My current life has been that of a healer and peacemaker, beginning at the age of two with the Vietnam War. I chose to be born into a traveling military family in this incarnation because of many past nomadic lives meditating and serving God on Earth and other worlds.
I find it interesting that someone once asked if they could read my Vedic astrology chart and found out that I was born with the moon in my first house and the sun in my last or twelfth house, which is very unusual. My great-great-grandmother was an Anashinaabe and specifically Ojibwe Native American who married a French fur trader and I felt her calling to me when I visited the Badlands in South Dakota twenty years ago. This helped me to wake up from a medication induced slumber that had lasted for twenty-five years, since early childhood, and which I was struggling to awaken from.
My spiritual evolution was greatly accelerated from that point and it is very significant that the birth and death signs I was born under indicate that I came directly from Grandmother Moon and my life will end by being directly passed to Grandfather Sun, indicative of spiritual ascension. Like many indigenous people, including those of India, there is an ancestral connection to the Pleiades star cluster which I have always felt through my great-great grandmother.
I have now been passed on to the Hawaiian Islands for the final phase of my awakening, to the side of an active volcano, where the spiritual energy is stronger than almost anywhere else on Earth and where the native people trace their ancestry directly back to the Pleiades.
Since early childhood, I have always looked up at the stars longingly, looking for my people and asking them to come back for me as I never felt I belonged on this planet. I always wanted to be an astronaut and space scientist.
There were several major characters in the story of this soul’s current life who also assisted in the survival, growth and transfiguration of a flame that would have been extinguished very quickly with the deluge of trauma and negativity that has pursued it throughout its current life by a planet and people who are in desperate need of awakening to their own impending spiritual evolution.
There was God, Jesus and Mary mother of Jesus, along with St Joseph, St Francis of Assisi and other saints in the Catholic church which I grew up with and served in. Paramahansa Yogananda and his line of gurus, along with Hinduism and the Three Magi of the Nativity, came along later to compliment but not replace those who had preceded them.
I chose a life that would be very challenging. The first decades would be around people who were not spiritually advanced. Their personalities would lead them, through ignorance, to use me for their own personal gain. These people included my parents and in-laws. I will always love them unconditionally, however, and am grateful to them for making me who I am today.
Therapists would call this behavior from other people extreme abuse. I
knew however, even at an early age, that I was there to teach them by example and to heal them and help them to become more enlightened, spiritually. This would make it easier for my soul to eliminate any lingering seeds of past bad karma and attachment to the senses, making it possible for me to reach final liberation in this lifetime.
I am the child of a veteran who served in the Vietnam War. Many military children have been and are continuing to be ignored. We had to go through the same ordeal, especially when the whole family was transported to the edge of the war zone, like mine was. In some cases, we have a harder time than the adults, even though we were not involved in combat.
Children are not able to see things from an adult’s perspective and if they are not nurtured properly throughout the service period, there can be dire consequences, especially when they are cut off from government support at the age of eighteen or when they leave full-time education.
Extreme, severe trauma came early in my life. It began with my entrance into this current incarnation, at birth, where I had refused to turn around in my mother’s womb. I was delivered breech, head up and bottom down. It was a natural birth, not by Caesarian.
They basically had to pull me out by the legs, fully resisting, and hit me several times on the bottom to get me to cry. This would be a recurring event in my childhood.
I can imagine the pain in my legs and body, my chin catching and dragging along the vaginal wall as my head was suddenly snapped back when they started pulling. Then, my head snapping down again as I was finally forced from the warmth and darkness I had grown accustomed to into the chill and bright lights of the delivery room.
My soul knew how difficult and painful this incarnation would be, especially in the first few years. It was naturally resisting entrance into this world.
I was very placid as an infant, so much so that my parents often forgot about me and gave their attention to my sibling, who was a year ahead of me. I think I was, even then, in constant communion with God, not even crying for attention.
I have a large, flat area on the back of my head, however, from lying on the same spot for hours on end. I loved my parents unconditionally even then, and I had God, so their attention was not necessary.
When I was about two years old, my father’s military job required him to serve in the Vietnam War. The entire family was inoculated by the military and sent to a base on a Pacific island right on the edge of the war zone, where we lived for two years.
The base was the main hub for military transport and storage and barrels of the deadly chemical Agent Orange were recently unearthed there, right next to where we lived. Agent Orange had been used and stored there throughout the Vietnam War and we were constantly exposed to it for two years.
We lived at the end of the flight line as well and aircraft often dump their excess load just before landing, for safety. This deadly chemical rained down on us all the time and has caused lasting health problems.
While living on the island, I was bitten by a rat that had its tail caught in the bricks on our patio. My mother was Divinely inspired to over-react and caught the rat in a coffee can. She took me and the rat to the base clinic and told them I needed rabies injections.
Due to the extremely painful and traumatic procedure involved at that time with rabies injections, the doctors recommended that they send the rat, which had died in the coffee can, to the closest country for analysis. They wanted to make sure it really was infected with the rabies virus. If not, the injections were not needed.
They were concerned about the extreme level of trauma it would cause a three-year-old child. It would take seventy-two hours to get the results. This was only a small military clinic and, while they had the rabies serum, they didn’t have the proper equipment to use on a small, three-year-old child.
I obviously had to go through this torturous experience, however, as my mother told them that she didn’t want to wait. Rabies treatment at that time involved multiple injections of the serum deep into a muscle, requiring a fairly long needle. The only needle they had was a dull, wide-bore, four-inch long leviathan, eager to plunge deep into my body.
I was hauled into a room with bright lights and a long, narrow table, while my mother waited outside. Imagine the terror I felt at being taken away from my mother by three large men I had never seen before, into a sterile room, laid out like a specimen on a table, with these men holding my arms and legs and body down.
Another unknown person coming at me with a huge needle and me not understanding what was going on, the pain in my body as I screamed and desperately thrashed and struggled to get away, nearly tearing out my arms and legs.
Then, the overwhelming pain as the long, dull needle was forced deep into my abdomen and the large amount of serum was pumped in. Not just once, but ten times. Then turned over and having the same in the gluteus muscle. This procedure went on for several days.
The pain and terror of this experience was so overwhelming, the agony forced me out of my body. It was like being crucified as Jesus was. God, in this instance as my already deeply connected Divine Mother, took me in Her arms. The desperately thrashing infant the doctors saw was only the empty shell of my physical body.
My consciousness was not there, but in the Astral World with my Divine Mother. She did this to protect me because She had an important purpose for me later in life. After the injections were finished, I never fully returned to the Physical World. Most of me to this day is with my Divine Mother in the higher spheres of the universe.
The results of the lab test on the rat came back negative. It did not have rabies and the injections would have been unnecessary, except for the requirement for my spiritual advancement.
We returned from the Vietnam War after two years and lived with relatives while my father stayed and finished his service term and then went back and forth as his job required. We never lived anywhere very long, several places over a three or four-year period. Finally, my father returned permanently from overseas and took over a high level officer’s position at a military base.
My father was career military and ended up at a high rank. He and my mother had social obligations with other officers and their wives, which were very important to them.
My mother became ill with thyroid disease and it was very difficult for her to take care of her now three children with my father’s busy schedule. We moved several more times and things got too stressful for the family.
I love and honor my parents, but they were not really ready to raise three children, especially in a military environment. Later in life, both of them became very narcissistic, negative and unhappy.
I had considered a career in the Armed Forces while I was growing up as I wanted to be an astronaut which, at that time, usually required military experience.
My mother, who had been a nurse before she was married but hadn’t worked for years, had problems with my father being away all the time serving in Vietnam and elsewhere. Perhaps she wanted to prevent me from following in his footsteps.
I was a very gregarious child until my early teenage years. This is when the Divine inspired my parents to make a decision which affected the rest of my life and set me firmly on the path of renunciation and final liberation.
With my mother unable to deal with us while my father was away all the time, it was perhaps inevitable that I was put on high doses of prescription medication and left on them for many years. I am the middle of three children and was full of life and love, which was unusual for the family I chose to be born into.
I was bullied as a child because I was an easy target. While I was perfectly capable of defending myself, I found the thought of causing pain to others too much to bear.
I was raised like a soldier and strict obedience was required at all times. My father made a paddle out of a piece of wood and used this to enforce discipline, mostly on me.
Even a small mistake could lead to a painful beating with his paddle or worse. Once, when I was eleven or twelve years old, I talked back to my mother. My father immediately grabbed me by the arm, hauled me down into the basement and threw a suitcase at me. He shouted at me to get out of the house and never come back.
Strangely enough, this gave me an odd sense of freedom. I forgave and ignored him, though I always had an underlying feeling of unease when around him. He didn’t talk to me much after that but always seemed to have a very negative feeling about him. I could feel this negative energy whenever he was in the house.
My brothers were completely different and I guess they were not as difficult to deal with as I was. Perhaps this is why my parents treated me differently.
One day, at the age of thirteen, my parents claim to have been unable to wake me up for school and they took me to the hospital where I stayed for a week. The doctors told my parents they didn’t know why I couldn’t be woken up. The neurologist told my mother that, if anything, it was simply my body’s reaction to the rapid changes I was going through. I was just starting adolescence.
I had always had very vivid dreams which seemed more real to me than when I was awake. My mother claimed that I had some sort of strange epilepsy that only affected me when I was sleeping. The neurologist completely ruled this out. He had tested me extensively and found no sign whatsoever of epilepsy.
My mother refused to listen to him. In her eyes, she had been a nurse and knew better. Even though she had not practiced this profession for almost twenty years, she believed she knew more than any doctor or neurologist. Her ego would not let her accept anything else.
She got an old army doctor, who was a friend, to put me on very high dosages of prescription drugs. Within a couple of months, I completely withdrew within myself by totally detaching from my senses. I spent the next twenty-five years in a semi-comatose state, completely isolated socially, physically and emotionally. I lost all awareness of the passage of time and now have very significant memory problems.
