9/11, and spread the word about the results of my research. I agreed, did the research, and soon realized that the U.S. government has been lying to us about what really happened on 9/11. The next day I began emailing 9/11 truth information to family and friends. Almost immediately, that horrible depressed feeling I got whenever I entered the WTC area left, and has never returned. In 2009, I was “called upon” to represent 9/11 family members in court in their efforts to have a new investigation into 9/11 (I’m a lawyer). We lost the case, but spread the word about 9/11 Truth to tens if not hundreds of thousands more people. The litigation also sparked the “Building What?!” campaign (renamed “Remember Building 7”) and helped make perhaps millions more people aware of 9/11 Truth. Shamans say “It’s important to know who you are and where you are.” For me, investigating 9/11 Truth is key to answering those questions, and I would not have become aware of 9/11 Truth were I not a student of shamanism. I continue to be active in the 9/11 Truth movement, and am grateful for the experiences I have had liking Spirituality and 9/11 Truth.

Message from the 9/11 Restless Spirits

It’s difficult to mix discussions of spirituality (where the goal is often to bring people together as one) and politics (which can be so divisive)—but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Submitted for your consideration: a discussion of my encounters in September 2008 with a group of energies I would come to call the “9/11 restless spirits,” who asked me to research and pass along information about what really happened on September 11, 2001. I told them yes and am now asking you to please consider:

• reading up on the 9/11 truth movement, see http://www.truthmove.org/content/9-11-truth/
• watching the internet movie 911 Mysteries Part 1: Demolitions, available free at http://www.911weknow.com/911-mysteries-movie.html
• hearing what supporters of the 9/11 firefighters have to say at http://firefightersfor911truth.org/ and http://therealrudy.org/ .

Before being approached by the 9/11 restless spirits, I was working in “the West Village,” which is the western most part of NYC’s Greenwich Village. It’s a great area to work—predominantly residential with many restaurants, coffee shops, funky stores, nightclubs, Off-Broadway theaters, proximity to the Hudson River promenade, and a tolerant and colorful citizenry. In sum, the West Village is one cool place.

My employer’s office had been located in the West Village since the summer of 2000, and we were there on that indescribably horrible day in the late summer of 2001—September 11, 2001 to be precise—or “9/11” as it has come to be known. Altho the office was only about a mile and a half due north of the Twin Towers, it was still worlds away. Indeed, despite the surreal horror surrounding us on that terrible day, we were able to escape without very much ado—unlike the estimated 2,600 innocent people who were in fact trapped and killed at the World Trade Center.

Like so many others who to some extent experienced 9/11, my co-workers and I had readjust to life in Manhattan following that monstrous attack. Eventually, we did. By the summer of 2008, we hardly even spoke of 9/11 anymore. Of course it was (and still is) very difficult and heart-wrenching to look up in the direction of the World Trade Center and NOT see the Twin Towers standing, but not much was (or is) actually spoken about it.

In the spring of 2008, following a business merger between my employer and another company, the new corporate structure announced that we would be leaving the West Village and moving downtown to the financial district—one short block from Ground Zero. I was shattered. Gone would be the free parking in the residential West Village—which meant no more driving to work, and thus no freedom after work to drive to dancing venues, Broadway theaters, or uptown restaurants. And no more topless summer sunbathing at lunchtime on the relatively private south side of Pier 40. For it soon would be time to return—via the dreaded subway—to the Wall Street area rat race I had endured during the early days of my working career so many years before.

When we actually made the move in August 2008, it wasn’t as bad as I feared—it was exponentially worse. Every time I stepped off the subway at Rector Street and walked by Ground Zero to get to my office, I would become very depressed. It felt like part of my soul was gone. In shamanic terms I was experiencing “soul loss,” of which depression is a very real symptom. It wasn’t just the madhouse environment, or the hawkers peddling photos of the 9/11 tragedy, or even the sight of Ground Zero itself bringing back memories of that tragic day. No, there was something more, and I was at a loss to explain it.

One day while I was walking despondently around the World Trade Center area, I telepathically called out to my spirit guides and spirit helpers and asked (as if they were to blame), “Why the fuck do you have me in this godforsaken place? It’s killing me!” They replied, clearly and matter-of-factly, “We need your energy here.”

“Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I wondered. I asked my spirits in less politically incorrect terms, but received no explanation. And so it was up to me to figure out.

