Days of Signs and Wonders

•April 25, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I have smelled the fragrance of Heaven.

I have seen the Eye of God,

I have seen the rays of the Great Central Sun that lies at the centre of the Galactic Universe.

In the past ten or eleven days, I have had many powerful confirmations that Jesus, my many angels, especially archangel Michael and the Holy Spirit are all around me, assisting me and lifting me into the Light.

But the greatest blessing of all is the healing I have received from Maxima.

Under her loving touch, all the lost souls and entities that have been inhabiting my body ever since I was a little girl of nine when a fifteen-year-old boy attempted to rape me to prove his manhood. They have lain there dormant for years. I came to believe that constant aches and pains were a normal part of growing older. But recently, with a cancer scare and a fall down the stairs, they really got activated, and in the name of protecting me, they have been having a feeding frenzy on my pain.

Now they have been loosened up and are leaving. But they are not going easily. I am acknowledging their service to me over the years. I am sure that they felt that they were serving and protecting me, but my whole right side, my masculine side, has become paralyzed by them.

Legions of angels are surrounding me especially, Archangel Michael, and many of the Ascended Masters, especially Jesus, all my spirit guides and beloved friends and family, all those who love me and watch over me are drawing close and supporting me.

I can feel their presence, I have been given incontrovertible evidence of their existence, but they have really not been able to get close to me because of the lost souls and energies that have inhabited my pain body.

So, in the name of the Light, I am claiming back my body as the sacred vessel of Light that it is and always has been. I am commanding them in the name of the Light, in the name of Lucifer, the angel of Light, to return to their Source, to be restored to the right hand side of God.

I now know myself to be an embodiment of the almighty presence of Light throughout the Universe. I have embraced a new identity as wise and enlightened spiritual leader. I am accepting 100 per cent responsibility for my powers as an intuitive healer and way-shower.

The time of signs and wonders is upon us, and I feel prepared to step into the Light of authentic empowerment and enlightenment with you.

I literally fell down on my knees, prostrate before the Light filled to overflowing with abundant, reverent joy and gratitude.

I surrendered the last remnants of my personal will.

When I surrendered completely, the sublime visions started flooding in.

Transparent Buddhas with wings, ranged one behind the other, sitting on a flaming lotus flower, held up by the hands of God. Then the two hands, palms filled, overflowing, with blazing Golden Light were held out to me.

The eye of God opened up the clouds and beamed down gracious rays of Light.

Then the Sun literally carved a hole in the sky and burst through in a blast of Golden Light that filled the room and struck the crystal tree in the room, and lighting each delicate crystal up with glorious, intense rainbow colours.

In a voice so strong and clear that I did not recognize it as my own, I proclaimed to the entire Universe:

In the name of the Light, I command that this Light be transmitted to the benefit of each and every one that they may share in the healing and find their way HOME to the Light.

“THY WILL, NOT MINE, BE DONE!!!”

The result is infinitely sweet grace, peace, and a rooted, grounded unshakable knowing that I cannot be swerved from.

I am now vibrating at the level I was always supposed to be.

I had simply forgotten, or perhaps I was afraid of the power I contain within.

Since that moment I am not the same person I was when I lay down on that table.

After watching the panoply of translucent colour dancing before me, after experiencing the intense pain that had been trapped in my right side, especially my hip and thigh and sacrum, as Maxima firmly commanded and guided those entities out of my body and liberated me from untold years of pain, suffering, guilt, shame, and blame. I arose transformed, reborn at the cellular level.

The whole notion of good and evil dissolved. I knew that we are ALL innocent; no matter how much pain we have caused others and ourselves.

I understood the statement “It is but ourselves we crucify.” from A Course in Miracles.

As I rose off the table, I felt such lightness, such freedom, that my body instantly recognized how heavy the invisible burden of fear and guilt I had been carrying since childhood had been. I laid it down like a child’s dress, billowing to the ground in the forest. As I did so, I watched as it transformed into a pile of leaves that then arose transformed into shimmering flight of white butterflies.

I had traveled back in time to the moment just before I had splintered into a thousand pieces to protect myself from attack. I was once again home restored, liberate in the light, pure, whole complete. My radiance was so bright that, when I was shattered and wounded, I had unwittingly attracted lost frightened souls to attach itself to the Light of my soul. I had finally liberated myself from the curse that had spellbound me since childhood. I had been resurrected, lifted by the Light into a realm far beyond the world of pain and suffering, life and death, time and distance.

One moment, I was an enchanted nine year old child, walking barefoot in the dark, silent forest, dressed only in a yellow bathing suit, on my way to the swimming hole that a boy had told me lay on the other side of the woods.

The next thing I knew I was captured by a shaft of Light shining through the dark, mysterious evergreens, and drawn inexorably forward towards two white butterflies that were dancing in the Light above my head. I stood there, perfectly still, not daring to move lest I disturb them; transfixed by the fluttering wings, captured by the Light that was showering down upon me.

I shall never forget that shining moment of Divine Grace. Then, frozen with delight and awe, I held my breath as the butterflies, mistaking me for me a tiny golden flower, descended, locked in their intricate spiral dance and landed gently on my touseled blonde curls.

That sacred moment is imprinted on my soul forever

A good thing, too, Because In the next instant, that moment of pure innocence it splintered into a thousand fragments of fear, guilt, pain and suffering when a young teenaged boy stepped out from behind the trees and invited me behind the bushes to see a dead squirrel. I hesitated.

The white butterflies…

But that moment was past. Startled by his presence, I had moved and they had flown away.

Once behind the bushes, he pinned me to the ground, held me by the shoulders with one knee on my groin and told me he was going to “fuck “ me.

I looked up at him, into his eyes glaring down at me. I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

“What’s fuck?”

His crumpled face said it all.

“Here’s a live one! She doesn’t even know what fuck is! What the hell am I doing?”

I knew by looking into his eyes, by his red and black lumberjack shirt, his slicked back “duck’s tail “hair, his black T-Shirt, his rolled up sleeves and blue Jeans, that he was a poor boy, a scared and confused boy, an angry boy. Unlike me, didn’t have a well to do father and mother who loved him very much, He probably didn’t even have a nice house to live in like I did.

He had every reason not to care. Yet somehow I knew he really didn’t want to do it.

I thought quickly, took a deep breath, and told him a lie. I said I had a father who loved me very much, and that he was very rich. Although we lived across the street from a millionaire’s family whose children went to school in a chauffeur driven limousine, I knew we didn’t have much money. My mother was frugal, and, having lived through the depression, knew how to stretch a dollar. We got our clothes from friends in the garment district. We went to welfare camp.

Our riches lay in the books, the musicians, the dancers, and the artists who were frequently our houseguests. Like my older friend Peggy Atwood’s family, my father had a bird book. There were dinner conversations about politics and philosophy and art. The entire Sadler’s Wells Ballet Company had come for dinner more than once. We always had a full fridge. Our clothes were always washed and hung out to dry on the clothesline. We had a gorgeous garden, and a neat little orange brick two-story house. We were living like the sensible third little pig.

But not this boy.

He had none of those advantages, and he couldn’t care less.

Somehow I knew everything about this boy.

He was poor. He was miserable. He hated his father. His father was a drunk. When he was drunk which was every day, his father yelled at him and hit him. His mother didn’t stand up for him when his father hit him. He felt powerless over his life. He wanted to escape. I knew what he really wanted: the power and freedom he thought that money could buy. He wanted money because he thought it would make him happy.
I could understand that. I had no money either, even though my family did. I wouldn’t get an allowance until I was ten. My mother gave me a nickel to put in the post at Brownies each week.

So it wasn’t a complete lie. It was a half lie. And it saved my life. I said if he let me go, my rich father, who loved me very much, would give him money.

When he asked me “How much?” I knew that I had him. There was a chance of surviving this. I boldly told him that I didn’t know how much, but I knew that it would be a lot. Somehow, I knew my worth was great to my father.

So, the brave, bright, intuitive little girl that I was made up a brilliant story. She rescued herself. By lying, I had freed myself from what my body clearly perceived as a threat to my survival.

After he let me stand up, I fumbled with the wet ties on my bathing suit, trying to comply with his demand that I take off my bathing suit before he let me go. I got it half way down, and then, totally humiliated, I asked if that was enough. He was lying on his side propped up on one elbow watching me shake and shiver, petrified of exposing my little flat nine-year-old chest.

Finally, disgusted, he agreed to let me go.

The little girl that got up off the ground where he had had me pinned that day was not the same magical, trusting, romantic little girl who went into the woods that day, pretending to be Maid Marion going to meet her hero, Robin Hood, on the other side of Sherwood Forest Park.

I bolted through the woods for the safe green lawn of the park and the open outstretched arms of the park attendant that who was waiting for me. She scooped me up and took me in her arms to a rocking chair, where I sobbed with relief as she rocked me. “Why? Why? Why did he do that?” She was a wise young girl. She knew she had no answer. And she didn’t pretend.

As she held me and comforted me, rocking me in her arms, I remember wondering to myself, “Why has my mother never held me like this?”

When they caught the boy and brought him in handcuffs for me to identify, I started shuddering with a coldness that penetrated my very being and never, apparently, left, until now.

That traumatic turning point is the basis for the novel I am writing called “White Butterflies.”

I have inflicted a lifetime of pain on myself and those I loved, punishing them for simply trying to love me. I compartmentalized that terror, hid myself from it in the spotlight. I fell in love with the glamour and fantasy of a life lived in the theatre. After playing Titania in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, I dropped out of high school at age sixteen, having been accepted by the National Theatre School of Canada, and went on to a career as a somewhat successful young actress.

At the age of seventeen, while at the Theatre School, I had another deeply traumatic experience, an illegal abortion done by a Nazi doctor who had practiced and perfected his trade in the concentration camps. It was something out of a Grade B movie, the darkened room, and the doctor in sunglasses behind a mahogany desk, hidden in a shadow behind a blinding pool of light on the desk blotter, the three one hundred dollar bills given by the head of the Theatre School from his own private abortion fund, destined for a Swiss Bank.

The next day, I had to be there between three and five minutes after three.
The doctor in a clinical white coat, his nurse wearing a starched nurse’s uniform and cap met me. It seemed to give an air of legitimacy to what they were doing. They sucked the baby out of me without anesthetic and flushed it down the toilet.

I at least had the presence of mind to ask whether it was a boy or a girl. It was a boy. It hit me that this four-month-old fetus had actually been a person, a little boy, my son. I had just heard them flush him down the toilet. In that moment I swore that if I ever became pregnant again, I would have the baby, regardless of the circumstances.

A year later I contracted pelvic inflammatory disease. The doctor was disgusted with me when I told him about the abortion. He told me the infection was probably the result of the illegal abortion. He told me that my Fallopian Tubes had been scarred, and I would probably have great difficulty conceiving.

He turned out he was right.

But I wanted children.

My first marriage failed when my husband announced, the day after we married, that after living together for eight years, he didn’t want to have children, even though we had constantly talked of what our Eurasian children would look like. The marriage lasted less than a year after that.