The dosage was so high that it acted like a truth-drug and left me very open to suggestion until the age of thirty-seven, so I basically believed everything my parents told me. They convinced me, through daily reinforcement, that I would never be able to take care of myself, would always be reliant on their care and would never have a normal life.
They told me that I would never have a good job or even a job I liked, would never have any friends, would never have a girlfriend or even be able to be happy, and that girls should be avoided. They continued this abuse later in my life as well.
They never taught me anything about how to get on in life, only that I never would. I had to learn by myself but there are still blank spaces left over from the fact that I was kept isolated from other people and experiences while growing up.
Needless to say, because I was taking this medication, I was ineligible to join the services. This destroyed all of my hopes and dreams.
I have been told that the medication my parents made me take is highly dangerous and damages the nervous system especially in teenagers and especially at such a high dosage. It was originally a pesticide, designed to kill living organisms and has been mostly replaced by safer ones.
I was only half-aware of what was going on around me and lost all ability for my body to feel energized. The drugs severely damaged my immune and digestive systems and made me sleep all the time
I used to wake up at night to find my mother sat in a chair by my bed staring at me which always greatly unnerved me. She used to tell me that I was very restless in my sleep which, she claimed, was a sign of epilepsy. I could not disprove something that she claimed happened when I was sleeping.
As she stayed up all night looking at me, anything she thought she saw, if she saw anything at all, was probably a dream while she was only half awake. I have no memory of ever having seizures at night and I know I never had any during the day.
I then started having out-of-body experiences, where my consciousness would suddenly expand, making my physical body seem very small, and I would see other people I had never known and places where I had never physically been. My mother had me put on ever higher doses of medication until I had no more “astral” experiences.
Many specialists said I absolutely did not have epilepsy, but my parents never bothered to find out what, if anything, was really wrong with me. It was far easier to just drug me and keep me silent and isolated.
My parents used fear extensively to control me. I was completely terrified of what would happen to me if I didn’t take the medication and my mother re-enforced this on a daily basis. She kept me in a state of constant and extreme fear.
My parents told me I could have a massive and terrifying epileptic seizure if I gained weight or had anything with caffeine in it so I was afraid to eat, but the medication they made me take was not meant to be taken on an empty stomach.
My mother said I could use a little milk to swallow the medication but this led me to just take it with water on an empty stomach because I was so afraid of the food or milk causing me to gain weight and triggering a seizure. This has resulted in lasting problems with my stomach and digestive system and left me with continuous, often severe, abdominal pain and discomfort.
As a result of extreme isolation, my only friends were books and, most importantly, God, Jesus and The Holy Spirit. I read everything I could about science, religion, philosophy, ancient history, theoretical quantum physics, cosmology, astrophysics and esoteric and classical literature among other things.
I was very active at the grass-roots level of the space program, which I had a keen interest in. My name is on a plaque out in space somewhere on one of the spacecraft that has exited the solar system, because of my contribution to the continuation and acceleration of space exploration and colonization.
Both my older brother and I were IQ tested in high school and were at genius level. I was eager to go to college and have a career in the space sciences as my original dream of being a pilot and astronaut had been destroyed.
I went to school and did well, but instead of being around other people, I was brought home and forcefully encouraged to stay in my bedroom, out of the way. I was discouraged from listening to music and didn’t even have access to a radio. If I came out of my room to watch my mother cook, she would tell me to go somewhere else.
My parents gave my older brother a large amount of money from the savings they had always claimed to have for all of us, to help him go to the university of his choice (one of the most expensive in the country it turns out). My father decided at that point that he would retire from the military and get a university degree for himself, which meant that there was nothing left for me. I had to get a low-income grant for my first of two degrees but could only go to the local university which didn’t have the degree I was interested in.
Even while studying for the degrees, my parents never encouraged me and kept telling me that I would fail. This caused me to change my first degree to something I had no interest in whatsoever because my parents had me conditioned to believe that they were always right and I was only a burden on the family – which they reminded me of on many occasions.
I worked and earned for my second degree which was in laboratory chemistry, still local and not what I wanted, but that was all I could do in the condition I was in. I also earned various other advanced qualifications, all against my mother’s wishes – she always wanted me to get a job bagging groceries as she claimed that was all I was capable of.
My younger brother moved out when he was about twenty and my parents helped him and have paid his rent and then his mortgage for all of this time (more than twenty years now). They had me so terrified, confused and brainwashed that I had no idea how I could move away from them. I desperately wanted to get away, but the medication they had me on made this impossible.
My father even forced me to sign a contract saying that I would pay him four hundred twenty-five dollars in rent every month, which was most of my monthly wage, and listed specific jobs I had to do around the house such as shoveling all the snow and mowing the lawn. This went on for years and he was always sure to remind me if I was late with my rent.
My parents got me a used car at one point. It was shortly after I graduated from university for the first time. It had taken me a long time to find a job and I had finally managed to get my first real employment offer. I was meant to start the job on a Monday and the weekend before, my parents took me to get the car and I drove it back.
I was excited at starting my new job the next day. I woke up the morning I was meant to start work, feeling normal but excited. My mother came to me and told me I had had a seizure in the night and that she had reported it to the Department of Motor Vehicles. This meant that I couldn’t drive for a year and, hence, could not accept my new job. She repeatedly sabotaged my life in this way, making success at anything very difficult and slow at achieving.
She made a joke about it and said it was okay because now she could drive the car and we could go around having “fun” together. Needless to say, while I loved her, this did nothing whatsoever to relieve the confusion and disappointment I felt over this sudden change of circumstances.
It also meant that I had to be threatened by the Department of Motor Vehicles all the time and signed off every five years by a specialist saying I had had no periods of unconsciousness if I wanted to drive. I never had any periods of unconsciousness in the first place, except in my mother’s vivid imagination, so she made it all up.
My father included in my monthly payments to him, payment for the car as well. He also threatened me if I complained about the work he made me do.
I eventually met my future wife, who was from another country. We were married, which made my parents very angry. They told me I was very selfish for getting married, which I never understood.
When I got married, I had managed to save a considerable amount of money and we moved to Florida to escape my parents. They were by now, very abusive and narcissistic. My father made me pay him back for the rest of the car – about three thousand dollars from my savings before we left.
As things turned out, this was a big reason we ended up living abroad, in my wife’s country. I lost my job and we ran out of money and could not afford to live where we were anymore. Things may have been different if we had had this extra money to survive on until I found another job and my wife was allowed to work. My parents were so abusive over helping us with any money that I stopped asking them for help and we left the country.
I haven’t spoken to my parents for several years because all they wanted to do was continue to abuse me and remind me how much they did for me. While I love them unconditionally, it is better that I do not speak to them or see them until they come out of their state of denial about what they did to me.
After my father retired from the military and got his university degree, which was in teaching, he decided he didn’t like teaching. As part of earning his degree, he had to student teach high school children. This experience made him realize he didn’t like being around children.
He got a job in yet another city with a large airline. He was a pilot in the military and decided that was what he wanted to do. He again was never around as he was flying all over the world.
My parents were extremely negative about everything. I only escaped from them at the age of thirty-four, when I met my wife who is the only person I have ever had an intimate relationship with other than my parents.
I was raised in the Catholic Church and in Catholic schools, so I have lovingly served God all of my life. I was an altar boy through grade school and secondary school and served the church in other ways after. I am very interested in other religions as well, however, including Buddhism, Islam, Judaism and Hinduism, though I honor and am grateful for my spiritual beginnings, which allowed me to remain in God’s presence.
My interest in ancient history, anthropology and archaeology has also led me to ancient religions that were the precursors of modern religions such as Zoroastrianism and Greek, Roman and Celtic mythology. I am developing an interest in my great, great grandmother’s Anishinaabe religious beliefs, which connect them to the stars. I have known all my life that I was not of this world and, as a child, would often gaze up at the stars and ask my people to come back and rescue me.
This knowledge and these experiences have provided me with a wealth of strength that otherwise would not have been there. Knowledge and faith and the belief that God is everywhere are the key to everything in my life. I would not still be here if I had not educated myself and relied on God to tell me what was truth and what was ignorant ego-talk.
Time and again, when I have been ready to give up, I have turned to spirituality. While going to a Catholic Church and meditating provides great comfort, my favorite place to go to find peace and tranquility during my meditation is a Hindu temple.
The smell of the incense and the statues of the gods all around me bring back deep, forgotten memories from childhood and past lives that all the medication I used to be on took from me for many years. In addition to past lives, these memories are also from the time my family spent in the Far East during the Vietnam War and had vacations in places like Thailand.
I stopped taking the epilepsy medication at the age of thirty-seven. It took several years for it to get out of my system and for me to realize what had happened to me and how bleak the situation was. My wife convinced me to stop taking the epilepsy medication, despite all the fears my mother had instilled in me about the terrible things that would happen to me if I did this.
I saw several specialists abroad who did extensive testing and again told me that I had never had epilepsy and should have never been medicated. They also told me that the medication I had taken was not meant to be taken for more than two years at the most and then, only in extreme cases.
I started realizing that I have no home anywhere. Unlike other children, who grew up in a hometown, I had never lived anywhere more than a few years. Other children I know of, who grew up in normal, stable military families have done well for themselves. This is because their parents prepared them properly to get on in life. My parents took the easy road with me and drugged me which removed me from the picture and allowed them to focus their attention fully on my brothers and their own lives.
Once you are eighteen, or are not in full-time education, you are no longer considered a dependent of a veteran and can no longer get help. You are left on your own. This would be okay if I had been prepared for life. It’s as if I have woken up from a long dream, where I fell asleep at the age of thirteen and now I have to try to survive somehow, with adult responsibilities but almost the innocence of a child.
It was only when I left my parents and stopped taking the medication that I started changing. Within the last five years, I have started reverting back to the personality I had before the age of thirteen. I am having flashbacks of things that happened then and I have significant memory loss. This goes back to childhood. I don’t know who I am as I missed out on all the social experiences a teenager goes through and any details other than bad experiences are very vague.
