I've had a number of profound or unusual moments in my life. One of which happened when I was working at a Diamond Tooling Factory. I was about 20 at the time.
I had recently read a book called Autobiography of a yogi as well as a book called Illusions by Richard Bach. I was also using the I Ching. I used it every day. I carried it everywhere with me. I was focused intently on penetrating the seeming reality of life. Trying hard to reach a state of pure perception.
I was sitting outside the back of the factory taking my lunch break. It was pretty quite back there as I sat in a state of contemplation looking across to the railway station about 50 yards away. It was a perfect summers day, warm with virtually no wind at all. I observed a large gas filled Balloon with string attached that some child had probably let go, move very very slowly over the roof of the station from left to right, and move down and hover motionless for some time above the Station platform.
A thought came to me that it would be really cool if it came over to me so that I could capture it. Suddenly the Balloon began to move up and over the high wire fence and gently bound strait towards me several feet above the old abandoned railway tracks, not deviating at all lifting up over the factory fence and on toward me until it stopped and sat motionless above my head the string dangling inches away. How cool I thought in amazement. Then I desired that it go up into the sky so I pointed at it saying go up. The balloon began to ascend into the sky going higher and higher and Higher still no wind to speak of. The balloon directly went up, so high I lost sight of it!
The work bell sounded a few minutes later for the end of lunch break and I came in feeling a sense of elation. One of my work mates came over to me and quietly said. "I saw that!" and went off to carry on working. Unbeknownst to me he had been sitting round the corner outside, when I had assumed I was alone.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
Little girl
We were out of state some years ago and were doing sessions for a week in a new age store. All arrangements were made for sessions by the store owner, so that we had no idea who our clients would be until they came in for their appointment.
The first session started at 10 AM. We were tucked away in a corner out of sight. Our first client, a young man, came in and we said our hello's as he sat down. As we began, a little girl appeared to me. She was very pretty, with beautiful blond hair. I thought she was about three years old.
I asked her how she got there. (Died)
She said, "My daddy ran me over." I didn't know who she was yet to the young man.
"Who is your daddy?" I asked.
"That's my daddy," she said motioning to the young man.
"Oh wow!" I said to him. "This is your little girl?" It upset me quite a bit at that moment. I wondered how I would cope with such a tragedy. She was very happy and just a joy to listen to. She wasn't bothered by how she died. She described the vehicle that ran her over, which he had since sold, and the new one he now owned. She also spoke of another vehicle and something about motorbikes.
She told her dad that it was not his fault, because she had pulled away from her slightly older sister, who she was holding hands with, and ran out behind him as he was backing out his truck. She told him that he and Mommy needed to stay together because they were going to have her baby brother. He was not saying much, but responded by saying that the police had said to him they probably would not stay together as that was pretty common in these type of circumstances.
It was a very difficult session for me personally; a very emotional one. At one point, she just ran of to my left and disappeared around the corner.
"I don't know where she went," I said to the dad. I continued for a few minutes speaking to another deceased relative that had been present. Suddenly, back into view came the little girl. She had her arm wrapped around the neck of a large dog, tugging it into view to show her dad. I described the dog, which he recognized as the family dog who had crossed earlier.
Finally, the session drew to a close. I ended up with a bad headache and the rest of the day seemed last long. I found out later that he felt anger towards me for some reason that he couldn't explain. We have had this happen on a few other occasions. Perhaps the reality of the communication is just too much for them to bear.
The next day we were back in the store continuing doing sessions. The second session was with a young woman and to my surprise the little girl appeared again.
I said to the woman, "You know, yesterday a little girl who had died by being run over spoke to me and now she's here again. She wants to talk to you."
She told us that she arrived at the house with her husband and witnessed the whole tragedy. They were friends with the family and had listened to the recording of the session the father had with us. She produced a long list of the things that the little girl had said that were true, some of which the father had not acknowledged or understood at the time. She told me that the little girl had described their vehicle, which contained quad bikes (which I had thought to be motorbikes). They were all going out for the day to ride and she had run to greet them. The father did not immediately know he had run her over. The session with her progressed smoothly and she understood everything the little girl told her.
I think it was about six months later when we again visited the same store and I had another encounter with the little girl. The session was with a couple we had never seen before. All I remember from that meeting was that she climbed onto his lap and started playing with his divers watch, turning the dial. He became quite emotional and told me that's what she used to do when he would hold her. This couple were also friends of the same family.
At our home, several months later, during a session with a couple where their little boy who had crossed from cancer came in to speak to them, there appeared a little girl with him who had blond hair. Their son then mentioned his sister, which I mistakenly assumed to be the little blond girl I could see.
"Does she have blond hair?" I asked.
"No, his sister has dark hair and she's alive," they said.
