The following is my five-star Amazon review of the book Messages: Signs, Visits, and Premonitions from Loved Ones Lost on 9/11, written by Bonnie McEnearney.
Miraculous Stories, Wonderfully Told
As someone who became inspired to pursue "9/11 Truth" after spontaneously connecting with a group of 9/11 spirits while working near Ground Zero in 2008, I was hopeful that the encounters reported in "Messages" would touch on the fact that that there is much more to 9/11 than what the government and mainstream media is telling us. The only instance in "Messages" that arguably comes close to making that point is when Deena Burnett discusses her husband Tom's 9/11 premonitions. Tom said that he didn't know exactly what was going to happen, but predicted that '...it was going to impact a large number of people and that it had something to do with the White House.' Despite the fact that "Messages" included just this one reference to what might be considered a grain of 9/11 Truth, I thoroughly enjoyed reading Bonnie McEneaney's painstaking account of the many wonderful signs and visits from loved ones lost on 9/11, and the positive impact that resulted. "Messages" also confirmed much of the knowledge I have gained during a spiritual quest that began in earnest in 1997, and validated my own metaphysical experiences.
I very much appreciated that Mrs. McEneaney allowed the families and friends of loved ones lost on 9/11 to share their miraculous encounters in their own words. The author's thoughtful introductions to the people involved helps the reader to get to know them. The inclusion of their photographs is a wonderful touch, and very much enhances the feeling of familiarity.
As those familiar with the phenomena are aware, our loved ones in Spirit will use whatever methods they can to let us know that they are okay and that they still love us--be it contact thru dreams, synchronicities, feelings, thoughts, sounds, smell, touch, electricity, coins, animals, or otherwise. The experiences related in "Messages" involve all of these, and more...including a number of the less common methods of contact such as actually seeing a loved one who has crossed over. Of course, HOW any of this can happen will always be a great mystery, but as the insightful Mrs. McEneaney makes clear, connections with loved ones in Spirit do in fact occur and are not all that uncommon.
The author's telling of the extraordinary number of premonitions leading up to 9/11 was especially intriguing, and totally supportive of the belief held by many in the spirituality community that, "The soul knows when it's time to go home."
Since our Western minds will always tend to doubt the validity of metaphysical occurrences--even when we they happen to us--it's very important to share our experiences with others (while being careful with whom we confide). Mrs. McEneaney has performed a valuable service in this regard, by gathering and sharing testimonial evidence that there is life after death, that love never dies, and that our loved ones on the Other Side continue to watch over us. Presented in the context of 9/11, the seminal event of our time, the evidence is that much more powerful and persuasive.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Amazing Grace
My sister-in-law Grace crossed over on St. Patrick’s Day, March 17, 2002, after a long and valiant battle against lung cancer. The doctors had given her six months to live, but Grace fought hard and led a hopeful and relatively happy life for two full years, in defiance of that death sentence.
During that time, Grace became involved with spirituality and I took her to a New Jersey event featuring world class medium Suzane Northrop. We drove from Brooklyn to Jersey in the pouring rain, but it was worth the trip because a couple of our own DPs dropped in—my father for a brief hello, and Grace’s brother Nick who came across as part of a dual reading.
It was during that time frame that Grace was in search of all manner of cancer treatments. She wasn’t doing very well with any of the medical protocols and so I inquired of an old friend who had become a cancer researcher and was aware of the latest approaches. He recommended a doctor at a large, prestigious New York Hospital, who was involved in developing a new type of chemotherapy program.
I connected Grace to my friend’s contact and she began the new treatment, only to quickly descend into a downward spiral. Shortly thereafter, Grace crossed over.
In my mind at least, the chemo had killed her, and I had deep regrets and guilt for having recommended the treatment that had accelerated Grace’s death.
During Grace’s wake, I was staying with my brother Barney in the apartment he and Grace had shared, and where she had died in his arms. I was alone in the living room when suddenly Grace came to me telepathically. There was no doubt that it was her—I recognized her energy. With regard to the treatment I had helped her secure—the chemo that had accelerated her death—Grace said, “You know how much I wanted to fight to stay alive,” while also communicating to me telepathically that I had done nothing wrong, and that she would have had it no other way but to go down fighting.
I stood there in awe, feeling the communication on a cellular level, and in the process experiencing total and true relief from the guilt and regret I had been experiencing. An amazing healing experience!
A couple of years later, I was at a séance with my mother and a cousin. Everyone came away with some DP contact including me, when Grace came thru Suzane to say that it was okay for her dogs (two “white” Shitzus) to go on the couch. And...Grace said thru Suzane...the dogs were “different colors.”
The first part of this communication hit home. While I was staying at Barney and Grace’s apartment, I had been sleeping on the couch. The dogs jumped up to be at my feet. I nudged them off thinking, “Dogs don’t belong on the couch.” And here, thru Suzane, was Grace coming thru from the other side to tell me that her dogs were allowed to be on the couch!