Of all the doctors I have seen, those who have bothered to listen to my story have told me they do not understand how I survived and how I can still be alive. I should not have made it this far. I have been told I have Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as a result of all of this, but I believe this is only a physical manifestation of something happening with my energy as I awaken to a higher reality. I can overcome anything with the help of God and the Astral World and am slowly managing to survive and recover. Interesting as C-PTSD is common in prisoners of war and those who have been in concentration camps for extended periods.
One of the psychologists I saw a couple of years ago was an old navy psychologist. All he had to say, after hearing my story was “after what you have been through, you should have vaporized by now”!
Extreme abuse continued later in life with my wife and my wife’s family as well. I escaped that abuse over four years ago now, after being Divinely delivered to my present situation, which could be described as miraculous.
As for my life abroad, my wife and two-year-old son and I were living in the U.S. fifteen years ago. My wife’s father, abroad, was diagnosed with precancerous lung tumors. My wife wanted to be with him, so we had to put our lives on hold temporarily and move abroad.
I am not writing this to put any blame of what happened to us on my wife or children or my wife’s parents. I continue to love them unconditionally and know that I have many faults and was probably very difficult to live with. I am grateful for the time we spent together and, God willing, we will see each other again.
We had to live with my wife’s parents but had no intention of staying. I did not know it at the time, but as you will see shortly, this would lead to my discovery of the Indian guru Paramahansa Yogananda , his book “Autobiography of a Yogi” and the science of Kriya Yoga which has completely turned my life around and delivered me from the jaws of death.
When we went abroad, we found things were not what we expected. My wife’s parents had told us we could stay with them in their house. We found out after getting there however, that I was only allowed to sleep there and even this was unwanted. I was not allowed in the house during the day without being mercilessly abused.
We had only a little money because everything we had in the U.S. had been used to pay off debt and I wandered the streets during the day. I could not buy food, obviously, and was not allowed food at the house, except some scraps once in a while that had been left for me. This consisted of fat, gristle and vegetables that were unfit for human consumption.
This went on for about a year. Both of my wife’s parents verbally abused me whenever they saw me and swore at me constantly. I fell down their steep stairs once and my wife’s father came running around the corner thinking it was our young son. He saw it was me at the bottom of the stairs, scowled and said “oh, you”! He turned around and walked away, not even caring if I was hurt. They treated me like an unwanted parasite, yet hatred is not in me and I was unable to return their hatred.
I was saddened because I had never shown them anything but respect and love and had housed and fed them when they came to the U.S. for a couple of months to visit us, with my wife driving them everywhere, spending much of my savings on them while I worked full-time. I always showed them kindness, despite all they were doing to me and this seemed to make them even angrier, though I never felt anything but unconditional love for them.
My wife’s father started treatment for his cancer and was finally free of it after a year. My wife’s mother started drinking heavily and, while I was concerned, there was nothing I could do but pray for them.
The first time I realized that God was working through me was when my wife’s father asked me to help him to go to church again. He had not been to church for decades but saw me getting dressed up every Sunday and going to church, which he always ridiculed. I was leading by example.
He knew that I was serving on the church council and suddenly asked me to teach him how to go to Communion. I was happy to do this, especially after what he had been through with cancer.
Several years went by and my wife’s father continued hating me and trying to alienate our children from me. My son once said to me “you must really hate Grampy” because he saw how inhumanly he treated me. I simply said “no, I don’t hate Grampy, I love him like I love all of God’s children, and so must you”. I just could not find it in my heart to hate him or anyone despite how badly I had been treated most of my life.
A very stressful and difficult struggle with hospital appointments and intense worry that lasted about a year, finally resulted in her father being well enough for my wife not to be needed. At this point, we started making plans to return to the U.S.
My wife’s mother then became ill with cancer that affected her brain. She started drinking even more heavily and became very abusive to us, especially to me. She died a couple of years later. I had flashbacks and nightmares about her cruel treatment for years and they still occasionally occur.
I am a very forgiving person with strong faith, so I have never had any ill feelings toward my wife’s mother. I knew she was not herself anymore. We could no longer live with my wife’s parents, but we had nowhere else to go at the time. I truly felt that I was battling against the dark forces.
I had not invested much time in getting a proper job because we had not planned on staying even as long as we had. We became stuck in a horrible nightmare of a life which lasted more than ten long and terrible years. We struggled desperately to find a place to live and my wife became pregnant for the second time.
We ended up having to live for a time in a small room above a barber shop. There was no privacy as the stairs led directly to the public area below. My wife was heavily pregnant at this point. She and our three-year-old son had to sleep on a small, broken single bed while I had to sleep on the floor.
This is how we were living when my wife’s due date arrived and she had a routine check on the baby. The baby’s heartbeat could not be found. We were again put through a horrible experience and the loss of the baby, after what we had been through, crushed us emotionally.
My wife had to be in the hospital for more than two weeks. They made my wife go through a natural still-birth. We were given no support at all after this and were just expected to carry on as if nothing had happened. My wife refused to have therapy afterwards.
When our daughter was delivered, I was also in the delivery room and the doctors handed her to me. I looked into her perfect face and saw only peace and joy there. I went to the small sink in the delivery room, sprinkled water over her and lifted her up, baptizing her and offering her to God.
Our daughter’s physical body was examined after her death and nothing abnormal was found that would have caused her death. They couldn’t understand why she had died. I believe her purpose in incarnating in this lifetime was so she could go immediately to Divine Mother and be my guardian angel, to help me get through the extreme, often deadly perils of transfiguration from the physical to the astral world that lay ahead.
My wife has had a very hard time. When we were first married, she told me that the doctors had told her it would be very difficult for her to have children because she had polycystic ovaries and that it would only be possible with prolonged and very expensive fertility treatment. I still used precautions however, as we were not ready to have children. Her personality started changing and she became very demanding and overbearing.
She started getting angry if I used protection and said there was no reason to use it as she could not get pregnant. For my own sanity, I stopped using the protection and she became pregnant within a couple of months with our son. The pregnancy was difficult and she developed thyroid disease and gestational diabetes during this time which could explain her personality change.
Our son also had a hard time just after he was born and at one point, when he was only about a week old, an inexperienced nurse gave him iodine directly in the mouth without mixing it with a liquid. It badly burned his mouth and throat and he had to have a tube run from his nose to his stomach for feeding. After the birth, my wife had a thyroidectomy.
We were still living above the barber shop when she became pregnant the second time. The stress the medical system and the local government services put us through, in addition to the abuse from my wife’s parents, probably caused the still-birth. By refusing to help us and forcing us to live in inhuman conditions, they put us under too much pressure. At this point, we had only been abroad for about two years.
We had not even been able to open a bank account at this point. We were required to present the bank with a letter from a utility company with our name and address on it. We did not have a proper address yet, so we had no bills to present to the bank.
I had applied for jobs and sent out hundreds of resumes, but had no luck. There was nothing where we were living that suited my qualifications. I had to apply for anything I could find. I was refused for all jobs as a result of over-qualification. I have always loved learning and believed that a good education was very important. I soon found out that I had educated myself out of a job.
I have earned two college degrees and have other very advanced qualifications. I have the equivalent of the highest degrees with a firm grasp of mathematics, sciences and English. As a result of growing up in a military family, I also have the experience of traveling and living all over the world. I had become a professional scuba diver and professionally trained model and background actor as well as a laboratory chemist.
Even changing my resume to leave out some of my degrees and qualifications did not seem to make any difference. I still could not find work other than temporary work as a bouncer in some seedy local pubs.
We tried to find a place to live, but were heavily penalized because we were married. When we inquired about low-income housing, we were told time and again that all the laws had been re-written and that they were only designed for single-parent families and people living on their own. We were told that there was very little chance of getting any help because we were married. We even tried the local and national charities for help with the same result.
As a result of my not having a job, and all of our savings having been used to go abroad and help my wife’s parents, we had no way of even renting a cheap apartment. This would have required job references and a very sizeable security deposit.
I decided at this point that I would have to try to get yet another university degree so I could work. I was able, after a struggle, to apply for a government scholarship. This was only after living abroad for three years and it enabled me to be accepted on a Travel and Tourism degree course.
It was the only way I was able to finally open a bank account. It gave me a letter that the bank finally accepted with my name and address on it and they saw that I had money from the scholarship to deposit.
My wife had to get a friend of hers to write a letter, pretending to be her employer and saying she worked for him as this was the only way we could get a privately rented property. The government and local charities refused to help us. We finally managed to get out from over the barber shop, but this was only the start of another nightmare that lasted more than seven years.
We finally found a place but were in sub-standard accommodation that was basically open to the environment and the winters there were very damp and cold. I became very ill after all that had happened to us, from not being able to find a job and from living in an environment which was not acceptable or even allowed by law. We should not have been forced to live like this.
With the added stress of losing our daughter and the abuse from my wife’s parents, I had a nervous breakdown which led to severe anxiety and depression. I was then told by doctors that I could no longer work due to years of severe and excessive stress, abuse and trauma.
They registered me as disabled and said that I should be put on antidepressants which I was very reluctant to do. I finally had to agree as I wanted desperately to help my family and be a productive worker. This is where I lost all faith in the local medical system and in medication in general.
We found out that the house we rented was not up to environmental and housing safety standards and the landlord refused to do any repairs. I could not get a proper job and there was no way for us to get a better place to live. My wife took on part-time employment and, other than the odd jobs I was able to get at night, that is how we were forced to live.
I went to school for a couple of years, but things got steadily worse and I had to stop going. My wife lost all interest in me early on, when the effects of the antidepressants became obvious. She worked, and the children were in school so after I had to stop my university course, I spent the long days alone, sitting on an old used sofa, which was all we could afford. I did not leave the house for a number of years.
We remained trapped for years, not even able to get out for a picnic in the country. About a year after we lost our daughter and before my wife’s mother died, my wife became pregnant again and we were gifted with a lovely daughter in addition to our beautiful son, but I did not want them to have to live like this.
