Think of the most amazing and miraculous minute or experience of your entire life that you can possibly remember. Remember the detail; all the thoughts and feelings. We will return here later together.
What you are about to read may be personal to my experiences, but this account is no less amazing than your life’s true story and miracles, when the story is truly and fully unfurled. In reading this autobiography, it is my intention that you will be encouraged to flash back to the hope filled glow of childhood purity and wonder; to put down fear, stand up, step forward, and take a walk with me through our cold, dark, grown-up world with a completely different set of bright, youthful, innocent eyes. I have one goal and one goal only in mind from your time and attention: genuine friendship; honesty and vulnerability; peace to all people.
With these eyes and this heart, come with me on a heartbreaking journey into real life; into the shadows in the dark; blind and alone - to remember, to reach for; feel after, and find hope, and to keep walking; to move forward in admiring the unveiled nature of the universe as filters are taken away. Perfect love; light and truth cast out all fear. I invite all mankind on a journey to walk with me awhile and invite the Power of the universe to unveil the source of Truth and Wisdom and Life that is our brotherly birthright; being stolen by countless counterfeits.
What you are about to read may be personal to my experiences, but this account is no less amazing than your life’s true story and miracles, when the story is truly and fully unfurled. In reading this autobiography, it is my intention that you will be encouraged to flash back to the hope filled glow of childhood purity and wonder; to put down fear, stand up, step forward, and take a walk with me through our cold, dark, grown-up world with a completely different set of bright, youthful, innocent eyes. I have one goal and one goal only in mind from your time and attention: genuine friendship; honesty and vulnerability; peace to all people.
With these eyes and this heart, come with me on a heartbreaking journey into real life; into the shadows in the dark; blind and alone - to remember, to reach for; feel after, and find hope, and to keep walking; to move forward in admiring the unveiled nature of the universe as filters are taken away. Perfect love; light and truth cast out all fear. I invite all mankind on a journey to walk with me awhile and invite the Power of the universe to unveil the source of Truth and Wisdom and Life that is our brotherly birthright; being stolen by countless counterfeits.
Our true stories have been shaped in much suffering. It is with nothing less than absolute honesty that I am endeavoring to represent the experiences that really happened to me. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that many things in life do not happen the way we expect or want them to. By being brutally honest, my story is pretty much guaranteed to cross the path of your heart and your personal comfort zone in many more ways than one. Most likely, you have never read a story like this. Please fasten your seat-belt and be prepared for a rough ride; life in raw form is intense and often painful, scary, or offensive.
Ever since I was young, I had an unquenchable desire; above any other, to know the answer to the question: “What is the purpose of being alive?”. Little did I know that the longing for the answer to this question would lead me on the most incredible, challenging, miraculous, heartbreaking, and eventually satisfying journey that any human being can ever walk.
Up until about the age of five, I went through what every human goes through: initiation into experiencing and beginning to understand life on planet earth. I started out, by nature, expecting life to be a constantly happy and pleasant experience, so every time life failed to be perfectly pleasant, I was severely disappointed. My family were the first people to appear responsible for unpleasant experiences, and so, as a young boy, I was drawn to nature and animals as a sanctuary from the pains of life. To have the forest, and animal companions just outside my back door was a blessing to me of sanctuary and escape. No matter how I felt inside, the fresh air, the animals, and the forest would always welcome me as I walked.
My real father and mother split apart when I was three years old, so I have no childhood memories of of my father whatsoever. My mother married another man who I grew to intensely dislike. She became more and more unhappy and I saw that the love that my mother and step-father shared was a source of deeper and deeper pain that brought greater and greater emotional turmoil rather than peace. My mother did her best through the pain that was piercing her heart as she sought and strove for peace and connection with her family and husband, but I witnessed her become more and more wounded. The older I got, the more my family created unpleasant experiences. The more my family created unpleasant dark experiences, the less joy my mom had to share. The less joy my mom felt, the further I felt from my mother, and the more I loathed my stepfather. My first childhood friend said that he could often hear the tormented screaming and yelling coming from our house from about a half a kilometer away at his house. When my mother conceived again from my step-father, my sister was born. She became the favorite child and I felt more and more like an outsider; a stranger in life.
Today, I want forgiveness and reconciliation for all the sad memories and wounds that I caused in my family. I am sincerely thankful to have one more opportunity to ask my family; specifically my father, mother, step-father, and sister, and daughter - to forgive me. It is clear to me now that my love was empty. I failed to offer a foundation of trustworthiness. I failed you; every one. My love is far from perfect; as am I. I am utterly guilty, and have earned and deserve full judgment. The debt I owe in guilt I cannot hope to repay. I want to tell the truth and nothing but the truth and confess my faults and face proper judgment. I long for opportunity to say these words to your face. Please forgive me?
Until then, may this story be an offering of the burning fire in my heart that yearns with desire to reconcile; to embrace you; to walk together, and constantly return to where genuine friendship left off.
Today, I want forgiveness and reconciliation for all the sad memories and wounds that I caused in my family. I am sincerely thankful to have one more opportunity to ask my family; specifically my father, mother, step-father, and sister, and daughter - to forgive me. It is clear to me now that my love was empty. I failed to offer a foundation of trustworthiness. I failed you; every one. My love is far from perfect; as am I. I am utterly guilty, and have earned and deserve full judgment. The debt I owe in guilt I cannot hope to repay. I want to tell the truth and nothing but the truth and confess my faults and face proper judgment. I long for opportunity to say these words to your face. Please forgive me?
Until then, may this story be an offering of the burning fire in my heart that yearns with desire to reconcile; to embrace you; to walk together, and constantly return to where genuine friendship left off.
When I lost my first animal companion; our beloved dog Strider, I was devastated. I’ll never forget that morning. I walked out into the yard, just like any other day, calling for my best friend, but he did not come to my calls. I kept looking and calling. Finally, I walked around to the far side of the house, and was momentarily relieved to see him there; lying in the shade. I tried to rouse him from what I thought was a nap, but I found that this was not any kind of normal nap that he was taking. His eyes were open, and there were flies landing on his eyes, yet he did not flinch. On top of this, his body was stiff and cool and he was not breathing. I did not understand what was wrong. I ran to my mom with the most sickening feeling in the depths of my bowels, and my heart in my throat. My mother came out with me to the body where my best friend used to be. She told me that Strider was not with us any more, and that he would not be coming back. We cried and cried and cried as our hearts broke together.
We made a hole in the ground, put the body inside, and covered it up. My very best friend was gone, and was not coming back!
It was then that I first grappled with death in my heart and mind. I was horrified and sick. You probably know the feeling; like a part of you has been mercilessly torn out from the inside; from the very bottom of the heart where emotions are born; leaving a gaping, bleeding, black-hole wound. Not only was I severely devastated from the loss of my best friend, but I also began to consider the dreadful finality of death as my own fate. I had no confidence or understanding when considering death’s mysteries. I began grappling with the reality that life appears to be nothing but a creeping approach to the looming, ominous, towering, gaping precipice of death’s merciless, eternal black-hole.
We made a hole in the ground, put the body inside, and covered it up. My very best friend was gone, and was not coming back!
It was then that I first grappled with death in my heart and mind. I was horrified and sick. You probably know the feeling; like a part of you has been mercilessly torn out from the inside; from the very bottom of the heart where emotions are born; leaving a gaping, bleeding, black-hole wound. Not only was I severely devastated from the loss of my best friend, but I also began to consider the dreadful finality of death as my own fate. I had no confidence or understanding when considering death’s mysteries. I began grappling with the reality that life appears to be nothing but a creeping approach to the looming, ominous, towering, gaping precipice of death’s merciless, eternal black-hole.
I began to have a terrifying and recurring nightmare. When the nightmare would begin, I would first become very aware of my surroundings: our antique-style home at this time was known as ‘Amityville House’; named after a true-story and horror movie. I am in the downstairs bathroom in our house. There is no light.
Fear is the very essence of the atmosphere, and fear is where my first awareness in this nightmare is born. It is very dark; the kind of darkness that is so thick that breathing is heavy. I flick the switch of the bathroom light, but nothing happens. The lack of power to the light is a lightning strike of merciless fear that immediately drives me into an escalating state of shock; the kind of shock of falling into rushing freezing water. My adrenaline skyrockets, and I sense my true predicament: I’m in a flight for my life; a struggle to the death. I race to the next nearest light switch in the spare room and flick it, and hear another sickening hollow sound. As my last resort, I run up the spiral staircase and reach for one last switch at the top of the stairs, and it offers a final, cackling thunder-clap to my boundless fear. I know deep inside that there will be no light; nothing to quench this peaking terror. I am being hunted by death in the realm of my mind, and I am trapped. I am absolutely alone in my worst nightmare with nowhere to run. In absolute panic, I sprint for my bed in my bedroom across the hall, and am under the covers in an instant with the blanket covering my body up to my eyes.
I watch in transfixed horror as the bedroom door begins very slowly closing; revealing the embodiment of darkness that had been behind the door. This spirit of evil is the essence and personality of the black hole: bottomless darkness and death; the absolute absence of light and life and compassion and hope. Moving like a ghost, he leaps toward and on top of me; in the same way that a predator makes a final killing lunge. The next thing I know, I am jolted wide awake in my bed, saturated to my core with shock and dread and horror beyond description.
Especially after these nightmares, I would often find myself laying awake at night in my bed for hours, peering out from under the blankets at every moving shadow on the wall in my room – until the room swam with haunting shadowy faces of demons writhing in the walls. This nightmare; the exact same one, occurred periodically throughout my childhood and haunted me with such intensity and passion that I was compelled to wrestle in turmoil in my mind with the concepts of fear and death. Reluctantly, I began to come to terms with the apparent facts of my experience.
Somehow I instinctively knew that I had to begin to accept death as my fate and do my best to understand it. Even at this young age; between five and ten, a revelation about death came to me as I grappled with reality. My first conception of death pictured death as an eternal body-less awareness in infinite darkness alone. But somehow, through wrestling with the possibilities, over time, I realized that this could not be possible. I realized that the worst possibility of death is eternal termination of my awareness. So, I accepted death of awareness as not only Strider’s fate, but also my own fate in death, which was not as bad as an eternal prison of darkness. Although I was not comfortable with having death in my future and not fully understanding it, I didn’t have any alternatives to accurately define it with my childish mind and heart.
As I grew older, the scene of my recurring nightmare was replaced by a new scenario, yet always had the same conclusion: I would jolt wide awake with shock and terror at the end as I experienced death. For the scene of these modified recurring nightmares, I would invariably find myself approaching and reaching the peak of an ominously enormous precipice; either a horrendous cliff, or a towering skyscraper. I would fall off; feeling every second of the fall as though I was fully conscious. I would always wake up the moment I would hit the ground. These nightmares would stay with me for years and years to come; until I would finally find the answer to the ceaseless crying out of my heart to grasp life’s true purpose.
Fear is the very essence of the atmosphere, and fear is where my first awareness in this nightmare is born. It is very dark; the kind of darkness that is so thick that breathing is heavy. I flick the switch of the bathroom light, but nothing happens. The lack of power to the light is a lightning strike of merciless fear that immediately drives me into an escalating state of shock; the kind of shock of falling into rushing freezing water. My adrenaline skyrockets, and I sense my true predicament: I’m in a flight for my life; a struggle to the death. I race to the next nearest light switch in the spare room and flick it, and hear another sickening hollow sound. As my last resort, I run up the spiral staircase and reach for one last switch at the top of the stairs, and it offers a final, cackling thunder-clap to my boundless fear. I know deep inside that there will be no light; nothing to quench this peaking terror. I am being hunted by death in the realm of my mind, and I am trapped. I am absolutely alone in my worst nightmare with nowhere to run. In absolute panic, I sprint for my bed in my bedroom across the hall, and am under the covers in an instant with the blanket covering my body up to my eyes.
I watch in transfixed horror as the bedroom door begins very slowly closing; revealing the embodiment of darkness that had been behind the door. This spirit of evil is the essence and personality of the black hole: bottomless darkness and death; the absolute absence of light and life and compassion and hope. Moving like a ghost, he leaps toward and on top of me; in the same way that a predator makes a final killing lunge. The next thing I know, I am jolted wide awake in my bed, saturated to my core with shock and dread and horror beyond description.
Especially after these nightmares, I would often find myself laying awake at night in my bed for hours, peering out from under the blankets at every moving shadow on the wall in my room – until the room swam with haunting shadowy faces of demons writhing in the walls. This nightmare; the exact same one, occurred periodically throughout my childhood and haunted me with such intensity and passion that I was compelled to wrestle in turmoil in my mind with the concepts of fear and death. Reluctantly, I began to come to terms with the apparent facts of my experience.
Somehow I instinctively knew that I had to begin to accept death as my fate and do my best to understand it. Even at this young age; between five and ten, a revelation about death came to me as I grappled with reality. My first conception of death pictured death as an eternal body-less awareness in infinite darkness alone. But somehow, through wrestling with the possibilities, over time, I realized that this could not be possible. I realized that the worst possibility of death is eternal termination of my awareness. So, I accepted death of awareness as not only Strider’s fate, but also my own fate in death, which was not as bad as an eternal prison of darkness. Although I was not comfortable with having death in my future and not fully understanding it, I didn’t have any alternatives to accurately define it with my childish mind and heart.