The validity of that message had me second-guessing my initial take that the rest of the communication was somehow inaccurate. That is, I had always perceived the dogs—a father and son duo named Harpo and Zeppo after two of the Marx Brothers—as both being white. But given Grace’s statement coming thru Suzane (who had no knowledge of the dogs’ existence) that the dogs were different colors, I knew I had to look at the dogs a little more closely. Which is what I did the next time that I was with Harpo and Zeppo at my mother’s apartment where Barney would usually bring them on Sunday afternoons. Lo and behold, I could clearly see that the these were two dogs of a different color—one being white, the other beige. Whoa!
Reflecting on the implications of these communications from Grace, I can see that they validate the idea that our DPs are around us and witnessing events. For example, Grace had come thru to say that it was okay for the dogs to be on the couch. Why on Earth would she have said that unless she had been there in the apartment watching me kick the dogs off the couch while I was in trying to go to sleep? Very powerful!
But even more powerful was the common denominator of the other two communications. That is, Grace had somehow been reading my thoughts, and sensing my feelings. For I had communicated to no one that I had been thinking and feeling terrible about having recommended to Grace the chemotherapy protocol that would hasten her departure from this plane. Nor had I told anyone about my inaccurate perception that the two dogs were the same color. These were both my own secret thoughts and feelings. It knocks me out every time I think about how accurate Grace’s mind-reading skills were in these instances. Again, absolutely amazing!
Just writing here to share these stories with you in honor of my sister-in-law, the “Amazing Grace,” on this eve of St. Patrick’s Day 2010, the eighth anniversary of Grace’s passing.
Happy St. Paddy's Day!
And thanks for reading.
During that time, Grace became involved with spirituality and I took her to a New Jersey event featuring world class medium Suzane Northrop. We drove from Brooklyn to Jersey in the pouring rain, but it was worth the trip because a couple of our own DPs dropped in—my father for a brief hello, and Grace’s brother Nick who came across as part of a dual reading.
It was during that time frame that Grace was in search of all manner of cancer treatments. She wasn’t doing very well with any of the medical protocols and so I inquired of an old friend who had become a cancer researcher and was aware of the latest approaches. He recommended a doctor at a large, prestigious New York Hospital, who was involved in developing a new type of chemotherapy program.
I connected Grace to my friend’s contact and she began the new treatment, only to quickly descend into a downward spiral. Shortly thereafter, Grace crossed over.
In my mind at least, the chemo had killed her, and I had deep regrets and guilt for having recommended the treatment that had accelerated Grace’s death.
During Grace’s wake, I was staying with my brother Barney in the apartment he and Grace had shared, and where she had died in his arms. I was alone in the living room when suddenly Grace came to me telepathically. There was no doubt that it was her—I recognized her energy. With regard to the treatment I had helped her secure—the chemo that had accelerated her death—Grace said, “You know how much I wanted to fight to stay alive,” while also communicating to me telepathically that I had done nothing wrong, and that she would have had it no other way but to go down fighting.
I stood there in awe, feeling the communication on a cellular level, and in the process experiencing total and true relief from the guilt and regret I had been experiencing. An amazing healing experience!
A couple of years later, I was at a séance with my mother and a cousin. Everyone came away with some DP contact including me, when Grace came thru Suzane to say that it was okay for her dogs (two “white” Shitzus) to go on the couch. And...Grace said thru Suzane...the dogs were “different colors.”
The first part of this communication hit home. While I was staying at Barney and Grace’s apartment, I had been sleeping on the couch. The dogs jumped up to be at my feet. I nudged them off thinking, “Dogs don’t belong on the couch.” And here, thru Suzane, was Grace coming thru from the other side to tell me that her dogs were allowed to be on the couch!
The validity of that message had me second-guessing my initial take that the rest of the communication was somehow inaccurate. That is, I had always perceived the dogs—a father and son duo named Harpo and Zeppo after two of the Marx Brothers—as both being white. But given Grace’s statement coming thru Suzane (who had no knowledge of the dogs’ existence) that the dogs were different colors, I knew I had to look at the dogs a little more closely. Which is what I did the next time that I was with Harpo and Zeppo at my mother’s apartment where Barney would usually bring them on Sunday afternoons. Lo and behold, I could clearly see that the these were two dogs of a different color—one being white, the other beige. Whoa!
Reflecting on the implications of these communications from Grace, I can see that they validate the idea that our DPs are around us and witnessing events. For example, Grace had come thru to say that it was okay for the dogs to be on the couch. Why on Earth would she have said that unless she had been there in the apartment watching me kick the dogs off the couch while I was in trying to go to sleep? Very powerful!
But even more powerful was the common denominator of the other two communications. That is, Grace had somehow been reading my thoughts, and sensing my feelings. For I had communicated to no one that I had been thinking and feeling terrible about having recommended to Grace the chemotherapy protocol that would hasten her departure from this plane. Nor had I told anyone about my inaccurate perception that the two dogs were the same color. These were both my own secret thoughts and feelings. It knocks me out every time I think about how accurate Grace’s mind-reading skills were in these instances. Again, absolutely amazing!