In the aftermath of that relationship, I got involved with another Asian man; this time a Japanese artist who was a survivor of the American concentration camps in California. He was an alcoholic, a close friend of my ex husband’s brother. The relationship turned violent within a week of its commencement when I mentioned my ex-husband’s name. He punched me in the stomach. I ran away from that man twenty times. Each time he found me.

I bought a tugboat to escape from him. Thinking he would never find me in a marina. I was wrong. He found me. But there was too much work involved in maintaining a tugboat, so, after stealing my television set, he left me alone for a while.

Early Christmas morning I was awakened by a loud, authoritative voice calling out my name. “Shelora!” It sounded like there was someone in the room commanding me to wake up. I knew it wasn’t the Japanese man’s voice.

It was much more powerful, almost majestic. I looked around and saw there was no one there or on the dock. It was spooky. The boat was moored under a bridge. The sound of seagulls echoed off the concrete. I got up, got dressed and went to spend Christmas Day with friends.

When I came home, the roof of the sixty-five foot tugboat was floating on top of the water. There was no sign of my black cat. I imagine he drowned. It seemed that, thanks to that voice, I had survived certain death.

I had nothing left. A diver had gone down and retrieved a few items, a piece of pottery or two. The salt water had ruined mostly everything.

Curiously enough one of the items that did survive was a letter written in ink by the Director of the National Theatre School, Powys Thomas, after my marriage broke up. This was the man who had paid for my abortion many years earlier.

Powys was playing King Lear at the Queen Elizabeth Theater at the time. It was the first time in his career that he had a lead in a Shakespeare play. When the Director of the Manitoba Theatre Centre heard it was the last night of Lear, he yelled, “Why didn’t anyone tell me Powys Thomas was playing Lear?” Under the direction of a quirky Polish Director, Powys was playing the mad scene very delicately, almost like Ophelia. He had wanted me to play his daughter, Cordelia, and told me he pictured my face over top of the actress that had been cast. In the middle of the night, after the show, he would come tapping on my window with a twig.

When that crazy relationship with the Japanese alcoholic was just beginning, Powys had come to visit me. He saw the man lurking darkly in the kitchen hallway, his pea jacket collar up, glowering at him like a street tough sailor.

”Too intense,” he warned me.

But, of course, I didn’t listen.

I was vulnerable. My ex-husband had married again less than a year after we separated. At age thirty-six, I was without a job, without a lover or a husband, living on unemployment insurance. I was running out of time.

One of the people who lived in the house where I was staying was the daughter of the well-known mediator, Vince Ready. daughter. He came to visit her, took one look at me in my red dress, and much to his daughter’s chagrin, asked me out on a date. I accepted, but instead of actually going anywhere, he picked me up after work, and asked me to come to Hawaii with him for a two-week vacation, all expenses paid. When I asked if there would be sex involved, he said “Of course.” I declined. But I was starting to feel a tad desperate, as if I was descending into some kind of limbo where I was becoming a prostitute.

Then to top it all off, I got fired from my job as a child-care counselor for doing Tarot card readings with the kids. The psychiatrist, who liked me, said I was a sort of Irish witch, and that he, as a psychiatrist, was little different from me in his function. It was just that I lacked the credibility of the Doctor’s degree that he had.

At any rate, for some bizarre reason, against my better judgment, I had gonefor the relationshp with the alcoholic artist and ended up completely isolated, my head being shoved through a wall, an army boot on my neck. When I asked him why he was doing this to me, he responded very matter of factly answered, “Because you are a woman.”

But, God knows how, he found me again. Drunk and yelling, he clambered up the fire escape and burst into the empty apartment and started taunting me, provoking and prodding me, trying to pick a fight.

I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I had lost everything. I couldn’t take any more. I had been determined not to sink to his level, but when he started hitting me again, something snapped. I summoned superhuman strength, turned on him, got him down on his knees, and started choking him to death.

He started crying and begged for his life. I finally let go on one condition.
He must promise to never pursue me or try to see me again.

He left, sheepishly. Strangely enough, he actually kept that promise. He never knowingly showed up where he knew I would be, at least until years later when he showed up at the funeral of my ex-husband’s nephew.

After surviving that horrendous terrifyingly crazy relationship, I didn’t trust that he would keep his word, so for a few months afterwards, I hid out at friend’s homes, or slept in my car.

A week after the last time I saw him, I wrote in my journal that it was over. I had no chance of ever finding a decent, normal reliable man, of getting married and having children.

That night I dreamed of a handsome riverboat captain, dressed in a black and silver shirt, black pants and a broad brimmed black hat, tilted to one side. I can still remember how he looked at me, a twinkle in his eye, smiled and winked.

Then I went upstairs for dinner, and there was my friend and colleague in the theatre, John Crawford. He was wearing…a black, silver trimmed shirt, tight black pants, and a broad-brimmed black hat.

I was startled. But not as much as when the same strong, deep, masculine Voice that had saved my life when my tugboat sank, spoke clearly and firmly out loud to me from somewhere inside my head.

“This is the man who is going to be the father of your children,” he said.

Stunned, I immediately told John what I had heard.

“That’s ok. I like kids.”

Well, naturally, this was the answer I had been waiting for all my life. He was Heaven sent! We fell madly in love, ran off to Mexico, swam naked under the stars in the phosphorescent water, snuck in to fancy resorts and lounged by the pool, pretending we were guests. We had a wonderful time for a month. One day, in a restaurant, John took a cigar ring, and put it on my finger. As far as I was concerned, that meant we were engaged. My dreams were coming true at last!

And then, on our way home, just as we were leaving Mexico, I drove past a cemetery in a small border town called Hermosio. I said to myself, I don’t ever want to come back here again. Just as I said those words, five black Ravens landed in the middle of the road, the engine died, and the VW van rolled to a stop. John spent the next two weeks under the van, trying to repair it. Turned out we needed to buy an American engine, and we needed to go to Texas to get one. I went looking for help, met some Mexicans in a Cantina who said they could help us they took us out drinking. At two o’clock in the morning, we ended up, drunk on fig wine, in a café with shiny blue walls and a single bare light bulb. The Mexican, who spoke excellent English, told us it belonged to the local “bruha” or witch.

Visions of Carlos Castaneda flashed before my eyes.

I said I wanted to meet her. I asked the man who had brought us there if I could see her, as I had a very important question to ask.

He asked me to hold out my hand. As he cupped his hand over mine, the energy between our hands was electric.

“I knew it the moment you came in,” he said. “You have the gift.”

“Can I see the Bruha”

He said, “No way! It would take weeks for you to prepare for such a meeting. And at any rate you are not strong enough for an encounter of that kind.”

“But,” he said, “You can ask me your question.”

John was busily engaged in a conversation with the other men, one of who was celebrating a birthday. He was drinking thick homemade fig wine from a glass gallon water jug. He seemed very happy. And he was eating “carnes asadas” (beef) after three years as a vegetarian. He was drunk on fig wine. He had a huge grin on his face. He was clearly having a wonderful time and was oblivious to the significance of this conversation.

I wanted the truth.

So I went straight for it.

“Is this the man who is going to be the father of my children?”

The big Mexican man turned slowly in his seat towards John. He called his name a few times, made sure he had his attention, and then announced loudly, bluntly, “This woman is either pregnant by you now, or will be within a month.”

The whole café fell silent.

“And you had better let her have it. I didn’t respect life, and I regret it to this day. I was drunk in the delivery room. When they handed me my newborn son, I dropped him on his head, and killed him!”

Shocked, John immediately sobered up.

He said nothing.

When we got home, he went to work logging up the coast in Egmont. He came to visit me every other weekend, and I visited him in his trailer ever other weekend. We walked in the snow in the woods. We went out in the “skukumchuck” in a metal boat. We made love in the trailer. Within less than a month, I was pregnant.

But it didn’t go exactly the way I imagined it would.

I was thrilled. The spell had been broken. I had conceived a child! And the father was a beautiful intelligent man, the man I had always dreamed of.

When he found out I was pregnant, John paused, considered, and then as if our out of some deep well, he pulled the word,

“Shoes.”

“What?”

“There are going to be shoes.”

As the oldest of six, John knew the ritual of buying new shoes well. You could pass down clothes, but not shoes.

As he contemplated his future as a father, I felt the cold burden of parental responsibility settle on his shoulders.

We considered our future together.

He was too young. He wasn’t ready for a baby he said.

He was twenty-eight.

I was just turned thirty-seven.

“We have only been together a few months. We should wait.”

We talked it over the whole weekend. It was decided that I should make an appointment with the best obstetrician in the city, Dr. Korn. All week long I had long conversations with my sister about this. She had tried to have an abortion with the same doctor I had, without success. She had borne and given up her twin sons for adoption, and regretted it ever after. Yet she encouraged me to have an abortion.

But I had sworn a sacred vow when they flushed my son down the toilet.
Never again.

Yet, the following Friday I found myself lying on his examination table. As he was finishing his examination, Dr. Korn paused and quietly made one simple statement.

“Tell me about the father of this baby.”

As I started talking about John, I described all his marvelous creative talents his intelligence, his family, his abilities, how we had fallen in love and were crazy about each other, so much that John kept saying, “This is bigger than both of us,”

I slowed down, and came to a halt. I realized what I was saying, what I was feeling.

This was my miracle. I adored this man. I wanted his baby. I knew he would make a wonderful father. After all, even though their relationship had ended, he was still visiting the three children, all by different fathers, that belonged to the woman he had been living with and supporting for the past three years. I wanted was to marry him, have his children and live with him for the rest of my life.

No matter what the consequences, whether I was alone or not, aborting this child was not the right thing to do. I had made a promise to my unborn son. It was time to honour it.

I got up off the table, thanked Dr. Korn and said, “Thank you very, very much. I won’t be having an abortion. I am having this baby.”

I went home and told John.

My beautiful daughters, Jessamyn and Kathleen, are my miracle babies that resulted from that destined meeting. The marriage lasted thirteen years. But somehow John always felt that he had been tricked into marriage and fatherhood. But the voice had said that he would be the father of my children, not the love of my life. As the man said, “Two out of three ain’t bad.”

In the last two months I have been through a monumental transformation. I fell down the stairs, fractured a vertebra, herniated a disk, and cracked a couple of ribs. I was in such excruciating pain that I literally could not stand up, let alone walk.

This came on top of the fact that long after my menopause I started menstruating. The doctors were very concerned that I might have uterine cancers, so I went through the whole mishigas: An ultrasound, inconclusive, a biopsy in the office, without anesthetic, inconclusive, and finally a hysteroscopy and a D&C under General Anesthetic.

Two days before the operation, I was lying in bed when I felt the sensation of fluttering butterfly wings that occurs around the four month of pregnancy. It is called the quickening. My son was four months old when I aborted him. I somehow knew it was his spirit letting me know he was there.

The friend who was on the phone with me when this happened somehow found himself channeling the voice of my baby. He said that he loved me very much and I would always be his mother. He told me that he had not really wanted to be born, to have a body. He said that I had given him life, and that he had been wandering the Universe ever since. And then he told my friend that his name was Jeffrey. Jeffrey Smith was the father’s name, before he changed it to his stage name, Colin Fox. He said that he would be with me during the operation, and that he was having a look around and everything looked fine!