As I grew older, the scene of my recurring nightmare was replaced by a new scenario, yet always had the same conclusion: I would jolt wide awake with shock and terror at the end as I experienced death. For the scene of these modified recurring nightmares, I would invariably find myself approaching and reaching the peak of an ominously enormous precipice; either a horrendous cliff, or a towering skyscraper. I would fall off; feeling every second of the fall as though I was fully conscious. I would always wake up the moment I would hit the ground. These nightmares would stay with me for years and years to come; until I would finally find the answer to the ceaseless crying out of my heart to grasp life’s true purpose.
One day, I went to the spare room downstairs to find something that my step-father had ordered me to get. I flipped the light-switch and found that it did not work, and went back to report what had happened to my step-father. He did not believe my report, and punished me with a hard spanking to my exposed buttocks with his large, rough, masculine hand. I clearly remember this as the point in time when I adamantly settled into a deep, unflinching loathing for my step-father. The loathing was a poison I saw outside me in him, but in truth, this same poison coursed through my veins and was the life-blood and future of our family.
On a later day, perhaps a couple years later, I remember playing outside and winding up near some muck that had created a muck-pit next to our driveway. I remember getting this disgusting muck, which was actually sewage, on my boots. Suddenly, I had a strange feeling of temptation to try just one of the curse words I had so often heard my mother and step-father using on one another, myself, and my sister. I said it softly, and I had a rushing feeling of freedom and defiance, and then began to say it with more volume and emphasis; until I was far from whispering. I remember a distinct sense of feeling some kind of strange pride of liberty in breaking the rules. Unbeknownst to me, my step-father was close enough to hear my prideful cursing. He gave me another hard spanking to teach me a lesson which hardened my already bitter animosity for him.
I developed a deep love for my grandfather; Galvin, and his wife Doreen. Around Galvin, I felt as though life could not be sweeter, and being around my grandparents meant being around my cousins, which were non-stop fun for me. Galvin and Doreen and my cousins lived far from our family, and I would usually only see them about once a year for a handful of days; usually around Christmas time.
Due to our limited time together, I grew to thoroughly cherish the moments I spent with my grandparents. The love between my grandfather and I; to me, was a true and pure sanctuary of security and peace and hope in my life. I felt this love surpass the uncompromising peace and serenity of spirit I enjoyed in nature. In my grandfathers arms, I felt wanted; never to be cast away or unappreciated. I will never forget the times my Grampa took me down to the little cozy store by the ocean bay and told me that I was absolutely free to get anything and everything I wanted from the store; ice cream, chocolate bars, candy; and play as long as I like in the low tide’s rocks and her treasures; whatever was my heart’s desire. My favorite was the ice cream because it was his favorite too. Grampa and gramma also had a wonderful ocean-worthy boat with beds, room to relax, and fully stocked ocean-fishing gear. Fishing on the ocean was grampa’s favorite thing to do, and he was the captain of captains; a true champion of the waters. Grampa would take me and the whole family; cousins too, across the ocean on great adventurous exploits to catch the wildest, freshest, biggest, and tastiest fish. It felt like heaven to be alive, but it seemed that we would have to leave and go back home just when it seemed I was starting to get used to it, and my heart would sink again as the light and home in my heart was far from me.
On a later day, perhaps a couple years later, I remember playing outside and winding up near some muck that had created a muck-pit next to our driveway. I remember getting this disgusting muck, which was actually sewage, on my boots. Suddenly, I had a strange feeling of temptation to try just one of the curse words I had so often heard my mother and step-father using on one another, myself, and my sister. I said it softly, and I had a rushing feeling of freedom and defiance, and then began to say it with more volume and emphasis; until I was far from whispering. I remember a distinct sense of feeling some kind of strange pride of liberty in breaking the rules. Unbeknownst to me, my step-father was close enough to hear my prideful cursing. He gave me another hard spanking to teach me a lesson which hardened my already bitter animosity for him.
I developed a deep love for my grandfather; Galvin, and his wife Doreen. Around Galvin, I felt as though life could not be sweeter, and being around my grandparents meant being around my cousins, which were non-stop fun for me. Galvin and Doreen and my cousins lived far from our family, and I would usually only see them about once a year for a handful of days; usually around Christmas time.
Due to our limited time together, I grew to thoroughly cherish the moments I spent with my grandparents. The love between my grandfather and I; to me, was a true and pure sanctuary of security and peace and hope in my life. I felt this love surpass the uncompromising peace and serenity of spirit I enjoyed in nature. In my grandfathers arms, I felt wanted; never to be cast away or unappreciated. I will never forget the times my Grampa took me down to the little cozy store by the ocean bay and told me that I was absolutely free to get anything and everything I wanted from the store; ice cream, chocolate bars, candy; and play as long as I like in the low tide’s rocks and her treasures; whatever was my heart’s desire. My favorite was the ice cream because it was his favorite too. Grampa and gramma also had a wonderful ocean-worthy boat with beds, room to relax, and fully stocked ocean-fishing gear. Fishing on the ocean was grampa’s favorite thing to do, and he was the captain of captains; a true champion of the waters. Grampa would take me and the whole family; cousins too, across the ocean on great adventurous exploits to catch the wildest, freshest, biggest, and tastiest fish. It felt like heaven to be alive, but it seemed that we would have to leave and go back home just when it seemed I was starting to get used to it, and my heart would sink again as the light and home in my heart was far from me.
My mother and grandparents were not strictly religious whatsoever, but whenever I was at my grandparents house and with my cousins, we went to church every sunday. To me, the long hard pews, and longer, harder ‘services’ in the cold, lofty, magnificent church were trials of torment that my youthful sunny energy loathed, and could not take any pleasure in, nor spiritually digest.
In contrast, I felt no discomfort with the prayers my mother had said with me before bed in my infancy and early childhood; these remain permanently written into the good book of my memory, along with the following particular memory, which I count as a special spiritual endowment from my mother: Once on the way to school on the school-bus, a peanut butter and jam sandwich that my mother had made and packed special for me ended up squished and ruined on the filthy floor of the bus. The feeling of the waste of this gift of my mothers heart brought me to tears again and again; both then, and over the years - each time I was reminded of the one in my life who is the reason why my lungs ever took in air. It was from my mother that I learned to appreciate animals and nature, and virtues of nurture and tenderness; empathy and mercy. My dear mother, who gave birth to me, blessed me by imparting the best gift of all: a deep seated seed and root of appreciating the gift of life that all who breathe share in compassionate love.
In contrast to my mothers thanks and praise for us in prayer to God, the atmosphere in the roman catholic church felt like an empty hollow vacuum; suffocating freedom, and draining the energy and joy of my youthful heart. My spirit was deflated by the atmosphere of the roman church, and my heart became hard and cold toward Christianity and the Bible. All I could think of while I was there was how much I wanted to not be there; to be free again at last to enjoy the limited time remaining with cousins and grandparents.
But there was something else that touched me deeply at that time; yet was a strange mystery far beyond my understanding. Jesus’ crucifixion and death was in the heart of that grandiose cathedral, prominently and graphically displayed in beautiful stained-glass picture-scenes, and an ornate pure-white stone image spotted with blood. These magnetized me with an attraction and a message of some strange, sharp, fearful magnitude which I was at a complete loss to understand at the time.
In contrast, I felt no discomfort with the prayers my mother had said with me before bed in my infancy and early childhood; these remain permanently written into the good book of my memory, along with the following particular memory, which I count as a special spiritual endowment from my mother: Once on the way to school on the school-bus, a peanut butter and jam sandwich that my mother had made and packed special for me ended up squished and ruined on the filthy floor of the bus. The feeling of the waste of this gift of my mothers heart brought me to tears again and again; both then, and over the years - each time I was reminded of the one in my life who is the reason why my lungs ever took in air. It was from my mother that I learned to appreciate animals and nature, and virtues of nurture and tenderness; empathy and mercy. My dear mother, who gave birth to me, blessed me by imparting the best gift of all: a deep seated seed and root of appreciating the gift of life that all who breathe share in compassionate love.
In contrast to my mothers thanks and praise for us in prayer to God, the atmosphere in the roman catholic church felt like an empty hollow vacuum; suffocating freedom, and draining the energy and joy of my youthful heart. My spirit was deflated by the atmosphere of the roman church, and my heart became hard and cold toward Christianity and the Bible. All I could think of while I was there was how much I wanted to not be there; to be free again at last to enjoy the limited time remaining with cousins and grandparents.
But there was something else that touched me deeply at that time; yet was a strange mystery far beyond my understanding. Jesus’ crucifixion and death was in the heart of that grandiose cathedral, prominently and graphically displayed in beautiful stained-glass picture-scenes, and an ornate pure-white stone image spotted with blood. These magnetized me with an attraction and a message of some strange, sharp, fearful magnitude which I was at a complete loss to understand at the time.
One day as a youth, as I was leaving the annual town fair, out of apparently nowhere, I had a very distinct vision. In my minds eye, I saw myself at spot just ahead of me; and, from there, I saw my step-dad driving by on the road further ahead. I saw myself running to catch him, but I was too late to catch his attention. The vision ended, and as I continued walking forward and reached the exact spot where the vision had started, I looked up, and my step-dad was there driving by; exactly as I had pictured in my mind. I rushed forward, and was too late to catch his attention; exactly as I had foreseen. The vision had come true precisely! This was tremendously astounding, amazing, and incredible to me. My mind raced. I felt wonder and electric excitement. I began to try to fathom how something so logically impossible could “magically” just happen.
I considered the context of the circumstances: I was not planning, or even close to dreaming of anything like that happening beforehand. I did not believe in prediction of future events, and I had never imagined predicting the future myself. As I continued walking home from the fair in bewilderment, I enthusiastically concluded that if an inexplicable miracle can happen once, it can happen more than once. After walking about half way home, I came to the start of a short straight-stretch, and, there, I had a second vision involuntarily sweep over me.
Again in my mind’s eye, I saw myself at a spot just ahead of me, and I saw myself arriving at that spot, looking up and seeing my mother and sister in our van driving around the next corner towards me. I reached that spot, looked up, and saw my mother and sister in our van driving around the next corner towards me. Both visions had come true impeccably right before my eyes. I was astounded; dumbfounded in wonder.
Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, and nothing like this would ever happen to me again. It didn’t happen once; but twice; in the same hour; without me having any precognition or control of it. This vivid and astonishing experience and memory was and is a milestone, catalyst, and inspiration on this journey to discover purpose that we travel together.
I considered the context of the circumstances: I was not planning, or even close to dreaming of anything like that happening beforehand. I did not believe in prediction of future events, and I had never imagined predicting the future myself. As I continued walking home from the fair in bewilderment, I enthusiastically concluded that if an inexplicable miracle can happen once, it can happen more than once. After walking about half way home, I came to the start of a short straight-stretch, and, there, I had a second vision involuntarily sweep over me.
Again in my mind’s eye, I saw myself at a spot just ahead of me, and I saw myself arriving at that spot, looking up and seeing my mother and sister in our van driving around the next corner towards me. I reached that spot, looked up, and saw my mother and sister in our van driving around the next corner towards me. Both visions had come true impeccably right before my eyes. I was astounded; dumbfounded in wonder.
Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, and nothing like this would ever happen to me again. It didn’t happen once; but twice; in the same hour; without me having any precognition or control of it. This vivid and astonishing experience and memory was and is a milestone, catalyst, and inspiration on this journey to discover purpose that we travel together.
In a different dream I had as a youth, I found myself walking home, and suddenly I became vividly aware that I was dreaming. So aware, in fact, that I began to ask myself: “Since I am dreaming and I can do anything I want, what is the most awesome thing I can think of to do?” Without hesitation, I wanted to fly! I focused, and began to feel myself lift off the ground; slowly at first, and then faster as I gained altitude and confidence. Then I put my arms in front of me and began flying around at will. The feeling of joy, freedom, and excitement was tremendous! While I was flying, I felt so strongly that this was a real experience, and that this could be done while awake as well, that I repeated to myself in my mind the following ideas: “I’ve got to remember how to do this so I can show people when I wake up. This is too true to be good and real for only me!”. I would have more dreams of flying as I grew older, and they were all similar, just in different places. There were always people in the dreams on the ground that would see me flying; witnesses to whom I was demonstrating the joy of flying to. Although I had no success in flying while awake, or convincing anyone they could fly, this dream inspired me tremendously. I was naturally further convinced that there was far more to life than meets the eye.
One memory in particular of my grandfather Galvin is forever written into my heart. One day, my grandfather; investing faith in me, invited me to be the serviceman at his ocean marina store. Asking him a question, I referred to one of the customers using the word ‘guy’ when asking my question. I will never forget the lesson and the meaning behind the lesson when my grandfather taught me to use the words ‘gentleman’ and ‘fellow’ instead of the word ‘guy’ to refer to a man. This was a ‘lights-on’ moment of new-found respect for ‘strangers’ for me. This was a seed of light planted in a garden of darkness; as a spiritual inheritance deep inside my fertile heart.