Just writing here to share these stories with you in honor of my sister-in-law, the “Amazing Grace,” on this eve of St. Patrick’s Day 2010, the eighth anniversary of Grace’s passing.
Happy St. Paddy's Day!
And thanks for reading.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
A Christmas Gift from the Other Side
As is generally known by those familiar with DP (dead person) communication, the holidays are among those times (along with weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, and other special occasions) when our deceased loved ones are more likely to drop in and communicate with us.
My most recent journey into this reality occurred on my way home from work this past Christmas Eve, and began with a “spirit nudge.” A DP was prompting me to tend to a couple of minor car issues—get gas and put air in the tires, neither of which I really needed to do at that moment—before going home to freshen up for the dinner party scheduled at my brother’s apartment later in the evening.
Although I am aware that heeding DP suggestions and other trustworthy promptings from Spirit can be beneficial, my tiredness, laziness, and stubbornness conspired to have me telepathically reply with a “No thanks, not right now.” However, this DP was insistent and persuasive, promising that something good would result if I chose to heed the call to immediate action.
Trusting the source and his representations, I drove directly to the gas station.
Given the DP’s promise that a benefit would follow if I took care of the car before going home, I immediately put myself on alert for indications that the promise was being fulfilled.
I didn’t have to wait very long for the first bit of evidence to emerge. After leaving the gas station and driving to my busy neighborhood, I got a parking space near the apartment building where I and my mother both live (separate apartments)—on a block usually devoid of parking spaces at that time of evening. Discovering that spot was a BIG deal because it meant that I wouldn’t have to lug a heavy, bulky box full of presents very far, nor drive around looking for another spot, and then later have to double park (always dangerous) to get the presents and my 89 year old mother safely into the car. Finding that space also meant that we would not have to deal with all the ice and snow left over from the most recent snow storm, because the path to and around the spot itself was clear.
Then on the drive to my brother’s apartment I “lucked out” again by finding a tight parking spot not too far away, after dropping off my mother (so she wouldn’t have to deal with frozen snow and ice). That space was the only spot in the area and it took me a few minutes to locate it. So this was another break, allowing me to quickly escape from being among the desperate wild-eyed holiday drivers aggressively competing for parking spots.
Later, after the dinner party—itself a total success with family, friends, good wine, great food and fantastic vibes all present—on the way home, I discovered a third “lucky” space waiting for me right in front of the building. This find was an especially HUGE deal given how late it was. For not only did finding this spot save me from having to double park and deal with snow and ice hurdles, but I also didn’t have to go searching for a place to park at that late hour when there are usually no good parking spaces to be had.
Now of course, the logically inclined (or the spiritually inclined during logical moments) might dismiss all of this as coincidence. However, I take to heart what my medium friend Suzane Northrop always says, that "There are no coincidences." I’ve yet to venture that far in my thinking but have come to thoroughly distrust “coincidences” of this nature (almost as much as I distrust political “coincidences”). And when confronted with this kind of synchronicity (otherwise known as a “meaningful coincidence”), I like to ask, "Well if it wasn’t a coincidence, what was it?”
Thus, the question here became, “If finding these parking spaces wasn’t a coincidence, then what on earth was really going on?”
As I see it, my being able to find those three excellent parking spaces at crucial times was set up as a result of me first being open and receptive to DP messages, and then accepting the DP’s prompt to drive directly to the gas station before going home. Otherwise, the timing for the night would have been totally different, and guaranteed that those three spots would not have been there waiting for me.
During the initial DP communication download, and throughout the evening, I felt my deceased father's energy, and saw him from time to time popping up enthusiastically in my mind’s-eye. Thus, my take was (and is) that Dad was there with us, helping to arrange me scoring not one…not two…but three “incredibly fortuitous” parking spaces on Christmas Eve—as his very thoughtful Christmas present to my mother and me.
“Thanks, Dad. Merry Christmas!”
And thank you for reading.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Magic Numbers and Letters—Still Coming On Strong
In my book Into the Mystic (From the Streets of Brooklyn), I described how “magic numbers and letters” can pop into view on license plates (and elsewhere) carrying a special energy and, somehow, simultaneously, deliver messages from Spirit. I explained that “55” was my own personal magic number, and to illustrate this spontaneous divination process, related some of my experiences as examples, along with the experiences of others who have tuned into this magic number phenomenon. I also mentioned how I initially feared whenever “666s” would turn up, due to the biblical connotation, but eventually came to realize that this charged symbol could also deliver useful information from Spirit.
In this blog I’ll be discussing some recent license plate (and other) encounters which further indicate that messages from Spirit being transmitted thru magic numbers and letters that spontaneously come into view, can help us see in advance what everyday life has in store in the immediate future, and allow us to prepare accordingly—if we tune in. I relate these true stories in the hope that some readers may find the material helpful in recognizing, processing, and validating their own magic number experiences.