There were at least two Christmases where my wife and children went to my wife’s parent’s house and left me alone in the cold and dark with no food because I was not welcome at their house. I did not want to prevent them from enjoying the holiday season.
We could not afford a proper bed and had to rely on one that my wife’s parents gave us as they were getting a new one. We only had one bedroom at this property and my wife and two children slept on this small bed. I had not slept on a bed for ten years until about a year before I returned to the U.S. Instead, I slept on a cold, hard floor which left me in a great deal of pain.
Life was almost impossible, especially with the constant threats thrown at us for years by the bank and rental agency who were taking more money than we had in late fees every month and electric companies who were making gross overcharges which they were being investigated for.
My wife’s parents lived in a proper house, just a ten minute walk from us. My wife started letting them take the children away from me all the time. Her parents detested me and told me and our children so constantly. This turned into a daily occurrence and sometimes, the children would be gone for weeks at a time and I never saw them.
No matter how much I disagreed with this, my wife refused to listen. I was in a foreign country and had no idea what my rights were there.
I was sent to a total of two psychiatrists, three psychologists and two mental health councilors over a period of about six years. They examined me extensively and told me there was nothing wrong with me other than the effects of a lifetime of extreme trauma and abuse and that I urgently needed to get away from the abuse I was currently going through.
They told me I would never be successful but they could make me happy with medication. They made me go through long trials of about ten different antidepressants that lasted eight to ten weeks each. The results were all the same; nothing made me feel any better, they only made me more complacent which I knew was not an answer. While antidepressants are necessary and helpful for some, they didn’t work for me as they were not treating the underlying cause.
I was finally told that there were no more medications to try and that I should stay on the last one they tried me on. This I did for about three years and I became hugely obese while living in this very unhealthy environment. As a result of the effects of the medication, I basically stopped caring about my health and my appearance and life in general, though always with complete devotion to my wife and children, despite the abuse.
I felt extreme guilt about not being able to work and I waited on them hand and foot, not even eating on the rare occasions when we had enough food for me because I was too busy serving them to sit down. I never realized that they had started using me, but perhaps they did not realize either and still don’t. This went on for years.
I am a very hard worker and could be very successful if given a chance. I am tired of being penalized for trying my best to be a good person. It was and is unthinkable for a country which claims to be up to First World standards to force a family to live like this. This treatment prevented me from working and also prevented me from completing my third degree.
I prayed constantly for my family to be saved and that we could live in a place where it was always warm and sunny. As a Divemaster, I had often been to the tropics which I felt would be an ideal location for us as I could work again as a professional scuba diver and expert in the repair and maintenance of underwater life support equipment. It was only a dream at that time but I had faith that if it was God’s will, it would happen eventually.
My wife had by now alienated me from my parents and family by bad-mouthing them constantly. I gave up everything I owned so she could have what she wanted. I showed her nothing but love and respect and everything I did was for her happiness, but nothing ever seemed good enough for her.
She constantly accused me of not loving her which left me in a state of complete confusion as I never thought of myself – only her and the children and everything I thought and did was for them.
Her parents completely alienated the children from me. I pleaded with my wife to let me take care of the children but she refused. We were forced to live in Third World conditions, in a very cold climate and I could not force the children to stay with me under those conditions when I knew their grandparent’s house was warm and dry, with plenty of food and a real bed to sleep in.
My daughter used to come back after being with my wife’s parents for several weeks and say ‘grampy says daddy is a stupid, fat, lazy old man’. This deeply hurt me and is untrue – I have done everything for them, but they don’t realize this. Even when I became unable to go out and work, I was a “House Dad”. I did all the cooking, cleaning, finances, etc.
We finally managed to move into another rented property, after the kitchen
ceiling collapsed on top of my son and me and we had to contact a local government official to get another place to live. The new place was still not suitable for a family our size but the government agency that gave it to us lied about the size of the property and they threatened us and forced us to take it . With a twelve-year-old son and a six-year-old daughter and only two very small bedrooms and one tiny front room, this was unacceptable. There was again, insufficient heating for the very cold and wet winters. They used a heating system in our property which is known to be very inefficient and unreliable. It is also very expensive.
Basically, the heating system consists of special, heat absorbing bricks that are placed inside a radiator. These bricks are heated late at night for a couple of hours and the heat is supplied by the bricks giving off the heat during the day. The bricks can only be heated once at night and this has to be relied on for the next twenty-two hours.
Needless to say, it does not provide enough heat especially during the very cold months. The heat was gone by eleven o’clock am and there was no way to control the output. As a result, several thick blankets and extra, unaffordable electric heaters were required for the rest of the day.
I took the children to the park or to the shops for sweets or to other places to do fun things on the very rare occasions when they were with me long enough as my wife was always too tired from her job to do it. It was a huge job that I enjoyed, but nobody appreciated it, they only complained.
Even though my wife and children and my wife’s parents did not understand my love for God or what I was doing for them, I knew that I was helping them and that I was protecting them from a harsh world that they did not understand.
They only knew the immediate world around them, where I had detached from that a long time ago and have a far different perspective of the world. Instead of feeling that my entire being is in one place and looking out at a strange world from one place as most people do, my being is everywhere because God is in my heart and in everyone else’s heart. This understanding allows me to view the universe and the world around me as if I am looking down on everything and can see God everywhere and in everyone.
I knew that I was their guardian and was serving a far higher purpose. Even though it has required me to give up everything to save them from the harsh world they are presently stuck in, I have God, which is all I need.
Our children went to different schools which were not within walking distance and we didn’t have a car and could not afford one. My wife’s father, however, did have a car and for years he took the children to school and brought them back every day at my wife’s insistence, instead of using public transport.
Her father showed up every day and shouted verbal abuse at me in front of the children and often at my wife and children as well. He would say something really horrible about me as he was going out the door. He then got in his car and quickly drove away because he was afraid to face me. I felt sorry for him and forgave him.
I didn’t abuse him in front of the children as he did to me, but this started getting increasingly difficult for me. I have never known the kind of hatred I experienced from my wife’s parents as I have felt nothing but love for others. It was affecting my mental health.
I desperately wanted to get the children away from my wife’s father and the only way I could do this was by moving back to the U.S. alone and with severe, though at the time undiagnosed, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and a very high level of confusion in the hopes that I could bring them over later. I told my wife many times that her father was seriously damaging our marriage and the children’s mental health, but she ignored me and refused to do anything about it.
We had many disagreements about how our children were being raised, but she wouldn’t listen to my side of the argument and refused to discuss anything. She refused to let me be a father and she didn’t want me as a husband, only someone who waited on them hand and foot.
I told my wife the children would have problems later if she raised them the way she did, but she would get very violent and angry and said I didn’t know what I was talking about. She would get angry and violent with the children as well, would call them horrible names and sometimes approach them as if she were going to hurt them. At these times, I would actually have to hold them to protect them from her because I was afraid of what she would do to them.
I have now been proven right about the children having problems, but there is nothing I could do while I was trapped abroad. My wife had very serious anger issues that she brought into our marriage and I had to give in to her for the children’s sake.
She refused to use any discipline with them and met their every demand, even so far as using the little money we had to let them go online and buy things nearly every day – every day was like Christmas for them! If I tried to use even a little discipline with them, said told them I was mean for being concerned about their behavior. I became very quiet and basically stopped talking early on after my wife’s mother asked me a perfectly normal question and I gave her an honest answer, not thinking anything of it.
Later, my wife violently screamed at me for my answer because her mother had asked her the same question and she had told her something completely untrue, because she said she didn’t want her parents to know anything about our private life. This turned out to be a regular occurrence with her parents and in our personal life as well so I felt it was too dangerous to say anything, not knowing what my wife would want. I couldn’t trust her anymore or believe anything she said.
My wife started changing even more and became very violent and negative at the slightest provocation from me or the children or anyone else. She started letting our eight-year-old son watch horror films, including those that were so violent, they were rated for adults only.
I completely disagreed with this and told my wife there was a reason they had an adult rating. She again refused to listen and said I didn’t know what I was talking about.
We already didn’t have enough money for all of us to eat, but my wife would buy our son anything he wanted. His favorite toy was a life-sized doll of a character from his favorite adult horror film. It came with a rubber knife that it killed people with in the films. My wife spent over one hundred dollars to order it and have it shipped from the U.S. This was a significant part of our monthly income, which I had little access to.
I would throw away the horror films, but she told our son this was because I was mean, not that I loved and cared about him and thought he shouldn’t be watching them. Every time I threw them away, she would only buy him more. This is another reason I stopped eating regularly. The only control I had was to get rid of the horror films, even at the cost of my health.
I sacrificed my share of the food so they would have enough to eat. Over the years, I watched my son go from a lovely, happy little boy to angry, morbid and unhappy, with a constant need for material gratification. This was re-enforced by my wife letting our son have her debit card almost every day and buying things like collector condition dolls on the internet, which he would then play with until he quickly destroyed them.
Not having her way only resulted in abuse which involved her shouting at me and the children. I was very patient with her and the children and never got angry or fought with her, especially in front of the children. My wife and children fought constantly with each other for years, however, while I remained calm and detached for the sake of them and my rapidly deteriorating mental and physical health.
There was never any peace or quiet and I was exposed to this constant abuse on my senses and nervous system for twelve years. Someone had to remain in control. I was no longer a husband or father, but a guardian and referee. I had to go out every day and walk the streets because just being in this house caused so much anxiety, I could barely function. I have fallen arches and could not afford proper shoes and the ones I had were very old and worn out.
I often came back in the evening with bleeding feet and the pain of walking was excruciating but nobody cared. Sometimes my wife would make me go back out an hour later to the shops to get her and the children things like ice-cream. I never complained and always served them though my wife and children would often get very angry and scream at me if I made a slight mistake such as getting vanilla ice-cream instead of French vanilla or if it took me too long to hobble all the way down to the shops and back.