But the bond of respect, appreciation, and admiration I knew with my grandfather Galvin was anchored down to a world of nightmares, darkness, and death, and was steadily sinking down like a melting candle; slowly, but surely down, down, down - into the eternal prison of darkness, torment, and hopeless despair. My life is a journey of many painful experiences of all varieties. I had unique problems and traumatic experiences just like my mom, who had spinal meningitis as a little girl which gave her crippling hellish visions. We both suffered with frequent crippling headaches, extreme emotions, and endless ruined relationships.
I was born virtually deaf in my left ear with a rare ear malfunction which my daughter also happens to have in her left ear also. Earlier in life as a toddler, my mother left me at the sink alone for a moment and I turned on the hot water tap on my leg and sat with my leg under it; screaming while it severely burned my flesh. All throughout my school years, I was the prime target of school bullies, and suffered their torments until breaking point more than once.
One boy in school among the many who chose to molest and torment me was inspired to ruin a generator-light my grampa had given me for my bicycle. He started kicking it, and before I knew what came over me, I was on top of the boy pummeling his face until blood came out. Another time, holding onto our truck’s door handle, I ‘accidentally’ pulled opened the door to our truck while going full speed around a corner. I flew out, and tumbled into the ditch. Earlier in life, at grampas ocean home, I had taken a journey up the hill behind grampas house on a new bike. But this bike had different brakes than what I was used to, and before I knew what was happening, my nose had made a permanent dent in the solid steel of the back of my grandfather’s Jeep, and a pool of blood resulted. Once, as a mid-teen, on the steepest hill in my hometown, I reached top speed on my bike, and lost control. A woman with her dog arose suddenly in my path and froze like a deer in headlights. I dodged her but hit a solid low retaining wall; bent the front tire into an angle and the handlebars down in an arc, and flew across the lawn beyond; yet again mysteriously escaping death.
Christmas had always been a big deal for me when I was growing up because it was a big deal for everyone else in my family. Christmas, to me, meant not only presents and regular Christmas stuff, but so much more. Christmas for me meant family; grampa and gramma, cousins, aunts, and uncles. It meant comfort and peace not found at home; that one special time in most years where our separate little piece of the family finally returned home; home where I felt we belonged. To me, it felt a little like what heaven might feel like. The family, the food, the festivities; everything felt happy, warm, peaceful, and wonderful. From the time I could understand words and younger, my mom and step-dad, like average north-american parents, had told me the stories of santa claus, and had been most successful at tricking me to believe that santa actually delivered the presents that had his name on them. If I had taken the time to actually compare the writing on the presents from santa to the writing on the presents from my parents, and then ask one question, I could easily have discovered the truth on my own. But I felt no motive to doubt the word; the integrity; the honesty; the trustworthiness of the special promises and deepest heart of my very own mother and elders and guardians. I had no evidence or any thought to remotely doubt the ‘magical’ ‘wonderful’ existence of the tooth fairy, the easter bunny, and santa claus himself.
The truth came to me as it does for most youth; through peers as a crippling shock; penetrating to the very core of my foundation of hope and purpose and belonging and wonder and virtue in life. The revelation that santa, the easter bunny, and the tooth fairy were not real, and that I had been directly lied to; not once, but many times - for years, and not by one adult guardian, but by every one; was a blow that shattered my innocence to ruins. For me, it didn’t matter at all that I would now know where all the christmas presents really came from, and it didn’t really matter that I now knew these mythical spirits in their true demonstration. What hit me like a ton of bricks and wounded me to the deepest levels of my being was the fact that I had been lied to by my very own mother, and by every role model close to me, including my grandparents; the very people I cherished and trusted and admired in the innermost vulnerable sanctuary of my hopes and dreams. I felt utterly betrayed by the ones I looked to as my teachers and guardians and authorities in life. This was the ruin of my vulnerability and faith in the values and hearts of elders in my life. I had no impression that my broken heart and trust would, or could, ever be fixed. My carefree childhood bliss and hopes in a nurturing mother and family were broken and shattered beyond repair. I had discovered that the world of “normal” adult affairs and living was an infinitely expanding frozen-cold and heartlessly-bitter world. Responsibility, aging, faithlessness, hopelessness, fear, loss, calamity, suffering, and death were taking the throne as my destination and my god waiting for me at the end of my tunnel of vision. My dreams of life being peaceful or perfect; constantly full of love, happiness, purpose, and adventure were surely suffocating to death. The harsh realities of “the real world” spiraled deeper and faster into my life experience. I knew almost nothing of the journey into black hole’s maw that I was on, and the disappointments and trials had only just begun.
Please, please, please - read to the very end - the end will not be what you expect; you have almost certainly never read a true story like this. Avoid skipping to the end or you will ruin the surprise!
I was born virtually deaf in my left ear with a rare ear malfunction which my daughter also happens to have in her left ear also. Earlier in life as a toddler, my mother left me at the sink alone for a moment and I turned on the hot water tap on my leg and sat with my leg under it; screaming while it severely burned my flesh. All throughout my school years, I was the prime target of school bullies, and suffered their torments until breaking point more than once.
One boy in school among the many who chose to molest and torment me was inspired to ruin a generator-light my grampa had given me for my bicycle. He started kicking it, and before I knew what came over me, I was on top of the boy pummeling his face until blood came out. Another time, holding onto our truck’s door handle, I ‘accidentally’ pulled opened the door to our truck while going full speed around a corner. I flew out, and tumbled into the ditch. Earlier in life, at grampas ocean home, I had taken a journey up the hill behind grampas house on a new bike. But this bike had different brakes than what I was used to, and before I knew what was happening, my nose had made a permanent dent in the solid steel of the back of my grandfather’s Jeep, and a pool of blood resulted. Once, as a mid-teen, on the steepest hill in my hometown, I reached top speed on my bike, and lost control. A woman with her dog arose suddenly in my path and froze like a deer in headlights. I dodged her but hit a solid low retaining wall; bent the front tire into an angle and the handlebars down in an arc, and flew across the lawn beyond; yet again mysteriously escaping death.
Christmas had always been a big deal for me when I was growing up because it was a big deal for everyone else in my family. Christmas, to me, meant not only presents and regular Christmas stuff, but so much more. Christmas for me meant family; grampa and gramma, cousins, aunts, and uncles. It meant comfort and peace not found at home; that one special time in most years where our separate little piece of the family finally returned home; home where I felt we belonged. To me, it felt a little like what heaven might feel like. The family, the food, the festivities; everything felt happy, warm, peaceful, and wonderful. From the time I could understand words and younger, my mom and step-dad, like average north-american parents, had told me the stories of santa claus, and had been most successful at tricking me to believe that santa actually delivered the presents that had his name on them. If I had taken the time to actually compare the writing on the presents from santa to the writing on the presents from my parents, and then ask one question, I could easily have discovered the truth on my own. But I felt no motive to doubt the word; the integrity; the honesty; the trustworthiness of the special promises and deepest heart of my very own mother and elders and guardians. I had no evidence or any thought to remotely doubt the ‘magical’ ‘wonderful’ existence of the tooth fairy, the easter bunny, and santa claus himself.
The truth came to me as it does for most youth; through peers as a crippling shock; penetrating to the very core of my foundation of hope and purpose and belonging and wonder and virtue in life. The revelation that santa, the easter bunny, and the tooth fairy were not real, and that I had been directly lied to; not once, but many times - for years, and not by one adult guardian, but by every one; was a blow that shattered my innocence to ruins. For me, it didn’t matter at all that I would now know where all the christmas presents really came from, and it didn’t really matter that I now knew these mythical spirits in their true demonstration. What hit me like a ton of bricks and wounded me to the deepest levels of my being was the fact that I had been lied to by my very own mother, and by every role model close to me, including my grandparents; the very people I cherished and trusted and admired in the innermost vulnerable sanctuary of my hopes and dreams. I felt utterly betrayed by the ones I looked to as my teachers and guardians and authorities in life. This was the ruin of my vulnerability and faith in the values and hearts of elders in my life. I had no impression that my broken heart and trust would, or could, ever be fixed. My carefree childhood bliss and hopes in a nurturing mother and family were broken and shattered beyond repair. I had discovered that the world of “normal” adult affairs and living was an infinitely expanding frozen-cold and heartlessly-bitter world. Responsibility, aging, faithlessness, hopelessness, fear, loss, calamity, suffering, and death were taking the throne as my destination and my god waiting for me at the end of my tunnel of vision. My dreams of life being peaceful or perfect; constantly full of love, happiness, purpose, and adventure were surely suffocating to death. The harsh realities of “the real world” spiraled deeper and faster into my life experience. I knew almost nothing of the journey into black hole’s maw that I was on, and the disappointments and trials had only just begun.
Please, please, please - read to the very end - the end will not be what you expect; you have almost certainly never read a true story like this. Avoid skipping to the end or you will ruin the surprise!
In one dream I had in my youth, I was in a field that was a beautiful meadow filled with delicate little flowers and my mom was in the middle of the field. But my mother was the most horrific enormous unholy creature of the very pits of hell with insatiable blood-lust. She loved to eat all children and my blood was the special on her menu.
I came to further terms with the fact that there was nobody in my life that I could really trust. Feeling alone, I turned much more to nature and animal companions to escape. I developed an appetite for books and video games, which contained fantasies of wonderful adventures that offered temporary sanctuaries of hope and happiness. Somehow, through this ongoing chaos, piercing through the shadows and darkness of my life were reminders and revelations of hope and light that kept me alive and drew me onward and gave my spirit enough room to still struggle to breathe.
I came to further terms with the fact that there was nobody in my life that I could really trust. Feeling alone, I turned much more to nature and animal companions to escape. I developed an appetite for books and video games, which contained fantasies of wonderful adventures that offered temporary sanctuaries of hope and happiness. Somehow, through this ongoing chaos, piercing through the shadows and darkness of my life were reminders and revelations of hope and light that kept me alive and drew me onward and gave my spirit enough room to still struggle to breathe.
I began to strike out on my own path in life; forsaking the hope and dreams of my family. I resolved to try to find a reliable, trustworthy, honest friend. I planned to fit in at school and appear as good and fun to be around as possible. I studied the behaviors, styles, expressions, language, music, movies, and culture of my peers at school.
Throughout grade eight and nine I was a model student with straight A’s and some B’s; but I felt school becoming more and more of a waste of time and a burden than a pleasure. I had no respect for teachers unless they earned it by reaching my heart. School filled my time with worldly knowledge void of the spiritual awareness and companionship which I craved more and more. I had no idea, from a worldly academic point of view, what I wanted to do with my life, and feeling pressured to figure it out only seemed to make any progress in decision-making worse. I was introvert and very unique, and didn’t fit in well with most of the other students. I certainly was not feeling inspired to choose or begin a life-long occupation based in the world of money and numbers. My heart naturally grew colder to the money-system of the world and reached out to explore vulnerability with peers to find purpose and belonging in life.
Into my mid teens, finally, the faithfulness and love that my mother and step-father vowed to stand firm in to guard and guide our family finally hit the ground like an airplane with no power or fuel. The final unfurling was unfolded by my mother, with my sister and I as witnesses in the car; concluding our investigation into reality with the discovery of my step-father in the act of adultery. My mother lost control of herself emotionally and physically in emotional anguish and desperation until her hands were bloodied by self-inflicted laceration from thrashing about in the misery of her broken heart. My mother suffered excruciating festering emotional agony over the loss of her husband.
For me, the loss of the one I had grown to call dad; the one I called sister; the loss of our every hope and dream together as a family struck me with violent earth-shattering thunder. This epic milestone deepened and widened the bloody black-hole of death in my heart.
Not long after this life-altering experience, Galvin; my mother’s father; my last eroding role model; my best friend; my grandfather, died. I felt as though any solid ground of hope in goodness behind life had been mercilessly ripped out from under me. My grandmother died shortly after, and the connection to my cousins and that side of my family came to an abrupt end which remains to this day.
My mom was utterly ruined, but was left with her share of a large inheritance. She eventually sought love again through ongoing escape to hawaii and new romances. But each yearly vacation and every romantic prospect showed less promise of strengthening our family, and more baggage to add to the wasteland of our past. My mom and I became more disconnected as she and I both turned inward to medicate our incurable wounds.
For me, the loss of the one I had grown to call dad; the one I called sister; the loss of our every hope and dream together as a family struck me with violent earth-shattering thunder. This epic milestone deepened and widened the bloody black-hole of death in my heart.
Not long after this life-altering experience, Galvin; my mother’s father; my last eroding role model; my best friend; my grandfather, died. I felt as though any solid ground of hope in goodness behind life had been mercilessly ripped out from under me. My grandmother died shortly after, and the connection to my cousins and that side of my family came to an abrupt end which remains to this day.
My mom was utterly ruined, but was left with her share of a large inheritance. She eventually sought love again through ongoing escape to hawaii and new romances. But each yearly vacation and every romantic prospect showed less promise of strengthening our family, and more baggage to add to the wasteland of our past. My mom and I became more disconnected as she and I both turned inward to medicate our incurable wounds.