Since the end of 2008 and into 2009, the rock band I was in had been going thru some rough times, with a series of major disagreements and personality clashes destroying what was once a good camaraderie. After some to-do, we all settled the latest round of issues and got it back together enough to rehearse and prepare for a special April reunion gig. All was going well—certainly better than things had gone for a long time—and after the final rehearsal a week before the gig, the band seemed happy, together, and primed to give our usual solid performance.
Of course, there would be the usual logistical hassles, including one big trouble spot for me: whenever I have to haul drums to a performance, it’s a chore in itself. (In my next life, I think I’ll take up the flute.) Most problematic is lugging my long and clunky Beato bag filled with cymbal stands, mike stands, and other hardware. It’s just too damn heavy and unwieldy, and is murder on the body to carry.
Still recovering from arthroscopic knee surgery in January, I decided to see if I could make things easier on myself by getting an old fashioned trap-case on wheels to replace the monstrous hardware bag. However, I had reservations about reverting to a trap case since there really didn't seem to be enough room in the Prius hatchback to handle it.
Thinking about all this while driving south along Ocean Parkway to Norm’s music store on Kings Highway, I found myself in the center lane at Ave. N, near where I had an extraordinary mystical experience involving my unborn son Ryan so many years before (see Into the Mystic…, page 7 et seq.). This time I became surrounded by three cars with “55s” as part of their license plates. The special energy coming thru those 55s (my own magic number) foretold that everything was going to be fine with the purchase at the music store.
I relaxed and continued onto Norm’s. Once there, I told the salesman what I wanted. He suggested instead a “Gator” brand hardware bag on wheels (designed like a portable golf bag on wheels) which I had never seen or even heard of before. My only concern was that it might not fit into the hatchback, but the energy from the 55s on Ocean Parkway was so positive that I didn't worry. I “knew” things would work out.
Following my instincts, I made the purchase for $151.71—narrowly missing my magic number of $155, which itself was to become symbolic. Because when I got back to the car, the bag just about fit diagonally into the hatchback. I did have to finagle it a bit and knew that this would be a slight problem once the bag was filled with weighty hardware, but I could also see that the new bag would work out fine. Clearly it would have made much more sense for me to measure the bag before buying it, or double-park by Norm’s and test how the bag would fit in the hatchback, but it seems (in retrospect, and as a friend pointed out) that I had such confidence in the 55s that I didn’t even think to do any of that. And indeed, when I packed the bag and loaded it into the car on the day of the gig, there was no problem.
Leading up to the gig—which was foremost on my mind—a bunch of 66s and some 666s kept appearing. Not wanting to face the prospect of negativity on the horizon, I went into denial mode. But as the incessant 66s and recurring 666s kept popping up charged with that special energy, I knew things would soon be getting bumpy.
At around the same time that I was getting the 66s leading up to the reunion gig, there appeared a license plate “DNB 8755” (again when I was near Ave. N and Ocean Parkway, a "personal power spot" for me). The attendant special energy for this one indicated that DNB translated into “Dennis and [my brother] Barney.” And the “8755” came across as reinforcing that something positive (55) was definitely (8+7= 15 = 5+5+5) coming up for my brother and me. Given all the 666 prelude, this amounted to positive and negative adventures ahead.
As it turned out, on the night before the reunion gig, I learned from Barney that all of the good will and camaraderie that had been restored during rehearsal less than a week before, had come undone—hence all the 66s. But I was braced for it, and dealt with it fairly well. To make a long story short, with all the negative energy, polarization, and disharmony going on within the band, I realized that this gig had to be my last with them. I told my brother and everyone else as much beforehand. Barney said it would be his last as well, and so “DNB” were atypically sticking together on this one, which was (from my perspective at least) the “right” thing to do, and reflective of the DNB 55s that had spontaneously appeared earlier.
Around this same time, another set of 66s helped brace me for issues at work involving a coworker who is very into playing “the blame game.” She had set her sites on me in an effort to detract warranted blame from herself and it was really annoying to have to deal with it. But...I had no choice.
Following a number of negative email exchanges involving the coworker, me and our boss, there was a group meeting scheduled for Friday morning and it was looking as tho the blame game could go live and in person, in front of an audience of peers. I knew I would have to defend myself.
With all this in mind the morning of, while I was parking my car in a garage near work, the attendant handed me a parking stub with this series of numbers: “160155.” The special energy coming thru the parking stub downloaded to me as predicting that things would be OK at the meeting. I got this thru the 155 carrying a positive connotation for me (me being represented by the 16 as October 16 is my birthday). And both 1s in the 16 and the 155 predicted that I will have “won” (1) before the day was over.
Then on the walk from the parking garage to the office, a “6060” license plate hit me as carrying the message that my coworker nemesis (represented by the two individual “6s” for her doubly negative energy) had “absolutely nothing” (represented by the two individual 0s). It also came across that the message was being delivered twice for emphasis and certainty (hence the “6060” and not just “60”).
Both the parking stub and license plate magic number messages tended to relax me and I proceed to the meeting in a strong frame of mind, ready to take the high road and say whatever needed to be said in a professional way. As things turned out, our boss—who was going to bring up the whole blame-game incident at the meeting—decided not to, and pretty much confided to me privately not to worry, that he knew what was going on.