After twelve years I ended up sleeping on park benches because our son, who was now about fourteen, insisted on sleeping with my wife in our bed which we could not all fit in. He would just stand there every night until my wife let him in and I had to leave. Her excuse was that she had to go to work in the morning and I didn’t, so it didn’t matter that I didn’t get any sleep. We had a small, used sofa downstairs which I would sleep on at first but it was very uncomfortable and caused a great deal of pain.
My anxiety started getting so high from being ejected from our bed every night that I had to leave the house in the middle of the night and walk to the park where I would sleep on a bench. I pleaded with my wife to discipline our son so he would stay in his own bed like other children, but she always refused to do anything.
I did start questioning myself and thinking that I was doing something wrong. I saw several psychologists over a ten-year period, desperately trying to find out what was wrong with me.
Time after time, they came to the conclusion that it was not me, but the people in my life that were the problem and they were the ones that needed to change. They kept telling me I was being domestically abused and needed to get away from it, which was hard for me to understand as I loved them and didn’t want to leave them.
I have always felt extremely disassociated from this world, since I was a very young child. I felt I didn’t belong in this world. I have been told that some very vivid dreams I have had could show that I feel this way because I have not incarnated for a very long time.
I don’t have to conform to other people’s view of the world and what they think of me is completely irrelevant. If everyone were the same, it would be a very dull place. Those of us who dare to be different are the ones who enable the planet to evolve.
I believe God placed me here for a very important reason yet to be revealed to me, if I survive. I have made it this far on nothing but pure faith and unconditional love, so I believe God will allow me to endure somehow.
My wife eventually started claiming our son had autism as an excuse for letting him get away with everything, after she found out she could get a significant amount of money from the government if she did this.
The child psychologist examined him extensively and came to the conclusion that he definitely did not have autism. She said he might have a learning disability, but I am a keen observer and a scientist and I think it was more the way he was being raised, against my advice, than a learning disability.
He was highly intelligent and knew how to fool people and play the system. My wife would also coach him about what to do and say and he admitted that, when tested, he deliberately chose the wrong answer and even wrote letters backward to make it look like he had dyslexia and/or autism.
I never claimed there was nothing wrong with him, but the mis-information my wife kept giving the experts prevented them from making a proper diagnosis. I already knew he did not have autism and was backed up by several child psychologists and his teachers in school who had worked with him for years. They claimed that he did very well on the tests when he did not know he was being tested.
This only made my wife angry and hateful as, just like my mother had done to me when I was a child, she thought she knew better than anyone else. She also screamed at me that she didn’t care that I had two university degrees, I didn’t know anything. She had no higher level degrees and totally rejected anyone who had studied for years and had the experience and knowledge to help our son.
My wife finally managed to get autism money for our son, despite my very strong objection and the psychologist’s diagnosis that he was not autistic. Whenever he misbehaved, my wife would just say “he can’t help it, he has autism” so she didn’t have to correct his behavior. Just after I returned to the U.S., her income more than doubled so God had intervened to provide for them and sent me back to the U.S.
All of this involved mostly our son as my wife let our daughter go to and stay at her grandfather’s house where she was most of the time, even to sleep. I loved her and missed her so much, but even though we lived together, I was rarely allowed to see her and her grandfather had her so brainwashed about me, she didn’t even seem to know I existed.
My wife seemed fine with this as, just like my parents with me, she didn’t seem able to deal with children. She rarely brought anything for our daughter who saw toys and other things coming in the mail for our son all the time. I finally got very stern with my wife for the first time and told her she was showing extreme favoritism to our son which our daughter would notice and would eventually rebel against.
My wife didn’t say anything, but I noticed she started buying things for our daughter as well after this, so if nothing else, I had at least leveled things and got our daughter some attention as well.
Eventually, this all got too much for me. I loved them all so much but could not bear to watch my wife destroy herself and the children any longer or watch my son be used in exchange for money when I knew he was capable of so much more. This was exactly what my narcissistic parents had done to me, which destroyed my life.
I tried to save them for almost twenty years, but with the involvement of my wife’s parents, I felt I was fighting a losing battle and any disagreement only caused further violence, derision and abuse from my wife and her father. I had to be true to myself.
For all these years, we had only enough money for food for my wife and children, and rent and nothing else, though the rent was often late because of lack of funds which we were heavily penalized for. I was only able to eat occasionally and fasted for days or weeks every month. We could not afford much furniture or other things. We were not able to have a holiday or time away from the house.
Our monthly income only lasted about two and a half to three weeks and we had to scrape for food the last week of every month for years, while always making sure that the children had enough. We were unable to have a car or anything that would have made our life a little more bearable.
The constant threats from not being able to pay bills on time, in addition to everything else, was very destructive to our mental health especially when we were treated like criminals for no reason. We simply didn’t have money, through no fault of our own. The bank we had been using was, unfortunately, very corrupt.
The bank we were using is now well-known to have been acting illegally and immorally for the past few years, with illegal operations even in the United States. They made it impossible for us to switch to another bank due to extortionate late fees which they double-charged. The start of each month, our entire income went into paying the overdraft and the rest of the month, we lived on the overdraft, at the banks whim.
Finally, after many mistakes made by doctors and other so-called health professionals, I told my doctor I wanted to stop taking the antidepressants. He helped me to slowly stop and come off. Things started changing after about a month when the antidepressants starting being flushed from my body. I became interested in life again and I started going out and walking everywhere on a daily basis.
Later, after I stopped the medication, my wife and children accused me of not loving or caring about them because I didn’t just drop everything to attend to their every desire. I started thinking of some of my own needs for the first time in my life as I was finally free of the effects of some very undesirable prescription drugs that had affected me since early childhood. I was waking up from a nightmare that had lasted for over forty years.
Imagine living for twelve years with people screaming abuse, hatred and obscenities at you day in and day out with no way to escape. My mind shut down for ten years. I was left with very severe and, at the time, undiagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder with extreme confusion and massive memory loss, barely able to function.
This abuse, which was also directed at the children, went on for over a decade, and when I left to return to the U.S., our daughter was still going to her grandfather’s house to sleep every night, if she was not there already, and had absolutely no interest in being with me due to her grandfather’s daily brainwashing about how horrible I was.
When we moved to the second property, we were within walking distance of a church, so I was able to attend Mass again after a number of years. I quickly lost all the weight I had put on from the medication and was in good shape again.
It was Easter of two thousand and thirteen and I had started taking action to turn my life around. I knew I had to do something to change our situation as just sitting there did nothing. I was more than afraid however, because I knew, after a very difficult conversation with U.S. Immigration, who I now know lied to us, that I had to go back to the U.S. alone, while leaving my wife and children struggling on their own. I had done nothing but think of all the things that could go wrong for two years, which led nowhere.
This is when I started strongly suspecting that I had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder with significant memory loss and confusion which was not treatable where we were. I had no idea what I would do when I got to the U.S. with no income and no job or place to live.
By this time, I had gone to church every day and had joined several volunteer church groups. I had started staying in church every day for three hours, meditating with the Rosary in front of statues of Jesus, Mary, St Joseph and St Francis of Assisi. We lived next to a cemetery, so I would go there every day as well and sit praying and singing hymns and saying the Rosary, because I felt closer to God there.
It was on a memorable and inspiring Easter Sunday after a very deep meditation with the Rosary that I suddenly realized that all the fear and deep anxiety I had felt about returning to the U.S. had disappeared. It was as if a warm and comfortable blanket had been thrown over my cold mind and God was telling me not to be afraid. To go and He would provide. This is where my incredible journey began, though I had no idea it would last five years and take me to a state of Divine consciousness that I had never dreamed of.
My family had been trapped in the welfare system abroad for twelve years. I don’t blame anyone for this, we just got caught up in some very unusual and unfortunate circumstances involving death of family members and some very bad feelings from other people directed at me. Perhaps God was using me to help them work out the bitterness they had acquired from bad experiences, I don’t know. I was working out my karmic mistakes as well from past lives.
I seemed to absorb all these negative feelings directed at me, with God working through me. I continued to love these people however and prayed for them constantly. I had no energy and could barely leave the house to walk anywhere for some time, until I started going to church every day. I was like a vegetable, sitting all day watching television and hardly ever moving.
I found a statue of Ganesha, the Hindu elephant headed god and the remover of obstacles in a charity shop. It was hand-carved wood and had come from India. I love ancient history and world cultures and, for some reason, have always felt a special place in my heart for India. I was compelled to buy it and set it in a prominent place in our house, asking Ganesha to help me and my family.
During Epiphany two thousand and twelve, my priest gave me a piece of chalk that he had blessed. He gave me a ritual to take home and perform with my family. Part of the ritual involved writing the names of The Three Kings from the Nativity – Caspar, Balthazar and Melchior, saints in the Catholic tradition, with Caspar and perhaps all of them said to be great kings or scholars from India – over our front door. It protects the family and friendly strangers who come through the door. I don’t remember all the words I recited, but part of it was “Thou didst send Thine only son to lead all men to the light”.
It’s strange how, only after I had given everything up to God and started on this journey and returned to the U.S., did I eventually read Autobiography of a Yogi and find out that Yogananda said The Three Kings were believed to be incarnations of three great avatars from India who were his line of gurus – Swami Sri Yukteswar, Lahiri Mahasaya and Mahavatar Babaji. They went to Bethlehem to welcome Jesus as the one who would bring the light of Christ to mankind.
I think I have known all along that God was the doer, but I had to go through what I did from childhood so that God could “forge” my mind and body in preparation for this important mission. When I was initiated into Kriya Yoga in October two thousand and fourteen, my memory started returning and I could see how all of this has led to this point.
When we lost our daughter and my wife’s mother, both were cremated and my wife eventually asked if they could be buried together in the memorial gardens at the crematorium to which I consented.