I was so preoccupied and caught up medicating the negative and escaping to the positive that I was no comfort to my mother. At this point, I was willing to do nearly anything to impress my friends and schoolmates for the purpose of gaining any relationship security possible. I specifically and personally loathed drugs and alcohol as a child because it had appeared to me that they did the opposite of influence a person to be less selfish. But, when a couple of friends from school persistently tried to convince me to join them in trying new things, I eventually gave in.
The first time I got high, I had what I can only describe honestly as a deeply spiritual experience. The apparently solid, reliable beliefs of “the real world” faded into an insignificant background. I experienced reality from a new frame of awareness of an altered frequency and heightened vulnerability of thought. The fabric of life itself appeared thriving; alive; breathing. Life’s very nature radiated pleasantly and vibrantly; communicating some fresh and new message through every sight, sound, taste and feeling. I experienced an inherent positive quality behind everything I had learned to see as lifeless in the world. This new functionality of awareness inspired a new realm of spiritual curiosity in me. I became grounded in the awareness and perception of a mysterious and wonderful harmony behind all life. This harmony was revealed to me through every aspect of life; blades of grass, flowers, trees, clouds, country roads, animals, and people; in a way I could have never imagined.
Along with drugs, many of my friends were also very into alcohol. In the beginning, drinking; the pleasure it provided, and the social opportunities associated with alcohol, brought strong feelings of euphoria and connection with people, and virtually killed the pains of real life. I began to cherish the life of the party and strive to be smart, fun, and funny. When the good feelings would take over from drugs and alcohol, I felt more able to be happy and freely express myself in spite of the chains of my past and death looming ahead. As we all know though, the more one tries to smother the past and the future with good thoughts and feelings, the closer one gets to the heart of fear because the time wasted seeking pleasure bears no fruit and adds to the guilt and the loss. The pleasure and the friendships were short-lived, and I watched as some of my friends; whose pain was far more than mine; would take enough medication to put their pain and fears and life to rest.
One night, I ran nearly the entire seven kilometers to town due to intense anticipation of the fun to come at a party. Approaching town, beside the vile chicken processing facility, I saw a pack of cigarettes on the road which appeared to be empty. I kicked it to find out if it was empty, and found seven cigarettes inside. I was rather pleased, to put it lightly, for I had begun to enjoy smoking with my friends also. That night, I drank a large bottle of hard alcohol to myself and took a large dose of LSD. Later that same night, on my way back home from the party, on the exact same road, in the exact same place, I saw another pack of cigarettes of the exact same name-brand as the one I had discovered earlier. I thought to myself: “No..... it cannot be!”, but just to be sure, I kicked the pack; even more ready this time - to find out that it was empty. To my utter astonishment, for the second time, out came seven cigarettes. Within that very hour, I went missing to my awareness and memory, somehow regaining consciousness at dawn; mysteriously regaining consciousness back at home.
Each of these “coincidences” were inexplicable landmark mysteries that continually added to the content of a special section of my memory banks. It is a wonder that even something as obviously non-spiritual and deadly as cigarettes was a tool to inspire child-like wonder to my life despite the thickening darkness. This event, coupled with the opening of the door of this growing new spiritual perception, further sparked the growing curiosity inside me.
Each of these “coincidences” were inexplicable landmark mysteries that continually added to the content of a special section of my memory banks. It is a wonder that even something as obviously non-spiritual and deadly as cigarettes was a tool to inspire child-like wonder to my life despite the thickening darkness. This event, coupled with the opening of the door of this growing new spiritual perception, further sparked the growing curiosity inside me.
Before this, I had thoroughly enjoyed reading fantasy books by many different authors. Now older, I had a blessed command of language; with straight A’s in English class throughout school. My interest in spiritual matters and my appetite for knowledge deepened, widened, and stretched out in root.
I began reading books about the spiritual realm from my mom’s library at home, as well as the town library, in an attempt to feed my curiosity concerning the true nature of reality. I had no idea what might be contradictory or dangerous in the diverse books and concepts contained within them; I simply started reading any and every book that crossed my attention that dealt with spiritual matters.
I began reading books about the spiritual realm from my mom’s library at home, as well as the town library, in an attempt to feed my curiosity concerning the true nature of reality. I had no idea what might be contradictory or dangerous in the diverse books and concepts contained within them; I simply started reading any and every book that crossed my attention that dealt with spiritual matters.
During one gym class in high school, the other male students and I were out on the field playing rugby. I knew that I was not one of the bigger or stronger boys, but I loved all sports and enjoyed testing and practicing my skills and abilities. It was our turn to receive the ball, and the ball was kicked right to me. I caught the ball and ran up the field. I dodged a few opponents, but all of a sudden found myself flying backwards. My right foot braced the fall, but my ankle was twisted so badly that I stayed in bed in severe constant pain, hardly moving for two days. I seem to have a recollection of choosing to “throw caution to the wind” on the field that day, just before this painful experience. This was the most intense pain I had ever felt by far, and the pain caused me to weep uncontrollably like a baby.
Near the end of high-school, I chose band class; playing the trumpet as one of my alternative courses, and I joined the extracurricular high-school stage band. I also started playing the drums in a hard rock band with a few other closer friends from school. Without realizing why it was happening, my grades in everything but Music, Art, and English declined from A’s to D’s; E’s and fails.
Near the end of high-school, I chose band class; playing the trumpet as one of my alternative courses, and I joined the extracurricular high-school stage band. I also started playing the drums in a hard rock band with a few other closer friends from school. Without realizing why it was happening, my grades in everything but Music, Art, and English declined from A’s to D’s; E’s and fails.
As a blossoming youth, I had an unquenchable magnetism to members of the opposite sex. I had been introduced early to sex by the world’s thoughts and pictures and lust after the female body. I had been indoctrinated to value and crave ‘good’ sex as much as the idea of a committed relationship. Hence, my first sexual experience was sex first; considering commitment; second, which resulted in sex with no commitment whatsoever. She and I remained friends almost the same as before, and romantically, it was as though our fornication had never happened.
I decided that I wanted at least a little more than sex out of a relationship, so I decided that having an actual girlfriend was what I needed. My first actual relationship lasted for two years, and at first, it felt absolutely blissful. I did not want it to be short-term; I genuinely wanted to create a situation in which we would be able to achieve fulfillment in our companionship, but after two years and opening my heart as wide as it would still open, I ended up feeling devastated with heartbreak; betrayed; and more wounded, desperate, hopeless, and self-pitying than before.
The heartbreak of betrayal in romantic love with women was a new and intensely potent kind of prolonged anguish of an intensity I had heretofore not dreamed possible. It felt like an emotional equal to the pain of my sprained ankle, but this lasted much longer. But this would be far, far, far from my last attempt at long-term romantic companionship. To medicate my own unquenchable lust for companionship, I would try again and again and again; endlessly. I dreamed that if I could just meet the “right” girl, that the relationship would be deeply satisfying, and I would be fulfilled. I had no idea that I had only taken my first step in the romantic path my mother and father had walked; into even deeper and wider channels of heartbreak and disaster. Although I struggled to hang on for dear life to girlfriend after girlfriend, I would always end up alone in the end; with a more fractured and fragile heart.
I decided that I wanted at least a little more than sex out of a relationship, so I decided that having an actual girlfriend was what I needed. My first actual relationship lasted for two years, and at first, it felt absolutely blissful. I did not want it to be short-term; I genuinely wanted to create a situation in which we would be able to achieve fulfillment in our companionship, but after two years and opening my heart as wide as it would still open, I ended up feeling devastated with heartbreak; betrayed; and more wounded, desperate, hopeless, and self-pitying than before.
The heartbreak of betrayal in romantic love with women was a new and intensely potent kind of prolonged anguish of an intensity I had heretofore not dreamed possible. It felt like an emotional equal to the pain of my sprained ankle, but this lasted much longer. But this would be far, far, far from my last attempt at long-term romantic companionship. To medicate my own unquenchable lust for companionship, I would try again and again and again; endlessly. I dreamed that if I could just meet the “right” girl, that the relationship would be deeply satisfying, and I would be fulfilled. I had no idea that I had only taken my first step in the romantic path my mother and father had walked; into even deeper and wider channels of heartbreak and disaster. Although I struggled to hang on for dear life to girlfriend after girlfriend, I would always end up alone in the end; with a more fractured and fragile heart.
After high school, I was eventually commanded to move out of my mother’s house. I would have stayed, but my motives for staying were entirely self-centered. My mother and I were both digesting personal trauma that neither of us had the strength to see past to enable mutual healing. I moved out of my mother’s home and eventually moved temporarily to the Kootenays to attend Selkirk music college to learn to play the drums professionally. I finished one semester of diverse and intense musical training and immersion. Once back home with this budding professional training, our band became far more talented and popular in our home town.
Once we had enough original songs, we wanted to have the songs recorded professionally. Our opportunity came in the form of a prize at a battle of the bands contest; a discount on studio recording time at a nearby professional studio. We went to the studio and spent two days recording two CD’s. At the time, we all hoped that this would be the start of something big. One of us came up with an exciting idea, and we decided that we would get tattoos to commemorate the experience. At first, we considered all of us getting the same tattoo. Three of us followed through and went to the local tattoo parlor to get a tattoo, but we all chose different ones. This was my first tattoo, and it was an experience I will never forget. It was a hard-core biker studio, and it was the boss of the studio that did our tattoos; a seemingly indifferent and intimidating fellow. By the time I was five minutes into my tattoo, I had blood dripping off my elbow from his work on my shoulder, and I nearly passed out. One might think that this would have been enough to discourage me from getting more tattoos, but for some reason, like most people, after my first tattoo, I was far from done getting tattoos. Eventually, I got another tattoo from a less brutal and more talented artist, and was so pleased at the whole experience, not to mention the art, that I decided to do something about a strange sense of inspiration I felt. I prepared myself in whatever ways I thought possible and booked an appointment for not only another tattoo, but also what I thought to be the perfect opportunity for me to do an informational interview. I carefully planned and executed an attempt to seriously appeal to this artist to apprentice me to become a tattoo artist myself. To my dismay, I was told that the demand for tattoos in the area was simply not enough to support more artists; certainly not artists with no training, experience, or brilliant artistic talent. I felt deflated and allowed this inspiration to slide onto the small, far, back burner of my mind.
Once we had enough original songs, we wanted to have the songs recorded professionally. Our opportunity came in the form of a prize at a battle of the bands contest; a discount on studio recording time at a nearby professional studio. We went to the studio and spent two days recording two CD’s. At the time, we all hoped that this would be the start of something big. One of us came up with an exciting idea, and we decided that we would get tattoos to commemorate the experience. At first, we considered all of us getting the same tattoo. Three of us followed through and went to the local tattoo parlor to get a tattoo, but we all chose different ones. This was my first tattoo, and it was an experience I will never forget. It was a hard-core biker studio, and it was the boss of the studio that did our tattoos; a seemingly indifferent and intimidating fellow. By the time I was five minutes into my tattoo, I had blood dripping off my elbow from his work on my shoulder, and I nearly passed out. One might think that this would have been enough to discourage me from getting more tattoos, but for some reason, like most people, after my first tattoo, I was far from done getting tattoos. Eventually, I got another tattoo from a less brutal and more talented artist, and was so pleased at the whole experience, not to mention the art, that I decided to do something about a strange sense of inspiration I felt. I prepared myself in whatever ways I thought possible and booked an appointment for not only another tattoo, but also what I thought to be the perfect opportunity for me to do an informational interview. I carefully planned and executed an attempt to seriously appeal to this artist to apprentice me to become a tattoo artist myself. To my dismay, I was told that the demand for tattoos in the area was simply not enough to support more artists; certainly not artists with no training, experience, or brilliant artistic talent. I felt deflated and allowed this inspiration to slide onto the small, far, back burner of my mind.
I tried various other jobs. Apparently being a rock musician and getting tattoos was probably not going to pay the bills. Occasionally, I had the privilege of accepting some lucrative seasonal opportunities from my stepfather in his forestry business. I tried to maintain open and positive relations with both my mom and my step-father through the ruin and aftermath of their long, stretched-out divorce. I felt it a great privilege and opportunity to work for my step-father during this time. I also felt that it may be an opportunity for the two of us to salvage a friendship out of the ruins, but a curse seemed to follow us in the end instead. I was spiritually adrift and lacked respect for any authority figure; particularly him - because of our past. Although I wanted to show respect and responsibility, I proved the opposite; that I was disrespectful and irresponsible.
One summer, I was at what I felt to be a high point - with a wallet full of money from fire-fighting for my step-father. On top of abundant cash-flow, I had a beautiful young girlfriend, and was at the peak of popularity from our super-cool hard-rock band in our small home-town. With the warm summer air and bright hopes of better tomorrows, I was basking in worldly accomplishment, success, and stability. I felt like I was doing totally awesome at this game of life. In my heart and mind, I had finally and safely crossed the threshold of becoming an independent young man. Little did I know that I had put all my eggs in the wrong basket - yet again, and was about to experience the next chapter in my ever-downward spiraling journey toward death. My wallet, filled with a full paycheck’s cash in it; got stolen by a ‘friend’. My girlfriend left me. Our band disintegrated; never to make music together again, and I hit rock bottom at a deeper and wider level than ever before.
