Thursday, December 15, 2011

Apple Pie

In our work Marti and I deal with a lot of skeptics, and I have a thousand stories like this one.  To my mind, I don't care either way whether the woman I'm writing about believes me or not.  It is after all, she that missed out on a chat with her father.  I know also that people on the other side are not always chomping at the bit to change a skeptic's tiny world view.

A while back, a lady we knew, who worked at the store where we were to hold a group meeting, told us she would be attending and she that was bringing a friend who was a big skeptic.

"Great!" I said a little sarcastically.  "Just don't tell me who she is because I don't want to know."

The next evening we held our group meeting and almost half way through the evening I had a deceased father wanting to speak to his daughter.  I was guided to the right woman in the audience, and he came up with one thing after another to say to her, to which the only response appeared to be "No, no, no, and no!"  After trying very hard with her father for her, I finally got fed up with her and I said to her dad in my mind, "I've had enough of her; she's not going to make me look a fool in front of everyone.  So finish up what you want to say to her, and let's move on to someone else.  Her dad then told her she liked sweet things.

"Yeah," she said, begrudgingly.

"He tells me you like apple pie."

"It's my favorite," she answered, nonchalantly.

"Well, your father say's 'enjoy the apple pie!'"  And with that I went on to speak to someone else in another part of the room, relieved to be done with her.

The gathering was quite large, so we had a short break for people to stretch their legs and to use the restroom. During the break, our friend came up to me and told me I had connected with her girlfriend.

"Oh, good," I replied.  "Where is she?" my curiosity piqued.

"She's gone.  She left when the break started.  She couldn't get out the door quick enough. You freaked her out!"

"Where was she sitting?" I asked.

"Over there," she said pointing. "She's the skeptic!"

I never realized who the skeptic was, because our friend was not sitting next to her.

A couple of days later we met our friend again at the store and I asked her if she spoken with her buddy, the skeptic.  She had:  "I called her yesterday on the phone.  Her husband answered and told me she wasn't taking any phone calls right then.  When I asked him why, he told me; 'My wife's been on a diet for a month and she's had this apple pie in the fridge for the last few days, and she's eating the whole apple pie as we speak!'"

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Mail from Ralphie

A letter we received from Dana

Hello to both of you.  I have never written before, but I feel that I must tell you what happened the day after Christmas.  Last year on December 4th, you gave a phenomenal reading to my sister in law and me at the Centre in La Mesa, (Myztic Isle).  It defiantly was a life altering experience for me and the reading wasn't even focused on me! 
One of the things that Michael kept alluding to was the story that I was writing for my family to celebrate the 10th anniversary of my brother Ralphie's passing.
I left KNOWING that my bro was with me or at least was cognizant of what we were doing down here.  I gave my Christmas story to my family (Ralphie's best Christmas) and it was a great hit.
This year I would have to say was the best Christmas for me and my daughter (who still lives with me) that we have had in many years.
On the day after Christmas, we hit the sales at 8am.  We were in the store for about two hours and just had the best time trying to coordinate next year's wrapping supplies. 
We left the store and as we came around the back of the jeep, lying on the ground right where I would have had to step to get into the door, was a long white business envelope.  As I got near, I saw that it had some writing scrawled on it.  Much to my surprise and delight the one word on the envelope was RALPHIE!  I am so glad that my daughter was there, because my family thinks I have an "I love Lucy" way of dealing with how I feel about the afterlife and particularly my brother. 
One word, "Ralphie" was the best validation I have gotten on my own (without you two's help!)
Thank you for what you have brought to me.

Monday, December 12, 2011

A Rose to a Rose

Mario Danelo July 3rd 1985 - Jan 6th 2007

The beginning of February 2007, I was walking into our living room, when a young man appeared in front of me. He made me aware of who he was. He had been on the news recently and he had apparently fallen to his death from a cliff not far from where we live.  He was a noted college footballer and there were still unanswered questions, so the media kept the story going.  I had not paid much attention to the news and so had not caught his name or any of the details about him.
As he stood there in front of me, I told him, "I know who you are, but I'm not calling your family or anyone.  It's not something I am comfortable doing."

He responded, "Don't worry, you don't have to.  I'm sending my family to you!"

"If you manage to do that, I'll be very impressed!" I told him.

With that, he left.  I had made Marti aware of the whole encounter as it was happening; she had been sitting at her computer listening to me talk with him.

A couple of days later, we were in Monrovia doing private sessions all day.  The appointments were set them up ahead of time by the shop owners, so we had no idea who was coming to see us that day.  One of the appointments was for someone we had seen before, but not seen in awhile.  They were a mother and son.  The mother has a son on the other side, who usually speaks to them.  During the course of our communication, a young man, who I at first believed was her son, mentioned something about putting flowers where the tree leans over, near where he is.

The mother thought for a moment, then said, "Well I did put flowers over on another grave near my son's and there is a tree there."

I then said the name 'Mo', which she didn't understand.  Almost immediately after, I said another name that sounded like Daniella.

She gasped, "Oh my god I think I know who that is! I think it is a young man that I saw on the news who fell to his death.  I felt sorry for him, so I drove to the place where he fell and put flowers there."  (It is over 50 miles away from where she lives.)  She told me his name was Mario Danelo.  We initially thought I had misheard the name Mario, but later found out Mo was his nickname.

I then realized that this was the same young man I had seen a few days before, "Wow!!!......It's him!" I exclaimed.  I then asked him to tell me what flowers she put there for him and saw an arm extend next to me toward her with a hand holding one red rose. "Thank you," he said through me. "A rose to a rose!"

She got a bit emotional.  "That's what I put there.  One red rose."

I had not understood he was there at first because her son had died at around the same age.  The session came to an end and we headed home.
The next morning, Marti was sitting at her computer and was doodling a football, when the phone rang. I was standing next to her and answered it.  A man inquired about our services and wondered which would work better:  to see us in a group or privately.  I thought for a moment and then I said to him, "Even if you came to see us privately, really anything could happen.  Just yesterday a lady came to see us and a young man she had never met came through to thank her for putting flowers where he died.  He was a college football player that fell off a cliff near here recently.

"He's my brother," he said softly.

"He's your brother?" I repeated in amazement.

".....yes," he said.

I told him about my visit from his brother and his prediction to me and then told him to come over to our home and see us privately.

I was more than curious at this point on how the deceased brother had pulled this off, so I asked the brother on the phone how he found us.

"A psychic, called Lori, told me to go see you," he said.

I'm still not sure to this day who Lori is, but my thanks to her.  She obviously could not make a full connection with the brother and, showing integrity, referred him to us.

A couple of hours later, an interesting synchronicity happened.  A lady with a TV production company called wanting to see if we were interested in what they were proposing.  Once again, I was curious how they came across us.  The lady told me a psychic, called Lori, told them about us.  It turned out to be different psychic called Lori!

Mario's brothers did come to see us and we had a very good connection.

A couple of years went by, and in that time Mario came by to say hello on a couple of occasions to some people that he had known him.

Sometime later, a friend of ours invited us to her ghost hunt event at the theater in San Pedro.  We took her up on the offer and attended.  After we got there, I felt a man in spirit standing several feet behind me.  In my mind I asked him several things.  He answered me saying he had lived in the area and was familiar with the theater and said one name to me.  I assumed at the time, he was connected to the theater itself.  We had not eaten yet so we decided to pop out and get something.  We didn't want to walk far and came upon a pizza restaurant.  Marti and I only eat pizza a few times a year, but we were hungry, so we went in.  The place was packed and there was only one table available  After we were seated, I looked around the place while we waited for our order.  There were posters of football players everywhere.  Marti pointed out that the painting right next to me was of Mario Danelo playing football.  I said what a coincidence that was.  I got up and looked around the whole place.  It was the only picture of him.

When we were finished eating, we went back to the theater and listened to our friend's talk.  When it was over, I decided I would share with a few people about the guy I had seen in the theatre when we first got there, the strange coincidence in the pizza bar and the connection with Mario.  I remembered the name I had first heard from the stranger in the theater.  One of the listeners standing in front of me said that he would have to sit down or he might fall over.  He was physically shaking.