The next day, as I was sitting on the bed at my friends’ house, he opened the window and in on the breeze wafted a fragrance so lovely that it was indescribable. It was like every beautiful flower that you have ever smelled, dusted with icing sugar, and wrapped in freshly laundered sheets. It brought back all the sweet memories of my childhood, sitting on the front steps smelling the orange blossoms, and the French Lilac. I asked my friend if he smelled it. He did not. It persisted for a good half hour. And then, just for good measure, the next day, as I was writing about it on my laptop at Starbucks, the same aroma filled the air. I asked everyone if they were wearing perfume, did they smell it? No one did, except me. It was as if Heaven’s Gates had been flung open and the fresh breezes of dawn were permeating the garden that is this world, and returning it to paradise.

And then came my healing session with Maxima.

As I came back into my body after the healing session, I found myself momentarily without the pain of these energies that had misled me and almost crippled me in an attempt to support me, I realized that I was an artist who had lost her way, squelched her talents and creativity, crippling myself for my beauty, my innocence, my imagination, and my gifts, in return for a false promise of safety. has been revealed to me as the lie I was living.

I now know that I have experienced the Atonement, the “At-One-ment.”

I have accepted the Divine Mission of assisting in the Ascension of all Humankind into the Light.

I know now that once I focus my intention and allow the radiant Light to flow through me from the Great Golden Rays at the center of the Galactic Universe, the Voice and my being is powerful enough to light up the entire Universe in an instant.

The result is infinitely sweet grace, peace, and a rooted, grounded unshakable knowing that I cannot be swerved from.

I am now vibrating at the level I was always supposed to be, prepared to accept my Destiny.

There are legions of angels at my beck and call, just waiting for me to command them.

I have dominion over the Universe.

I can move at will beyond the illusion of time and space, into parallel universes, alternate realities.

I had simply forgotten, or perhaps I was afraid of the fierce and ruthless power I contain within.

Not arrogant, but definitely ruthless.

I am no longer standing in the Light.

I AM the Light.

A subtle distinction, but one I am sure you are very familiar with.

I am the Light.

You are the Light.

We are all the Light.

The Light does not compete with “other light.”

It simply joins, and in the joining lie the miracles.

Days of Signs and Wonders

•April 25, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I have smelled the fragrance of Heaven.

I have seen the Eye of God,

I have seen the rays of the Great Central Sun that lies at the centre of the Galactic Universe.

In the past ten or eleven days, I have had many powerful confirmations that Jesus, my many angels, especially archangel Michael and the Holy Spirit are all around me, assisting me and lifting me into the Light.

But the greatest blessing of all is the healing I have received from Maxima.

Under her loving touch, all the lost souls and entities that have been inhabiting my body ever since I was a little girl of nine when a fifteen-year-old boy attempted to rape me to prove his manhood. They have lain there dormant for years. I came to believe that constant aches and pains were a normal part of growing older. But recently, with a cancer scare and a fall down the stairs, they really got activated, and in the name of protecting me, they have been having a feeding frenzy on my pain.

Now they have been loosened up and are leaving. But they are not going easily. I am acknowledging their service to me over the years. I am sure that they felt that they were serving and protecting me, but my whole right side, my masculine side, has become paralyzed by them.

Legions of angels are surrounding me especially, Archangel Michael, and many of the Ascended Masters, especially Jesus, all my spirit guides and beloved friends and family, all those who love me and watch over me are drawing close and supporting me.

I can feel their presence, I have been given incontrovertible evidence of their existence, but they have really not been able to get close to me because of the lost souls and energies that have inhabited my pain body.

So, in the name of the Light, I am claiming back my body as the sacred vessel of Light that it is and always has been. I am commanding them in the name of the Light, in the name of Lucifer, the angel of Light, to return to their Source, to be restored to the right hand side of God.

I now know myself to be an embodiment of the almighty presence of Light throughout the Universe. I have embraced a new identity as wise and enlightened spiritual leader. I am accepting 100 per cent responsibility for my powers as an intuitive healer and way-shower.

The time of signs and wonders is upon us, and I feel prepared to step into the Light of authentic empowerment and enlightenment with you.

I literally fell down on my knees, prostrate before the Light filled to overflowing with abundant, reverent joy and gratitude.

I surrendered the last remnants of my personal will.

When I surrendered completely, the sublime visions started flooding in.

Transparent Buddhas with wings, ranged one behind the other, sitting on a flaming lotus flower, held up by the hands of God. Then the two hands, palms filled, overflowing, with blazing Golden Light were held out to me.

The eye of God opened up the clouds and beamed down gracious rays of Light.

Then the Sun literally carved a hole in the sky and burst through in a blast of Golden Light that filled the room and struck the crystal tree in the room, and lighting each delicate crystal up with glorious, intense rainbow colours.

In a voice so strong and clear that I did not recognize it as my own, I proclaimed to the entire Universe:

In the name of the Light, I command that this Light be transmitted to the benefit of each and every one that they may share in the healing and find their way HOME to the Light.

“THY WILL, NOT MINE, BE DONE!!!”

The result is infinitely sweet grace, peace, and a rooted, grounded unshakable knowing that I cannot be swerved from.

I am now vibrating at the level I was always supposed to be.

I had simply forgotten, or perhaps I was afraid of the power I contain within.

Since that moment I am not the same person I was when I lay down on that table.

After watching the panoply of translucent colour dancing before me, after experiencing the intense pain that had been trapped in my right side, especially my hip and thigh and sacrum, as Maxima firmly commanded and guided those entities out of my body and liberated me from untold years of pain, suffering, guilt, shame, and blame. I arose transformed, reborn at the cellular level.

The whole notion of good and evil dissolved. I knew that we are ALL innocent; no matter how much pain we have caused others and ourselves.

I understood the statement “It is but ourselves we crucify.” from A Course in Miracles.

As I rose off the table, I felt such lightness, such freedom, that my body instantly recognized how heavy the invisible burden of fear and guilt I had been carrying since childhood had been. I laid it down like a child’s dress, billowing to the ground in the forest. As I did so, I watched as it transformed into a pile of leaves that then arose transformed into shimmering flight of white butterflies.

I had traveled back in time to the moment just before I had splintered into a thousand pieces to protect myself from attack. I was once again home restored, liberate in the light, pure, whole complete. My radiance was so bright that, when I was shattered and wounded, I had unwittingly attracted lost frightened souls to attach itself to the Light of my soul. I had finally liberated myself from the curse that had spellbound me since childhood. I had been resurrected, lifted by the Light into a realm far beyond the world of pain and suffering, life and death, time and distance.

One moment, I was an enchanted nine year old child, walking barefoot in the dark, silent forest, dressed only in a yellow bathing suit, on my way to the swimming hole that a boy had told me lay on the other side of the woods.

The next thing I knew I was captured by a shaft of Light shining through the dark, mysterious evergreens, and drawn inexorably forward towards two white butterflies that were dancing in the Light above my head. I stood there, perfectly still, not daring to move lest I disturb them; transfixed by the fluttering wings, captured by the Light that was showering down upon me.

I shall never forget that shining moment of Divine Grace. Then, frozen with delight and awe, I held my breath as the butterflies, mistaking me for me a tiny golden flower, descended, locked in their intricate spiral dance and landed gently on my touseled blonde curls.

That sacred moment is imprinted on my soul forever

A good thing, too, Because In the next instant, that moment of pure innocence it splintered into a thousand fragments of fear, guilt, pain and suffering when a young teenaged boy stepped out from behind the trees and invited me behind the bushes to see a dead squirrel. I hesitated.

The white butterflies…

But that moment was past. Startled by his presence, I had moved and they had flown away.

Once behind the bushes, he pinned me to the ground, held me by the shoulders with one knee on my groin and told me he was going to “fuck “ me.

I looked up at him, into his eyes glaring down at me. I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

“What’s fuck?”

His crumpled face said it all.

“Here’s a live one! She doesn’t even know what fuck is! What the hell am I doing?”

I knew by looking into his eyes, by his red and black lumberjack shirt, his slicked back “duck’s tail “hair, his black T-Shirt, his rolled up sleeves and blue Jeans, that he was a poor boy, a scared and confused boy, an angry boy. Unlike me, didn’t have a well to do father and mother who loved him very much, He probably didn’t even have a nice house to live in like I did.

He had every reason not to care. Yet somehow I knew he really didn’t want to do it.

I thought quickly, took a deep breath, and told him a lie. I said I had a father who loved me very much, and that he was very rich. Although we lived across the street from a millionaire’s family whose children went to school in a chauffeur driven limousine, I knew we didn’t have much money. My mother was frugal, and, having lived through the depression, knew how to stretch a dollar. We got our clothes from friends in the garment district. We went to welfare camp.

Our riches lay in the books, the musicians, the dancers, and the artists who were frequently our houseguests. Like my older friend Peggy Atwood’s family, my father had a bird book. There were dinner conversations about politics and philosophy and art. The entire Sadler’s Wells Ballet Company had come for dinner more than once. We always had a full fridge. Our clothes were always washed and hung out to dry on the clothesline. We had a gorgeous garden, and a neat little orange brick two-story house. We were living like the sensible third little pig.

But not this boy.

He had none of those advantages, and he couldn’t care less.

Somehow I knew everything about this boy.

He was poor. He was miserable. He hated his father. His father was a drunk. When he was drunk which was every day, his father yelled at him and hit him. His mother didn’t stand up for him when his father hit him. He felt powerless over his life. He wanted to escape. I knew what he really wanted: the power and freedom he thought that money could buy. He wanted money because he thought it would make him happy.
I could understand that. I had no money either, even though my family did. I wouldn’t get an allowance until I was ten. My mother gave me a nickel to put in the post at Brownies each week.

So it wasn’t a complete lie. It was a half lie. And it saved my life. I said if he let me go, my rich father, who loved me very much, would give him money.

When he asked me “How much?” I knew that I had him. There was a chance of surviving this. I boldly told him that I didn’t know how much, but I knew that it would be a lot. Somehow, I knew my worth was great to my father.

So, the brave, bright, intuitive little girl that I was made up a brilliant story. She rescued herself. By lying, I had freed myself from what my body clearly perceived as a threat to my survival.

After he let me stand up, I fumbled with the wet ties on my bathing suit, trying to comply with his demand that I take off my bathing suit before he let me go. I got it half way down, and then, totally humiliated, I asked if that was enough. He was lying on his side propped up on one elbow watching me shake and shiver, petrified of exposing my little flat nine-year-old chest.

Finally, disgusted, he agreed to let me go.

The little girl that got up off the ground where he had had me pinned that day was not the same magical, trusting, romantic little girl who went into the woods that day, pretending to be Maid Marion going to meet her hero, Robin Hood, on the other side of Sherwood Forest Park.

I bolted through the woods for the safe green lawn of the park and the open outstretched arms of the park attendant that who was waiting for me. She scooped me up and took me in her arms to a rocking chair, where I sobbed with relief as she rocked me. “Why? Why? Why did he do that?” She was a wise young girl. She knew she had no answer. And she didn’t pretend.