One summer, I was at what I felt to be a high point - with a wallet full of money from fire-fighting for my step-father. On top of abundant cash-flow, I had a beautiful young girlfriend, and was at the peak of popularity from our super-cool hard-rock band in our small home-town. With the warm summer air and bright hopes of better tomorrows, I was basking in worldly accomplishment, success, and stability. I felt like I was doing totally awesome at this game of life. In my heart and mind, I had finally and safely crossed the threshold of becoming an independent young man. Little did I know that I had put all my eggs in the wrong basket - yet again, and was about to experience the next chapter in my ever-downward spiraling journey toward death. My wallet, filled with a full paycheck’s cash in it; got stolen by a ‘friend’. My girlfriend left me. Our band disintegrated; never to make music together again, and I hit rock bottom at a deeper and wider level than ever before.
I felt as though I had wasted my life up to this point. I began to experience a kind of a “mid-life crisis” or a “mental break-down”. The spiritual realm began manifesting itself in my life in powerful ways far beyond my control. As with my first experimentation with drugs, certain aspects of the spiritual realm were amplified, while certain aspects of the “real world” were decreased. I gradually shifted into a different state of perception. The foundations of my perceptions of reality shifted to become spiritual in nature, rather than physical. Previously, I had called myself an atheist. But now, I was suddenly awakening to, and living in a supernatural realm of wonder and mystery. Instead of progressively seeing no spiritual purpose behind anything, I was seeing infinitely unfurling spiritual purpose and intention behind everything; including suffering. I felt so free letting go of some of the weight I’d been carrying. I felt more and more that the loss of my wallet, girlfriend, and band were a catalyst to breaking down self-inflicted walls of illusion, pride, spiritual immaturity, and ignorance.
Every day, life felt more and more like a dream than being awake. I practiced appreciating and walking in a spiritual frame of perception where my heart was the guide, and the stars were my only limit. The more I practiced and experienced, the more I realized that the loss of my worldly ‘real world’ stability had been the key and spring-board to my new-found perception based on humility and wonder. Most of the time, I had never felt happier. However, the unknown vast chasm between the mysteries of death and my heightened spiritual appreciation randomly arrested and possessed me with an accelerating and unbridled fear that I was powerless to control. I went from ecstasy to paranoia in the wisp of a thought, and I was powerless to change or stop the transitions. I felt like I was along for a wild ride on a roller-coaster, flying high and free in one moment, yet careening out of control and plummeting in a death spin in the next. I actually had a dream once where I was in a car with a friend and we were ‘jumping’ in the car in greater and greater leaps until we were soaring sky high. Our final huge leap ended in crashing into the ground at the end of our final descent. The friend I was with in the car would actually die in real life not many years later; crashing into an early death from a brain tumor. He had been my friend, my roommate, and the real star of the life of the party in my hometown. I was humbled deeply by spending time with him at his deathbed, and his funeral also had a tremendously humbling impact on me.
Every day, life felt more and more like a dream than being awake. I practiced appreciating and walking in a spiritual frame of perception where my heart was the guide, and the stars were my only limit. The more I practiced and experienced, the more I realized that the loss of my worldly ‘real world’ stability had been the key and spring-board to my new-found perception based on humility and wonder. Most of the time, I had never felt happier. However, the unknown vast chasm between the mysteries of death and my heightened spiritual appreciation randomly arrested and possessed me with an accelerating and unbridled fear that I was powerless to control. I went from ecstasy to paranoia in the wisp of a thought, and I was powerless to change or stop the transitions. I felt like I was along for a wild ride on a roller-coaster, flying high and free in one moment, yet careening out of control and plummeting in a death spin in the next. I actually had a dream once where I was in a car with a friend and we were ‘jumping’ in the car in greater and greater leaps until we were soaring sky high. Our final huge leap ended in crashing into the ground at the end of our final descent. The friend I was with in the car would actually die in real life not many years later; crashing into an early death from a brain tumor. He had been my friend, my roommate, and the real star of the life of the party in my hometown. I was humbled deeply by spending time with him at his deathbed, and his funeral also had a tremendously humbling impact on me.
Being elated from a combination of euphoria and shock, I continued in this wild, confusing, exhilarating, erratic, unpredictable spiritual phase of my life. Miracles were performed with my mind and body. On narrow, icy winter streets, I took my old nineteen-eighty Honda Civic into the air, did massive power-slides, an impeccable three-hundred and sixty degree spin, and flawlessly performed other nearly impossible stunts; all in the spur of the moment, with absolutely no training, planning, or forethought; performed as though I had practiced each maneuver for years. I had little idea what was happening, or why, but I felt as though living in a dream; a dream that was leading me to some kind of light beyond the dark end of the real world’s tunnel - into some unknown realm of existence on the other side. That old mystery and question “What is the meaning of life?” was bombarding my awareness and experiences with wildly fluctuating combinations of sublime subtlety and brazen brightness. In my mind, everything filled beyond saturation with infinite spiritual significance, yet I had little or no depth of understanding, and no idea what the real rules and foundations might be. I would not have traded this spiritual state for the world, but I felt like a speck of dust in a universe of spiritual wonders and powers compared to which I, even to myself, was clearly extremely small and spiritually childish. No matter what, I was flowing with the motion of some unidentified, powerful, growing spiritual wave that was taking me on a fascinating, thrilling, and sometimes insanely scary journey.
At one point, again, totally in the spur of some inexplicable spiritual inspiration, I shocked my girlfriend and roommates by telling them that I would accurately predict what a fortune cookie was going to say. They didn’t really believe me, but I was absolutely determined to display the truth of this awareness I was experiencing. I explained exactly what the message would be, and then opened the fortune cookie right in front of them. To their absolute amazement, although not word for word, the exact same message that I had predicted, in concept, was there! A very large part of me literally believed that I had reached a spiritual state that is best described by the expression “A dream come true”. I was increasingly impressed to consider that it may very well be some source of purpose, intention, or intelligence itself, as some unknown Wisdom, that had been and was attempting to communicate secrets of the mysteries of the spirit realm to me, through people, experiences, and all life.
I remember one thing very clearly because it was so tangible. I sensed infinite spiritual significance and symbolism in even the smallest details of the arrangement of objects and how they related to one another. I remember carefully studying the objects on my table with fascination and arranging them in very specific ways, each of which, to me, had profound symbolic significance. To anyone else in a “normal” frame of mind, this would seem “crazy” because the objects would have appeared to be placed in a fully random and meaningless fashion.
I also vividly remember one day when a friend of mine came over and hopped onto my drum kit. My friend proceeded to calmly and continuously play music on my drum kit that was beyond my ability to understand. Being a professionally trained percussionist, I understood the mechanics of musical composition well. But the sounds that I heard that day that came from my friend through my drums broke my heart with their beauty and complexity. I kept my eyes closed through the experience and was inspired, not to watch and understand, but to listen, surrender, and suspend my rational comprehension - to experience something utterly, unspeakably wonderful which I could neither understand, nor explain. I literally cried, and felt my heart and mind radiating warm spiritual goosebumps from deep within. The pressure release of the tears of this spiritual rupture foreshadowed the hopeful beginnings of birth pains in my soul. The experience left me awestruck with bliss, awe, vulnerability, helplessness, and humility.
Although I cannot hear in my left ear, audio perception was a powerful window of perception used to deliver these inexplicable experiences. At one point, I felt like the spirit of Jim Morrison was performing for me personally through my stereo; shouting all kinds of insanity. It reminds me of one time in high school when a very close friend and I, under the influence of psilocybin, both heard our own voices talking through a radio speaker at a go-cart park. This same friend and I would stay up all night sometimes sharing our deepest spiritual experiences, imaginations, and dreams. We often pondered how so many things in life; including our friendship; seemed like echoes of some distant long-forgotten memory of another time. I began to consider that my experiences were somehow specifically mysteriously “crafted” for myself personally in some kind of long-lost buried treasure of purpose hiding behind a mysterious veil which physical senses could never penetrate.
Although I cannot hear in my left ear, audio perception was a powerful window of perception used to deliver these inexplicable experiences. At one point, I felt like the spirit of Jim Morrison was performing for me personally through my stereo; shouting all kinds of insanity. It reminds me of one time in high school when a very close friend and I, under the influence of psilocybin, both heard our own voices talking through a radio speaker at a go-cart park. This same friend and I would stay up all night sometimes sharing our deepest spiritual experiences, imaginations, and dreams. We often pondered how so many things in life; including our friendship; seemed like echoes of some distant long-forgotten memory of another time. I began to consider that my experiences were somehow specifically mysteriously “crafted” for myself personally in some kind of long-lost buried treasure of purpose hiding behind a mysterious veil which physical senses could never penetrate.
I began to have dreadfully ominous premonitions of some unfathomable kind of imminent, personal, but also, global catastrophe - enveloping the entire course of human history; past, present, and future. I wasn’t hearing voices. I was receiving intense veiled impressions from the spiritual realm that I interpreted as spiritual revelations from an unidentified, potent source. These messages were an unavoidably confident foreshadowing of catastrophic doom and death which was and would be the fate of every member of the entire human race. Specifically; this doom and death was personally and foremost directed at me. I was never impressed with any specific prophecy or detail. This was simply an insistent intense impression that my future; akin to all, contained some kind of cataclysmic cross-road intersection of past, present, and future that would bring about a spiritually epic monumental change to life as we know it. I did not understand it, but I was thoroughly impressed that somehow, the past, the present, and the future were “catching up” to each other, and would soon come together in my life as one in some kind of eclipsing of time; like a metamorphic labor, death, and rebirth. I could not begin to comprehend even the basics of what this meant, how it would happen, or why. The aftershock and after-math of the metamorphosis appeared like some kind of unfolding of light into timelessness. This unfathomable intersection of past, present, and future would be the most monumental and important thing that had ever happened in the universe, not only for me personally, but also somehow for the entire human race.
Simultaneously coupled with these overwhelmingly powerful premonitions, I began to have powerful impressions that I was going to die, and not in the distant future. I knew it was coming soon. I did not know exactly what was going to happen. All I knew for sure was that as days passed, the time grew shorter and the appointment loomed somewhere ahead; directly and unavoidably ahead in my life’s path, but out of sight, and it was going to embrace, and kill me when I arrived.
One night, after these intuitions of death had been happening for some days, I suddenly realized that the time had come. I tried to explain what was happening to my roommates because I longed for compassion and also to say goodbye, and you can imagine what they thought. It never crossed my mind that I had any power to delay or change this fate; I felt that this appointment was one that I would keep even if managed to run to the other end of the world to miss it.
As always, my bond with animals was strong. Since nobody else would or could care what was happening to me, I solemnly went into my room, inviting my best friends; the two cats in the house, inside. If I was going to die, these were suitable companions to see me off into the unknown. I closed the door, turned off the light, laid down on my bed in the dark, and waited for the end.
One night, after these intuitions of death had been happening for some days, I suddenly realized that the time had come. I tried to explain what was happening to my roommates because I longed for compassion and also to say goodbye, and you can imagine what they thought. It never crossed my mind that I had any power to delay or change this fate; I felt that this appointment was one that I would keep even if managed to run to the other end of the world to miss it.
As always, my bond with animals was strong. Since nobody else would or could care what was happening to me, I solemnly went into my room, inviting my best friends; the two cats in the house, inside. If I was going to die, these were suitable companions to see me off into the unknown. I closed the door, turned off the light, laid down on my bed in the dark, and waited for the end.
I was scared in a particular way I had never experienced before. It felt very similar to my recurring nightmares, but this time, for some unknown reason, I was willingly participating in whatever I was about to experience. I lay there silent in the dark, and began to surrender to whatever was going to happen; as ready as I ever could be at this time to face death and die. I closed my eyes and kept them closed through the entire experience. I didn’t move, and I didn’t speak.
My bed was a foamy on the floor; so the cats were on ground level with me; free to roam around the bed and room around and directly next to me. I began to hear the sound of the cats darting in short bursts, then stopping. The sound sounded like their claws were ripping the carpet from acceleration. I remained still and silent, and never once opened my eyes. Then, I felt one of the cats’ paws touch me with a very light, gentle pressure as it ferociously raced by me. Then I felt another paw with the same soft pressure touch me in a different place. The paw pressure was the same for every touch; just enough to feel the soft, gentle touch of a paw, and as soon as I felt the paw, it was removed. I must emphasize: not once did they ever put their full weight on me. The soft touches of their paws in random places all over my body, and the pitter-patter sound of their sprinting began to fall on me like rain on a ceaselessly rainy day. Not once did I open my eyes, or move. Of course, the combination of pressure-consistent gentle touches coupled with ferocious, tearing acceleration -is an impossible combination under any “normal” circumstances. I continued to lay there absolutely still with my eyes closed; just breathing. The thought never crossed my mind to try to find out how the sounds I heard and what I felt could be explained rationally and logically. I simply had an irrefutable intuition that, for now, I was only to experience this; understanding it was not part of the equation, or the purpose.