"That's my name," he said. "And I personally knew Mario Danelo."

Monday, November 28, 2011

Frankie the Mobster

Yard sales are something Marti and I have always liked.  We were at one in particular where I spotted a black fedora hat.  I have never owned one.  I tried it on and it was a perfect fit.  It was just a couple of bucks so I bought it.

Later that week, we headed to Reno, Nevada, for work where we had a number of clients booked.  It was cold up there, so I took my newly acquired hat and my big gray overcoat.
When we arrived in Reno, it had been snowing and was very cold.  While we were walking through the hotel lobby, I told Marti I felt like a gangster, with the hat and big coat.  I walked along with her, joking around, saying in a deep hoarse voice, which sounded like it belonged in New York or New Jersey; "Yeah, I'm Frankie, anybody gets in the way, I'll break their arms or their legs."  Marti laughed and while we were there I pretended to be Frankie quite often.  It got to the point where I remember saying to her, "You know, I think this is a real guy, a real mobster.  But, I don't know how I can prove it!"
Near the end of our stay, we did a group session at a friend's house.  We knew the husband of one of the couples attending a little bit, but had not met his wife.  During the course of the evening, some of the wife's people on the other side came by to say hello.  It was getting late and we were just about to wrap up the session.  At that moment, I felt the mobster, whom I thought might be a figment of my imagination, wanting to say something to the couple.  I looked around for the hat to put on, but it was in the car.  Speaking in the east coast accent, I said; "By the way, Frankie wants to say goodbye!"
The husband, James just looked at me, very surprised, and said, "I know a Frankie, who talked just like that!"
"Really?" I asked.  "Is he a mobster?"
"Oh, yeah!" he said.
"Like, a real heavy duty mobster?" I asked.  "A 'break your arms or legs type' of mobster maybe even more?"
"Oh, yeah!!" he repeated, emphatically.
"Wow!" I said.  "This guys been following me around all week."
Frankie said goodnight again and the group session ended.
James told me later that he had known Frankie for years through his work at Harrah's Hotel Casino.
After that little enlightening encounter, we were walking along the corridor in the hotel to our room.  I felt the mobster around me yet again, so I asked him, "Where are you?  Are you in a good place?  What's going on with you?"
He replied, "Well....I'm a.. kinda reformed mobster."
"You're a reformed mobster?" I asked.  "So, what are you doing hanging around me?"
"Well, I bin sent here to protect ya, while you're up here," he said.
"You're my bodyguard?" I asked.
"I guess ya can look at it that way," he said.
I just laughed and thought to myself; I suppose, if someone needs protection, you can't do much better than to send an ex-mobster!

Some years later I was sitting in a tea room in Victorville, California.  The place was fairly empty, so Marti and I were relaxing, while sipping our favorite teas.  I started talking with the only other person in the room, a lady, and for some reason the connection with Frankie in Reno came up.   After telling her about him, she told me that she knew him in prison and that she was his warden.  She also informed me that he was known as 'Little Frankie' and he called her Mom.
Who would have thought that this small Hispanic lady, in this middle of nowhere town, would have known this very mobster?

Betty Hill. A famous UFO Abductee.

Our meeting with Betty Hill came about when we were filming an impromptu session with two television producers and a lady who identified herself as "Betty" showed up, along with another man in spirit, who was a well known producer. (I'm not sure but his name might have been Victor). It turned out he had made a documentary film on Betty Hill about her abduction experience with her husband, Barny.

This was an unexpected and pleasant surprise for the producers we were doing the session with, since they knew the producer in spirit quite well.  The session was very interesting, for them and for me, as I had long ago read all about Betty and Barny Hill.  As our meeting came to an end, we looked at Marti's pictures.  Betty had posed for Marti!  She had captured an excellent likeness of her.  But, as we would discover, this was not the end of the connection with Betty.

Time goes by.......

We were invited to be a part of the Ghost Hunters event at Mount Washington, but first we decided to go to Salem, Massachusetts and visit Patrick Burns' event called Ghostfest the day before.  We just wanted to hook up with a few friends for a while, and then drive up to Mount Washington the following day.

We met a lady at Ghostfest who had written a book about paranormal happenings, including the story about Betty and Barny Hill.  I shared with her our connection with Betty and she told us that the place where the abduction occurrence had happened with Betty was not too far away, it was in fact on the way to Mount Washington.

Marti and I left Salem the next morning, and we agreed to visit the abduction site after the convention at Mount Washington.  When the event was over, we headed home driving down to the airport via the location the lady had told us about.  After a few wrong turns, we finally arrived at the gas station she had referenced on the corner.  We pulled up and went inside.

The owners of the gas station, a husband and wife, happened to be there and we talked for a bit getting to know them.  It turned out they were from England, so I did a bit of catching up.  We then told them why we were there and they explained that they, in fact, knew all about Betty.  The husband pointed out the spot across the street where the purported abduction happened many years ago.  "Now, go look in the restroom," he said.  We did and every wall is covered in things to do with Betty! Articles mostly, but other things too.

Before we left we told them we would send a copy of Marti's sketch of Betty to put up in the rest room.  We said goodbye and left the gas station for the airport, eventually arriving at home.  We got busy, and before we could get a copy of Betty to the owner of the gas station, we received an email from them:

Hi there from sunny NH,
What was the background to drawing the picture? I will write a short narrative and put it up.  How about this for coincidence, I know you are into those.  This week a woman who we had never seen before pulled off the highway for gas and went to the restroom.  She stayed in there for ages, came out all flustered.
Betty Hill was her foster mum!!!!!
What a shock for her.  To be sat on the loo (that's toilet, for all you yanks) and look up at Betty.
David and Vickie

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Charles Peirce

Our friend, Carol sent us the lady that wrote the letter below.  Carol knows to say nothing to us about who we are to do a session with.  When the lady came into the back room where we conducted private sessions at the Mystic Sisters Bookstore and sat down with us, this is what happened:

As soon as we began the session, a very gay man appeared to me and immediately said, "Tom here!"  He continued by saying that he did some sort of acting and dressed up as women.  The love I felt from him as he continued to speak to her was incredible.  She immediately knew who was speaking to her.  It was her dear friend, Charles Pierce.  The name Tom was his nickname, shared only between the two of them.  She told us later the story.  She had once said to Charles, that if his mother had named him Tom, which is a very manly name, he might never become a famous gay female impersonator.  After that, he always referred to himself as Tom with her.

I was very comfortable with his loving energy, so I allowed him to have more freedom than usual to express himself through me to her. It was tremendous fun and I remember him talking about his weight and how much he liked cake.  He laughed, saying,  "It's the cake that killed me, honey! It's the cake that killed me!!"  He was so expressive that we all had to laugh. "Its true," the lady said, "it was the cake that killed him!"  She spoke of the times when she would try and help him get into the dresses which became harder as he gained weight."  Marti, I and the lady laughed throughout the session as he joked around, and made me do all kinds of crazy, zany things.

What a joy it was for me to meet Charles Peirce, and I was slightly sad when the session ended and we parted ways.  The love that I feel when beautiful souls connect cannot be fully expressed.  I include this letter as it holds many lessons and things to ponder upon.

Also included in the letter is reference to the portrait Marti drew in the session. The drawing and matching photo is included herein.