As she held me and comforted me, rocking me in her arms, I remember wondering to myself, “Why has my mother never held me like this?”

When they caught the boy and brought him in handcuffs for me to identify, I started shuddering with a coldness that penetrated my very being and never, apparently, left, until now.

That traumatic turning point is the basis for the novel I am writing called “White Butterflies.”

I have inflicted a lifetime of pain on myself and those I loved, punishing them for simply trying to love me. I compartmentalized that terror, hid myself from it in the spotlight. I fell in love with the glamour and fantasy of a life lived in the theatre. After playing Titania in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, I dropped out of high school at age sixteen, having been accepted by the National Theatre School of Canada, and went on to a career as a somewhat successful young actress.

At the age of seventeen, while at the Theatre School, I had another deeply traumatic experience, an illegal abortion done by a Nazi doctor who had practiced and perfected his trade in the concentration camps. It was something out of a Grade B movie, the darkened room, and the doctor in sunglasses behind a mahogany desk, hidden in a shadow behind a blinding pool of light on the desk blotter, the three one hundred dollar bills given by the head of the Theatre School from his own private abortion fund, destined for a Swiss Bank.

The next day, I had to be there between three and five minutes after three.
The doctor in a clinical white coat, his nurse wearing a starched nurse’s uniform and cap met me. It seemed to give an air of legitimacy to what they were doing. They sucked the baby out of me without anesthetic and flushed it down the toilet.

I at least had the presence of mind to ask whether it was a boy or a girl. It was a boy. It hit me that this four-month-old fetus had actually been a person, a little boy, my son. I had just heard them flush him down the toilet. In that moment I swore that if I ever became pregnant again, I would have the baby, regardless of the circumstances.

A year later I contracted pelvic inflammatory disease. The doctor was disgusted with me when I told him about the abortion. He told me the infection was probably the result of the illegal abortion. He told me that my Fallopian Tubes had been scarred, and I would probably have great difficulty conceiving.

He turned out he was right.

But I wanted children.

My first marriage failed when my husband announced, the day after we married, that after living together for eight years, he didn’t want to have children, even though we had constantly talked of what our Eurasian children would look like. The marriage lasted less than a year after that.

In the aftermath of that relationship, I got involved with another Asian man; this time a Japanese artist who was a survivor of the American concentration camps in California. He was an alcoholic, a close friend of my ex husband’s brother. The relationship turned violent within a week of its commencement when I mentioned my ex-husband’s name. He punched me in the stomach. I ran away from that man twenty times. Each time he found me.

I bought a tugboat to escape from him. Thinking he would never find me in a marina. I was wrong. He found me. But there was too much work involved in maintaining a tugboat, so, after stealing my television set, he left me alone for a while.

Early Christmas morning I was awakened by a loud, authoritative voice calling out my name. “Shelora!” It sounded like there was someone in the room commanding me to wake up. I knew it wasn’t the Japanese man’s voice.

It was much more powerful, almost majestic. I looked around and saw there was no one there or on the dock. It was spooky. The boat was moored under a bridge. The sound of seagulls echoed off the concrete. I got up, got dressed and went to spend Christmas Day with friends.

When I came home, the roof of the sixty-five foot tugboat was floating on top of the water. There was no sign of my black cat. I imagine he drowned. It seemed that, thanks to that voice, I had survived certain death.

I had nothing left. A diver had gone down and retrieved a few items, a piece of pottery or two. The salt water had ruined mostly everything.

Curiously enough one of the items that did survive was a letter written in ink by the Director of the National Theatre School, Powys Thomas, after my marriage broke up. This was the man who had paid for my abortion many years earlier.

Powys was playing King Lear at the Queen Elizabeth Theater at the time. It was the first time in his career that he had a lead in a Shakespeare play. When the Director of the Manitoba Theatre Centre heard it was the last night of Lear, he yelled, “Why didn’t anyone tell me Powys Thomas was playing Lear?” Under the direction of a quirky Polish Director, Powys was playing the mad scene very delicately, almost like Ophelia. He had wanted me to play his daughter, Cordelia, and told me he pictured my face over top of the actress that had been cast. In the middle of the night, after the show, he would come tapping on my window with a twig.

When that crazy relationship with the Japanese alcoholic was just beginning, Powys had come to visit me. He saw the man lurking darkly in the kitchen hallway, his pea jacket collar up, glowering at him like a street tough sailor.

”Too intense,” he warned me.

But, of course, I didn’t listen.

I was vulnerable. My ex-husband had married again less than a year after we separated. At age thirty-six, I was without a job, without a lover or a husband, living on unemployment insurance. I was running out of time.

One of the people who lived in the house where I was staying was the daughter of the well-known mediator, Vince Ready. daughter. He came to visit her, took one look at me in my red dress, and much to his daughter’s chagrin, asked me out on a date. I accepted, but instead of actually going anywhere, he picked me up after work, and asked me to come to Hawaii with him for a two-week vacation, all expenses paid. When I asked if there would be sex involved, he said “Of course.” I declined. But I was starting to feel a tad desperate, as if I was descending into some kind of limbo where I was becoming a prostitute.

Then to top it all off, I got fired from my job as a child-care counselor for doing Tarot card readings with the kids. The psychiatrist, who liked me, said I was a sort of Irish witch, and that he, as a psychiatrist, was little different from me in his function. It was just that I lacked the credibility of the Doctor’s degree that he had.

At any rate, for some bizarre reason, against my better judgment, I had gonefor the relationshp with the alcoholic artist and ended up completely isolated, my head being shoved through a wall, an army boot on my neck. When I asked him why he was doing this to me, he responded very matter of factly answered, “Because you are a woman.”

But, God knows how, he found me again. Drunk and yelling, he clambered up the fire escape and burst into the empty apartment and started taunting me, provoking and prodding me, trying to pick a fight.

I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I had lost everything. I couldn’t take any more. I had been determined not to sink to his level, but when he started hitting me again, something snapped. I summoned superhuman strength, turned on him, got him down on his knees, and started choking him to death.

He started crying and begged for his life. I finally let go on one condition.
He must promise to never pursue me or try to see me again.

He left, sheepishly. Strangely enough, he actually kept that promise. He never knowingly showed up where he knew I would be, at least until years later when he showed up at the funeral of my ex-husband’s nephew.

After surviving that horrendous terrifyingly crazy relationship, I didn’t trust that he would keep his word, so for a few months afterwards, I hid out at friend’s homes, or slept in my car.

A week after the last time I saw him, I wrote in my journal that it was over. I had no chance of ever finding a decent, normal reliable man, of getting married and having children.

That night I dreamed of a handsome riverboat captain, dressed in a black and silver shirt, black pants and a broad brimmed black hat, tilted to one side. I can still remember how he looked at me, a twinkle in his eye, smiled and winked.

Then I went upstairs for dinner, and there was my friend and colleague in the theatre, John Crawford. He was wearing…a black, silver trimmed shirt, tight black pants, and a broad-brimmed black hat.

I was startled. But not as much as when the same strong, deep, masculine Voice that had saved my life when my tugboat sank, spoke clearly and firmly out loud to me from somewhere inside my head.

“This is the man who is going to be the father of your children,” he said.

Stunned, I immediately told John what I had heard.

“That’s ok. I like kids.”

Well, naturally, this was the answer I had been waiting for all my life. He was Heaven sent! We fell madly in love, ran off to Mexico, swam naked under the stars in the phosphorescent water, snuck in to fancy resorts and lounged by the pool, pretending we were guests. We had a wonderful time for a month. One day, in a restaurant, John took a cigar ring, and put it on my finger. As far as I was concerned, that meant we were engaged. My dreams were coming true at last!

And then, on our way home, just as we were leaving Mexico, I drove past a cemetery in a small border town called Hermosio. I said to myself, I don’t ever want to come back here again. Just as I said those words, five black Ravens landed in the middle of the road, the engine died, and the VW van rolled to a stop. John spent the next two weeks under the van, trying to repair it. Turned out we needed to buy an American engine, and we needed to go to Texas to get one. I went looking for help, met some Mexicans in a Cantina who said they could help us they took us out drinking. At two o’clock in the morning, we ended up, drunk on fig wine, in a café with shiny blue walls and a single bare light bulb. The Mexican, who spoke excellent English, told us it belonged to the local “bruha” or witch.

Visions of Carlos Castaneda flashed before my eyes.

I said I wanted to meet her. I asked the man who had brought us there if I could see her, as I had a very important question to ask.

He asked me to hold out my hand. As he cupped his hand over mine, the energy between our hands was electric.

“I knew it the moment you came in,” he said. “You have the gift.”

“Can I see the Bruha”

He said, “No way! It would take weeks for you to prepare for such a meeting. And at any rate you are not strong enough for an encounter of that kind.”

“But,” he said, “You can ask me your question.”

John was busily engaged in a conversation with the other men, one of who was celebrating a birthday. He was drinking thick homemade fig wine from a glass gallon water jug. He seemed very happy. And he was eating “carnes asadas” (beef) after three years as a vegetarian. He was drunk on fig wine. He had a huge grin on his face. He was clearly having a wonderful time and was oblivious to the significance of this conversation.

I wanted the truth.

So I went straight for it.

“Is this the man who is going to be the father of my children?”

The big Mexican man turned slowly in his seat towards John. He called his name a few times, made sure he had his attention, and then announced loudly, bluntly, “This woman is either pregnant by you now, or will be within a month.”

The whole café fell silent.

“And you had better let her have it. I didn’t respect life, and I regret it to this day. I was drunk in the delivery room. When they handed me my newborn son, I dropped him on his head, and killed him!”

Shocked, John immediately sobered up.

He said nothing.

When we got home, he went to work logging up the coast in Egmont. He came to visit me every other weekend, and I visited him in his trailer ever other weekend. We walked in the snow in the woods. We went out in the “skukumchuck” in a metal boat. We made love in the trailer. Within less than a month, I was pregnant.

But it didn’t go exactly the way I imagined it would.

I was thrilled. The spell had been broken. I had conceived a child! And the father was a beautiful intelligent man, the man I had always dreamed of.

When he found out I was pregnant, John paused, considered, and then as if our out of some deep well, he pulled the word,

“Shoes.”

“What?”

“There are going to be shoes.”

As the oldest of six, John knew the ritual of buying new shoes well. You could pass down clothes, but not shoes.

As he contemplated his future as a father, I felt the cold burden of parental responsibility settle on his shoulders.

We considered our future together.

He was too young. He wasn’t ready for a baby he said.

He was twenty-eight.

I was just turned thirty-seven.

“We have only been together a few months. We should wait.”

We talked it over the whole weekend. It was decided that I should make an appointment with the best obstetrician in the city, Dr. Korn. All week long I had long conversations with my sister about this. She had tried to have an abortion with the same doctor I had, without success. She had borne and given up her twin sons for adoption, and regretted it ever after. Yet she encouraged me to have an abortion.

But I had sworn a sacred vow when they flushed my son down the toilet.
Never again.

Yet, the following Friday I found myself lying on his examination table. As he was finishing his examination, Dr. Korn paused and quietly made one simple statement.

“Tell me about the father of this baby.”