On the way home that night while reflecting on the antics of my blame-gaming coworker, I got one more license plate message that was most welcome. This one read “ENZ600” and hit me as “So ends (ENZ) the coworker’s (6’s) nothing (00) saga.” I relaxed even deeper and as it turned out, that was the end of it.
One more series of 66s helped me relax about an avoidable personal problem that cropped up. I had scheduled the final follow-up appointment with my knee surgeon who had hung me up previously, after I had taken a half-day off from work to meet with him. This time, he hung me up again, but no one from his office even bothered to call to let me know. So another half-day off was wasted, this time with no notice. I really got angry when the receptionist told me that my doctor wasn’t in. I replied, “This is the second time in a row and no one even calls me?” then turned and walked away.
As I was leaving the waiting room, I heard the receptionist call out, “Sir! Sir! Please don't go. You can see the senior partner if you want!”
“No thanks,” I yelled back.
“Don't you want to reschedule?” she hollered out.
“No thanks.”
Now, I have to say I was not very happy about any of this—including my own reaction. But the office had ticked me off other times as well with needless scenes and my patience with them had been exhausted.
On the drive home I kept second guessing myself as to whether or not I had done the right thing by walking out of the doctors' office. A block before reaching my apartment, a car pulled in front of me with a special-energy charged license plate housing this series of numbers and letters: “5MCM154.” The bottom line message here was that I (the 5 + MCM for McMahon) was "just about" where I was supposed to be (154 being "just about" 155), and indeed I was a block away from home.
Just before seeing that license plate (which I would not have come across if I had remained at the doctor’s office), I had gassed up the car. The credit card receipt showed a charge of $16.54. There was a special energy attached to the receipt as well, which I noticed in retrospect. The 16 validated that there was a message for me (born October 16), and this time the 154 portion of the 16.54 jumped out at me as "almost 155" again, but this time separated by a little negative energy, i.e., the 6 in between the 1 and the 5 in 16.54.
In any event, the bottom line message was that I had in fact done what I was supposed to do (or maybe had been called on to do?). That is, I walked out of the office in protest. And as confirmation that this was appropriate under the circumstances, Spirit was delivering messages via magic numbers indicating that I was where I was meant to be at that moment in time—just about home, and not at the doctors' office.
Maybe the display of protest served no other purpose than to deliver a message to the office administrators that: “If a doctor is not going to keep an appointment, call and tell the patient," as a matter of common courtesy. You’d think they’d have already known that. If not, they know it now.
Thanks for reading.
In this blog I’ll be discussing some recent license plate (and other) encounters which further indicate that messages from Spirit being transmitted thru magic numbers and letters that spontaneously come into view, can help us see in advance what everyday life has in store in the immediate future, and allow us to prepare accordingly—if we tune in. I relate these true stories in the hope that some readers may find the material helpful in recognizing, processing, and validating their own magic number experiences.
Since the end of 2008 and into 2009, the rock band I was in had been going thru some rough times, with a series of major disagreements and personality clashes destroying what was once a good camaraderie. After some to-do, we all settled the latest round of issues and got it back together enough to rehearse and prepare for a special April reunion gig. All was going well—certainly better than things had gone for a long time—and after the final rehearsal a week before the gig, the band seemed happy, together, and primed to give our usual solid performance.
Of course, there would be the usual logistical hassles, including one big trouble spot for me: whenever I have to haul drums to a performance, it’s a chore in itself. (In my next life, I think I’ll take up the flute.) Most problematic is lugging my long and clunky Beato bag filled with cymbal stands, mike stands, and other hardware. It’s just too damn heavy and unwieldy, and is murder on the body to carry.
Still recovering from arthroscopic knee surgery in January, I decided to see if I could make things easier on myself by getting an old fashioned trap-case on wheels to replace the monstrous hardware bag. However, I had reservations about reverting to a trap case since there really didn't seem to be enough room in the Prius hatchback to handle it.
Thinking about all this while driving south along Ocean Parkway to Norm’s music store on Kings Highway, I found myself in the center lane at Ave. N, near where I had an extraordinary mystical experience involving my unborn son Ryan so many years before (see Into the Mystic…, page 7 et seq.). This time I became surrounded by three cars with “55s” as part of their license plates. The special energy coming thru those 55s (my own magic number) foretold that everything was going to be fine with the purchase at the music store.
I relaxed and continued onto Norm’s. Once there, I told the salesman what I wanted. He suggested instead a “Gator” brand hardware bag on wheels (designed like a portable golf bag on wheels) which I had never seen or even heard of before. My only concern was that it might not fit into the hatchback, but the energy from the 55s on Ocean Parkway was so positive that I didn't worry. I “knew” things would work out.