Dear Michael and Marti,

We all have moments in life when we feel a bit silly; I just had a big one.  The short time we spent together that day at the Mystic Sisters was quite remarkable for me.  I would go so far as to say it was life altering in a very good way.  .........  I was going through a bunch of Mom's papers and pictures the other day, when the photo which I have attached to the email literally jumped from the pile I was moving into my lap.  I had never seen it before and right away I made the connection to the sketch Marti did that day in our session.  The sketch has always been a bit frustrating.  I felt a strange and close familiarity, yet I could not make the connection.  The sketch and the photo are Alice Louise E---, my mentor and best friend who died in 2001.  However the photo had to be taken sometime in the 1950's.  I did not meet Louise until we moved to California in 1975 and she really looked much different.  However, it is clearly obvious in the features and in retrospect; I am mystified as to how I could not have known who the sketch was.  Jeepers!
Louise was actually one of those there with us that day.  I don't know if you will remember, four foot eleven, red nails and Michael did her famous jig to perfection, hands on hips twist and shout, one foot in the air - she was playing cards and the only thing she fibs about is being over five feet tall.  What an absolutely remarkable being.  I miss her so very much.  I met her in 1975 when she was 65 and she was a prominent part of my life until she died at 91.  Her death was the first in what was to be a fairly long string of events which have not turned out the way I perceived they should (Ha! there's a funny one) and to which I am still somewhat struggling to accept and assimilate.  I cannot believe that I could not identify the sketch immediately, I am sorry.  I really do not have any more of an explanation.  I have no doubt regarding your authenticity and I have never had any.  For me, the possibility of questions was eliminated in the first few minutes of our meeting.  There is just no other way for you to have access to that information.  No one else ever knew.
However in all honesty, Carol had a bit of difficulty getting me into the room in the first place.  I have had some very bad previous experiences.  It is a very long history, but the compacted version is: I was up on the short leash of a very unscrupulous and rather well known and very expensive psychic in the Los Angeles area.  I was sent to her by my first ever psychologist when I think I was a bit too much for the psychologist to deal with comfortably.  The dreams, visions and voices that had become problematic to me and which I was not able to shut down any longer were best dealt with she said by being open and honest about them, recording them and yadda yadda.  The results were a bit hard to explain and my psychologist suggested that I really needed someone else, a "Spiritual Counselor," she said.
She had checked with her more "forward thinking colleagues" and had come up with someone who she thought would be "just the right match."
She gave me a referral; I went because I didn't really have any idea of anywhere else to take this stuff which I clearly wasn't dealing with very well.  She "tested" me for several hours during our first meeting and from that point on; we spent a great deal of time together for the next six months.  I thought she was my "spiritual teacher" finally being revealed by the Universe and I somehow walked around my concerns and all the red flags by clinging to the belief that anyone who understood what I was talking about and could walk in that world must certainly be of the light.
She does not have anything to do with the light!

When I actually realized that she was using me and/or "my gifts" to defraud and harm others, I severed the relationship completely, which is a story all its own.  Anyway, I instituted the safeguard that I would have nothing to do with anyone whom I perceived to have "the gift" or with anyone who claimed to have "any gift" if that gift was ever associated with the exchange of money.  I do not believe that to be always a true indicator, but I had no other plan for how to account for my clear inabilities in discernment when it comes to personnel matters.  It is rather ironic and almost comical, for someone who is  a "sensitive" and otherwise painfully perceptive and intuitive.  Strange at least, if I know someone they become to me the someone they could be and I sometimes miss the "who they are" part.  It can be quite problematic, but the truth is, there is a part of me that refuses to give up.  I was rather wobbly already at that point and I was going through a very nasty end of the relationship that I believed would be the one I was always in.  I had several safe places where I could go to be OK when I had to get away.  Mystic Sisters was one of them.  Without ever saying a word related to my specific situation, they did not even know the specifics, the safe haven created by Carol, Tina and Rick became a mainstay in my survival kit.
Also I have located the video of "Thomas" to me alone, aka Charles Pierce, the one and only so perfectly "impersonated" (Ha that one still makes me giggle like a school girl, but I have no idea what to rightly call what happened).  Expression, translation, inhabitation?

That has to be one of the funniest things I have ever or will ever witness, Michael becoming the perfect impersonation of the perfect female impersonator.  I do not know if you remember details of that event, Michael, because I'm not totally sure which of you was in occupation of your body during those moments?  I swear the vocabulary, gestures and even the intonation of the voice was perfect.  Not to mention, how in the world would you have known that I knew Charles Peirce and/or that I called him Thomas, at his suggestion?  Not to mention the other informational points, which I cannot think of a way would be otherwise explainable.  It is another of those unquestionable confirmation moments, just like the dust mop moment.  Anyway, Marti, I bet you remember.  You simply have to see the videotape.  The Michael moments were the off-screen Thomas, but you can't miss the movements and well, you just have to see it.  ........... Oh, and in looking for your information to send you this letter, I came across Michael's notes. "Rob/Bob?? Is on there and I recall not being able to come up with a connection.  Duh! Of course, it is Bob Bearce, Charles'/Thomas' lifelong friend who died shortly before him, in 2001 I guess.  The years are blurry, but the connection is so clear that again, I cannot believe I missed it.  I think I was on total overwhelm about two minutes into our time.

Gee Michael if you still have it in you, you should give your buddies at the shop a sample of your "Thomas". It was so very entertaining.  ;-D Carol is someone very special to me and whom I trust.  Pretty rare stuff in my case and I don't even really know how it happened, just that it did.  While my judgment has at times been called to question, hers has not and she told me a long time ago that she believed that you two were among the 5% of those who claimed to tread in the other world that are, in fact, the real thing.  You have provided a great deal of comfort and support to her through your work.  I am very grateful to you for what you do.  I know in my heart why you do it and am overwhelmed by the significance it can have on people's lives.  I have witnessed Carole's traverse through despair and something close to obliteration and hopelessness in the darkest of moments; back to a balanced, purpose driven and largely joyful and fulfilling life walk.  I have no doubt that she is able to bring hope or joy or compassion to someone's life each day that she continues to show up, just like she did to mine without even knowing it.  I believe that you are part of the reason that is possible.  In my case, I have been given a safe place from which to be comfortable enough to again begin moving forward.  I am still not exactly sure why I remain here and what it is I am supposed to be doing, but at least I am again walking the path, wide awake should any hints get delivered along the way.  Otherwise, it's pretty much one moment at a time, but I'm still walking and you also deserve credit from that account.

Thank you for having the courage to do what you do.

Love and Light


Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Kung Fu Grandpa

Marti and I were part of a two day Mind Body Spirit event once just north of San Diego, California. It was a quiet Sunday morning.  We were sitting at our booth a little bored as there were very few people there yet.  A group of teenagers sauntered by our table, with one of the young men straggling along behind.  He didn't look like he even wanted to be there.  He was just standing there looking around when Marti noticed an emblem on his tee shirt.
"Look at that!" she said to me, pointing out his shirt.  "It looks like the one I drew on the portrait that's in our book." 
We did indeed have a portrait in Marti's portfolio of a man who was never identified; we kept the picture in the book because he looked cool.  I got the young man's attention and asked him over to look at the book.  I told him he looked bored and he might find this interesting.  I flipped through the pages to the picture of the man with the emblem on his shirt.
"Look at that," I said.  "He has almost the identical emblem on his shirt as you do!"
He stared at the picture for a moment, and then almost laughingly said, "He looks like my granddad."
"Really?" I asked.
He then looked harder at the portrait and became more serious, and slightly confused, exclaimed, "That is my Granddad!"
I didn't know what to make of this. I asked him again, "Are you serious?  It really looks like him?"
He looked a little weirded out and said he couldn't understand how a picture of his granddad got into our book!
"Where did you get this picture from?" he asked.
I did remember a few things about this drawing.  It had been drawn at the Masonic Temple in Pasadena at a similar event to this one.  The man it was drawn for didn't recognize the picture, so I queried the deceased guy for some information about himself.  He talked about martial arts.  The guy having the session still didn't recognize the picture.
"My granddad lived in Pasadena all his life - that's where we all grew up!  When he died we held a garage sale and we sold over 100 Kung Fu and martial arts movies of his.  They're the only movies he watched.
He also added that he was a fireman in Pasadena
Marti and I told him that's probably what the flames under the emblem on the drawing meant, which was the only difference between the shirt logos.
I told him that if he had not worn that shirt we wouldn't have said anything to him.
He told us he hadn't worn the shirt in over a year and didn't know why he had put it on that day.  It was very tight on him and it looked like he was wearing his little brother's shirt!
"You know," I said, "your grandfather must have made you put it on and come here today so that you would end up looking at his picture."
He admitted to me that he wasn't keen to be there and that he was just stringing along with his friends.  He then promised to send us a photo of his granddad.  But sadly, he never did.
Marti and I are pretty certain it was his grandfather.  He must have hijacked our session with the guy that sat with us in Pasadena.  This is a rather unusual event and does not happen a lot.  Marti's pictures are usually for the person that sits with us.  I found the phone number of the guy in Pasadena that the picture was drawn for and asked him if he had kept the tape of his session.  He said he hadn't and didn't seem to care about this amazing connection when I told him. He sounded very cynical and perhaps that's why this granddad took over his session, to reach his grandson 2 years later, and over 150 miles away!