I didn't know what to make of the little girl I was seeing. Obviously it wasn't his sister, so I carried on with whoever was speaking to me. I could see that they were struggling immensely with the loss of their son.
As the session drew to a close I said to them, "I can't imagine how hard it is for you to deal with the loss of a son, but I would like to tell you about a session for a young man who had accidentally run over his own little girl."
I don't really know why I wanted to tell them this. Something in me told me that this would help them.
When I told them the location of the tragedy they looked at me and exclaimed, "We know that little girl! She and our son are cousins!"
Once again, the little girl had paid us a visit. They appeared happy to know that the two children were together.
I think it was the following year that we went back to the same out of state store. Marti and I were there for several days, when one morning, as Marti was fixing some coffee and waiting for the next client, I suddenly saw a familiar figure. It was the little blond girl I had seen so many times before. I called out to Marti and told her who I was seeing.
"What are you doing here, sweetie?" I asked the small child.
"Someone is coming to see you," she responded.
"Oh! Who is that?" I asked.
"My mommy!" she said.
"Really, when?" I asked her. (Marti and I had never met her mother before.)
"Now," she replied.
A few minutes later, the shop door bell chimed and in walked a very pregnant woman. She made her way into the store, and I walked over to her and said, "You're the mother of the little girl that was run over aren't you? She is waiting to talk to you."
I won't discuss the session here, but it went very well.
We saw both the husband and wife together on another occasion. They told us that she did give birth to a son. Against all odds, they had become closer than ever and were once again a happy family. Just knowing that their precious little girl was fine and just a whisper away made a difference that can't be qualified.
The first session started at 10 AM. We were tucked away in a corner out of sight. Our first client, a young man, came in and we said our hello's as he sat down. As we began, a little girl appeared to me. She was very pretty, with beautiful blond hair. I thought she was about three years old.
I asked her how she got there. (Died)
She said, "My daddy ran me over." I didn't know who she was yet to the young man.
"Who is your daddy?" I asked.
"That's my daddy," she said motioning to the young man.
"Oh wow!" I said to him. "This is your little girl?" It upset me quite a bit at that moment. I wondered how I would cope with such a tragedy. She was very happy and just a joy to listen to. She wasn't bothered by how she died. She described the vehicle that ran her over, which he had since sold, and the new one he now owned. She also spoke of another vehicle and something about motorbikes.
She told her dad that it was not his fault, because she had pulled away from her slightly older sister, who she was holding hands with, and ran out behind him as he was backing out his truck. She told him that he and Mommy needed to stay together because they were going to have her baby brother. He was not saying much, but responded by saying that the police had said to him they probably would not stay together as that was pretty common in these type of circumstances.
It was a very difficult session for me personally; a very emotional one. At one point, she just ran of to my left and disappeared around the corner.
"I don't know where she went," I said to the dad. I continued for a few minutes speaking to another deceased relative that had been present. Suddenly, back into view came the little girl. She had her arm wrapped around the neck of a large dog, tugging it into view to show her dad. I described the dog, which he recognized as the family dog who had crossed earlier.
Finally, the session drew to a close. I ended up with a bad headache and the rest of the day seemed last long. I found out later that he felt anger towards me for some reason that he couldn't explain. We have had this happen on a few other occasions. Perhaps the reality of the communication is just too much for them to bear.
The next day we were back in the store continuing doing sessions. The second session was with a young woman and to my surprise the little girl appeared again.
I said to the woman, "You know, yesterday a little girl who had died by being run over spoke to me and now she's here again. She wants to talk to you."
She told us that she arrived at the house with her husband and witnessed the whole tragedy. They were friends with the family and had listened to the recording of the session the father had with us. She produced a long list of the things that the little girl had said that were true, some of which the father had not acknowledged or understood at the time. She told me that the little girl had described their vehicle, which contained quad bikes (which I had thought to be motorbikes). They were all going out for the day to ride and she had run to greet them. The father did not immediately know he had run her over. The session with her progressed smoothly and she understood everything the little girl told her.
I think it was about six months later when we again visited the same store and I had another encounter with the little girl. The session was with a couple we had never seen before. All I remember from that meeting was that she climbed onto his lap and started playing with his divers watch, turning the dial. He became quite emotional and told me that's what she used to do when he would hold her. This couple were also friends of the same family.
At our home, several months later, during a session with a couple where their little boy who had crossed from cancer came in to speak to them, there appeared a little girl with him who had blond hair. Their son then mentioned his sister, which I mistakenly assumed to be the little blond girl I could see.
"Does she have blond hair?" I asked.
"No, his sister has dark hair and she's alive," they said.
I didn't know what to make of the little girl I was seeing. Obviously it wasn't his sister, so I carried on with whoever was speaking to me. I could see that they were struggling immensely with the loss of their son.