Following my instincts, I made the purchase for $151.71—narrowly missing my magic number of $155, which itself was to become symbolic. Because when I got back to the car, the bag just about fit diagonally into the hatchback. I did have to finagle it a bit and knew that this would be a slight problem once the bag was filled with weighty hardware, but I could also see that the new bag would work out fine. Clearly it would have made much more sense for me to measure the bag before buying it, or double-park by Norm’s and test how the bag would fit in the hatchback, but it seems (in retrospect, and as a friend pointed out) that I had such confidence in the 55s that I didn’t even think to do any of that. And indeed, when I packed the bag and loaded it into the car on the day of the gig, there was no problem.
Leading up to the gig—which was foremost on my mind—a bunch of 66s and some 666s kept appearing. Not wanting to face the prospect of negativity on the horizon, I went into denial mode. But as the incessant 66s and recurring 666s kept popping up charged with that special energy, I knew things would soon be getting bumpy.
At around the same time that I was getting the 66s leading up to the reunion gig, there appeared a license plate “DNB 8755” (again when I was near Ave. N and Ocean Parkway, a "personal power spot" for me). The attendant special energy for this one indicated that DNB translated into “Dennis and [my brother] Barney.” And the “8755” came across as reinforcing that something positive (55) was definitely (8+7= 15 = 5+5+5) coming up for my brother and me. Given all the 666 prelude, this amounted to positive and negative adventures ahead.
As it turned out, on the night before the reunion gig, I learned from Barney that all of the good will and camaraderie that had been restored during rehearsal less than a week before, had come undone—hence all the 66s. But I was braced for it, and dealt with it fairly well. To make a long story short, with all the negative energy, polarization, and disharmony going on within the band, I realized that this gig had to be my last with them. I told my brother and everyone else as much beforehand. Barney said it would be his last as well, and so “DNB” were atypically sticking together on this one, which was (from my perspective at least) the “right” thing to do, and reflective of the DNB 55s that had spontaneously appeared earlier.
Around this same time, another set of 66s helped brace me for issues at work involving a coworker who is very into playing “the blame game.” She had set her sites on me in an effort to detract warranted blame from herself and it was really annoying to have to deal with it. But...I had no choice.
Following a number of negative email exchanges involving the coworker, me and our boss, there was a group meeting scheduled for Friday morning and it was looking as tho the blame game could go live and in person, in front of an audience of peers. I knew I would have to defend myself.
With all this in mind the morning of, while I was parking my car in a garage near work, the attendant handed me a parking stub with this series of numbers: “160155.” The special energy coming thru the parking stub downloaded to me as predicting that things would be OK at the meeting. I got this thru the 155 carrying a positive connotation for me (me being represented by the 16 as October 16 is my birthday). And both 1s in the 16 and the 155 predicted that I will have “won” (1) before the day was over.
Then on the walk from the parking garage to the office, a “6060” license plate hit me as carrying the message that my coworker nemesis (represented by the two individual “6s” for her doubly negative energy) had “absolutely nothing” (represented by the two individual 0s). It also came across that the message was being delivered twice for emphasis and certainty (hence the “6060” and not just “60”).
Both the parking stub and license plate magic number messages tended to relax me and I proceed to the meeting in a strong frame of mind, ready to take the high road and say whatever needed to be said in a professional way. As things turned out, our boss—who was going to bring up the whole blame-game incident at the meeting—decided not to, and pretty much confided to me privately not to worry, that he knew what was going on.
On the way home that night while reflecting on the antics of my blame-gaming coworker, I got one more license plate message that was most welcome. This one read “ENZ600” and hit me as “So ends (ENZ) the coworker’s (6’s) nothing (00) saga.” I relaxed even deeper and as it turned out, that was the end of it.
One more series of 66s helped me relax about an avoidable personal problem that cropped up. I had scheduled the final follow-up appointment with my knee surgeon who had hung me up previously, after I had taken a half-day off from work to meet with him. This time, he hung me up again, but no one from his office even bothered to call to let me know. So another half-day off was wasted, this time with no notice. I really got angry when the receptionist told me that my doctor wasn’t in. I replied, “This is the second time in a row and no one even calls me?” then turned and walked away.
As I was leaving the waiting room, I heard the receptionist call out, “Sir! Sir! Please don't go. You can see the senior partner if you want!”
“No thanks,” I yelled back.
“Don't you want to reschedule?” she hollered out.
“No thanks.”
Now, I have to say I was not very happy about any of this—including my own reaction. But the office had ticked me off other times as well with needless scenes and my patience with them had been exhausted.
On the drive home I kept second guessing myself as to whether or not I had done the right thing by walking out of the doctors' office. A block before reaching my apartment, a car pulled in front of me with a special-energy charged license plate housing this series of numbers and letters: “5MCM154.” The bottom line message here was that I (the 5 + MCM for McMahon) was "just about" where I was supposed to be (154 being "just about" 155), and indeed I was a block away from home.
Just before seeing that license plate (which I would not have come across if I had remained at the doctor’s office), I had gassed up the car. The credit card receipt showed a charge of $16.54. There was a special energy attached to the receipt as well, which I noticed in retrospect. The 16 validated that there was a message for me (born October 16), and this time the 154 portion of the 16.54 jumped out at me as "almost 155" again, but this time separated by a little negative energy, i.e., the 6 in between the 1 and the 5 in 16.54.