Monday, November 21, 2011

Stan the Man

I have a thousand memories like this one.  I came across similar figures to the one shown below in a restaurant one night, they were in the lobby, it turned out they were by the same artist so I got my own, identical hippie, to remember that cool conection with her dad.

A woman sat down with us once holding a figure of a hippie.  I made a comment about it, saying I liked it.  She let me hold him to look at and I sat him on top of my stack of cassette tapes.  I guessed it had some significance, but she said nothing about it and I didn't ask.  Some time into the session, as I was speaking with her father, he starting talking about his condition (I believe he had cancer) and how sick he was in hospital and the pain he was in.  Then he thanked her for the marijuana joints that she gave him to smoke, as it helped ease his pain toward the end.
"That's true!  I gave him joints to smoke.  My dad had never smoked pot in his life," she told me.
If I remember right, it was at that point he made me look at the hippie figure and he said the name Steve.
"That's my dad's name!" she exclaimed.
"But he has an S name, too," I said, motioning to the figure.
"Yes he does," she said.
"That's Stan the Man!" I said.  I think she started crying.
"That's EXACTLY what my my father said!"  She went on to say that her father never liked hippies, so she got the figure as a joke and sat it next to his hospital bed.  She told me that after smoking for a bit he leaned over put the joint in the hippie's fingers, and said, "That's Stan the Man!"

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Then, One Day

My thanks to Dawn and especially Tim for this letter, and for not giving up on Marti's picture.
Hello Michael and Marti,
It's me, Dawn - we spoke on the phone last week on how wonderful our experience was meeting with you both, and I gave an update on finding the person from our sketch
My husband insisted he write the testimonial for you, (remember he was a skeptic - but no more!)  I have attached the photo of 'Melinda' at the bottom.  Melinda is the first lady on the left hand side _ her expression is EXACTLY the same in the sketch!
We really enjoyed our session with you and hope to be able to meet - meet up with you again soon.  You guys are fantastic.
Blessed be,
Dawn :)

When my wife, Dawn, told me that she had made an appointment with Marti and Michael, I thought it would be therapeutic for her and might provide a few chuckles for me.  I was pleasantly surprised when we arrived at their cozy, serene little home in the South Bay, especially because I was picturing a corny old stereotype of a ramshackle gypsy fortune teller's hut.  Michael pegged me for a skeptic right away and I said that maybe he would change my mind.
Now, there are some people out there that I suppose are pretty good guessers.  But when he asked, "Who's Elizabeth?" at the beginning of the session, my interest was definitely piqued.  My mother-in-law had recently passed away and she always called my wife Dawn Elizabeth.  As the session went on, my skepticism was chipped away little by little.  Michael kept asking relevant questions, even though he knew nothing about our lives.
We established that we were, in fact, being visited by Dawn's mom, as well as her dad and brother, all of whom passed away within a few years of each other.  But there was another visitor that neither of us could place.  She said she had died in a car crash and kept showing Michael, San Francisco.  This really meant nothing to us.  And when we looked at the drawing that Marti had made during the session, that didn't make sense either.  It certainly didn't look like anyone we knew.
I left the session convinced that my assumptions  about the universe had been completely wrong, which was actually a nice surprise.  We told our friends and family about the session and how interesting it was but the only disappointment was that the sketch made no sense.  Dawn sent a copy of it to her sister; Tina and she really didn't know who it was either. 
(Here comes the "then one day...." part.)
Then, one day, Tina was going through some old photos that her mom had left behind.  She found one of her mom Louise, with her aunt Pat and an unidentified third girl.  The resemblance to the girl in the sketch was pretty close!  So, without telling her why, she sent the photo to her cousin in New Hampshire and asked her to show it to her mom, Pat.  (By the way Pat was one of the names that came up during our session.)  Pat identified the unknown girl as Melinda and went on to add that she had tragically died in a car crash a long time ago.  She had been driving from San Francisco to the Mojave Desert to visit her sister, Louise!
So our little session with a medium that I thought was going to be just for laughs, turned out to be a life-changing experience.  I am comforted to know that the loved ones we have lost continue to live on, albeit on an entirely different plane.  And now if anyone asks me if I believe in the after-life I'll be sure to answer, "Absolutely!"

Friday, November 18, 2011


Here are two letters from the same woman about her son and the sessions we had with him from the other side.  Just a note:  Marti finds drawing children more challenging than adults.  Children change so much from day to day and photo to photo.

Dear Michael & Marti,

Here is the picture I promised to show you for the book.  I found the photograph about one month after the reading.  I was looking through my son's photos in general, and have seen this one many times.  It didn't strike me at first that it matched Marti's drawing.  What caught my eye was something in the picture that I never noticed before.  If you look toward the back of the photo on the left side, you see some shoes that kind of glow in the dark.  I never noticed that before in the photo.  Those shoes that are glowing belonged to Kobe's grandpa.  They were very close, as a matter of fact, Kobe was the first and only grandchild to them, (they never thought they would see the day they had a grandchild).  My son, Kobe, absolutely adored  shoes, any kind of shoes, whether they belonged to him or not, he loved shoes!!!
I find it strange yet interesting that the photo, that I have seen many times, didn't click as to knowing that this was the photo that matched the drawing exactly, that is until I saw the glowing shoes.  I think it was Kobe's way of getting my attention.  Look at the photo and drawing and you will notice the same shirt (one of his favorites) and the pose are identical, so is the demeanor.  Even though it does not have his exact likeness, (he is part Asian, part Caucasian) it does reflect his exact spirit.  I can see it in his eyes, and I am convinced it is him.  Thank you for bringing my precious son back to me in the reading.  I love him with all my heart, and it meant so much to me to have this drawing capture him.

Hello again this is Mellinda (Kobe's mom).  My daughter and husband were with me at my last reading with you about 2-3 months ago.  Michael asked me during the reading if I knew a person by the name of Joan.  I told him my next door neighbor was Joan.  Kobe passed away before ever meeting her.  Well, she passed away last week, and as I was driving to the funeral I remembered that part of the reading.  Can he also see into the future as far as who is about to pass away?  I was kind of tripping out over the irony of that situation.
The last thing I wanted to tell you, that is questionable yet amazing....the reading we had with you two readings ago, Kobe mentioned there would be another baby for us this year.  I remember thinking that if I was not pregnant by Feb-March, that Kobe was wrong. 
Well listen to this.....Easter morning I was missing Kobe and crying a lot so I decided to go buy a paper and read it.  While reading the paper I looked at the job classified section ( I was a striking grocery worker ) and I saw an ad to become a foster parent.....( wait it gets better ).  I got onto the web site to look into being a foster parent and I saw links for international adoption and began to check it out.  (Ever since I was young I wanted to adopt a child from a poor country and give them a better life in the U.S.)  That dream was buried and forgotten until about one month before Kobe got ill and passed away.  A friend was telling me about his sister's adoption adventure with her new daughter from China.....I remember thinking, I wish I could do that but.....can't do it now because of already having two children and a mortgage and so forth.  I checked out the website for adoption and looked through hundreds of available children.  But one boy grabbed my heart and hasn't given it back since.  His name is Earisil from the country of Kazakhstan, and we are now in the process of adopting HIM.  If all goes well he will be home for Christmas with his new family.  Other strange facts about this are: when I called to find out about him, he is 1/2 Asian & 1/2 Caucasian, just like my husband and myself.  His birthday is one day before Kobe's and by the time we bring him home he will be close to Kobe's age around the time he passed away.  I just wanted to let you both know that I enjoy your readings/pictures and hold them close to my heart.  I speak of the readings often to many people hoping it will help others as it has helped me

Janet's childhood revisited

This letter was kindly sent from Janet

My personal story with Michael and Marti was when I attended a group session one night at a new age store called The Path.  I hadn't met either one of them before, so we definitely didn't know anything about each other.  Michael turned to me during the session and said there was a father figure in spirit standing next to me holding his hands over his lung area, which was black, indicating a lung disease of some kind, (my father died of T.B.).  Then to top it off, he sad this man's name is David, (my father's name was David). 
Then twenty minutes later he turned to me again and said a tall nun in an old-fashioned habit was standing next to me smiling down at me.  She told Michael she wanted forgiveness for cruelty she had done to me as a child.  When I was four years old I was in a convent in England.  There was a nun who was very nasty to me all the time.  Michael said she called me Claire, (my name used to be Janet Claire!)  Michael was correct in both cases and gave me a sense of my father, since he died when I was two years old and I never knew him.  Also, I felt the closure of a painful period in my in my young life with the nuns, something that I felt was very important for me
I didn't receive one of your wonderful portraits that night, but I hope my story helps you with your book in some small way.
Love and light,
Janet Hastings


The following are two letters about a portrait drawn by Marti in a group session.  The first is from Susan, the lady that attended the session and the second is from her step-daughter, Tania.