My bed was a foamy on the floor; so the cats were on ground level with me; free to roam around the bed and room around and directly next to me. I began to hear the sound of the cats darting in short bursts, then stopping. The sound sounded like their claws were ripping the carpet from acceleration. I remained still and silent, and never once opened my eyes. Then, I felt one of the cats’ paws touch me with a very light, gentle pressure as it ferociously raced by me. Then I felt another paw with the same soft pressure touch me in a different place. The paw pressure was the same for every touch; just enough to feel the soft, gentle touch of a paw, and as soon as I felt the paw, it was removed. I must emphasize: not once did they ever put their full weight on me. The soft touches of their paws in random places all over my body, and the pitter-patter sound of their sprinting began to fall on me like rain on a ceaselessly rainy day. Not once did I open my eyes, or move. Of course, the combination of pressure-consistent gentle touches coupled with ferocious, tearing acceleration -is an impossible combination under any “normal” circumstances. I continued to lay there absolutely still with my eyes closed; just breathing. The thought never crossed my mind to try to find out how the sounds I heard and what I felt could be explained rationally and logically. I simply had an irrefutable intuition that, for now, I was only to experience this; understanding it was not part of the equation, or the purpose.
Then I began to hear what could best be described as the unmistakably distinct sound of somebody jumping on the roof. There were no sounds of footsteps whatsoever between; only distinct thundering booms falling one, after another, after another; at the same volume in random places on the roof of the small house. The touches of the cats paws continued, and I remained silent and still with my eyes closed. The thundering booms, in simultaneous combination with the cats’ paws, had me in a state of abject, astounded, numb shock. I lay there and completely surrendered my mind, my heart, and my life to this experience. Never once did I consider going outside to see if someone was on the roof. Never once did I consider opening my eyes to look to see what the cats were really doing. I let go of my suffocating craving for mental stability, and digested the utterly impossible bitter horror of what was happening to me. Somehow, I knew this must happen; that my consciousness must be unwound; unfurled to the very end, and perish.
Waves of loss of control of my mental stability washed over me and through me. I; the essence of my identity - was being undone. As in the roaring of a raging ocean over a coral reef; I felt as a helpless baby tumbling and churning in merciless thundering waves. I was mercilessly raked into the jagged rocks with their coral; broken to pieces; torn apart. I, even I - crumbled and broke somewhere in the bedrock essence of my concept of identity. I was dying in my mind. I was shattering to innumerable pieces; letting go of my hold on life; letting all my hope fade; breathing my last breaths before my very last; to journey beyond in full into whatever the black-hole of death had in store for me. I cried in the same position; flat on my back; sobbing with my eyes closed, for what seemed like forever and ever and ever and ever; being pulled mercilessly through my final time to live and on into the very bottomless pit of darkness I knew as death. I raced over my life’s memories and meaning in the bed of my mind one last time and, in one final peak of internal anguish and suffocating agony, I succumbed my fate to one gentle soft breath that lulled me to death and sleep.
This was the catalytic prerequisite experience to spiritual metamorphosis; my personal spiritual death.
The foundations of my mental stability were dealt a death blow. Without understanding what was happening, I was experiencing first-hand that, ultimately, I am neither in control of my life, nor my death. Ultimately, my mind is out of control, and doomed to destruction. As long as I had lived, I had been borrowing life; borrowing my mind, and my spirit, and my body. I was experiencing initiation into the experience that we must all one day pass through; a scheduled appointment with the Source and Purpose of life and death.
Waves of loss of control of my mental stability washed over me and through me. I; the essence of my identity - was being undone. As in the roaring of a raging ocean over a coral reef; I felt as a helpless baby tumbling and churning in merciless thundering waves. I was mercilessly raked into the jagged rocks with their coral; broken to pieces; torn apart. I, even I - crumbled and broke somewhere in the bedrock essence of my concept of identity. I was dying in my mind. I was shattering to innumerable pieces; letting go of my hold on life; letting all my hope fade; breathing my last breaths before my very last; to journey beyond in full into whatever the black-hole of death had in store for me. I cried in the same position; flat on my back; sobbing with my eyes closed, for what seemed like forever and ever and ever and ever; being pulled mercilessly through my final time to live and on into the very bottomless pit of darkness I knew as death. I raced over my life’s memories and meaning in the bed of my mind one last time and, in one final peak of internal anguish and suffocating agony, I succumbed my fate to one gentle soft breath that lulled me to death and sleep.
This was the catalytic prerequisite experience to spiritual metamorphosis; my personal spiritual death.
The foundations of my mental stability were dealt a death blow. Without understanding what was happening, I was experiencing first-hand that, ultimately, I am neither in control of my life, nor my death. Ultimately, my mind is out of control, and doomed to destruction. As long as I had lived, I had been borrowing life; borrowing my mind, and my spirit, and my body. I was experiencing initiation into the experience that we must all one day pass through; a scheduled appointment with the Source and Purpose of life and death.
Of course, I didn’t physically die; I did wake up the next morning. But in the shower first thing the next morning, I felt my entire sense of identity wash down the drain as endless spiraling streams of spiritual filthy wine flowing endlessly out of me. I felt continually, nauseatingly spiritually sick; truly deeply undone, and unable to cope or function as a “normal” human being. Needless to say, I could not function as a “normal” human being in this mind-frame. I had no family or close friends nearby to support me, and wound up in the psychiatric portion of the hospital. I was forced into a straight jacket, locked into a solitary room and strapped down. The first drugs they forced on me were so potent I slept for what seemed like days, and when I finally woke up, I could barely move. I had been drugged to the point of being virtually paralyzed; barely being able to move and barely being able to think. I lost my bodily functionality and mobility in a way that was sickeningly dis-empowering, nauseatingly crippling, and dreadful. My thoughts were cruelly impaired, and my confidence was broken. This would be the longest and most sickening narcotic hangover I would ever experience. I felt extremely ill; violated, and nearly hopelessly miserable. I felt alone, trapped, abused, and utterly misunderstood.
Here I will insert a story tied in parallel to a story I shared with you earlier. Once, during my time in high school, I was riding my bike, and the chain slipped off while I was standing up and pedaling hard. I fell down, impaling the inside of my thigh on the exposed, greasy sprocket. It was a deep and greasy; dirty wound of many deep gouges, and was acutely painful. Just prior to this, my mother, totally unaware of what was about to happen, was on the way to a musical festival in another town. She began to have persistent impressions that something was very wrong and that she should return home; impressions so strong that, for no other reason, she turned her vehicle around and abandoned her plans to rush home and answer the cry of her heart. When I arrived, she ran to me as I was approaching shock on the outdoor steps; blood all over me. She cleaned my wounds with herbs and tended to my needs. Parallel to this, just prior to the exact time when I entered the psychiatric hospital, my mom was leaving for her annual trip to Hawaii when she had an identical premonition and undeniable impression that something was dreadfully wrong with her son; that she should turn around and go home.
Here I will insert a story tied in parallel to a story I shared with you earlier. Once, during my time in high school, I was riding my bike, and the chain slipped off while I was standing up and pedaling hard. I fell down, impaling the inside of my thigh on the exposed, greasy sprocket. It was a deep and greasy; dirty wound of many deep gouges, and was acutely painful. Just prior to this, my mother, totally unaware of what was about to happen, was on the way to a musical festival in another town. She began to have persistent impressions that something was very wrong and that she should return home; impressions so strong that, for no other reason, she turned her vehicle around and abandoned her plans to rush home and answer the cry of her heart. When I arrived, she ran to me as I was approaching shock on the outdoor steps; blood all over me. She cleaned my wounds with herbs and tended to my needs. Parallel to this, just prior to the exact time when I entered the psychiatric hospital, my mom was leaving for her annual trip to Hawaii when she had an identical premonition and undeniable impression that something was dreadfully wrong with her son; that she should turn around and go home.
I was immediately diagnosed and placed in a mental illness category to administer a ‘cure’ of a strong pharmaceutical cocktail designed to alter consciousness back to “normal”. In this mind-state alteration facility, some individuals were taking thirteen narcotic pills before bedtime alone, and this was only one of the three times during the day in which pharmaceutical cocktails were given to patients.
Late one night, after everyone was supposed to be in their rooms, I was quietly walking down the hall, and for some reason, I was impressed to stop at one patient’s door and look inside the little plexiglass window. He was standing in front of his bed with many random objects placed “randomly” on the bed. He was studying them intensely, and arranging them with extreme care. I knew immediately that he was experiencing the exact same spiritual significance that I had by experimenting and doing this exact same thing.
After an uncomfortably long experience at the hospital, I escaped, only to end up back again not long after. The drugs did their designed job this time and I became “normal” again. I went back home, and not long after, stopped taking the one pill I had accepted for medication because it was destroying my stomach. Despite being back in “the real world” in a severely humbled, confused, yet “normal” mind-frame, I carried with me all these memories. More than ever, I had a solid conviction of the existence of a deeper spiritual reality behind everyday life. I confessed that no matter how brutal it had all been, I was closer to the true goal of life’s value; contrition rather than conciliation.
I had had so many spiritual experiences, many of which we don’t have time to share here, which testified that reality was spiritual in nature and there was much more going on in life than I understood. But as far as I was concerned, I felt little closer to having any spiritual understanding than when I had begun. Actually, I felt that I had lost and wasted something very precious in falling into disgrace and dis-empowered mental breakdown from the heightened spiritual frequency of potent wonder and confidence I had been enjoying. Nonetheless, I was soon more interested than ever to open to, and seek for understanding, and so, I started to read a wider variety of books which dealt with spiritual subjects and the meaning of life. My appetite for books and knowledge blossomed again. I again read nearly everything I could get my hands on under the subject of spirituality. I read books about philosophy, eastern spiritual practices, UFO’s, psychic phenomena, scientific experiments with ESP, mind state alteration, ghosts, miracles, meditation, Buddhism, etc., etc.
I had had so many spiritual experiences, many of which we don’t have time to share here, which testified that reality was spiritual in nature and there was much more going on in life than I understood. But as far as I was concerned, I felt little closer to having any spiritual understanding than when I had begun. Actually, I felt that I had lost and wasted something very precious in falling into disgrace and dis-empowered mental breakdown from the heightened spiritual frequency of potent wonder and confidence I had been enjoying. Nonetheless, I was soon more interested than ever to open to, and seek for understanding, and so, I started to read a wider variety of books which dealt with spiritual subjects and the meaning of life. My appetite for books and knowledge blossomed again. I again read nearly everything I could get my hands on under the subject of spirituality. I read books about philosophy, eastern spiritual practices, UFO’s, psychic phenomena, scientific experiments with ESP, mind state alteration, ghosts, miracles, meditation, Buddhism, etc., etc.
One night, my girlfriend and I were on the trampoline at my mother’s watching the stars. This particular girlfriend would give birth to our daughter; River. One star began to appear brighter than all the rest. To our spellbound, transfixed amazement, the star got brighter and brighter, faster and faster, accelerating straight towards us, but totally silently. All within a few seconds, we perceived that the star was going to impact the area right between us. We both leaped off the trampoline and started running – in opposite directions. After we had run from the trampoline in totally opposite directions, the mysterious light in the sky reversed course instantly, and returned from where it had come from; faster than it had appeared; finally disappearing altogether. Our automatic reactions were proof that we had both had the same experience, and that the “star” was specific to each of us personally; so specific that it sent us in opposite directions. Knowing we had experienced something beyond supernatural, before I told her what I had seen, my first reaction was to ask her to tell me; in crystal clear detail, what she had seen. I wanted to know what she had seen, free of my input, in order for me to verify whether we had seen the same thing.
Her description described the exact same thing that I had seen in absolutely perfect detail. It seems symbolic to me that light from the sky would send us in opposite directions, for that is exactly what would eventually happen to us in our future.
Her description described the exact same thing that I had seen in absolutely perfect detail. It seems symbolic to me that light from the sky would send us in opposite directions, for that is exactly what would eventually happen to us in our future.
Still seeking occupation, I ended up in a government program doing organic landscaping. The program leaders built us up personally; emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually, and taught us valuable hands-on lessons about organic foods, organic gardening, healthy lifestyle and positive thinking. During this encouraging program, we also did several career aptitude tests that were designed to match personal skills to the most suitable careers. Two of these tests produced reports which stated that tattooing was a career which I was well suited for. One of these two tests strongly recommended tattooing. I was very surprised and intrigued. I did not need any additional incentive on top of this, so I determined to try again to seriously explore the possibility of becoming a tattoo artist. What did I have to lose?
I spent a large portion of my spare time that summer devoting myself to what I thought would be one of the best ways to approach and enter the door of this industry. I designed a large and intricate tattoo for myself; to serve as a platform for increasing and displaying my artistic skills, and to demonstrate my longing and determination to be apprenticed for tattooing. With a black spiral tattoo of my own custom design, the entire inside of my left arm; from armpit to elbow, was tattooed. But to my dismay, the whole endeavor was, for the second time, very discouraging. All the shops in town, including the one I liked most, particularly the owner, were absolutely not interested in apprenticing me. So, I began to reluctantly surrender my dream of tattooing; yet again, wondering in confusion how there could be any Purpose in this at all.