As I started talking about John, I described all his marvelous creative talents his intelligence, his family, his abilities, how we had fallen in love and were crazy about each other, so much that John kept saying, “This is bigger than both of us,”

I slowed down, and came to a halt. I realized what I was saying, what I was feeling.

This was my miracle. I adored this man. I wanted his baby. I knew he would make a wonderful father. After all, even though their relationship had ended, he was still visiting the three children, all by different fathers, that belonged to the woman he had been living with and supporting for the past three years. I wanted was to marry him, have his children and live with him for the rest of my life.

No matter what the consequences, whether I was alone or not, aborting this child was not the right thing to do. I had made a promise to my unborn son. It was time to honour it.

I got up off the table, thanked Dr. Korn and said, “Thank you very, very much. I won’t be having an abortion. I am having this baby.”

I went home and told John.

My beautiful daughters, Jessamyn and Kathleen, are my miracle babies that resulted from that destined meeting. The marriage lasted thirteen years. But somehow John always felt that he had been tricked into marriage and fatherhood. But the voice had said that he would be the father of my children, not the love of my life. As the man said, “Two out of three ain’t bad.”

In the last two months I have been through a monumental transformation. I fell down the stairs, fractured a vertebra, herniated a disk, and cracked a couple of ribs. I was in such excruciating pain that I literally could not stand up, let alone walk.

This came on top of the fact that long after my menopause I started menstruating. The doctors were very concerned that I might have uterine cancers, so I went through the whole mishigas: An ultrasound, inconclusive, a biopsy in the office, without anesthetic, inconclusive, and finally a hysteroscopy and a D&C under General Anesthetic.

Two days before the operation, I was lying in bed when I felt the sensation of fluttering butterfly wings that occurs around the four month of pregnancy. It is called the quickening. My son was four months old when I aborted him. I somehow knew it was his spirit letting me know he was there.

The friend who was on the phone with me when this happened somehow found himself channeling the voice of my baby. He said that he loved me very much and I would always be his mother. He told me that he had not really wanted to be born, to have a body. He said that I had given him life, and that he had been wandering the Universe ever since. And then he told my friend that his name was Jeffrey. Jeffrey Smith was the father’s name, before he changed it to his stage name, Colin Fox. He said that he would be with me during the operation, and that he was having a look around and everything looked fine!

The next day, as I was sitting on the bed at my friends’ house, he opened the window and in on the breeze wafted a fragrance so lovely that it was indescribable. It was like every beautiful flower that you have ever smelled, dusted with icing sugar, and wrapped in freshly laundered sheets. It brought back all the sweet memories of my childhood, sitting on the front steps smelling the orange blossoms, and the French Lilac. I asked my friend if he smelled it. He did not. It persisted for a good half hour. And then, just for good measure, the next day, as I was writing about it on my laptop at Starbucks, the same aroma filled the air. I asked everyone if they were wearing perfume, did they smell it? No one did, except me. It was as if Heaven’s Gates had been flung open and the fresh breezes of dawn were permeating the garden that is this world, and returning it to paradise.

And then came my healing session with Maxima.

As I came back into my body after the healing session, I found myself momentarily without the pain of these energies that had misled me and almost crippled me in an attempt to support me, I realized that I was an artist who had lost her way, squelched her talents and creativity, crippling myself for my beauty, my innocence, my imagination, and my gifts, in return for a false promise of safety. has been revealed to me as the lie I was living.

I now know that I have experienced the Atonement, the “At-One-ment.”

I have accepted the Divine Mission of assisting in the Ascension of all Humankind into the Light.

I know now that once I focus my intention and allow the radiant Light to flow through me from the Great Golden Rays at the center of the Galactic Universe, the Voice and my being is powerful enough to light up the entire Universe in an instant.

The result is infinitely sweet grace, peace, and a rooted, grounded unshakable knowing that I cannot be swerved from.

I am now vibrating at the level I was always supposed to be, prepared to accept my Destiny.

There are legions of angels at my beck and call, just waiting for me to command them.

I have dominion over the Universe.

I can move at will beyond the illusion of time and space, into parallel universes, alternate realities.

I had simply forgotten, or perhaps I was afraid of the fierce and ruthless power I contain within.

Not arrogant, but definitely ruthless.

I am no longer standing in the Light.

I AM the Light.

A subtle distinction, but one I am sure you are very familiar with.

I am the Light.

You are the Light.

We are the Light.

The Light does not compete with “other light.”

It simply joins, and in the joining lie the miracles.

Click The Buttons Below To Tell Your Friends About The Book

•March 18, 2010 • Leave a Comment

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Click The Buttons Below To Tell Your Friends About The Book

•March 18, 2010 • Leave a Comment

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2012: Recovering the Power for Earth’s Imminent Ascension

•March 3, 2010 • 1 Comment

Dear Friends

Below you will find the flyer for Paco Alarcon Kahan’s Australian tour and his upcoming visit to Vancouver in May and June.

I want to take some time here to share with you why I believe this event is important at this time. We are in the home stretch towards a dramatic rise in the evolution of human consciousness. This ascension into the light that has been prophesied for eons, And I believe that “Kahan” as he is known, is a powerful agent of change in this evolution.

He is the author of two books on the topic:

The Violet Light: The Power That Changes Everything” and Stargate 2012: Recovering the Power for Earth’s Imminent Ascension.

I met Kahan at the Body, Soul and Spirit Expo which Allan Hunkin and I emceed this past fall. Chandler Armstrong, founder of the Expo, gathered a panel of experts and thought leaders from all over the world, from Barcelona, from Rome, from Hawaii, from North and South America, to discuss the implications of 2012 for the planet. Both the Expo and Banyen Books sponsored Kahan to come from Barcelona. He is an extraordinary teacher, travels the world offering a gentle but powerful experience of the energy of ascension for anyone who wants it. He is also an inspiring musician. His music is said to reflect the chords of the cosmos.

At the beginning of May I am bringing him to Vancouver, with the assistance of Andrew Rezmer of Conscious Living Radio, Karen MacGregor of Divine You, and other leaders in the Vancouver community. Before he comes, while he is in Australia, I will be interviewing him on Andrew’s Conscious Living Radio.

This is a very exciting time for all of us, a time we have been waiting for all our lives. Apparently, Vancouver is one of the five most powerful energy centres on the planet at this time, so I feel honoured that Vancouver is to be the site of this powerful event. The Light emanating from our beautiful city is already emanating out all over the world, and it will continue to raise in power as we light our inner fires. I personally am committed to the education and uplifting of consciousness of the generation that is leading us into the new millennium.

I believe that this shift in consciousness is happening on all levels, from the newly emerging science of Quantum Physics to the new economic system, from medicine to art, to music. Even geologists and environmentalists are witnessing a dramatic shift, as the temperature of the oceans rises, and resonance, the frequency that the Planet Earth itself vibrates at increases.

I believe that we are engaged in a process leading up to a gigantic Quantum Leap forward for humanity in 2012. I, for one, am utterly convinced that we have great cause for hope. Not only will our economy, our way of doing business is being transformed, new sustainable technologies are being supported by that new economy, our health and education system, will gradually evolve to be concurrent with the new science of healing that is emerging.

We will begin working together as One, as we have in the face of environmental disasters such as the Tsunami, Katrina, Hawaii, and now Chile, to assist each other during this time of cataclysmic transformation.

Despite the entrenchment and resistance of the powers that be, the forces of greed and oppression that have dominated and raped our Mother Earth for so long, we will begin to see an upsurge of creative solutions that will be supported by the forward looking change agents at work on this planet.

We are all aware that there is little evidence for this transformation being possible. I believe that is because we are currently in a concurrent Dark Ages and Age of Enlightenment. With the acceleration in time, what took two to three hundred years to accomplish is now taking twenty to thirty years, or less. But the evidence for hope is there if we know where to look:within.

We are being faced with the most crucial decision humanity has ever faced: to choose between the power of love or the power of fear. We can choose to evolve and expand into a consciousness of love and unity, or to suffer and die in a cataclysmic orgy of death. The ego of the world is dying. It is attached to these false idols as if they were real, and the struggle for survival blinds us to what is real, and what is eternally of value.

Confused and discouraged by the nightmare that seems to have overtaken us, we are looking in all the wrong places for our lost power and freedom. We believe that this dark dream is reality. In our search for assurance, for security against the dark world of war, death, sickness and dying, we have created a world of idols, of dependencies, insatiable addictions and illusions.

We are searching for crumbs of joy in the worship of idols, idols of wealth, possessions and power over others, that only result in loneliness and disappointment, closed hearts, unhappiness, suffering, fear, pain, separation and madness, No matter how much we try, our longing for these ghostly chimeras of wealth and fame, will never satiate the wellspring of eternal joy that is our birthright.

“Choose only love, for that is who you are.” ACIM

These false idols, once achieved, never fulfill our real longing, our true desire; to return to the peace, the wholeness the innocence and perfection of who we really are.

We are engaged in the worst battles ever seen and experiencing the worst disasters in recorded history, with wars being waged over declining resources, and corporate greed grasping the ownership of the water vital to our survival as a species. Yet the awareness that we are one world is growing. Throught the interenet, through music, through the growing international peace constituency, through global meditations and increasing awareness of the power of intention to alter the Quantum Univers, we are beginning to realize that what happens to one of us happens to all of us, and we are capable of impacting the future by literally changing our minds.

We are experiencing catastrophe and chaos on every front, from environmental disaster, to war, to poverty on a gigantic scale, to the breakdown of our banking system, to the extinction of many species of animals, to the threat to our own ultimate survival as a species due to the toxic poisoning of our most crucial resources, air and water, all of these challenges, combined with the impact of global warming seem overwhelming and hopeless. Yet, in the face of the imminent  collapse of all the structures of civilization as we have known it, humanity is standing for the creation of a bright new future. In the fields of science, health care, education, sustainable technologies, and even banking, the signs of a new paradigm of consciousness that will transform the world are emerging, slowly but surely.

These signs of the watershed in human consciousness may not be obvious. They may be hidden, silent, invisible, unless you are looking for the evidence to support hope. Like a spring of fresh groundwater, these forces are moving underground, stealthily, powerfully, waiting for the opportunity to burst forth into the sunlight, offering a whole new source of inspiration to a society thirsting for hope.

As we speak, the visionaries of this world are creating fresh new ways of being and seeing,  building the infrastructure of a whole New Earth.  The  new science of neuroplasticity of the brain is demonstrating how we can alter the very synapses of our brains and the DNA of our genes,  just as the internet is laying down new neural pathways in the the mind of the planet.

As Dr. Joe Dispenza said, “The language of Science is the new language of Divinity.”

As if on cue, the vibrant youth of the world are waking up. They are realizing the futility of resignation and cynicism in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles. They are hungry for hope and evidence of new opportunities, new possibilities, and they are ready to dedicate themselves to accomplishing something extraordinary. In my classrooms I am beginning to see a wave inspiration and resolve that comes from the  generation we are counting on to create the New Earth. They are ambitious and dedicated in a way I have not seen. As one young man, dressed in a crisp white shirt and grey flannel pants, responded, when I asked him what he wanted, “I want CLEAN!’ And he meant business. He had no time for wishy-washy meditating  hippies., hoping for a miracle. He wanted the planet cleaned up and he wanted it practical, business-like, and now! Clearly, he would do whatever it took to ensure that the planet would be safe and clean, not only for his kids, but for himself! Having listened to this young generation, despite a lot of resignation, there is a determined, well educated and articulate voice arising, a voice of those committed to creating a world worth living in on the ashes of the old world that is crumbling.