Dear Marti     
       Attached is a copy of a picture of my ex mother in law who I believe is the person you drew when I was at your session at the Mystic Sisters book store, in Monrovia, California on Nov 7th, 2003.
It comes with an interesting story.
I have a step daughter who was very close to me when she was growing up.  I had not seen her in 14 years.  She is now 34.  My ex-husband and I raised her from the age of 15-18.  I've known her since she was ten.  She is a delightful girl and now a delightful young woman. 
She called me out of the blue two months ago from Florida where she lives.  We enjoyed each other's conversations, as always, but seemed our talks would drift to the subject of the 'other side'. 
Tania, my stepdaughter, always knew that I was very open to such things.  During our wonderful reunion, Tania revealed to me that she was having unhappy times in her life.  She told me that she cried a lot.  I offered her my love and understanding.  I did all a step-mother could do from such a large distance away.  She had no brothers or sisters except my children, who were in California, and had also lost touch with her
       Shortly after one of our most intimate talks on the phone, I went to see you and Michael on November 7th 2003...My brother's birthday.  (He died February 7th, 2000.)  I received a wonderful reading, but at the end of the reading Michael brought a sketch of a woman to me that you had draw during the session.  He said, "The name is Oliver, Ollie?"  I took one look at the picture and knew it was Otillie Hannon, my ex-husband's mother, Tania's grandmother.  She sent no message with Michael; it seems she simply posed for the picture.
       The next morning I called Tania and told her to give your office a few days to post the picture on the website and then to log on to so she could see Grandma Otillie for herself.  When she did this, she just wanted to cry.  Later, she sent me the picture attached to send to you so we could claim her.  The interesting thing about the attached picture is that Tania's grandmother is holding her, and in this time in her life, Tania needed to be held by her grandmother.  She needed to find the old picture to understand her message.  A picture is worth a thousand words.  More than any words Grandma Otillie could have ever said during the session.  Tania now believes that Granmom is still holding her even from the other side.
                                                            Thank you Susan

Hi.  My step mom came to see you November 7th and you drew a picture of my Grandmother, Otillie.
I live in Florida, and when I was shown this picture, I went through my photo albums and found the exact match for what you drew.  The picture I found is my Grandmother holding me when I was a baby.
I have been feeling very alone lately and I asked for anyone that was watching over me to let me know that I m not alone.  I guess this is all the proof I need. 
                                                           Thank you Tania

I have video footage of the group session that Susan attended and Susan's reaction to the drawing which I will try to include here at some point.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

The Osama Bin Ladin Assasination

I was not sure whether to make this story public, but I have decided to post it out of a desire to get people to take our work more seriously.  I ran this story by the below mentioned FBI agent and his wife before publishing it.  Our thanks to them for their help.
A married couple came to our home for a private meeting, and unbeknown to me they had come primarily hoping to connect with their child who had died very young, which I'm glad to say happened and I believe brought comfort to them.   Later on during the session, one of the things I asked the people in spirit was, "What does this guy do for a living?" 
"He's like a cop," they said.
"Are you a cop?" I asked the client.
"No.... close though," he replied.  "I'm an FBI agent."
Marti drew a portrait of an Asian man.  I joked that it didn't look like any of his relatives, (they were both Caucasian).  I also said he was connected to his work, that he knew him and that he had been in prison, where he eventually died
"I work with the Asian mafia," he said, "and he looks like a guy I knew in prison that I got to know quite well.  I liked him and was trying to help him, but he died in prison."
"His name is Chang," I said.
"Yes that's the name of the guy I thought it was," he said.
There was also information given in their private session, about a living person called Bob, who I was told would soon pass over, and did in fact cross a few weeks later 
Then some weeks later......on Tuesday, April 26th, 2011. Marti and I were doing a phone session with a lady, when FDR, Jack and Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King appeared to me.  I was not too surprised, as I had spoken with them all, except Dr. King, on other occasions.  I asked them why they were all in front of me and they told me that there would be an assassination to do with President Obama. 
"When?" I asked. 
"Very soon, about a week," they responded.
I was somewhat taken aback, but I took what they said seriously.  When the session ended, I thought, "I can't just sit here and do nothing!"   I thought hard, trying to think of someone I could tell this to whom would not only believe me, but who might be able to do something about it. 
A man came to mind, the FBI agent that had recently come to see us with his wife.  I knew he was a skeptic to begin with, but apparently not any more, according to his wife.
I found their phone number and called them.  I explained why I was calling them and he agreed to do a phone session with me the next day, Wednesday, April 27th.  I wanted to see if I could get an exact time, date, and place, etc.
The session went very well.  The spirit people spoke clearly stating that the assassination would take place on Sunday, May 1st, between 3 and 3:30 by a single shooter!
The agent was true to his word, and passed on the information to a friend of his in the Secret Service, who in turn apparently passed it on to those who protect the President.
Well....... Sunday came around, and the rest is history, as they say!
Osama Bin Ladin was killed Sunday, May 1st, shortly after 3pm, Washington, DC time.
One thing that came to light from information discovered in the compound was that Bin Ladin was planning to try to kill President Obama on September 11th, 2011, which also fell on a Sunday!
I thought a lot about this event, especially the similarity of the names, had they meant Osama and not Obama, did I hear wrong?  Who would have believed...that Obama would get Osama!!
One thing I will also include from our phone session was that the location for the assassination seemed to take place in what at first I thought was a hotel.  I was looking on Google Earth while we were speaking and what I never voiced, but was thinking, was that the President's bodyguards would have him staying in a small private residence with a high wall around it.  I even looked at some large private residences.  I gave up after a while and I now know why.  I was looking in entirely the wrong location on the map, which was due to a misunderstanding on my part.
The agent told me that his friend in the Secret Service was very impressed with the accuracy of the information and that I might even get a visit from them, but of course if they did, and I told any of you, I would have to kill you!.......Just kidding.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Closure, long overdue

I want to thank John for writing this letter, and saying I could share his story

Dear Michael and Marti:
                My name is John Bishop, my wife Marsha, sister Margo, and I met you at your friend's trailer house in Phoenix this last may.  If you'll remember, my wife had met you before in CA.  With a different sister, and was wanting to contact her mother, I was just along for support. 
Some time after the reading began we all realized that I was there for other reasons as well, I'm the guy that was in the motorcycle wreck 18 yrs ago that killed a young boy pedestrian.  You thought the name of the person was Dan or Daniel that was trying to come through, and later I realized it must be Don, Donald was his full name. 
I believe you'll remember this, being it was just this may, and also how emotional (hard) it was for me to bring it all back up again.  At the end of the reading, you gave me two messages from don, asking me to contact his mother again, and tell her he was fine and that he loved her, and to put this behind me once and for all.  Those messages are why I'm writing tonight.