But about a week later, I heard through the grapevine that my biological father, whom I had not seen since I was three years old, and had not talked to since I was fifteen -had become a tattoo artist, and had been tattooing in his brother’s shop in Edmonton for five years!
So, naturally, I contacted him, got re-acquainted, planned it all out, and made a trip out to Edmonton at the first available opportunity, which was in February, with the temperature at minus forty with no heater in my dying car. Despite the challenging journey, it was a joyfully wonderful reunion filled with regret at our lost years, and unexpected hope for a new future of fresh, amazing possibilities. My biological father had enthusiastically welcomed me to live with him, and to teach me how to tattoo as well as he did.
Is the hair on the back of your neck tingling or standing up? I will take this opportunity to reiterate that I feel it my most solemn responsibility to tell you nothing less than impeccable flawless truth; and not to exaggerate the truth of history, or be inaccurate in any way whatsoever. You’ll want to securely fasten your seat-belt, we are merely preparing for take off.
So, naturally, I contacted him, got re-acquainted, planned it all out, and made a trip out to Edmonton at the first available opportunity, which was in February, with the temperature at minus forty with no heater in my dying car. Despite the challenging journey, it was a joyfully wonderful reunion filled with regret at our lost years, and unexpected hope for a new future of fresh, amazing possibilities. My biological father had enthusiastically welcomed me to live with him, and to teach me how to tattoo as well as he did.
Is the hair on the back of your neck tingling or standing up? I will take this opportunity to reiterate that I feel it my most solemn responsibility to tell you nothing less than impeccable flawless truth; and not to exaggerate the truth of history, or be inaccurate in any way whatsoever. You’ll want to securely fasten your seat-belt, we are merely preparing for take off.
My girlfriend was now pregnant, and the journey back to Edmonton with my new family was unexpectedly and shockingly perilous; foreshadowing doom ahead. Were it not for an apparent miracle, we easily should have met our final demise that night, and certainly should never have escaped without grievous injury to all of us. It was an oppressively thick, heavy, dark night like my first nightmares. As soon as we got onto the highway, bloody torn and splattered animal roadkill corpses haunted our course the entire racing ten hour journey; from the very start to the very end. Not only were the ripped apart bodies and entrails especially grotesque, the frequency of the carnage was just like the pitter-patter of paws and stomping on the roof; persistent and supernaturally consistent. I sensed that something bad might happen, and my girlfriend and I spoke openly about the atmosphere of the highway that night. To us, the intensity was enough that even though we had never done this before, we actually prayed that we would safely arrive in Edmonton; she praying to God for us. I had my eyes glued to the road and was using my highly sensitive eyes and talented driving skill to be as cautious and attentive as possible. I wanted to be ready for any live animals we may need to avoid, as well as the many corpses we were continually passing throughout the perilous journey. The atmosphere and experience was like something out of a horror movie that would have a title like: “Haunted Highway”.
Nearing the end of the journey, in the middle of a long straight-stretch with poor visibility because of oncoming and thick traffic, the event we had anticipated and prayed for leaped upon us as if out of nowhere. All of a sudden; I found myself in the midst of more blood and guts in my headlights. I let off the gas immediately like always, and got ready to brake and possibly dodge, but we were doing a lethal ninety kilometers per hour or more, and there simply was no time to either brake or dodge. It all happened in about three seconds. Swerving at that speed on ice would have sent us into a deadly power slide, and braking would have thrown the nose of the car down far lower, and locked the tires into a slide as well. So, coasting through carnage, the blood and gore grew thicker and bloodier with a gruesome trail of blood between chunks of flesh and fur. Finally and suddenly a large hairy mass loomed right in front of me with no way to avoid a collision. The size of the animal and its course dark fur seemed likely to belong to a bear or a moose. To me, it appeared that the torso of the corpse was at least three feet high; far higher than the lowest point on the front bumper of the car. With that sickening feeling of helplessness as you watch disaster fall in apparent slow-motion, I anticipated and braced for a terrible car crash. I expected the front left of the car on my side to be crumpled inward and be demolished on impact, for us all to be wrenched backward with whiplash, and for the car to be whipped into a spin from impacting this enormous animal at high speed. There was a thundering; enormously loud, sickening crunch; shaking the car with earthquake force which repeated a fraction of a second later as the corpse impacted the back left tire also. My girlfriend startled awake in shock from her troubled snoozing and immediately began to panic. I pulled the car over to assess the damage and calm down. Miraculously, although there was a thick tuft of hair stuck in the hubcap smeared with blood, the car drove us the rest of the way and we suffered no loss to the function of the car, or our bodies. The mechanics who looked at the car later were baffled as well as I was. We survived the ordeal, so my pregnant girlfriend and I and our dog settled into Edmonton into a seemingly peaceful new home, and a fresh start in life with my father. As you can likely already tell, the good times were not going to last long. Once again, I was blindly barreling toward a new kind of greater and deeper disappointment and pain than I had suffered thus far, coupled with spiritual mysteries, wonders, trials, and revelations.
My dad and I were instantly great friends. I finished my apprenticeship in one month and started making more money, and gaining more confidence than I ever had. My girlfriend gave birth to our wonderful daughter; River. I spent the next two years in Edmonton tattooing, and at first, I sincerely believed that this time, I finally “had it made”. I felt that all the disappointment in high school and beyond; all the self-criticism and strife of feeling the enormous pressure of ‘choosing a career’ was finally resolved. It felt as though my past had, once again, been transformed from a bad dream; into a dream come true. Only this time, I increasingly felt that this dream come true could never have an unexpected or an unhappy ending. To put a cherry on top, I also learned that my cousin had gone through the same fascinating life experience also; inspired to tattoo - before discovering that her father (my uncle) was a tattoo artist already.
Nearing the end of the journey, in the middle of a long straight-stretch with poor visibility because of oncoming and thick traffic, the event we had anticipated and prayed for leaped upon us as if out of nowhere. All of a sudden; I found myself in the midst of more blood and guts in my headlights. I let off the gas immediately like always, and got ready to brake and possibly dodge, but we were doing a lethal ninety kilometers per hour or more, and there simply was no time to either brake or dodge. It all happened in about three seconds. Swerving at that speed on ice would have sent us into a deadly power slide, and braking would have thrown the nose of the car down far lower, and locked the tires into a slide as well. So, coasting through carnage, the blood and gore grew thicker and bloodier with a gruesome trail of blood between chunks of flesh and fur. Finally and suddenly a large hairy mass loomed right in front of me with no way to avoid a collision. The size of the animal and its course dark fur seemed likely to belong to a bear or a moose. To me, it appeared that the torso of the corpse was at least three feet high; far higher than the lowest point on the front bumper of the car. With that sickening feeling of helplessness as you watch disaster fall in apparent slow-motion, I anticipated and braced for a terrible car crash. I expected the front left of the car on my side to be crumpled inward and be demolished on impact, for us all to be wrenched backward with whiplash, and for the car to be whipped into a spin from impacting this enormous animal at high speed. There was a thundering; enormously loud, sickening crunch; shaking the car with earthquake force which repeated a fraction of a second later as the corpse impacted the back left tire also. My girlfriend startled awake in shock from her troubled snoozing and immediately began to panic. I pulled the car over to assess the damage and calm down. Miraculously, although there was a thick tuft of hair stuck in the hubcap smeared with blood, the car drove us the rest of the way and we suffered no loss to the function of the car, or our bodies. The mechanics who looked at the car later were baffled as well as I was. We survived the ordeal, so my pregnant girlfriend and I and our dog settled into Edmonton into a seemingly peaceful new home, and a fresh start in life with my father. As you can likely already tell, the good times were not going to last long. Once again, I was blindly barreling toward a new kind of greater and deeper disappointment and pain than I had suffered thus far, coupled with spiritual mysteries, wonders, trials, and revelations.
My dad and I were instantly great friends. I finished my apprenticeship in one month and started making more money, and gaining more confidence than I ever had. My girlfriend gave birth to our wonderful daughter; River. I spent the next two years in Edmonton tattooing, and at first, I sincerely believed that this time, I finally “had it made”. I felt that all the disappointment in high school and beyond; all the self-criticism and strife of feeling the enormous pressure of ‘choosing a career’ was finally resolved. It felt as though my past had, once again, been transformed from a bad dream; into a dream come true. Only this time, I increasingly felt that this dream come true could never have an unexpected or an unhappy ending. To put a cherry on top, I also learned that my cousin had gone through the same fascinating life experience also; inspired to tattoo - before discovering that her father (my uncle) was a tattoo artist already.
The impression that everything in life truly does have some apparently unfathomably deep purpose was being powerfully reinforced in my experience and life. Again, hunger and thirst to grow in my spiritual knowledge and understanding blossomed. I continued reading more and more books on spiritual subjects; branching out into shamanism and witchcraft of many varieties, voodoo, wicca, druids, eastern gurus, buddhism, daoism, mythology, ESP, hypnosis, quantum physics, sacred geometry, ghosts, spirits, and UFO’s - just to name a few. Each and every one of these books set out to fill in missing detail of the big picture by unveiling vital parts of the true meaning of life. However, not one of them was nearly powerful enough to begin to approach satisfying my curiosity fully. I was increasingly desirous to discover the ultimate, genuine, and final big picture of the solid ground of Reality and to put an end to my life’s quest and question. But every mysterious spiritual teaching I brought to the light of my attention revealed further yawning dark secret passages which opened greater unexplored dark mysteries with no obvious passage through to the other side; no solid light or fresh spiritual air to give sure footing, foundation, and instruction. Every book left me with more spiritual commas and question marks, rather than any spiritual exclamation mark or period. Regardless, the conviction grew that every fine detail in life down to the finest magnified detail really does veil Purpose.
I had decided in my youth that I didn’t want any child; particularly any I might have, to feel betrayed and misunderstood as I had. I would aim to share the virtuous principle of respect for others that my grandfather had invested in me. My father proved to share the same foundation of values as my grandfather, and he apprenticed me to continue on in this way of respect and honor, both as a tattoo artist, and as a father. Like my grandfather, my father practiced and taught respecting customers by valuing them as equal and greater importance to us. My goal was to put my best efforts and highest care and skill into every tattoo I did; truly believing and gaining strength in practicing the law that what I spiritually reaped I would spiritually sow. As a tattoo artist, I had as much respect as a doctor, and more - because not only was I a qualified and respected dermatological doctor, I was also considered ‘cool’. People trusted me, not only with the health and future of their bodies, but also with their deepest secrets. People trusted me not just because I was a tattoo artist, but also because I was not your average tattoo artist; I genuinely strove to offer valuable other-centered service. I was an anonymous, non-judgmental, compassionate listening ear. My clients surrendered willingly and gladly to my authority, charisma, confidence, compassion and skill, and were far from disappointed. I strove to conduct myself as though each client were me, and the result was inevitable; people glowed with happiness and pride; some absolutely giddy with pleasure. On top of all this, the money was great, and got better as my clientele base and skills improved. I thought: “What better job or life could a person have?”.
My uncle’s shop was a relaxed and easy-going tattoo shop, and it was steadily busy; being one of the original shops in the city. There was minor competition for the available clients and tattoos, and certain artists would strive for the first clients, the best art, the best clients, and most clients, but I decided that I would do things differently and not struggle against my co-workers in a competitive way. I did not strive for the art and clients I wanted, but for customer service to every one; putting others first - and foremost. I felt so successful and comfortable with life that striving for more was, to me, redundant. It became my pleasure to share peoples’ inspirations; to revive and satisfy their veiled dormant imaginations. Giving people what they wanted proved, time and time again, to be infinitely rewarding. It appeared to me that I would invariably end up with art I enjoyed and clients that I appreciated; all without expending frivolous energy.
My uncle’s shop was a relaxed and easy-going tattoo shop, and it was steadily busy; being one of the original shops in the city. There was minor competition for the available clients and tattoos, and certain artists would strive for the first clients, the best art, the best clients, and most clients, but I decided that I would do things differently and not struggle against my co-workers in a competitive way. I did not strive for the art and clients I wanted, but for customer service to every one; putting others first - and foremost. I felt so successful and comfortable with life that striving for more was, to me, redundant. It became my pleasure to share peoples’ inspirations; to revive and satisfy their veiled dormant imaginations. Giving people what they wanted proved, time and time again, to be infinitely rewarding. It appeared to me that I would invariably end up with art I enjoyed and clients that I appreciated; all without expending frivolous energy.
Once, when one artist was competing for clients, a client walked in who ended up getting a minimum-charge, one-time sixty dollar tattoo from this artist. So, while this artist was busy tattooing, in walked an older business-man type gentleman who was quite wealthy, had never been tattooed, wanted his body covered in tattoos, and was quite willing and able to pay handsomely for it. I ended up making a longer-term friend and a lot of money, as well as getting a huge amount of experience under my belt.