All I could think of at the time was NOT getting caught up in the mindless rat race that IS lower Manhattan, and refusing to sink to the level of rudeness and borderline inhumanity prevailing on the subways and in the streets. Instead, I made it a point to be overly courteous, e.g., allowing people to step in front of me when we would otherwise be competing for a spot in the asphalt jungle, and being respectful and polite to those with whom I came in contact. It was funny…at times I would stop to let someone cross the street in front of me and cause a pedestrian pileup because no one was expecting such a basic courtesy. But despite the moments of levity, when I got right down to it, life around Ground Zero was eating me up.

Then came the commemoration activities on Thursday September 11, 2008. Intersections were blocked off to traffic and the streets were flooded with more police officers than I have ever seen at one time. Thousands of people paraded in and around the area, but I avoided most of it. However, I did make it a point to walk passed Ground Zero once, to pay my respects. Later, a friend of mine at work, Dave—thru whom I have gotten messages from Spirit before—mentioned that at the commemoration he had seen a sizeable number of “9/11 truth movement protesters.” Just hearing that report from Dave jolted me, but at the time, I didn’t know why.

On the day following the 9/11 commemoration and I was planning to go to the New York Shamanic Circle (see http://www.newyorkshamaniccirlce.org/), which I have attended regularly (on the second Friday of each calendar month) since March 2001. This was to be the first circle I’d go to since my employer had moved our offices to the World Trade Center area. I used to be able to walk to the circle from the West Village worksite, but walking there from Ground Zero would be a bit of a trek, and not comfortably doable in the hard rain being forecast. So, as a treat to myself, I drove to work and paid $25 to park (including $2 tip), just so I’d have my car to drive to the circle and home afterward.

All day long I was getting “fives” (e.g., 555) popping up on license plates and elsewhere, indicating that positive and enjoyable experiences were immediately ahead (“5” is my “magic number”), even though there was indeed a hard and steady rain falling, as the weatherman had predicted.

Immediately after work, I attended a party in a local bar celebrating a co-worker’s promotion. I could only stay a short while before heading over to get my car. I walked toward the parking garage with another co-worker friend who had read my book “Into the Mystic…” some months before. He gave me a lot of positive and unexpected feedback about the book, making it a fun walk despite the rain.

On the ride to the Village, I didn’t know what to expect parking-wise, but as fate would have it, I got a legal spot right in front of 219 Sullivan Street, the building where the New York Shamanic Circle meets each month.

Visiting the circle itself that night was an Ecuadorian medicine woman named “Susana.” I’d been to one other circle with her before, and it is so great having her there, for she has such marvelous energy.

Olivia, a relatively new core-circle member, did the “calling in of the spirits” in what she described as “the Peruvian tradition,” which involved a series of unique words chanted to each of the five directions (East, South, West, North, and Above; but not to the lower or center worlds).

After the other opening rituals, the first journey of the evening was essentially to “Visit with your power animal,” which presented an opportunity for me to reconnect with “Buck,” my own power animal. I had not encountered Buck in my journeys for some time.

As the drumming brought us to an expanded state of awareness, I began to vision. Things started off very dark (due in part to the super blindfold I was wearing). My maternal grandparents’ house on the way to my “Sacred Garden” was very faint. It seemed to be fading away. I thought that this was because I had finished my business there with the soul retrieval/lineage healing I had done for my grandfather at a Hank Wesselman workshop four months before, and that my grandparents had moved on. I wondered whether the house would be totally gone from my middle world of dream visions in the future.

Buck greeted me as I entered my Sacred Garden. I took to lying down with my neck against the long tree trunk log that is a prominent feature in my Garden (reflecting how I was positioned in the drum circle, using my rolled up towel behind my neck as a support pillow). Buck shape-shifted into a miniature version of himself. I brought him to me with my cupped hands and held him to my heart. Then he shape-shifted again, this time into a bigger-than-life deer. I stood up and hugged him around the neck, receiving and returning real Love in the process.

Spontaneously Buck led me away from my Sacred Garden and into a hell realm. Many souls were trapped there, suffering. Buck told me (telepathically) what my job was: “Show them the way out,” which was a “psychopomp” directive. (Note: psychopomp work involves finding lost souls in the middle world of dream and helping them get to where they are supposed to be (not “The Light,” necessarily). Psychopomp work can also involve helping people transition from life to the afterlife.)

In response to Buck’s directive, I formed my right hand in the shape of a gun, pointed my trigger finger toward one of the walls and simply thought to blast thru. Laser-like energy shot out of my finger and the wall started to blow apart. I repeated the assault on another wall, feeling like a superhero among mortals. Then I told the hell-realm souls that they too could blast thru the walls simply by intending to do so, and willing it to be. They mimicked my efforts and were also successful. From our blasts of energy, the walls started to crumble. Despair was turning to joy as the open Universe came into view, and the souls were being set free—just as the callback drumming at 219 Sullivan Street was signaling an end to the journey. The vision faded as I shifted my consciousness back to the room.