This happened in Colorado Springs back in 1985.  I moved to Phoenix not long after the wreck, and about 8 years ago called Don's mother.  I had wanted to do this for years, but had signed agreements with the insurance company stating that I would never contact them.  As the phone call ended, she asked that the next time I was back in the Springs, to please call here so that we could meet face to face. I told her I would, but never found the courage to do that the two times I have been back since.  The message you gave me from Don, reminded me that this is something that was long over due, and as it happens I was going to be there this month.  I did go up there about five weeks ago, planning on calling her.  I put it off and put it off, and let the clock run out on time without ever calling her.  On my way out of town, I got hurt in a freak accident, had to leave all my stuff there and fly home for emergency surgery.  This of course meant that I had to go back and get the stuff, giving me more time.  I still put it off till the last minute, but the day before I left I called and left a message on a machine that I was in town and would meet with her if she still wanted to. 
The story takes on yet another twist.
After hearing nothing all day long, I said to myself I called, I tied, now I can go home.  A little after six PM, My cell phone rang.  It was Don's dad whom I had never spoken to, calling to say his wife had died over a year ago.  I had heard from his wife as well as other outsiders that he had a major problem with me, and that us talking might be very difficult.  My heart fell again, realizing that I had promised to meet his wife, had been home two different times, and now lost my chance to keep my promise.  I told him of meeting you, and the message from Don to get in touch with his mother and send his love.  Honestly, at this point I was angry.  I had never really believed in this type of thing prior to meeting you, and at this point was wondering why I was asked to contact someone that was already passed.
I shared this with him as it was racing through my mind, and now the story takes yet another twist again. He said that he would like to meet me, and would I be willing to meet him at the grave site right now.  I agreed, dropped what I was doing and drove there to meet him.  We spent an hour or so talking, sharing stories, and just getting to know each other.  It was the most healing thing I have ever done with regard to this piece of my past.  As we were about to part ways, he said he had been thinking of Don's message on the drive over, and this is what he thought.  He said you had been close in the name Dan not Don, and maybe you had gotten the message wrong, tell dad I'm fine and that I love him, not his mom.  He seemed to really believe that the message was for him, and seamed to get a great deal of comfort from it as well.  We parted more than friends I feel, and for me, I think that finally I may be able to close the book on this part of my past.  He asked if we could stay in touch, and I said yes.
I have a different read on Don's message now.  I think he knew how worried about meeting his father I was.  I think he knew that I would not follow through with his wish if he asked that I meet his dad.  I think for my own good he tricked me, knowing that if the two of us could just meet, it would all work out for the best, and I feel without a doubt that it has done just that.
I do feel that I can finally put this behind me once and for all, which if you remember , was the other message Don asked of me.  I"m so thankful to the two of you, thank you very much......


Dear Michael and Marti,
                             This is so long past due to share with everyone out there!  So all who are reading please know that Michael and Marti are doing a glorious service in connecting us with our loved ones, and educating us at the same time about things we need to know.
You never know when a message is going to change your life.  It may not be immediate, it may not be in a months time, for me it happened almost a year later.  So I will begin......

    I met Michael and Marti at the Spokane Expo 2002.  I was a vendor selling goods, and on one of my breaks I had come by to see all the other vendors and Readers and came upon Michael and Marti.  I had seen what they were doing, and watched  and listened and felt like if I wanted a reading from anyone here, this is where I would go.  So I signed up to be the last person of the night.
Long story short-I had had a brother that had come through that had committed suicide 21yrs ago.
Everything Michael said was so accurate.  Names, dates, the way he died...everything.  Then there was the drawing of my father (who had passed) that Marti drew...Incredible!
The reading really took me by surprise!  What had come back full circle was the very first sentence that Michael had said coming from my brother....
David, David, David.... He keeps saying David, "do you know anyone named David?" at the time it was just a family name that we all liked. 
Well it was more than that.  A year later......I get an Email from someone trying to locate me and my family, and especially my brother who had passed.  It seems as though my brother in his high school days (1973) had gotten a girl pregnant, and the baby was born at only 23 weeks and maneged to survive a botched up abortion. 
I know Incredible! the secret was out when this boy reached 12 yrs old, and now him being married with children, was trying to locate a father who had passed-and you guessed it, his name is "David!" 
So I had the unpleasantness of sharing the news to a nephew that I had never met, about the passing of his father, and helping a human being put closure to a life long search for a family he spent years trying to find.
But on the other hand it brought me great joy to share information, and photos with the only connection we have to my brother who had passed.  The resemblances are incredible, the voice, the laugh, even the same job, personality and interests.
Life is funny that way.  We are so grateful to Michael and Marti and their gift from god to see, hear, share and draw their messages.
So many lives have been blessed and touched, and our lives will never be the same.  So listen to your tapes and be patient, you may get the surprise of your life.  Spread the word and have people come to see Michael and Marti to have a reading done, the messages are sooo worth it!  God bless you both

Karen Charves

The Toaster

In the fall of 2002, I had a "reading," with Michael and Marti at my friends house.  During the Reading, Michael asked me "if my toaster had just died?"  He said that my Grandmother, who was coming through, was telling him that this had just happened.  I Could Not Believe that he was mentioning this to me.  In fact my toaster had just "died," a week before.  It did not catch fire but merely just stopped!  It had been on my mind, I was bothered by it.
The toaster had been a wedding gift, and would not be inexpensive to replace.  It would cost $49.99 to purchase the exact model.  In the interim I had purchased a inexpensive replacement that was by all accounts, horrible.
It burned every slice of toast no matter what I did.  It was flimsy, and moved across the counter, as it was too lightweight.
I really wanted to replace it with the $49.99 toaster that had originally been given as a wedding gift.

I drove home after the reading wondering, "How did he know about the toaster?"

A few days later I drove into the parking lot at work.  I decided, (who knows why,) to park in a different location than I normally did.  As I opened the door and stepped down, there was a $50 dollar bill under my foot!!  No one was Anywhere near me, no cars, no people!  I know that my grandmother sent the money to me to replace that toaster.......she even got the price right!

That evening after work, I went to the store and promptly bought the new proper toaster!!!

Monday, November 14, 2011

Alan's hand in thing's

I have included this letter because it conveys things that I either cannot remember, or I have never heard, and quite frankly could not write any better.

I have been walking in a numbing fog since the death of my husband, life partner of nearly forty years, and spectacular father to our daughter, Samara, for Thirty six of those years.  Just how does one deal with the profoundly deep level of pain and shock that this traumatic event brings, when each day together had been better than the last?  How do you go on when his Yang no longer balances your Yin, your tick no longer hears his tock and every "lub" of your heart desperately seeks his "dub?"  How do you go on when each new day means waking up to the same nightmare?

I have listened (though sometimes not to well) to my Guides on the Other Side for almost as long as I can remember.  I was formally "introduced" to them during a session back east with a medium who channeled several, so it was not that unusual for me to recognize that someone wanted my attention!  Over the years I had gone into the local New Age shop the (Mystic Sisters in Monrovia, California) a few times, but this was different...I was drawn to not only the shop, but to the rack displaying the events they were hosting...three times .  And each time I picked up the same flyer...and only that flyer.  It described what appeared to be a book discussion led by Michael and Marti (we later learned this was the only way it could be advertised in this town).  I could not imagine why I was being led to this flyer, but the third attempt worked and I finally said to those voices in my head, "fine, if I sign up will you stop bugging me?!"  I called my daughter and told her to mark the date on her calender as I'd made reservations for both of us...she agreed, but thought it was a very strange thing to do...neither of us had read the "book" (there isn't one yet!) mentioned and did not have any desire to sit through the discussion!  Nonetheless, the night came and went...not having any idea of what was to unfold.  And what unfolded was nothing short of the most amazing, most perfectly wonderful evening possible...under these circumstances.

Alan, always the loving clown, came through immediately and conveyed such strong, specific evidential messages for over an hour that there could be absolutely no doubt that it was he who was speaking.  For both my daughter and for me, having confirmation of this continuation of being and the unbroken chain of love between this side and the other has allowed us to hold on, to gather strength and to get through our days.  And although the loss of the physical remains terribly difficult to deal with, knowing (not just believing, but knowing)  that we remain connected...that he is still here, makes all the difference.  What a gift.