In any event, the bottom line message was that I had in fact done what I was supposed to do (or maybe had been called on to do?). That is, I walked out of the office in protest. And as confirmation that this was appropriate under the circumstances, Spirit was delivering messages via magic numbers indicating that I was where I was meant to be at that moment in time—just about home, and not at the doctors' office.
Maybe the display of protest served no other purpose than to deliver a message to the office administrators that: “If a doctor is not going to keep an appointment, call and tell the patient," as a matter of common courtesy. You’d think they’d have already known that. If not, they know it now.
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
The Rewards of Listening to Spirit
It can very rewarding when we listen to Spirit, even if doing so may seem odd and inappropriate. For example, while wrestlng with certain writing issues, I emailed medium Patti Sinclair (whom I had met some years before), out of the blue, to get her permission to reference in one of my writings, a reading she had done. Patti graciously agreed and I published the writing. However, the real story is that my contacting Patti set up a series of marvelous synchronicities involving my son Ryan, who has crossed over but is alive and active in Spirit, and who arrived at one of Patti’s gallery events to help her deliver a number of healing messages to people who had lost children. Very rewarding for all involved! And later, my older daughter Kristen was to follow thru on a nudge she had gotten some years before, and contact Patti for a reading. As a result, Kristen was rewarded with marvelous messages from beyond in which many family members came thru Patti with validating information.
My take is that none of these rewards would have manifested had I not listened to Spirit and contacted Patti. Somehow (I have no idea how) my contacting Patti led to my son's showing up in Spirit to assist her at the gallery event and help bring about a number of healing messages.
Here is how the story unfolded, beginning with an email Patti sent to me on January 24, 2009:
I had a gallery event last night in Bloomfield , Ct. There were about 45 people who attended. There was a young man, maybe about 23 or 4, standing, in Spirit, up in the front of the room with me. He had a good sense of humor and was clearly very ascended. I kept telling the audience members what he was doing as it made me laugh the way he would pace when I would pace. He would rub his head when I would rub mine etc.
At one point I asked him why he was here and he said, "To bring the other kids in…I help greet the kids who don't make it, mostly teenagers and young 20 somethings...It's my work. I love it." Fair enough. As I said before, I liked his energy. I was blessed to have him there with me.
Half way through the reading I said, "Do you want to tell me your name? Maybe your family is here." Brian...Brian? "Does anyone have Brian in Spirit?" No takers...I look at him…Brian? Then I look over at my daughter and she has a white glow around her and I see him point to her and smile. Now he is standing behind her. My daughter's name is Alanna RYAN...He smiles at me again and I ask the group. "Is it Ryan? Does anyone have Ryan in Spirit?”
I can't tell you how it happened but just minutes after that the energy switched. A kid who was killed on a motorcycle on his way returning it to the dealer because his parents didn't approve of it, came through to his adoring Aunt and cousin. They have been waiting 6 years to hear from him. A kid who drowned in a lake at 15 in 1978 came through to his Mother's best friend. She (the Mom) has not moved forward in her life since then. A young girl who was killed with three other teens two years ago came through to her best friend who came on a "whim" at the last minute to the gallery…It was really amazing. Even to me.
I thanked Ryan for coming and he said he would come again if it was ok with me. I said of course it was ok. I would love it.
When I got to my room last night one of the attendees had written me a note to say that she has seen auras around people only three times in her life. One around her husband when he came home from the military, one around a young boy in a church she attended and one around me last night. She said it was white with a ruffled edge. She told me it made her cry. I knew it must have been Ryan.
When I got home this morning (we spent last night on the road), I went upstairs to rest because I have to work again tonight. As I crawled into rest for a bit my husband came in and said, "Oh, I forgot to give you this. It came in yesterday's mail." It was your book [Into the Mystic (From the Streets of Brooklyn)]. I sipped my tea and started reading... "Then [medium] Suzane [Northrop] said, ‘Someone over here has lost a child. Who has Brian?’ Then I said, ‘Is it Ryan?’ I wept and then said a prayer to your son thanking him for being in service and for changing the lives of so many. He certainly showed me his Mystical ways last night.
However this "feels" to you I honor it. I only know that from my viewpoint as a professional medium, this is another beautiful message from your cherished son. You MOST certainly HAVE raised a beautiful spirit.