A year before I returned to the U.S., I went to the memorial gardens every day, stood at the grave of my daughter and mother-in-law and talked to them, telling them that I loved them and telling my mother-in-law that I understood what she had been through and that I did not hold any bad feelings about the way she treated me. I only loved her and our daughter and I continued to pray for their souls. I often wept for them and everything that had happened to my family and me and my wife’s parents as well.
I reluctantly returned to the US from abroad in June of two thousand and thirteen, after US Immigration told us that, even though my wife has a Green Card and both of our children have Duel Citizenship, I had to return to the US alone and start the whole, long immigration process all over again, from the beginning. We had both agreed to this, thinking I would be able to bring them all over shortly, not knowing it would turn into a five year long nightmare that would save me, but destroy our family.
I flew to Orlando, Florida, taking a bus then to Miami Beach, where I stayed in a cheap and dirty hostel and began looking for a church. I had trouble finding one, but eventually stumbled upon a church, just down the street from the hostel, dedicated to St. Francis de Sales. I moved to Hollywood Beach, Florida a couple of months later.
Again, I had difficulty finding a church, but soon found one near the hostel dedicated to St Therese of Lisieux, also known as “Little Flower”. Those who have read Autobiography of a Yogi will recognize the saints these churches were named after. There was a man there who had no money for food, so I shared the little money I had with him and brought and cooked food for both of us for two months. Smaller portions, but spiritually satisfying.
At this point, I met a girl from India who was staying in the same hostel as me and, coincidently, had the same name we had given our beloved lost daughter. She took me to the Sunday Service at a large Hindu temple in Southern Florida.
There were many statues of Hindu gods on the alters and, at the end of the service, we all walked past the alters and paid our respects to the gods. At the end of the procession, there were two priests who gave everyone a handful of blessed nuts and seeds and a handful of holy water. I ate the seeds and drank the holy water. This was followed by a delicious lunch on the temple grounds.
At this point, I still knew nothing about Yogananda or Autobiography of a Yogi, but I have always been drawn to California and drinking the holy water and eating the nuts and seeds immediately awakened an uncontrollable urge in me to go to Los Angeles. I spent the last of the little money my wife had managed to send me on a bus ticket from Hollywood Beach, Florida to Los Angeles, California. It took three days to cross the country but I made it to Los Angeles.
I am Catholic and went to church every day when I was abroad. I joined the Knights of St Columba and was inspired by this important group of men who did so much charity work not just for the Catholic Church, but for everyone, regardless of race or religion.
When I returned to the US, the Knights very kindly gave me a generous donation which helped me significantly in the beginning and allowed me to survive. I started thinking of their counterparts in the U.S., the Knights of Columbus as I was in dire need of assistance.
I tried contacting the Knights of Columbus several times while abroad, but they never responded to me. I tried again when I got to the U.S. with the same result. When I first returned to the U.S. and finally located a Catholic Church, in the first city I was in after arriving, it was a huge relief to me to be able to go to church every day again. The PTSD was still undiagnosed at this point and it was nearly impossible for me to approach anyone and even harder to talk to them.
I was in a state of very high anxiety and extreme confusion, yet after a couple of months I forced myself to approach one of the priests with the intention of explaining my situation and asking for help. He was an older priest, though not the main one and, after listening to him, I felt a humbleness about him which made it much easier, though still terrifying, for me to approach him. I was not at all comfortable with the main priest, who had a feeling of extreme arrogance around him and showed no humility whatsoever.
When I approached the older priest and explained things, I was dismayed when he said he was not the main priest and that I should talk to him. He led me to the Sacristy and told me to wait there. He then went down a long and narrow dark corridor to a room at the end. The church was in a wealthy area and was adorned with gold and marble and was very opulent.
He came back with the main priest, who did not look very happy at being disturbed in his inner sanctum. I was introduced to him and tried desperately to explain things, barely able to form my thoughts into words with the amount of fear I was feeling in the state of extreme confusion I was in.
I explained that I needed assistance and that I had tried contacting the Catholic Church several times while abroad and had no response from anyone. The priest just stared at me with a scowl and said, like it was forced, “I’m sorry”. He then turned his back on me and walked back down the long, dark corridor to his inner sanctum. When he did this, the priest who introduced me too him actually apologized to the main priest for disturbing him and tried to protect me as well by telling him it was him that told me to come to the Sacristy.
I said to myself, not for the first time in my life’s journey and certainly not for the last time, quoting Jesus and, as recorded by St Luke (whom I chose at Confirmation to be my personal saint and guide), “Father forgive them for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). I left the city the next day.
My parish priest abroad had even written me a letter of introduction as a sort of character reference, but I had already sent copies to churches in the U.S. while abroad and even after returning, explaining my situation and that I was returning to the U.S. and needed assistance because I was disabled. They all ignored me and I didn’t think it would be any different if I gave the letter to this priest.
This state of the Catholic Church in the U.S. saddened me. After living abroad for more than a decade and seeing how strong the Catholic Church is there, all the Churches that I saw when I returned to the U.S. seemed to have lost their way. Some things that I noticed right away were that, in every church I went to in the U.S., everyone seemed to have a cold and disinterested and unreverential attitude towards each other and the Mass in general, like they were either forced to be there and didn’t want to have anything to do with each other or they felt they were too holy and important to interact with anyone but the priests.
Many of the churches don’t even use votive candles anymore. You can’t light a candle and offer up a prayer, you have to push a button which turns on a lightbulb on top of a fake candle because everything has been modernized with gadgets and electricity.
During the greeting after saying the “Our Father” prayer, people don’t shake hands anymore, not even with people right next to them. Instead they try to sit as far apart as possible, so they aren’t near anyone else and look around the church at people, giving a little wave, as if to say “I’m too important to sit next to you or shake your hand, but I acknowledge your presence”. The Church abroad is not like this at all and is far more humble and Christ like and much more like a real family.
The way I was treated by the Catholic Church in the U.S. reminded me of Matthew 10:
These twelve Jesus sent out, instructing them as follows: ‘Do not make your way to Gentile territory, and do not enter any Samaritan town; go instead to the lost sheep of the House of Israel.
Provide yourselves with no gold or silver, not even with coppers for your purses, with no haversack for the journey or spare tunic or footwear or a staff, for the laborer deserves his keep. ‘Whatever town or village you go into, seek out someone worthy and stay with him until you leave. As you enter his house, salute it, and if the house deserves it, may your peace come upon it; if it does not, may your peace come back to you. And if anyone does not welcome you or listen to what you have to say, as you walk out of the house or town shake the dust from your feet.
Look, I am sending you out like sheep among wolves; so be cunning as snakes and yet innocent as doves. ‘Be prepared for people to hand you over to Sanhedrins and scourge you in their synagogues. You will be brought before governors and kings for my sake, as evidence to them and to the Gentiles. But when you are handed over, do not worry about how to speak or what to say; what you are to say will be given to you when the time comes, because it is not you who will be speaking; the Spirit of your Father will be speaking in you. ‘Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child; children will come forward against their parents and have them put to death. You will be universally hated on account of my name; but anyone who stands firm to the end will be saved. If they persecute you in one town, take refuge in the next; and if they persecute you in that, take refuge in another. In truth I tell you, you will not have gone the round of the towns of Israel before the Son of man comes. ‘Disciple is not superior to teacher, nor slave to master. It is enough for disciple to grow to be like teacher, and slave like master. If they have called the master of the house “Beelzebul”, how much more the members of his household? ‘So do not be afraid of them. Everything now covered up will be uncovered, and everything now hidden will be made clear.
For I have come to set son against father, daughter against mother, daughter-in-law against mother-in-law; a person’s enemies will be the members of his own household. ‘No one who prefers father or mother to me is worthy of me. No one who prefers son or daughter to me is worthy of me. Anyone who does not take his cross and follow in my footsteps is not worthy of me. Anyone who finds his life will lose it; anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it. ‘Anyone who welcomes you welcomes me; and anyone who welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.
These passages are very similar to my life and the current journey I am on and are a close reflection of my entire life in a condensed form. As I said, I left this city the next day to continue the journey God had inspired me to begin. I finally got in contact with the Knights of Columbus who had the same attitude as the arrogant priest who rejected me. Even after telling them I was a brother Knight from a sister organization abroad, they were rude and arrogant and only wanted me to stop bothering them and they never contacted me again.
When I got to my current location a few years later, I was sitting in a church one day, before the Mass which I was only occasionally able to get to as I live in a remote jungle location and have no transport. I was sitting in the very back, alone, when a man approached me.
He said he was in the Knights of Columbus and they needed new members. I told him I was already a Knight of St Columba but that I was currently homeless. He got a terrified look on his face, started stammering and quickly started backing away from me as if I was unclean. I am very careful about hygiene and my appearance and looked perfectly normal or he wouldn’t have approached me.
Just mentioning that I was homeless terrified him and he actually turned around and walked quickly away from me, back to the front of the church. I see him every time I am able to get to church, but he has never acknowledged me again or comes anywhere near me. I again found myself quoting the words of Jesus.
I have been homeless for more than four years now and have found no help from the Catholic Church or any charities. Only after I discovered Yogananda did I find anyone who cared about me enough to help.
I have never rejected the Catholic Church as it was my origin and the religion I grew up with and I greatly honor my spiritual beginnings. I owe much of my spirituality to being in Catholic schools and serving as an alter boy for many years in addition to the church groups I have belonged to. I greatly respect what Pope Francis is doing and hope it changes the Church.
I have gone beyond the need to be led by the Church hierarchy and have enough wisdom and knowledge to listen to what God is telling me. All major religions are just different expressions of God and are one and the same family.
Charities and government organizations have treated me like a criminal even though I have done nothing wrong – only love and respect everyone. Western doctors, therapists and psychologists have scorned me and tried to convince me that I am insane because of my strong faith and love of God. Only after I found spiritually minded people did I begin to heal.
The only place I have been welcomed in the U.S. is where I have found spiritually minded people and those familiar with Hinduism and the Hindu philosophy of Sanatana Dharma. Everyone else has totally rejected me. Around people like this, for the first time in my life, I have found that I am respected and am able to use the gifts God gave me.