I realize that we appear to be living in a nightmare that seems impossible to wake up from. It seems to portend the apocalypse, the end of all time, the complete and utter destruction of our Home Planet.

I am not convinced that we will not wake up in time, and the world will die a nasty death, with the resources being hoarded, and ugly battles over water destroying the poorest of us. There is too much evidence to the contrary. I see a world where the notion of every man for himself, survival at all costs, even if it destroys the world, is recognized for the madness that it is.

I trust that we are already beginning to realize that we have just been dreaming., and that if this is a dream we are dreaming, then we at least have the power to create a happier dream. As A Course in Miracles tells us, “Every problem has already been solved. There are many answers we have been given, but not yet heard. ” When the stakes are high enough, we start listening.

As Dr. Joe Dispenza said in his recent visit to Vancouver, humanity has only two choices: either to survive or to create.

In the light of those two choices, between the voices of fear of death, the voice that says, “Survival at any cost,” or the voice of love which says “We are in this together. There is a way out of this. Let’s create it together,” I am convinced that the choice is so clear, love or fear, death or life, that we will choose love and all the creativity and inventiveness, the elegance and beauty that flows from that choice.

As a result of the uplifting, inspired. expansive energy that the visionaries, the scientists, educators, film-makers, inventors, engineers, musicians, writers, even businessmen and politicians, are dedicating to the project of transforming our planet into a liveable and beautiful place, I am convinced we will all make it into the new paradigm. No matter how dire the crisis appears at the moment, we will all wake up into the new consciousness and realize that we are One family, the human family, and we can live in peace and plenty if we just learn how to share the resources we have and steward them wisely for the well-being of all. The struggle for survival will give way to the creation of what would have seemed unobtainable and Utopian short years before.

In the face of any circumstance, we are standing united in the resolve that we all make it into the light, whether in this form or another. Our vision of each other and ourselves is being transformed forever. We will not be going back.

The direct transmission of cosmic light that Kahan offers, sometimes known as “shakti pat” is an experience not to be missed. In fact I believe it is essential for as many as possible to start vibrating at this level now, in order to assist the transformation that is occurring on the planet.

So I am giving a heads up to anyone who has any suggestions about how to support the coming changes on the planet and build the energy here in Vancouver, one of the most sacred spots on the planet, is welcome to share with me.

Kahan tells me his intention is to “paint Vancouver Violet.” I am doing all I can to support him because I feel his message, and the experience of the Violet Light that he brings is absolutely mandatory at this moment on the planet.

What began in September 1997, with the opening of the Stargate, and accelerated two and a half years ago, with “Fire the Grid,” the one-hour global meditation that raised the frequency such that there was a measurable spike in human consciousness at the Global Consciousness Project at Harvard) This is the vibration of pure joy that David Hawkins talks about in his book, “Power vs. Force.”

This past Sunday, here in Vancouver, and for the past two weeks, we have experienced such an inspiring explosion of joy and hope in the streets of Vancouver. A spirit of joyous celebration was ignited and the potential power of our human spirit fully expressed, artistically, in dance, music, song, as well as in sport. There was literally dancing in the streets, all across Canada, just as the fires burned all over Africa the night when Obama was elected. All of these events are raising the vibrational frequency on the planet to one of pure bliss and possibility of a new way of life,

A miracle, a fundamental shift in perception is occurring on this planet. We are beginning to break free of the bonds of fear for our survival, of the greed and guilt that have driven us, the pain and suffering of war and disaster, that have kept us from living life out loud, fully self-expressed and free.

In the face of the possible destruction and death of our planet, we are joining together celebrating being vital, alive, and present and inspired.

This is the energy that is accompanying our ascension into the Light in 2012.
It is not some special One person I know had a vision of the ascension in 1986, a vision of the dark planet moving out from behind the Light one, and billions of souls moving into the Light. Although this may sound like ‘woo woo” to some, it is actually measurable

Many are already experiencing this luminosity. In fact, ascension is happening NOW for many of us. I believe it is incumbent upon those of us who are awake to share it with others. The man on the street is not immune to this experience. It is not limited to a special few saints that are worthy of it. Jesus came to bring us a message of empowerment. Although many of us did not understand that, now we have an opportunity to choose again.

“I have not brought this light for a few. I have brought it for many. Include yourself in the sharing.”

“Know in the spiritual light now available, that love will satiate all your dreams. Accept the only truth that divine joy is your deserved reality without conditions. You do not have to become anything or sanctify yourself for it. It is the communion with it that sanctifies.”

That being said, this is not about discipleship, following any special “Ascended Master.” This is about embracing the complete joy of the Divine within us all….to have accepted liberation where it is.”

It is a message of empowerment for all of us, as Jesus taught. This is the time of signs and wonders that he told us of, when we too would do all this and more. We are waking up into a direct experience of the miraculous. As “A Course in Miracles” tells us, “Miracles are ordinary. When they are NOT occurring, something has gone wrong.”

The joining of the world as One is imminent. We have a clear choice facing us: Either LIVE IN LOVE OR DIE IN FEAR!!

In the face of the dying of the old paradigm, many of us are experiencing breakdowns in our physical, emotional, financial and spiritual way of life. Everything familiar is being pulled away from us as the structure of our lives collapses. Loss of jobs, the breakdown of the world’s banking system, threats of plague, war, disasters of every kind, sudden accidents, illness, mysterious aches and pains, dizziness and nausea, financial and emotional bankruptcy, all of these are signs of our sickening of the old way, and of an impending rise in the evolution of human consciousness foretold for eons.

“Kahan” is a deeply peaceful and grounded beacon of Light on the path to the awakening that is occurring for all of us, whether we are conscious of it or not. His aim is to start a consciousness revolution on the planet at all levels, a revolution that has as its main objective to make anyone spiritually independent.

The Quantum Leap into the new paradigm is upon us. Let us learn to ride the wave and inspire those around us to wake up and empower themselves so that they do not depend on fear of loss to motivate them. Letting go of false emotion, false security, false attachments to the status quo will result now in a freedom and ability to create the new millennium, with a sound banking system designed from the ground up, sustainable technology, and clean air, water and healthy food for all.

We are the saviours of a dying planet. We are being supported and empowered as never before as we begin this transformation of consciousness. As we move towards 2012, we can and must grasp this sacred moment to choose joy, love, and faith in our ability to create a future worth living into.

The men and women celebrating in our streets are just as much a part of the uplifitng of consciousness as those sitting in ashrams in India. I am sending you this email as a heads up of an extraordinary opportunity to experience the energy of ascension for yourselves. All I can say is that when I met Kahan, there was such an explosion of white light coming out of him, that I immediately recognized him as enlightened. Subsequently, I began seeing the Violet Light that was everywhere during Fire the Grid, embrace everything. I began to capture it with my camera. This is the time we have waited lifetimes for, and I invite you to assist in the seemingly chaotic, but entirely necessary rising of the frequency of the vibration to one of joy and bliss as we welcome in the New Earth. Please let anyone you know that might be interested, that we will be having this event the second weekend of April, and Kahan will be here to do other workshops and individual work if it is wanted. So make a note of it that time and protect it if you want an unforgettably powerful experience that will lift your energy irreversibly and give you the tools to maintain that luminosity and radiate it out into the world.

Please let me know if you do not want to receive any further notice of this event. You can check him out further at
http://www.kahan.eu

Have a luminous day, and spread the word.
Vancouver is one of the five most awake centres on the planet. Let’s continue to spread the joy, and the uplifting news of the coming transition for humankind into the Light. It is happening NOW!

Love, Blessings and Light to all of you,

Shelora

Miracles and Mastery

•January 6, 2010 • 1 Comment

As I look back over the past two years, I feel deeply grateful for all the obstacles overcome, the lessons learned and the miracles that I have witnessed in this extraordinarily transformative time. I have come to believe with a solid sense of knowing, that this is the time of signs and wonders that we have all been waiting lifetimes for. I have come to believe that THIS is “the time of signs and wonders” that our beloved brother Jesus Emmanuel spoke of when he said, “All this and more you too shall do.” This is the time of awakening into Mastery, when we discover and remember who we really are and become the Miracle Workers we were intended to be.

This was the year that we held a gigantic Peace Circle on Spanish Banks, and such luminaries as Michael Beckwith and James Twyman led us through a Celebration of Peace that resonated out into the Planet’s vibrational field in a totally uplifting way. I had the good fortune, thanks to the kindness of Karen MacGregor and Helen Tomei of Sacred Earth Travel to attend James Twyman’s inspiring workshop, where I heard Denise Hagan sing for the first time.

“Fire the Grid I”

In May of 2007, I had the good fortune to meet Shelley Yates and listen to her incredible story that led to the “Fire the Grid” experience in which millions of souls participated in the most powerful meditation ever held on the Planet.

I was so struck by Shelley’s authenticity that I volunteered on the spot to lead the meditation in Vancouver. Someone with a television camera swung it around and captured my commitment and I realized that I had to fulfill on it.

On July 7th, I did the Landmark Forum, and I was in a state of huge possibility for the transformation of the Planet, eager to take my place as a leader in that movement.

By July 17th, 2007, to my amazement, over fifteen thousand people had watched my You Tube invitation.

My YouTube video was posted near to the video of Shelley Yates recounting her story of her near death experience and her encounter with Light Beings who asked her to save a dying world the way that they would help her to save her dying child.

Both Shelley and her four year old son, were drowned when their car flipped into a bog or swamp and sank. Against all odds, both of them were revived and lived to tell the tale. The boy had been submerged for over forty-five minutes, and his mother for half an hour before they were rescued. You can read the full story on her website, or watch her tell in person on YouTube if you search for Fire the Grid.
http://www.FiretheGrid.com

Exhausted from the preparations for the event, I fell asleep at one in the morning in an apartment that was minutes from the Park which my friend Patti had allowed me to use. At the appropriate time, five minutes to two, I was awakened from my sleep by a sensation of nausea. As I awoke, I saw a gorgeous, intricate violet and gold Mandala shining behind my eyes. I silently thanked Spirit for waking me up to such beauty, and quickly made my way to the grounds to prepare for the Meditation.

I had thought that maybe twenty or thirty people would come out at four o’clock in the morning. I certainly didn’t expect that so many would arrive at two o’clock. In fact many were there ahead of me! Thanks to the support of many who mailed to their lists, and to those who helped me produce the You Tube, it was more like two hundred souls.

It was a truly humbling experience as waves of people silently arrived and took their place. People helped me set up the altar and smudge it, arranged the tea lights in the shape of a heart, and sat in an ever-widening circle on the grass near the beach in Stanley Park.