God's blessings and grace to both of you...To all of us..xx
I wrote back to Patti saying,
thanks so very much for the beautiful message--awesome and validating on a number of levels. first, it appears that the experience occurred on jan 23, 2009, right? ryan was born on jan 23, 1982, so he came to you on his birthday. that would make him 27 if he were here today in the physical, but when he appeared to me in 1997 he also appeared looking a couple or three years younger than he would have been, so the fact that he presented himself to you looking "maybe about 23 or 4" is consistent and validating.
may i ask, what do you mean that he "was clearly very ascended?" i know that when he appeared to me in 1997 he seemed to be "a prince of the cosmos," as i described him in my book. later i would interpret this to mean that i was connecting more with his oversoul. now i'm thinking that "princely" look may have had something to do with his "very ascended" aspect, as you describe it. what do you think?
re: you statement that "At one point I asked him why he was here and he said, 'To bring the other kids in.'" this strikes me as the flip-side of "psychopomp" work in shamanism which involves helping lost souls find their way to where they should be on the other side. i have done some psychopomp work myself and so i find it synchronistic that my son in spirit is doing like work by helping souls find their way to their loved ones here.
thanks so much for this: "As I said before, I liked his energy. I was blessed to have him there with me."
the way he got his name across to you by standing near your daughter Alanna RYAN was just too much! and i will point out that since my book and press kit were mis-mailed to you, they arrived late, but with perfect timing for you to read after ryan showed up -- how in sync his visit to you was when compared to when he came to me thru suzane northrop, as i write about in the second chapter of the book. had the press kit and book been mailed to the right address and arrived on schedule, you might have read that second chapter a few days earlier, and this one validating synchronicity would not have emerged in the validating sequence that it did.
so great that ryan helps bring children on the other side to their loved ones here, including the kid who was killed on a motorcycle, the kid who drowned, and the young girl.
all of what you experienced and shared most certainly "feels" great to me, and i definitely honor it as well.
re: "You MOST certainly HAVE raised a beautiful spirit." well, thanks but i can't take credit for raising him. in many ways, he has raised me--spiritually. but i hear what you are saying in that regard. i do "HAVE" a son in spirit, and i like to think that my connections with him here somehow help raise him as well.
THANKS SO MUCH!!!!!
Patti replied as follows:
All I can say is "Oh My Goddess!" How incredibly great that YOU are validating WHY Ryan had the Birthday candles around him when he and I were "talking" at the front of the room..DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I kept asking the participants if the B-day message was for their loved one but they weren't…I wasn't putting a real personal spin on "Ryan" as he came to me, so it never occurred to me that he was showing me the validation for himself. It was Ryan who kept the package from arriving on time, of course! How great! . . . I am so blessed to have been able to share this miracle with you.. . [Later,] I saw Ryan again. He was wearing an NYU sweatshirt and a very worn pair of Levi jeans. Bare feet and a warm smile. He didn't say anything, just winked at me. . .
I answered and said:
re ryan's NYU sweatshirt -- i have a law degree from nyu and my older daughter got her BA from nyu as well. . .
Later, I shared these emails with my daughter Kristen who further validated the information coming thru Patti, in an email to me:
Hey Dad,
Thanks so much for sending this. I really appreciate it! . . . definitely too many coincidences for me to get too left brain about it. Anyway, one thing that really stands out to me is this...There were many times when I was with Mimi [Kristen’s maternal grandmother who passed recently] after she got sick that I felt DPs around, especially when she was in the hospital or very sick in her bed at the nursing home. I think these are the times that she was more towards the spirit world than the physical. Well, I was more in touch with feeling Ryan around than anyone else, and sometimes Nana [Mimi’s mother] too. Mom used to say she felt her dad a lot, but I wasn't really getting that, perhaps because I didn't know him. Sometimes I would feel Ryan standing next to me or behind me when I was next to Mimi's bed. A lot of times I would be talking to Mimi when I felt this and she would stop looking at me and focus on a point past my shoulder and start cracking up laughing. I got the sense of him making goofy faces at her behind my back to make her laugh. Then other times I would sense him leaning against the footboard or the window or a wall, very casual like Patti described, with sort of a looping grace. . .
So after a few times of this, whenever I would feel him across the room, I would stare at the spot and trying "see" more clearly his features or get some kind of sign (looking for some sort of validation, I guess!), and almost always the thing that came through was him winking at me! At the time I thought that was so random, I mean, who winks at people? So, when I read that part in Patti's description (along with the NYU sweatshirt, which has you said has significance for us both) the only thing I could think of was "Holy crap!" :)
Anyway, you've mentioned Patti to me before. A few yeas ago I tried to set up an appointment for my friend…and I to go see her. We had a few tentative dates, but [my friend] kept backing out or not responding so I stopped trying. I didn't really want to drive by myself to Connecticut so it didn't materialize. I doubt very much that she would recall this, but wanted to let you know. She seems really great, and I like her new website!
Indeed Kristen went on to make an appointment with Patti this month (May, 2009) and the results were off the charts! I’ve asked Kristen to describe what happened in a comment to this blog here, and I hope that she soon will.
Thanks for reading!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
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:
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.
- 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/ .
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.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
WELCOME!!!!!
After writing Into the Mystic (From the Streets of Brooklyn), I thought it would be a good idea to set up a blog to record periodic thoughts and experiences touching on "the Mystic" -- that expanded state of awareness where we can connect with Spirit and experience other realities. This blog is designed to do just that, as a place to share mystical thoughts and experiences. Your input is welcome! My website is www.journeyintothemystic.com .
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