As the session drew to a close I said to them, "I can't imagine how hard it is for you to deal with the loss of a son, but I would like to tell you about a session for a young man who had accidentally run over his own little girl."
I don't really know why I wanted to tell them this. Something in me told me that this would help them.
When I told them the location of the tragedy they looked at me and exclaimed, "We know that little girl! She and our son are cousins!"
Once again, the little girl had paid us a visit. They appeared happy to know that the two children were together.
I think it was the following year that we went back to the same out of state store. Marti and I were there for several days, when one morning, as Marti was fixing some coffee and waiting for the next client, I suddenly saw a familiar figure. It was the little blond girl I had seen so many times before. I called out to Marti and told her who I was seeing.
"What are you doing here, sweetie?" I asked the small child.
"Someone is coming to see you," she responded.
"Oh! Who is that?" I asked.
"My mommy!" she said.
"Really, when?" I asked her. (Marti and I had never met her mother before.)
"Now," she replied.
A few minutes later, the shop door bell chimed and in walked a very pregnant woman. She made her way into the store, and I walked over to her and said, "You're the mother of the little girl that was run over aren't you? She is waiting to talk to you."
I won't discuss the session here, but it went very well.
We saw both the husband and wife together on another occasion. They told us that she did give birth to a son. Against all odds, they had become closer than ever and were once again a happy family. Just knowing that their precious little girl was fine and just a whisper away made a difference that can't be qualified.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
A father never known
We had a very interesting session one time with a lady at a Mind, Body, Spirit Expo. The father of the lady showed up to speak to her. I conveyed to her how he had died but she told me she didn't know if her father was alive or not. I described her father to her and also asked her father what his name was and he said it was James, to which the woman shrugged her shoulders and said she didn't know.
"I don't understand," I said to her. "Are you telling me you know nothing about your father at all?"
"Yes, that's right," she told me.
"Oh, brother!" I exclaimed. "I don't know how I'm going to prove this to you. Are you sure you know absolutely nothing at all about him?"
"No, I don't. In fact, until I was 15, I thought my mother was my sister."
This lady was over 50 years old and told us that to this day no one in her family would tell her anything about her father. It was as though he didn't exist. A non-entity.
I found out from her father a lot of details about her life. He obviously had followed her life during his life and after his death.
When the session coming to an end, Marti handed me the portrait she had drawn. I recognized it immediately to be that of her father.
"This is your father, James", I told her.
She thanked us for the session and went on her way.
About a week later, the lady contacted us and told us that out of the blue she received some mail unexpectedly from a great aunt. It was a large brown envelope. When she opened it, contained inside were some papers and one photograph of her father. On the back of which was written the name James. The photo was a perfect match to Marti's drawing.
"I don't understand," I said to her. "Are you telling me you know nothing about your father at all?"
"Yes, that's right," she told me.
"Oh, brother!" I exclaimed. "I don't know how I'm going to prove this to you. Are you sure you know absolutely nothing at all about him?"
"No, I don't. In fact, until I was 15, I thought my mother was my sister."
This lady was over 50 years old and told us that to this day no one in her family would tell her anything about her father. It was as though he didn't exist. A non-entity.
I found out from her father a lot of details about her life. He obviously had followed her life during his life and after his death.
When the session coming to an end, Marti handed me the portrait she had drawn. I recognized it immediately to be that of her father.
"This is your father, James", I told her.
She thanked us for the session and went on her way.
About a week later, the lady contacted us and told us that out of the blue she received some mail unexpectedly from a great aunt. It was a large brown envelope. When she opened it, contained inside were some papers and one photograph of her father. On the back of which was written the name James. The photo was a perfect match to Marti's drawing.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
A recent visit from Albert Einstein
A husband and wife came for a private session recently and as we were about to start, Albert Einstein appeared to me, saying he wanted to talk. I wasn't going to say anything to my clients at first, but Albert said they might find the connection interesting. I told them he was in the room and the husband told me that was interesting because he works in the patent office and has done for many years. That is where Albert worked whilst forming his theory of relativity. We proceeded with the session and the husband's two great grandmothers on either side of his family came in to speak to him and his wife about where in Germany they were from. I got out my "Times Atlas of the World", a very large book, and just opened it up at random. It opened at southern Germany. I was able to locate the approximate location of the town from where one of the grandmother's, who identified herself as Margaret, came from. The wife sitting with us, who was trying to trace the family history, believed I was off with the name and thought her name was Magdalena. I ended up pointing to a tiny town where I thought this great grandmother was from.
Speaking with the lady a few days after our meeting, it transpired that she had hit a wall in the family tree with name Magdalena so she tried the name Margarita. Voila! She discovered that the name was correct. It led her further back into her family history. Curiously, the small town where Margarita hailed from was about 15 miles from where Albert Einstein's family was from!
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!'"
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.
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."
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