Once they were settled, I read a prayer written by Don Miguel Ruiz. Then I passed a talking stick, and invited each person to speak of what had brought him or her to the circle and what their intention was for our Mother Earth.
With seemingly Divine Timing, the speaking stopped and the talking stick came full circle at exactly at the appointed time of 4:11 a.m. or 11:11 Greenwich Mean Time, and the Fire the Grid meditation began.

For one hour, as the sun rose and the birds started their acknowledgement of the dawn, we sat in silence, meditating on whatever brings us joy, sharing the stillness and the bliss and connecting to the energetic grid that connects us to the One that we are.

When I opened my eyes, and came out if the stillness, there was a lovely soft veil of Violet Light all over the circle. Many others told me that they had seen the Violet Light as well, and also those who shared their experience on the website said the same thing. It was so beautiful, so exquisite, seeing the whole circle shrouded in the hues of Peace and the Light.

My birthday had been on July 14th, but this was how I chose to celebrate it, so as we rose and took hands, I told them it was the best birthday present I could ever have if we could sing Happy Birthday to the Home Planet. We did that, and then we went for breakfast at Denny’s. (The only place open at that hour!)

The next day it was reported there was a definite spike on the scale that Stanford University has developed as a measurement of human consciousness. The measurement went in the opposite direction, downwards as in 9/11.

The truly marvelous thing is that, as promised, the vibrational frequency, once lifted, has stayed there. The importance of this rise in vibrational frequency is explained in David R. Hawkin’s book “Power vs. Force.”

Check him out on his Facebook Page

http://www.facebook.com/#/pages/David-R-Hawkins/31185597474?ref=ts

According to Hawkins, apparently Humanity is now vibrating above 200, the level of Courage and Integrity. The emotion associated with this level is that of Affirmation and the process is that of Empowerment. The life view associated with this vibration is that Transformation is Feasible and we feel Empowered to take it on!

Hawkins concludes that “Humanity is no longer resigned to living in the darkness of ignorance, or its consciousness wouldn’t have risen to its new level.” Since Hawkins ground breaking scientific work, the notion of measuring or calibrating the frequency of human consciousness has gained increasing credibility.

The level above that of Courage and Integrity is that of Neutrality, which calibrates at 250. At this level, the life view is that things are Satisfactory, and this engenders Trust and the process is one of Release. It is as if the whole planet has heaved a sigh of relief, now that we realize we are responsible for what occurs on our Earth and have the power to change the course of history as we evolve our consciousness.

This is the level at which God is actually enabling or assisting us to raise our vibration to the next level, which is that of Willingness. At this level, which Hawkins calibrates as 350, we become Hopeful, and Inspired. We operate with strong Intention, and are filled with Optimism.

Inspiration and Optimism seem so far from the level at which most of humanity has been operating at, the level of Pride, (which vibrates at 175) Pride, with its associated emotion of Scorn, its Demanding for the self, its Indifference to others, and the Inflation of the ego, was so prevalent, along with the even lower vibrations of Anger, that it seems what was needed was a Quantum Leap to catapult us into the next level.

As we learn to raise our consciousness, and function at the level of Acceptance, we feel Forgiveness for ourselves and others, we live more Harmoniously, as the process of Transcendence begins to be present in a greater and greater proportion of humankind. At this level, which vibrates at 350, far above the average, God is perceived as Merciful.

At an even higher level, the level of Reason, which is 400, God is perceived as Wise, life becomes Meaningful, and we are able to Understand and use the process of Abstraction.

Above that is the level of Love, calibrated at 500, in which God is seen as Loving, and life is seen as Benign. The prevailing emotion is one of Reverence, and the experience is one of Revelation,.

This is in stark contrast to the lower vibration of Anger, with its Vengefulness, Hate and Aggression which resonates at 150. This is the paradigm of the Vengeful, Bloodthirtsy and Punishing God described in the Old Testament, which has dominated human consciousness for close to two thousand years. Even lower than that is the level of Desire with its cravings, its denials, and its inevitable view of life as disappointing. This is the realm of addictions. Below that is the level of Fear of a Punitive God, giving rise to Anxiety and Withdrawal from life.

Below that is the view of God as Disdainful, which creates feelings that life has been a tragic waste, and fills one with feelings of Regret, Grief and Despondency. This level vibrates at 100.

Even lower is the level of Apathy, in which God is perceived not only s Disdainful, but as Condemning. This creates a sense that life is Hopeless with accompanying feelings of despair which finally cause abdication of responsibility. This is the source of the apathy that most of humanity feels in the face of what appears to be overwhelming evidence that it is hopeless, so why bother trying.Apathy vibrates at 50.

You would think that this is as low as it could get, but no, there is a deeper level of Guilt that is driving most of humankind. This is the level at which life is viewed as evil, that justifies a Vindictiveness that blames others and destroys at will. This is the projected guilt that underlies war-mongering, when the other is seen as the enemy and deserves to be destroyed. This level, that of “kill or be killed,” “eat or be eaten,” combined with the accusation of self blame projected on the other, vibrates at 30.

Finally, the level of seeing God not only as Disdainful, Punitive nd Vindictive, but of actually Despising Humanity, there arises a level of Misery, Humiliation and Shame that have held Humanity in their death grip for eons, leaving no recourse but the elimination of all life on the planet. This is the drive behind a Hitler, who not only despises and blames the Jews for all his misery, pain and suffering, but believes that the “Final Solution” is Elimination of the perceived enemy. At a frequency of 20, this is the lowest possible vibration.

This is really a clear and measurable description of the evolution of human history which has been evolving upwards with incredible velocity. When you come to think of it, it is astonishing that only sixty odd years ago, in 1936, the World was enthralled by the spectacle of the German Olympics Torch Ceremony conceived by Hitler as a massive exercise in redemption through Public Relations.

The entire exercise of creating the opening ceremonies and broadcasting them all over the world on television in 1936, was can be seen as the logical outcome of the prevailing vibration of disdain, shame and blame that were influencing Germans in response to their perceived humiliation in World War I.

The nightmare of the Holocaust, attempt to blame and eliminate an entire people, and an entire religion, occurred within my lifetime.

And yet look how far we have come. Though short years ago, we were still shaming, humiliating and lynching black men living in misery in America, we now have a black man as President.

Now, as we are waking up from that nightmare, that self-imposed level of guilt and fear, blame and suffering, we are slowly but surely emerging into the experience of pure Joy in which we know that Life is Complete and God is One with us.

As a result of this process of Transfiguration, more and more of us experience a deep underlying sense of Joy, Peace and Serenity. The level of Joy vibrates at the frequency of 540, even higher than that of Love and that is what Fire the Grid was all about. If ten million of us, or even six million of us, participated in raising the vibration of the planet to one of joy, that is one tenth of humankind. That is enough, a critical mass was reached. I believe that Fire the Grid was the watershed moment in the evolution of our consciousness.

At a more personal level, this is the experience of Joy that I believe that my beloved friend Chantal Jolly felt as she neared her death. Such an intense radiance of Joy and Love emanated from her that it entirely swept away the image of her tiny cancer ridden body and lifted us into the higher realms of Love, and for those who could follow her, into the Perfect Peace and Bliss of God. This is the process of Illumination which apparently calibrates at 600.

My friend, writer David Buckland whose brilliant blog In2Deep/wordpress.com is gathering attention all over the Internet as he explains the phenomenon of Enlghtenment, was able to stay connected to Chantal’s consciousness as she transitioned from one state to the next.  He tells me that once she got adjusted to being bodiless, she told him she was having a BLAST! She committed to staying in touch and helping those of us remaining here on this plane, there are already many reports of her coming to people in their waking and sleeping dreams with words of counsel and inspiration. Her message for me was to be her Voice, and she would help to guide me in what to say. She is now enjoying her role as a Spirit Guide. What a blessing she was to this world. Surely, an angel among us.

Another Earth Angel that I have had the privilege to meet this year is Denise Hagan who sang at Brock Tully’s Kindness Concert the day after Chantal passed. Her presence and her connection to the Spirit and Presence of her Beloved Emmanuel, as she calls Him, is palpable, and so moving. She sang for Micael Ledwith as well in his workshop at Unity Church put on by Andrew Rezmer of Consciousness Radio. As she sang the lights of orbs flashed on and off up in the gallery, as they had when Austin and Mary Hennessy, the Ministers of the Spiritual Centre for Dynamic Living spoke of Chantal’s presence during her Memorial Celebration of her life.

Let those who have eyes to see, see.

Speaking of Enlightenment, according to Hawkins, the highest level, the level of Enlightenment, resonates at between 700 and 1000, This is the level at which we experience Pure Consciousness, the emotion of which is Ineffable. This is the level of Truth that Jesus and Buddha expressed while they were in physical form.

Unfortunately, as I am sure Micael Ledwith would agree, having been intimately associated with the inner workings of the Vatican for seventeen years, the frequency of Christianity fell to 930 within one Century of Jesus’ death, and afterwards, with the Gospel of Paul with his hatred of women, the Treaty of Nicea in 325, the rule of Constantine, and the Crusades, and the Inquisition, by the 11th century the calibration of Christianity had fallen to 498, (just below the level of Love that Jesus came to teach) where it remains to this day.

Hawkins points out that it is interesting that most fundamentalist Christians, when they are quoting Scripture, are not referring to the New Testament teachings of Jesus, the teachings of Love and Forgiveness. They are actually quoting from the Old Testament, with its eye-for-an-eye, tooth-for-a-tooth” teaching of Vengeance and Destruction. One wonders why, if Jesus came merely to teach the Old Testament, even bothered to come. Ledwith says that Jesus started with teaching the Jews, but they didn’t get his message of Empowerment. He narrowed it to the Nazarenes, but they didn’t get it either, and so he narrowed it down to his Disciples, but they, with the exception of his brother James, his twin brother Thomas Didymus, (which means twin in Greek) and his chief disciple and wife, Mary Magdalene, did not get it either.

For two thousand years, the legacy of guilt and blame and shame has been inflicted on humanity in the name of God, a God who is supposed to be merciful and loving. Imagine the confusion that has been engendered and that must be cleared up in order to see clearly the Light of Truth!

Ledwith is concerned that we are so immersed in the culture of guilt, the ugly vision promulgated by the Catholic Church of Heaven and Hell, that he calls the Hamburger Universe, that we have not even begun to fulfill the promise that Jesus made to us, that we become the enlightened miracle workers that he knew we could become, He believes it may be too late.

Hawkins, on the other hand is hopeful, and he says that ‘now that Humanity has risen above the level of 200, we may expect some great transformations throughout human culture, as mankind becomes responsible for its knowledge and thus its deeds.”

Hawkins states, “We’ve become fully accountable, whether we like it or not. We are at the point in the evolution of our collective awareness where we may even assume stewardship of consciousness itself.”

I agree with Hawkins. I think that the wake-up call has been heard, that the angels and Light Beings and spirit guides are giving us invisible support and that we are in the process of preparing for the ascension into an entirely new paradigm. The transformation of consciousness predicted by the Mayans 5000 years ago has already begun. It may not look like it, and certainly one can find abundant evidence to the contrary, but I am deeply encouraged. I have witnessed the signs and wonders in my own life, and I know they are possible in others.