Two months later Michael and Marti returned to the same shop in Monrovia.  This time we eagerly signed up and brought several friends, one of whom had lost her baby daughter to SIDS.  This evening the first spirit through was our friends daughter, followed by many others who reassured those left behind that life truly does go on when we leave the physical plane, and that they are still connected to us, though a thin Vail blocks our view.  Although I felt Alan's presence in the room that evening, he did not speak directly to Michael...but he did to Marti!!  When Michael held up one of Marti's drawings, he was directed to the area we were sitting.  The portrait was of a man, and separately drawn near the portrait was a closed hand.  Michael continued to explain that there were actually two men talking to him about the picture, one of whom was a pilot in the Second World War whose name began with an "A."  My husbands father, Aaron was a WWII pilot, but the portrait did not look like Aaron.  The other man speaking to Michael, George, was the main subject of  Marti's portrait.  George was my father, who I did not recognize at first without his glasses...but whose hand?  The picture still did not make sense as we initially thought the hand was connected to the face, so Samara asked.  Marti's response was, "No, it is definitely not connected to the person she'd drawn."  Now the picture made perfect sense-the hand belonged to Alan!  At the mortuary, after Alan crossed over, we made plaster casts of his hands...needing to be able to hold them forever.  The picture that Marti drew was one of the plaster casts...down to the small notch in his index finger from a table saw accident many years prior!  Michael said that Alan "stuck his hand into the picture at the last minute" to make sure we knew he was there, even though he left the speaking to others on this evening!

Since then we have had a number of private sessions, where even more deeper levels of connection and understanding have unfolded, and other group sessions...with more drawings and messages of love.  Samara and I have also had many pieces of physical evidence provided to that only Alan would know to leave in our that have been confirmed by messages conveyed through Michael and by Marti's remarkable drawings.  Our own bond and ability to communicate directly with the other side grows stronger each day as we learn to listen more carefully and watch for physical evidence.  It is truly an amazing experience when you step into this place where the only thing you can believe is what once was the unbelievable... 

Sunday, November 13, 2011

The toupee

There are many hilariously funny moments that come up in the work we do.  This is one of them.
We were doing a series of private sessions at a friend's home, and at the end of one, Marti showed the portrait she had done to the client.  She had draw him with all of his teeth showing, as if he was laughing out loud.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "that's my deceased uncle, the one Michael was just speaking with."
Marti responded, "I had trouble with the hair. First I drew hair on him, but ended up erasing most of it."
The woman started laughing.  "He never had hair, as long as I knew him.  He died when I was twelve years old and at his funeral my two cousins and I were sent up to the coffin to say our last goodbyes.  We were surprised to see he had a wig on. We all thought it looked so funny we began trying to blow it off!  We were laughing hysterically and tears were streaming down our faces.  Our parents, thinking we were upset and crying, came up to get us!
We understood then why Marti had such difficulty with the hair and drew him laughing. I told the lady that her uncle was at the funeral and saw the whole thing.  He thought it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen!

Thursday, November 10, 2011

The American Indian and the Vietnam Vet

Years ago, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, sitting in the lobby of the Masonic Temple in Lomita, California, a middle-aged Hispanic guy comes in and sits down across from me.  In the small cozy room, he says nothing.  Time passed, so I broke the silence.  "Hi!  Are you waiting to see Doris?" I asked him.  (Doris was the head of the small church that we were part of which sponsored the bi-weekly psychic fair that we were participating in.)
"Yes," he said.
"Did your mom tell you to come see her?" I asked.
"Yeah, my Mom told me come."  He seemed a slightly embarrassed; apparently when his mom tells him go see Doris, he does.
Suddenly, I saw a large, well-built man standing next to him.  He was a Native American Indian, about six-foot-six inches tall with short hair, wearing a GI outfit.
A little surprised by the sudden appearance of this spirit, and not sure yet if he was connected to the Hispanic guy, I asked, "Were you ever in the military?"
"Uh huh," he replied.
"Were you in Vietnam?" I asked.
"Yes, I was," he acknowledged.
I was a little hesitant to tell him who I could see.  I don't know why.
"You must have lost a lot of friends out there," I said.  Somehow I knew he had seen intense action.
He was thoughtful for a moment, then said, "We went into a valley once:  over four hundred of us and only eight came out alive."
The spirit man was still standing next to him, as clear as day, so I decided to tell him who I was seeing.  I described him and told him he was showering him with love.
"He died in my arms," came the reply.
I could feel myself choking with emotion. "You know he's a big, gentle giant of a man. He wouldn't hurt a fly!"
"That's him.  That's what he was like," he said, deep in thought.
"I have to tell you that the love coming to you from him is so much more than that.  He is pouring love into you!"
He responded, "Well, when I came home, I went to visit his mother. I ended up adopting his daughter and raised her as my own."
I think that's when I nearly lost it emotionally.  We sat in silence for a few minutes and then it was his time to go in and have his reading with Doris.

Nearly Hung

A nice woman that we had seen a couple of times before came to see us for another session.   She looked to be in her mid fifties, intelligent, well dressed, and carrying her small dog in her handbag, his cute little face poking out.
The lady's husband was deceased and I had spoken with him before.
I felt that her husband was present in the room, so we got started.  He spoke to her for a while, then revealed why he had taken his own life.  I knew he had done this, but he hadn't explained why during previous sessions.  This had remained a big question for her and was finally answered.  As her husband continued speaking to her, I noticed the lady's mother and father in the room as well, who to the best of my recollection, I had never spoken with. 
There was also another man present in a German uniform, but I said nothing about him, a little unsure who he was.
That's when I said. "They are saying something about someone being nearly hung!"  She didn't respond. 
A bit perplexed, I asked? "Do you understand this?"
There was a slight pause. "Yes!" she replied.
I still didn't understand, so I gently asked, "Would you explain it to me?"
She looked at me. "I was nearly hung!" she replied, pausing for a moment then continuing. "I was in a concentration camp for about two years.  I was about five years old.  One day I was in a line with other children, and they were hanging us one at a time. It got to my turn and I said to the German officer:  'If you were to hang me from a skinny branch on that tree over there, it would probably break and I'd fall to the ground and I'd be alright, and you'd be alright too, because no one could blame you because the tree broke, so we'd both be alright!'  He looked down at me and said, 'Get out of here!'  I did."
I was almost speechless.  Now I knew who had said that to me.  I struggled emotionally for a few minutes unsure whether to tell her that the German officer was present.
When I finally I told her, she erupted in anger, all her pain welling up. "I hope he rots in hell!" she yelled, unable to understand why he was present. "They killed my entire family, everyone!"
I could feel the German officer was trying to help her, perhaps attempting some atonement for his deeds. She might have asked me why he was there and what he wanted, but I can't quite recall.
You could have cut the air with a knife at that moment.
I was, myself, feeling intense emotion, so I let myself be guided. "You know, I can't even imagine what you have been through," I said.  "All I can tell you is that he is going around trying to make amends for the things he did."
"I don't care!"  she responded.
Needless to say this was very intense.  I took a deep breath as spirit tried another approach. "You know, in a strange way he saved your life, as well as whomever it was that put it in your head to say what you said to him."  I don't remember if she responded.
I knew the spirit people were trying to get her to let go of her anger.  After awhile, I told her that her mother was present.  But how could I prove it?  That was tough, because she was so small when they were separated.  I asked "Is there anything you know about your mother that she could say to you to let you know that it's her?"
She thought for a few moments.  "Yes, ask my mother if the name I have now was given to me by the woman that raised me or by her."
I told her that her mother had named her.
"That's right," she said.
We saw this lady once more, I think, and she seemed different; more peaceful.
A long time after our last meeting with her we were holding a group session at the same location.  Marti drew a portrait of a lady.  When I looked at it, I recognized her as our client who had been in the concentration camp.  Marti looked at the picture and agreed with me.
We had the thought that she might have die.  So the next day I found her number and gave her a call.  I got hold of her.  Relieve she was alive, we explained the picture and that we were wondering if she was alright.  She informed me she had been diagnosed with breast cancer.  I told her I believed the portrait was drawn by her unseen family, who were aware of her situation.
"Oh well, if I die, I will be with my husband!" she stated, almost sounding resolved to it.
We talked some more.  She sounded different to Marti and me; lighter somehow.  We said our goodbyes and wished her well.  We have not seen her since.
If she has crossed over, I know she is reunited with her family.