I am also managing to begin the healing process and am actually being told that there is something extraordinary and right about me and my beliefs. I started losing my fear of speaking to people and found that I no longer had to worry about approaching people or what to say. God is actually bringing people to me now for advice and comfort and I find that the words I need always come to me.
I speak very little and people tell me that any time I do speak, it is always very profound. God seems to have given me wisdom, like King Solomon and I merely act as a humble channel for Him. Nothing I do or say is from me as I am nothing but I can feel the Divine in me and working through me.
Most people in the West don’t understand me and think there is just something wrong with me because I don’t speak unless I am Divinely inspired to do so, then God speaks for me. Their attitude doesn’t offend me at all as I see others as my children and have infinite patience with them.
When I got to Los Angeles, I did my usual search for a church and also looked for a spiritual group to meet like-minded people. One month later, I found a spiritual community and went to the Sunday Service. There, I met Yogananda. It felt like everything had suddenly fallen into place and there were answers there.
This is the point where I started reading Autobiography of a Yogi and starting seeing synchronicities between my life, Yogananda and what had and was happening to me. This included such things as intuition directing me to Los Angeles, running across churches dedicated to saints mentioned in Autobiography, including St. Therese of Lisieux, Little Flower, whom Therese Neumann, from Autobiography, prayed to as a girl, to heal her of blindness, paralysis and bedsores. The Three Wise Men as well, with whose names I blessed our house abroad, and who Yogananda claims were incarnations of his line of gurus.
Several months passed in Los Angeles and I eventually got to the point where I could no longer afford to stay even in a cheap hostel. I started spending my days and nights wandering with the homeless on Skid Row to acclimate myself to living that way.
I shared the little money I had with people I met as I have all along, and prepared to live like that, returning to the hostel a few times each week, early in the morning, to get a couple of hours of sleep. I enrolled in a homeless program that would put me in a shelter and prepare me for eventual work.
I would be required to be locked up with a lot of other homeless people every night. The thought of this, in the condition I was in, terrified me but I put my trust in God. Sometimes, anxiety had taken over in me and got so bad at one point, that I truly believed I was going to die.
I went to sleep one night and the anxiety was so high that I started feeling like I was literally “phasing out” of this world. Suddenly, I was enveloped in a warm, white light and I could hear a female voice singing Yogananda’s chant “I Am the Bubble, Make Me the Sea”.
All fear completely disappeared, or more accurately, everything but the voice and the light that enveloped me ceased to exist. I woke up the next morning and the anxiety was gone. I know it was Divine Mother /The Virgin Mary who had sung to me.
There is an unavoidable outcome to being homeless. Despite one’s best efforts, having no place to live, little or no money and the inability to control diet causes one to become offensive to other people. This is due to the inability to buy or wash clothes properly and hygiene becomes very difficult.
The day I was meant to go into the shelter program, there was a mistake in the shelter’s intake – the intake person didn’t show up. Something then held me back and told me not to let myself get locked up in a shelter. I had started smelling bad, but the people at the spiritual community, who will always have my gratitude, kindly put up with my presence until it became too much.
A week later, I was invited to go to their retreat, to take part in a service program. I ended up having a more stable living environment there, though not ideal for my conditions, serving for a year and becoming a Kriyaban (one who practices Kriya Yoga).
I later found out that the city of Los Angeles was thinking of building a compound outside of the city to lock homeless people in, letting them out only under armed guard, as a way of addressing Los Angeles’ homeless problem. I have often wondered if the shelter program I almost went into was a part of that.
I became completely engrossed in service to others at the retreat, working in the kitchen and dining room, cleaning toilets and eventually doing other service projects for the community at large. I found that, for the first time in my life, I felt completely connected to God and needed much less sleep with the amount of meditation I was doing. I started feeling calmness and joy that I had not felt since early childhood – before my parents shut down my mind and body with medication.
At this point, a woman showed up from Hawaii and said she was interested in starting a similar program on Maui and wanted me to help her. She suggested that I apply to a service program at a spiritual community on the Big Island, also dedicated to Yogananda’s teachings, until she was ready for me.
I applied and, with the kind assistance of others, was accepted into the program. The woman never contacted me again about helping her, but Hawaii worked out and I was allowed to live in a small structure on the grounds of a spiritual community that follows Yogananda. In exchange for shelter, I volunteer as the cook, acting as a channel for directing the energy of the Divine into the food I work with.
After fifteen years of faithful and continuous praying to get back to the tropics to live, my prayer had finally been granted. My prayers had included my family as well, but I had also prayed that the terrible and severe abuse and total lack of care and interest in me from my wife and children and my wife’s parents would also end. Perhaps this was God’s answer as I always tell Him that I want His will to be done above all else. Perhaps He will change my wife and children so we can be together again, but that is up to God and I continue to pray for them.
After moving to Hawaii, I immediately started looking for a therapist to help me begin healing from all the trauma I have been through. I had no idea how to find the right therapist or where to look, except on the internet. I prayed for God’s help and guidance.
I had no idea how to find the right therapist who could help me. I did an internet search for therapists near me and two names came up. One was an old navy psychologist who, when I met him, said to me “after all you’ve been through, you should have vaporized by now”. That was all he had to say.
When I went to see the other therapist, I was a bit worried because her office was a small, bare room with only two chairs and a desk. There wasn’t even any carpet. The therapist came in, wearing Indian style clothes and Indian prayer beads, sat down and immediately went into a relaxed crossed legged posture.
Something felt right about her and after talking to her, I found out she had also been initiated into Kriya Yoga. She was a direct disciple of the Indian saint Anandamayi Ma. She had lived with her in her ashram in India for years until her passing. She had even lived at the retreat I had just come from in the early years where she was the leaders’ cook. Yet another synchronicity with Autobiography of a Yogi! She had just opened her office and wasn’t even looking for new patients yet.
She was a psychiatric APRN and an excellent therapist and told me I couldn’t work for now, because I need to heal and should apply for Disability because, after four years of homelessness as well as the extremely traumatic life I had come from and my exposure to the deadly neurotoxin Agent Orange on a Pacific island for two years as a child during the Vietnam War, I also have had untreated neurotoxicity for fifty years.
My physical and mental health were already badly compromised and were rapidly deteriorating to a dangerous level. I had been registered Disabled abroad several years before I left, after stress nearly killed me. She verified my conditions and helped me to apply for Disability.
Until very recently I couldn’t be around people and could barely talk because all my senses had been so overstimulated for so many years, I had detached from them. I had completely disassociated from the world and had lost all grounding.
The Disability process is not easy, even if the disability is obvious. It takes at least three years, constantly being threatened by the government until they are finally convinced you are disabled. I have to be constantly monitored by a therapist to make sure the depression doesn’t get worse under the extreme and heightened stress the Disability process causes.
Physically, the Disability process has also caused blood pressure problems and I am suffering from the effects of malnutrition, including chronic pain that never goes away and moves around my body. It is often extremely severe, but I have learned to endure, using what I have gained from meditation and following the principles of Indian philosophy, including Ayurveda.
I have learned that I have some incredible healing skills and the continuous and sometimes extreme pain I have had most of my life is actually a result of my soul taking other’s pain and negative karma into my own body and my challenge now is to learn how to pass this energy directly on to God so it doesn’t affect my physical body.
After years of dealing with the government, I finally had to hire an attorney to get Disability because I have been denied three times. I am barely able to function in the Physical World but am very strong in the spiritual or Astral World and life is a constant struggle, which I would not have survived without faith and God’s Divine love.
I began this journey five years ago, on Easter Sunday, and I have finally received word from the government that they are ready to continue with my Disability case for which they have scheduled a hearing. I find it extremely inspiring and hopeful that my hearing is on Holy Thursday, when Christian churches observe the Last Supper of Jesus and
His apostles, after which, Jesus was crucified and then rose from the dead three days later, which will be the fifth anniversary of the beginning of my journey.
Several people have told me there is an interest in me in the astral world, though I have no idea why they would be interested in someone like me, with all the difficulties I have had.
Only God, Yogananda and his gurus, Mary, Jesus and the saints and faith could have led me to this therapist, on a small island in the Pacific Ocean – all the way from the other side of the world before I knew anything about Yogananda.
I am particularly interested in reading a book written by a Jesuit priest comparing the Immaculate Virgin Mary to Kali or Divine Mother in Hinduism, seemingly saying they are one and the same, thus, the close similarities between Catholicism and the Hindu religion.
It seems that Jesus, Mary, St. Joseph and St. Francis of Assisi, in whose presence I did the Rosary, and even Ganesha, handed me over to The Three Magi and maybe even Babaji himself (who assigned Yogananda’s guru’s guru, Lahiri Mahasaya the task of spreading the secrets of Kriya Yoga) to show me the way!
I have seen a much respected Hawaiian Kahuna working as a shaman who told me, before I had told him anything about myself, that my problem was that I had spent many past incarnations meditating in caves in the East. This is the first time I have incarnated in the West for many lifetimes, if indeed I have ever incarnated in the West, and I am totally confused and overwhelmed with the greed and materialism of the West, so void of the focus on spirituality that I am used to.
He said not to confuse East and West with a narrow view of the Western world and the Eastern world on this planet. It is far broader and includes the entire universe and the differences between the material universe and the spiritual universe.
I have been on Hawaii for thirty-three months now and God is telling me it will be time to move on soon, though to remain on Hawaii for now. He has led me now to two new therapists, both of whom are very familiar with spirituality and who totally support me.
One of them is Indian and Hindu and I was even led to an Indian psychiatrist. In order for me to get government assistance, while I am awaiting my Disability hearing and being constantly threatened by the government, I have to see psychiatrists and therapists every month who I was allowed to choose.
I also have to see the government psychologist twice a year who is well-meaning, but is a typical western psychologist, who, after hearing about my intense and unlimited love of God, told me I should take anti-psychotic medication. I smiled and left, ignoring his very limited spiritual understanding.