This year Penny Pierce published her book, “Frequency” which explains in scientific detail how the various forms of energy that are oscillating as sound, light, electromagnetic energy, all interpenetrating, in the form of photon, neutrons, electrons, waves, particles, all realities and possibilities of alternate realities existing at the same time.

It is mind-boggling, and there is so much more that is just beginning to be understood about how our DNA is evolving, what consciousness really is, what the ego is, not an I, but an “it” a pattern of neurons firing, designed to perpetuate survival of an independent identity, which is not the authentic Self at all.

Gregg Braden, a former geologist, claims that measurement of the magnetic frequency of the earth is declining, while the Schumann Resonance or pulse rate of the earth, previously considered static, has climbed, from 7.8 to 8.6, all of which leads to the conclusion that so-called reality may not be so solid and finite as we have believed.

As the Superpositions in Quantum Physics demonstrate, you cannot have both a wave and a particle at the same time, now you see one, now you see the other, entirely dependent upon the act of observing them. So, in fact, there is no reality out there. Nothing, absolutely nothing, is written in stone! The only reality is energy, various forms and frequencies of energy, pulsating and oscillating at different rates and speeds and dimensions.

So it is entirely possible, states Pierce, that “there may be many different versions of your soul, all operating simultaneously” This is what Micael Ledwith implied in his workshop here in Vancouver in November, which gives substance to the metaphysical notion of parallel and past lives, that notion that Pierce describes as “for any path or action you take, there are dozens of other yous living different versions of your soul.”

If that is the case, then we can move at will between dimensions, and pick and choose the stories that we attach meaning to, and abandon those that no longer serve us. It is a holographic Universe, and we are just along for the ride. The game, then, is to refine our ability to distinguish various frequencies and master them.

This is when Metaphysics becomes Physics.

I believe we began to achieve this level of mastery with the global meditation of Fire the Grid. We are continuing to do it with the guidance of the Violet Flame and all the Ascended Masters, including Archangel Michael and Jesus. We have so much help and support. They are easing the way for us to learn and become adept quickly.

We are learning the Way of Mastery, to desire, accept, forgive and love As we wake up from the dream ourselves, and become more adept with the ways of raising and deepening our own consciousness, it becomes increasingly easier to radiate the joy that we feel, and shift the energy at will, to be happy under even under seemingly horrendous circumstances. We, after all, are the Source of our own misery or our own happiness.

The gift of mastery is to be able to walk in the world, but not be of it, to be touched by the suffering, but operating at a level above it so we do not become ensnared in the drama of it, and can transform it with a powerful intention, a thought, a word, a glance, a smile, an act of kindness, or compassion or forgiveness,. That ability to radiate love and light, to generate joy under any circumstances, is the wonder of these times.

Of course, we are human, and in a steep learning curve, and we will stumble and fall, but we can forgive ourselves, dust ourselves off, get back up, focus, and do it again until we achieve a level of mastery. All of this embedded, grounded in a sea of silence and stillness so deep and filled with Joy that it is impenetrable by the vagaries of circumstance.

As Penny Pierce says, “You may already know how to do many of these things, without being consciously aware of it, but working intentionally, in a detailed way, with waves, cycles, spectrums, and fields, is going to be a large part of your new skill set. Part of this,” she says, “will be developing your capacity to sense what energy is doing and being fluid enough to adapt to changing flows and rhythms without losing your centre. It is always important first to learn the variables of the game you are playing, then master your game skills, and then finally, set yourself loose to play your best game.”

And remember, we are not alone. There are many of us out here on the cutting edge of consciousness, exploring, adventuring, learning, growing, mastering, and willing to share! You can recognize us sometimes on the street, or at a gathering, in a moment of eye contact, a wink, a nudge, a joke, even in a fleeting expression or wordless response….. sometimes words are not necessary to recognize a fellow Light Worker. Even differences in language need not be an impediment if you are on the same wavelength.

This summer, on July 28th, we gathered to celebrate Fire the Grid II.

The sun shone brightly, and a few of us gathered under a tree in the brilliant light, and meditated while people walked and rode by on their bicycles. It was much more peaceful and more focused this time, for those of us who were willing to take on the accountability of stewardship. I, for one, felt a great sense of gratitude to the Beings of Light who are surrounding and supporting us for this beautiful year of evolving ever upward into the Light.

The final miracle of my life was the opportunity afforded me by my friend Allan Hunkin, who invited me to co-host the Speaker’s Platform at the Body Soul and Spirit Expo at the Pacific Convention Center in Vancouver in October. He said that Ascended Masters were not his cup of tea, and that I should introduce them instead of him. He was speaking on” Finding the Elegant Solution in Any Situation”, and that seemed an elegant solution to me!

So I introduced myself to the various speakers and quickly interviewed them on how they wanted to be introduced. The first person I met was Paco Alarcon Kahan from Barcelona. He radiated the calm and peace of a deeply spiritual man. He showed me his books, “The Violet Light, The Power That Changes Everything,” and his latest book, “Stargate 2012, Recovering the Power for Earth’s Imminent Ascension.”

He spoke of his time with the Mayan people, and his understanding of the Codes, but mostly he spoke of our responsibility as stewards of the Light to be accountable for our own energy. He did not talk about the Violet Light in his speeches, but afterwards, he said that he had felt more welcomed and supported  in Vancouver in two weeks that he spent here, than he had in three months in North America. He wants to come back and build a community of like-minded souls and “paint Vancouver Violet.” Stay posted for more on this topic.

Along with Kahan, there were speakers gathered from all over the Planet with messages of hope about 2012, and guidance for us on how we can best serve in this time of Ascension that has been prophesied for so many years. They were there from Rome, from Barcelona, from the U.S.A. and from Hawaii. Two Kahunas, Ka Lai, and Nohuku, the King and Queen of the Big Island of Hawaii, representing 72 generations of Shamanic Wisdom were there. This was the first time they had left the island, as they were guided to come to Vancouver as it is a very high place on the planet, energetically speaking.

There was a panel of speakers on 2012 put together by Chandler Armstrong that was truly astounding

But the most powerful speaker was the Keynote Speaker, Micael Ledwith, the Irish Priest you may recognize from the movie, “What the Bleep Do We Know.” His journey from being on the advisory council to Pope John Paul for seventeen years, and President of The College of Bishops of Ireland, to becoming a heretic expelled by the Catholic Church as he questioned how Jesus Became a Christ, is truly remarkable. After the show, I had the good fortune to have dinner with Micael, and he expressed his concern that we had very little time, and the task of waking up from the Nightmare of guilt and shame that has enveloped the Superconscious of Humankind for two thousand years was growing short. He wants to see all of us wake up and become empowered to be the miracle workers we are designed to be. Such great learning and courage from a man who miraculously saved his own life, and now explores the Quantum Physics of Miracles, the Resurrection, which he says happened, but is merely bringing life back to a corpse, and finally the Mastery of Ascension which he believes Jesus learned in the Egyptian Mystery Schools, and all the other “signs and wonders” that Jesus told us that we too would do, and more.

In addition to all this detailed knowledge of History, he speaks Latin, of course, Greek, Hebrew, and enough Coptic to make his way around, as well as a smattering of Aramaic, the Language that Jesus spoke when he wasn’t in the Temple. He has studied all the way back to the Sumerian Culture, and asked Pope John Paul if he could have the second library the one that has been sitting covered in dust, untouched and unread for hundreds of years in the bowels of the Vatican,  archived. Paul approved, and said he would give him five Priests full-time to do the job, as long as Micael could raise the money.

The story of how he came to leave the Church and ended up in the Ramtha Community is for another post, but suffice it to say, that along with his work on orbs, and his explanation of the Physics of Light and Manifestation from the Word, I have learned so much I am still digesting it. That, combined with the extraordinary work of Dr. Richard Bartlett, creator of Matrix Energetics, has opened up a whole new vista and I look forward eagerly to learning this new skill set and deepening my experience of the Peace of God and practicing the skills of a miracle worker in this coming New Year.

The final miracle, the one that means the most to me, was what occurred on the last day of the Body, Soul and Spirit Expo, produced by Chandler Armstrong. One of the Guest Speakers literally broke his leg.

Chandler turned to me and said, “We need a speaker. You!”

With ten minutes notice, and the blessings of the Kahuna’s, I spoke for an hour on Living a Miraculous Life, the beginning of the career I have been preparing for all my life.

May the Grace of God’s Love rain down on you and bless you, as it has me. Love and light to One and All.

You are deeply, deeply loved.

Shelora

Why Love Heals

•December 13, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Why Love Heals
by Dean Shrock, PhD

Picture two lines together perfectly parallel. Then imagine them moving and waving together in perfect synchrony. Whatever one line does, the other does at the precise moment of the other. In fact, there is no way to determine which line moves first. They both follow each other, or follow some invisible force that conducts them in total harmony.

Now imagine a bunch of lines moving, waving and vibrating in similar form. All peak and trough, move up and down, in absolute unison. These wavelengths can be all sizes, large and small, but all are perfectly aligned. All are singing and dancing and moving as one.

This is a way to begin to understand the unity that underlies all of creation. At the most fundamental level, all atomic and subatomic matter work and exist in harmony and order. Everything is interconnected and functions as one. Quantum physics has established this scientifically.

This is how our bodies work, as well, when they’re healthy. Most of the time the trillions and trillions of cells in our bodies work together in unbelievable harmony. They cooperate beautifully to keep us breathing, living, growing, and thriving.

When we do things like eating nutrient-rich foods and exercising our muscles in appropriate balance, it contributes to the harmony and growth of our cells. When we are joyful and “going fishing,” this emotional state also resonates with the natural harmony of our cells and contributes to our health. When we are practicing wellness, all the electrons that comprise our bodies are dancing together in the greatest line dance you could ever imagine. Think trillions and trillions of Fred Astaires and Ginger Rogers waltzing and spinning and swaying as one.

However, when we experience dissonance or stress, the harmonious movement and activity of the cells is disrupted. When we eat something that cannot be properly absorbed and used by our cells – and when we don’t exercise our muscles appropriately – and when we experience “negative” emotions – all of this causes the vibration of our cells to not be able to dance the same dance in harmony. The cells can then weaken, and the systems in our bodies stop operating optimally. Disease is now able to thrive in the environment of our bodies, where normally it would be sitting out the dance.

The quantum field, Life Force, and Qi energy described in ancient wisdom texts, are all ways to label or understand the fundamental “glue” of the universe that flows through and connects everything. When you are aligned or resonating with this energy matrix of harmony and order, you allow for a greater flow of this life-giving energy through your body.

The key is to get the cells of the body back to vibrating as one. Love is the expression or experience of oneness – this is why I define love as oneness. Love expressed as listening, caring, compassion, hope, etc. literally bathes the cells of our bodies with exactly what they need to return to their natural state of oneness.

When we experience love, it’s like getting a “tune-up.” For example: Remember in science class when iron filings were scattered on a card held over a magnet? They always arranged themselves in the pattern of the “lines of force” of the magnet’s field. Similarly, love functions like a magnet’s force field, and realigns the molecules of our bodies with their fundamental, natural state of harmony and order. This is why love heals.