Monday, November 7, 2011

John Wayne Part 1

I have always liked John Wayne; I have watched most of his movies since I was a kid.
So, to have met and conversed with him numerous times since he crossed over, has been a privilege.
Our first encounter was, as usual, completely unexpected.
We had arrived one evening for our group event at a place in Fullerton, California, where we had previously held a number of group events with small audiences.  The groups were usually somewhere about fifteen to twenty people, but that night, as people began arriving I had to keep getting more and more chairs out. I commented to Marti, "This is weird! Something special must be going to happen."  We ended up with thirty-six - a lot for that location back then.
The evening went very well.  It was getting late and I saw a spirit standing next to a man in the front row. I thought it was his father.  I felt a man connect with me and as I looked down at myself I was dressed as a cowboy! I assumed this was the man’s father, standing in me! 
Looking down at the cowboy boots on my feet I said, "Your father wears cowboy boots?" 
"Um, well, sometimes," replied the man.
Feeling a hat on my head, I asked,  "He wears a cowboy hat? 
"No, not really.  He might have on a few occasions," was the reply.
I could feel myself getting a bit frustrated.  I felt guns in a holster around my waist.
"He had colt forty-five's, didn't he?"
"No, he had some guns though."
"Are you sure?"  I asked him.  "These are like gunslinger guns."
"No," he responded.  "He never had guns like that."
I said a couple more things that he didn't seem to understand and my frustration meter was going way up. I knew I was right with what I was getting, but it wasn't making any sense to him.
It was at that point that John Wayne stood behind him, but I was hesitant to say he was standing there.  How could I prove that!  So I said, "Well, your dad likes John Wayne, doesn't he!?"
"Oh, yeah," he said. "He loved John Wayne and had every movie he ever made!"
But things still weren't jelling for me. Marti knew how exasperated I really was and piped in, "Maybe he met him over there." The man liked that idea. 
It was at that point that I decided - what the heck!  So I just told everyone that John Wayne was standing right back of him, not caring whether anyone believed me or not. 
"Well he must have, because John Wayne is standing right there!"  I said motioning to where he stood, not expecting anyone at all to personally know him.
There were two women sitting behind the man that I had been addressing and one began digging the other with her elbow, and poking her until she finally raised her hand and said:  "John Wayne is my uncle!"
You can just imagine the thoughts that went through my mind!
All I can remember of the conversation between John and his neice is one thing.  John mentioned a special picture of himself that they had.  He made me strike a pose holding a rifle.
"It's like this," I said.
"That’s the picture which hangs above the fireplace in the family room," she replied.
I know I said more to her, but I can't recall because it was years ago.
In case you’re wondering why I don't remember much, it's because, sadly, I can't find the video recording we made that evening.
His niece simply left afterword without saying a word to us and we've never seen her since.
As Marti and I were driving home, we discussed the night and a lot of things suddenly fell into place. During the evening, a spirit called "Duke" wanted to be heard and someone claimed him, also there was a Texas Ranger - same thing, someone claimed him.  There was a bomber commander, a squadron leader and everything fit for the different people that were receiving messages.
But, to us upon reflection, even though these other spirits were real, it was almost like they were characters from John Wayne movies!  Kind of like John was making cameo appearances.
There was also this persistent spirit lady called Rose, who I could not place.
The next day I was still abuzz and called a friend of ours, who lived at a spiritualist community.
"You’ll never believe who showed up last night," I said.
"Oh who?" he responded.
"John Wayne"
"Wow!" he exclaimed, then listened while I filled him in on the evenings happenings.  Then he told me that John Wayne used to go see a medium called Rose.
Incredulously, I asked, "Seriously?"
"Yeah, she died a couple of months ago," he said.
Now I knew who Rose was!  Because this was the same Rose who we had met at a spiritualist center and had tested our abilities to see if we were real.  This was the first I’d heard of her death or her connection with John Wayne.  The last time we talked with her she was not in good health, but she told us she would try to help us. I thought that was sweet of her, but didn't see how she could really do much.
Boy, was I wrong! I figured she hooked up with John Wayne and they came together to help orchestrate the evening
A word about Rose:  we didn't know her personally, we met her when we decided to share our abilities with a spiritualist community and they wanted Rose to check us out before we could work there.
When we met Rose, we went in, sat down and did our thing.  She said nothing the whole time.  I described a man who called himself Albert, who didn't say a great deal, but did go on about "hedge".
"Perhaps it's a name or something about hedges," I told her.
"Well, is that it?" she asked, in a very abrupt manner.
"That's all I get from him," I said.
Marti then handed her the portrait she had drawn.  She looked at it, and said, matter of factly, "That's Albert.  He was my next door neighbor. When I was about six years old, Albert trimmed the hedges into a castle for me to play in.  Rose must have been in her seventies, when we met her. When we were done she just picked up the phone, called someone on the other end of the line, and said:  "Better than average.  Put them to work!"
We went there every month for a couple of years for their psychic fair.

Another time I met John Wayne was at our home.  A mother and daughter came to see us.  Half way through their session, a man appeared to me.  I asked him his name?
"I go by Wayne," he replied.
“Do you know a man called Wayne?” I asked them. 
They looked at each other shaking their heads.  "No!" they responded.
"Hum," I thought to myself.  "I know a Wayne."
I squinted, looking harder at the spirit man and asked, "Are you John Wayne?  Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me," he replied.
"Wow!" I said aloud.  "It's John Wayne.  Do you know him?"
The mother began chuckling with laughter.  "No," she managed to say.
"Then what's so funny?" I asked.
"My son wouldn't come with us today.  He's a big skeptic.  He went on and on about how you were a couple of scam artists doing cold readings.  I didn't listen to him, but as we left our house he exclaimed, "Oh yeah!  Well, if they're the real deal, John Wayne will show up!"
John then proceeded to name her son and talk about him, giving him some friendly advice before saying goodbye and leaving.
I said to Marti, "Wouldn't you like to be a fly on the wall and see her son’s face when she plays the tape to him?!"

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Leon Leonel October 29 2011

We held a group session at Santa Barbara, California. One of Marti's pictures drawn was of a Hispanic man.  When I showed the picture to the audience, no one recognized him.
I asked the spirit for evidence of who he was.  I felt him present and he began speaking to me, telling me he was killed by a large semi truck, which had crossed a four lane highway, struck a car and killed him.
Almost all the people in the room began to realize who he might be.  They remembered an accident over a year earlier involving a truck, hauling two trailers full of gravel which after losing its brakes and crossing a four lane highway, plowed into a house at the back of a motel.  It killed a man, his wife and son in the house.  The truck driver survived.
No one in the room knew what the man who died looked like, so it was impossible to say if he was the man in the picture I was holding.
The next day, our friend Linda, who had been at the meeting, went to the motel hoping to find the owner.  Luckily, the assistant manager was there.  She spoke with him about the accident and the man that had died.  He told her he knew the man who was killed so then our friend produced the portrait Marti had drawn. Without hesitation, he immediately responded, "That's him!"  The name of the man that was killed was Leon Leonel.
They talked some more.  He told her he would have died too, if the truck had not swerved the way it did.  Then he took her back to where the house used to be and showed her where the body of Leon and the young boy were found.
Linda noticed that, strangely, a tall weed was growing in the spot where Leon died.  Another plant marked the spot where the boy had died along with his mother.  The rest of the land was barren.
The motel is scheduled to be torn down and a hotel built there, but there is a large oak tree which will be left with a special memorial plaque to the family.
We were able to go on the Internet when we arrived home, finding out about this terrible tragedy.  Marti searched the web sites, but found no pictures of Leon Leonel.
Oddly, we had driven right past the motel to get to the house where the meeting was held.  Marti told me she remembered looking at the name for some reason:  Hope Motel.
It is my hope that Leon succeeds in reaching out to those affected by this tragedy.  I did feel that he had forgiveness for the driver of the truck.