As usual, following the journey there was time to take notes on what we experienced and for some people (not I this time) to share what had happened with the rest of the circle. After that, Susana announced the second journey. In the main, we were directed to journey on “What are your gifts?”

The gift that came to me was “compassion.” I have never really thought of myself as much of a compassionate person, but later asked family and friends if they thought I was and they said yes. Somewhere along the line came the suggestion that I be more compassionate with myself. I took the message to heart.

Journey 3 was the kicker. Joey announced that the journey was “In honor of 9/11.” He noted that seven years had passed since September 11, 2001 and that in shamanism, there are seven-year cycles. He said it was “a time to release grief.”

Then Joey announced that the third journey was to be in two parts. Part 3A—if we would be comfortable doing so—was to “Stand like a tree and do psychopomp work.” This thoroughly amazed me since I had already done psychopomp work in the first journey when Buck my power animal led me into the hell realm to destroy it and set free the souls imprisoned there. Part 3B was to “Be a lightworker with regard to 9/11,” or as Susana put it, “Become an urban shaman.”

Once we started to actually journey, I was immediately being asked by unidentified but benevolent-feeling spirits to allow their energy to flow through me while I was in the World Trade Center area. “It’s quite easy, really,” I was told. All I had to do was grant them the permission to do so and it would be done automatically. Feeling that this was a natural fit for me, I agreed.

Later, I shared this and the earlier psychopomp journey with the rest of the circle and was rewarded with a number of “Oooos! and Wows!” from circle members. After we wrapped up the circle for the night, Susana came to me and said, “Thank you for sharing that. It was very important that you shared that.” I was honored!

Alone afterward, I had some pizza and wine at one of my favorite eateries, The Pizza Box on Bleeker Street. I hadn’t been there in some time and the manager recognized me from years before when my daughter Kristen and I used to eat their regularly, during her undergraduate days at NYU. Felt great—more of the good day and night foretold by all the fives I had been getting throughout that Friday.

Saturday was a kind of late summer beach day with enough hazy sunshine to improve upon my fading tan. I decided to bike it to Rockaway and got there at 11:07 real time. NO ONE was on the beach—just the way I like it! I ambled over toward the shore where a recently-formed sand bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean awaited me. By then, the sun was shining stronger. For over an hour I had the whole beach to myself before people started showing up. What a great morning! I felt in retrospect that I was being rewarded for agreeing to allow spirit energy to flow thru me while I was in the Ground Zero area.

Sunday morning’s happenings I was not ready for. While I was in the shower (where I’ve experienced spontaneous mystical events before), a group of "9/11 restless spirits"—accompanied by a silently observing John Lennon—came to me and telepathically asked that I—in addition to allowing spirit energy to flow thru me while I was around Ground Zero—do a little more. Specifically I was to research what really happened on 9/11 and spread the word wherever I thought the word might be well received. I agreed.

A couple of nights later I woke up alone in my bed around three in the morning, totally energized and absolutely driven to do some 9/11 research. I jumped on the computer and in just two short hours had an idea as to what the 9/11 truth movement was about--a search for truth about what really happened on 9/11. It was obvious from my manic research that many people had been on the 9/11 truth-finding mission for some time, and they were sharing a wealth of information for all to read thru the miracle of the worldwide web.

The next day I began emailing 9/11 truth information and relevant website links to family and friends with whom I felt the messages might resonate. That first effort has been the heart of what I’ve done so far, but I continue to send out emails and speak up about the 9/11 truth movement when opportunities arise, like here.

And guess what? After having done all this in earnest, that horrible feeling I got whenever I entered the World Trade Center area is gone—totally. And the depression has lifted. In shamanic terms, my soul part has returned. I still miss working in the West Village, but being around Ground Zero no longer turns me into a despondent mess. In fact, I don’t mind being down there that much at all. An example of Instant Karma, methinks, for doing what I had promised the restless 9/11 spirits I would do.

I hope that recounting my 9/11 experiences here provides you with some benefit and perhaps an education as well. Please consider looking into what really happened on 9/11, via the links above and/or in your own way. Most importantly, EXAMINE THE EVIDENCE OBJECTIVELY. And then, if you agree that people should be made aware, pass along the information to others who may be receptive to and support the idea that we need an objective investigation into what really happened on 9/11. If we can spread the word, and eventually bring the real criminals to justice, those who suffered and perished in the 9/11 hellfire will not have died vain; the world will be a better place; and the 9/11 restless spirits will finally be able to rest in peace.

Thanks for reading.