When I finally chose my Indian psychiatrist, I told him about the psychologist who thought I was psychotic. He laughed and told me there was nothing wrong with me; I was just a yogi that the psychologist had no understanding of whatsoever. He then shook my hand and thanked me for choosing God and meditation over drugs.
I truly believe that one’s universe is shaped by Divine intuition and the more one listens to others around them, without discriminating between fact and fiction as it applies to their own universe, the more one hands over control of their lives to others. Your intuition is Divine guidance on how to live in your own universe, which belongs to nobody else. Love and respect others, as they are a part of the Divine as well, but don’t let their own difficulties become a part of your universe.
The physical body is delusive. It is only a projection of the soul into a more primitive environment for the purposes of learning and evolving into a higher life-form. Healing and disease control involves more than just the physical body and the way you think is more powerful than the way you feel.
The universe is comprised of energy and the physical senses are merely tools designed to examine that energy and make sense of it. Proof of this energy has been observed by science, where instruments have been designed to get around the limitations of the physical senses – ironic when we have had the ability to do this all along as witnessed by ancient sages, seers and prophets who were ridiculed for their ability to see beyond the physical. They knew how delusive the senses were and how to turn them off and go beyond to the true “kingdom of God”.
Think of the commonly used demonstration of the bar magnet and iron filings, used in school when children start studying science. When the iron filings are sprinkled around the magnet, they form into the shape of the lines of force of the energy or magnetic field that is the true composition of the magnet. The senses cannot see this energy without using the physical medium of the iron filings which can be observed with the senses.
The universe, of which the physical is only a minuscule fragment, is like the force lines of the iron filings, though much more complicated. If God were to reveal himself to us in his true form as pure, intelligent, self-aware energy, our senses would be overwhelmed. They would not be able to understand what they were trying to interpret, so the mind of a person would try and make sense of things, which could alter one’s perception to the point of being considered insane as many saints have been accused of. They are not insane, just not understood by those who do not meditate or understand what the Divine really is.
For those familiar with devotion to God or their higher self, and spirituality and meditation, knowing that there is far more to the universe than we can see or understand, the energy revealed would perhaps take on the form of a great saint or prophet or a deity or perhaps a white light. Years of devoted meditation prepares the mind for meeting God face to face.
I had a unique experience where God revealed himself to me in the sacred form of Om, which worked the same way as the bar magnet and iron filings experiment. I am currently a cook though I have had no formal training. The people who eat the things I cook are constantly telling me it is amazing what I can do with food, even with very little to work with, and how good it makes them feel. I take absolutely no credit for this.
When I cook, the first thing I do is invoke God and the deities, saints and sages of all beliefs and bless the kitchen asking them to work through me. Thus, I am only a tool or channel for God to work through. I then let my mind go blank and go into a sort of trance where God takes over, guiding me to add different things at the proper time. I don’t use recipes and never taste the food I make or measure out ingredients. I know God will make it come out the way He wants it and tasting would be a sign of doubt.
For those familiar with the Old Testament, Moses was not allowed into the Promised Land because, at the Rock of Horeb, in the wilderness, when he led the Israelites out if Egypt, God told him to strike the rock with his staff to bring forth water for them to drink. Moses doubted God and struck the rock twice, so God seems to have punished Moses for his lack of faith, although it was actually just one of life’s many lessons, which we all have to learn to become closer to the Divine.
I was making falafel for lunch one day. I felt the usual power of God working through me. I was running late and I still had to make a yogurt sauce for the falafel. At times like this I am even more noticeably a direct extensions of the Divine. Every movement is precise and fluid – like a dance. I am not even thinking as God has become me. I finished the sauce and realized it needed a garnish.
I smoothly and almost unconsciously picked up a jar of paprika, to add some color to the white falafel sauce. I picked the paprika grains up in my fingers and sprinkled them over the sauce from a height of about two feet, barely aware of what I was doing. It wasn’t until after lunch began that someone noticed and asked how I was able to put the sign of Om onto the top of the sauce. I have no idea how it had happened, except that Om is the very vibration of the universe and is God, present in all things.
As God had completely taken over my body, I was like the bar magnet and the paprika was like the iron filings. As the paprika fell through the air, it shaped itself into the physical manifestation of Divine energy that enveloped me. I could have never consciously made this happen and it wouldn’t have happened if I was thinking about it.
“I cognized the center of the empyrean as a point of intuitive perception in my heart. Irradiating splendor issued from my nucleus to every part of the universal structure. Blissful amrita, nectar of immortality, pulsated through me with a quicksilver like fluidity. The creative voice of God I heard resounding as Aum, the vibration of the Cosmic Motor.”
Paramahansa Yogananda, Autobiography of a Yoginnnn
I see the “center of the empyrean” as the point where the soul meets the physical universe. Like a quantum singularity, as a point particle between the astral and causal worlds and the physical universe. Expanding from virtually nothing, like an inflated balloon of sense organs into the dream world that I perceive around me.
I imagine the world around me as a collection of energy fields all interacting with each other. My physical senses interpret these energy fields as sight, sound, touch, taste and smell.
As I walk down the street, I feel my soul-center projecting a cushion of senses, my physical body, in front of me and pushing aside other energy fields of objects around me, like the wave created by a boat as it moves through the water or the bow shock in the picture above, where one energy field collides with and pushes against another.
I use this perception of reality to overcome and ignore the constant physical and emotional pain I feel. I am just a singularity observing the physical world through an opening in the astral world. Feelings come from the sensory package I have inflated and projected into the physical world and the pain only exists there. I observe the pain from a distance where it is not a part of my true self
Everything is a part of the original and ever existent energy of the Creator, also known as Om (Aum) or pure, unconditional love. All matter emanates an energy field and in living beings, that consists of a harmonious mixture of Om and the unique energy that is created at the conception of each individual. This energy changes over time as one becomes more spiritually evolved until in the end, it completely synchronizes with and returns to the source of Om from whence everything came.
To put things very simply, energy manifests in the physical world as
waves, with a maximum point or peak, and a minimum point or trough. As can be seen in the picture, constructive waves are harmonious and synchronize with each other as the peaks and troughs are in the same place. The energy of the waves strengthen each other and together they make a wave with more energy than each one individually. Destructive waves conflict with each other as the peaks and troughs are opposite each other. As can be seen by the straight line, they destroy or cancel each other out, thus the energy is lost.
As everyone is at a different stage of their spiritual evolution, how well they harmonize with each other depends on how evolved they are. Those who have little spiritual evolution have energy fields that conflict or partially cancel out the energy of Om that is a part of everything. This causes them to be less attracted to the Divine than others who are more advanced.
It seems that the more one learns to love others unconditionally, the more harmonious or in tune they are with God and the closer they are to the love of the Divine, thus the more positive energy they will emanate, attracting them ever more strongly toward God and others who synchronize with each other positively and contribute to the law of attraction.
Energy gives some credibility even to astrology and, while I am not a proponent of Western astrology, I find Vedic astrology in its pure and original form, a logical way to explain how one’s life can be affected, though not controlled, by the energy of stars and planets. I must emphasize that I am by no means an expert in Vedic astrology but find it interesting as a possible guide to one’s life.
All astral bodies have their own energy fields which includes the force of gravity. As a scientist, professionally trained and employed as a laboratory chemist in particular, I know that atoms and molecules working at the subatomic level are just like the stars, planets and galaxies on a much smaller scale.
In organic chemistry, molecules can have the same basic ingredients and the same formula, but completely different characteristics. This is because molecules are multidimensional and their spatial orientation determines what characteristics they have.
Cosmology shows how the gravity of stars and other large bodies effect what is around them. Just like the atoms and molecules in our bodies, which make up the chemicals and compounds with which we come into being, they are affected by certain forces, including gravity, and caused to take on different shapes and orientations.
compound can have the same formula, but a different shape in three-dimensional space.
There is also isomorphism in crystallography where crystals are similar in shape but can have different properties. Experiments on the International Space Station have shown that gravity has a definite effect on
how crystals and other compounds and molecules are shaped by the force of gravity.
The universe is cyclic and what is seen when looking deeply into outer space is exactly the same as what is seen when looking deeply into inner space, at the subatomic level. There is the ancient Hermetic saying “as above, so below”, which can also be said “as without, so within”. When we look out at the depths of the universe, we are also looking deeply within ourselves. Everything within us, down to the smallest particle, was once a part of a star and originally, of the energy from the beginning of the universe – thus God.
To me, it is obvious how the positions of planets and stars at birth can affect how one’s body is put together, whether their dosha is kapha, vata or pitta and how there can be different groups of people who tend to do certain things or whose lives seem to be affected in a certain way, depending on how the differing pull of gravitational and other forces has shaped the molecules in their body and caused them to develop from birth.
We are all a part of the Divine energy which God sent out when He decided to create the universe. He modulated the energy in order to create maya, or delusion, and the physical universe. The object is for us to re-tune that energy in each one of us so that it again harmonizes with the frequency of Om – Divine love.
Forget the past. Don’t let others control you with their unsubstantiated ways of thinking. Trust in the Divine and pay attention to your intuition. Overcome difficulties with meditation and positive thoughts and you will go far.
For the last two years, I have been used by the Divine to heal others through prayer and the food He cooks with my hands. I still see synchronicities which are a constant reminder to me that the incredible difficulties I have had in life were chosen before this incarnation as a way of accelerating my spiritual growth, working out past negative karma and allowing me to more fully understand God and His dream in as far as it is humanly possible. I am extremely grateful to all the people who have helped me along the way.
It has been three long and very difficult and painful years since I applied for Disability. My journey started 5 years ago on Easter Sunday and I have now been given the date for my Disability hearing, which is on Holy Thursday. The Catholic church renews the elements of earth, air, fire and water during the next three days. I look forward to completing my transfiguration at this point where I will be more able to fully serve God.