One day, a quiet fellow came in and wanted a full back tattoo, and he had a large canvas to work with. After three and a half hours of literal torture; blood; sweat; tears, and a harrowing ordeal, an horrific grim reaper of graphic realism and ominous atmosphere was outlined and embedded into this fellows back; from the tip of his tailbone, to the base of his neck, and from shoulder to shoulder. From my perspective, this tattoo was one of the rare few that was executed in a seemingly effortless, flowing, and uniquely inspired way; as though the art and experience had been set up in advance to fall like a long and carefully arranged course of dominoes. Months passed; I waited with great anticipation for this fellow to return to fill in and finish the masterpiece of death which we had outlined. To my surprise, I heard through the grapevine that he had died an unexpected death.
During a trip back to the Okanagan, I was spending time with my best friend Andy; the bass player in our band who had accompanied me to get my first tattoo. I still had a strong desire for companionship and also to have a positive impact on his life. He was financially burdened, and I strove to convince him that he could learn to tattoo with my help. At first, he did not believe it was possible. He felt that it was “too good to be true”. At the time, I was reading a book about seeing the future through prophesying techniques. I followed the directions, came up with two questions about the future that were the most important to me, and rolled the dice. One question was: ‘Will my girlfriend and I end up together in the long run?’, and the answer was no. The other question was: ‘Will Andy learn to tattoo?’, and the answer was yes. I redoubled my efforts to convince Andy that he was able to learn to tattoo and make good money at it, and this time he believed me. He moved to Edmonton to live with us and learn to tattoo with my father and I.
One day, a quiet fellow came in and wanted a full back tattoo, and he had a large canvas to work with. After three and a half hours of literal torture; blood; sweat; tears, and a harrowing ordeal, an horrific grim reaper of graphic realism and ominous atmosphere was outlined and embedded into this fellows back; from the tip of his tailbone, to the base of his neck, and from shoulder to shoulder. From my perspective, this tattoo was one of the rare few that was executed in a seemingly effortless, flowing, and uniquely inspired way; as though the art and experience had been set up in advance to fall like a long and carefully arranged course of dominoes. Months passed; I waited with great anticipation for this fellow to return to fill in and finish the masterpiece of death which we had outlined. To my surprise, I heard through the grapevine that he had died an unexpected death.
During a trip back to the Okanagan, I was spending time with my best friend Andy; the bass player in our band who had accompanied me to get my first tattoo. I still had a strong desire for companionship and also to have a positive impact on his life. He was financially burdened, and I strove to convince him that he could learn to tattoo with my help. At first, he did not believe it was possible. He felt that it was “too good to be true”. At the time, I was reading a book about seeing the future through prophesying techniques. I followed the directions, came up with two questions about the future that were the most important to me, and rolled the dice. One question was: ‘Will my girlfriend and I end up together in the long run?’, and the answer was no. The other question was: ‘Will Andy learn to tattoo?’, and the answer was yes. I redoubled my efforts to convince Andy that he was able to learn to tattoo and make good money at it, and this time he believed me. He moved to Edmonton to live with us and learn to tattoo with my father and I.
As I continued in my enthusiasm reading many random books on spiritual matters, one underlying beautifully attractive magnetic concept surfaced that continued to rise above everything. It was the idea that every human interaction; every object and every experience; every person and every word, is a color or a shade on the palette of the Purpose of life, and the range of that palette is from black to White; from red to green; and back around to purple; the full spectrum of light. It was the idea that Purpose, veiled by color, Light, shadows, and even pure darkness - is constantly communicating a divine message, and this message is Love. It was the idea that life is one infinitely grand play on a limitless universal stage wherein the actors are all of us, but the Director is Purpose, or as most spiritual paths named Purpose; God. It was the idea that Purpose, or God, is the ultimate Author and Identity orchestrating, but never forcing - every actor and movement of on the stage of life. Somewhere deep in my innermost nature, this was a clear beam of truth in the darkness that I could eternally stand on as Rock solid ground. From the time that I began to be able to reason, I had, by default, seen other people, and their essence of identity - their awareness and life source - as altogether separate from my awareness and life source; my identity. But this idea was being overthrown by the lessons of my experiences and the ideas presented in the books I was reading. The more I reflected on the past and my whole life, the more I felt conviction and confirmation that awareness is not personal property, but the property of God Himself. And, since each person’s identity belongs to a beneficent God Who is the Author of each and every living creature, all awareness is also inseparably bound together in the heart of God. I found a growing intellectual and spiritual harmony between the experiences that I had had and the idea that all of it, and somehow even the apparently “bad” experiences and “bad” people - were not only integral and necessary, but a vital part of the overall function and masterpiece of life. I saw that awareness itself is an infinitely precious gift, and all who possess it are valued together equally by the Author and Origin of Awareness.
The closer I reviewed my life, the more I discovered a deep harmonic resonance connecting my unpleasant experiences to the fabric and essence of life. I saw that everything; good and bad - is exactly as it must be. I saw that everything in existence and all my experiences truly must have some mysteriously grand veiled vital role, and it dawned on me that I had been wrong every time I had seen any thing, or any one, or any experience as having been an accident or a mistake that would be better to never have had any part on the stage of life whatsoever. I saw that I had misinterpreted and misunderstood the roles people and relationships and experiences played in my life. I saw that it would not be easy to perceive the truth of life and the “bad” people and “bad” experiences through this revolutionary lens of Purpose and appreciation. I was going to need all the Help I could get to challenge and overthrow the firmly rooted principles of isolated awareness. I would need firm footing in Purpose to undo and unfurl the twisted branches of beliefs and habits that had shaped my mind and character and life and memories with the lens of absence of Purpose.
One quote in a particular book I was reading at the time seemed to sum up everything I had learned thus far, and it was a quote from the Bible. Like every one of the other spiritual books I had read, this book as well had no faith that the Bible as a whole had value. It contained a quote from the Bible that it singled out from the Bible as having particular significance. To me, it mattered little that this quote that resonated with my deepest understandings was from the Bible. In my mind, the Bible, although lower than the bottom rung, still remained on the bottom of the ladder of the endless paths to enlightenment.
The quote was “Thou art God”. To me, and to the author writing about it, the quote is an endlessly demonstrable observation of the fabric of Life. One example in particular is our sun in the sky. Our sun displays zero favoritism and unconditionally radiates life-nourishing life-waves. The very behavior and science of our source of life favors no object or being as having inferior or superior necessity or value in being bestowed with abundant life. In other words, everything that has existed, does exist and will exist, is part of an inseparably interconnected web of awareness authored and orchestrated by Purpose personally. To God, there is not one single object, or being, or experience in the interwoven, interconnected web that can be safely eliminated or changed. All; good and evil; light and dark, are subject to One Author. Although I had next to no understanding of the character of God, I had learned that if there was a God, It, or He, or She or Whomever - was somehow as much the Creator and Conductor of the ‘bad’ people and ‘bad’ experiences as the ‘good’ people and ‘good’ experiences. I recognized that this concept went directly against my heart and the vast majority of all that I had believed and practiced my entire life. It was also dawning on me that it went directly against the grain of our modern culture, and therefore, to follow this authentic real God, I was in for a life-long struggle going against the grain of the world, and of the foundation of human nature itself. To accept and practice this radical and anti-worldly vision would be the greatest challenge of my life. But I felt I had nothing to lose and a possible personal relationship with Purpose to gain; the God that had orchestrated my life and each of the many trials I had suffered. Although a personal, perfect God was a fearful and intimidating realm of thought, I knew, based on my past experiences, that He was unpredictable. He was both powerful and merciful and unpredictable enough to communicate to me and have mercy on me personally through anything - including cigarettes, LSD, ruined relationships, cats, and even mysterious spiritual beings creating thunder on my roof.
I felt beckoned; invited; welcomed - to know Life beyond interpretation or opinion, and to go against the world and my past beliefs and make investments in this Way. I felt certain that this quote (“Thou art God”) would be dear to me forever because it rang so deeply true, so I decided to get the quote tattooed on my right forearm by my father. I wanted to never forget, and as often as possible to be reminded, that no matter who I may be dealing with in my future life experiences, that if God exists at all, He is the Spirit of the merciful Conductor of the universe and He knows equal value in the existence of every person and experience, good or evil; no matter what personal opinions or cultural illusions may tell me.
The closer I reviewed my life, the more I discovered a deep harmonic resonance connecting my unpleasant experiences to the fabric and essence of life. I saw that everything; good and bad - is exactly as it must be. I saw that everything in existence and all my experiences truly must have some mysteriously grand veiled vital role, and it dawned on me that I had been wrong every time I had seen any thing, or any one, or any experience as having been an accident or a mistake that would be better to never have had any part on the stage of life whatsoever. I saw that I had misinterpreted and misunderstood the roles people and relationships and experiences played in my life. I saw that it would not be easy to perceive the truth of life and the “bad” people and “bad” experiences through this revolutionary lens of Purpose and appreciation. I was going to need all the Help I could get to challenge and overthrow the firmly rooted principles of isolated awareness. I would need firm footing in Purpose to undo and unfurl the twisted branches of beliefs and habits that had shaped my mind and character and life and memories with the lens of absence of Purpose.
One quote in a particular book I was reading at the time seemed to sum up everything I had learned thus far, and it was a quote from the Bible. Like every one of the other spiritual books I had read, this book as well had no faith that the Bible as a whole had value. It contained a quote from the Bible that it singled out from the Bible as having particular significance. To me, it mattered little that this quote that resonated with my deepest understandings was from the Bible. In my mind, the Bible, although lower than the bottom rung, still remained on the bottom of the ladder of the endless paths to enlightenment.
The quote was “Thou art God”. To me, and to the author writing about it, the quote is an endlessly demonstrable observation of the fabric of Life. One example in particular is our sun in the sky. Our sun displays zero favoritism and unconditionally radiates life-nourishing life-waves. The very behavior and science of our source of life favors no object or being as having inferior or superior necessity or value in being bestowed with abundant life. In other words, everything that has existed, does exist and will exist, is part of an inseparably interconnected web of awareness authored and orchestrated by Purpose personally. To God, there is not one single object, or being, or experience in the interwoven, interconnected web that can be safely eliminated or changed. All; good and evil; light and dark, are subject to One Author. Although I had next to no understanding of the character of God, I had learned that if there was a God, It, or He, or She or Whomever - was somehow as much the Creator and Conductor of the ‘bad’ people and ‘bad’ experiences as the ‘good’ people and ‘good’ experiences. I recognized that this concept went directly against my heart and the vast majority of all that I had believed and practiced my entire life. It was also dawning on me that it went directly against the grain of our modern culture, and therefore, to follow this authentic real God, I was in for a life-long struggle going against the grain of the world, and of the foundation of human nature itself. To accept and practice this radical and anti-worldly vision would be the greatest challenge of my life. But I felt I had nothing to lose and a possible personal relationship with Purpose to gain; the God that had orchestrated my life and each of the many trials I had suffered. Although a personal, perfect God was a fearful and intimidating realm of thought, I knew, based on my past experiences, that He was unpredictable. He was both powerful and merciful and unpredictable enough to communicate to me and have mercy on me personally through anything - including cigarettes, LSD, ruined relationships, cats, and even mysterious spiritual beings creating thunder on my roof.
I felt beckoned; invited; welcomed - to know Life beyond interpretation or opinion, and to go against the world and my past beliefs and make investments in this Way. I felt certain that this quote (“Thou art God”) would be dear to me forever because it rang so deeply true, so I decided to get the quote tattooed on my right forearm by my father. I wanted to never forget, and as often as possible to be reminded, that no matter who I may be dealing with in my future life experiences, that if God exists at all, He is the Spirit of the merciful Conductor of the universe and He knows equal value in the existence of every person and experience, good or evil; no matter what personal opinions or cultural illusions may tell me.
I would never have guessed that this would be the last tattoo I would get from my father or anyone.
My girlfriend and I seemed to spend more and more time fighting and, as a couple, being miserable. As in my earlier years with my mother, looking back with honesty, I was really in no shape to help or love anyone else; no matter how good I felt; no matter how good life seemed. I was still a failure as a father and as a son and as a husband; first in my own deepest heart. The more I allowed my new understanding of God to possess me, the more I saw my entire life history as a wasteland of leprosy that was still my primary way of living and being and thinking. I drank, and smoked, and lusted, after pride, money, and more than one woman. I invested in products and lies that used the planet like a whore and I saw less and less in the mirror and the world to be proud of. I felt better than I ever had in life and things looked wonderful from the outside, but I knew that there was something sickeningly wrong deep down; much like the happy scenes at the start of a horror movie. Andy tried to help and became somewhat of a mediator between my daughter’s mother and I. Andy was an advocate and defender of River and peace. But after two years of tattooing with my father and best friend at my uncles shop, my girlfriend and my two year old daughter retreated to the Okanagan due to relationship breakdown. I became increasingly depressed. At the time I could not logically account for the depth of my pain. My father helped me to recognize and confess that I was devastated from the loss of connection between my daughter and her mother. With the encouragement of my father, I eventually reluctantly decided I had to go back home and leave my father, and Andy, and tattooing behind. I accepted the likelihood that I may never tattoo again, because I knew that the possibility of finding a position as a tattoo artist in my small home town area was very slim.
I moved back to the Okanagan to live under my step-father’s roof again; with River, her mother, and our dog. You may already sense that this was a disaster waiting to happen, and as the future would unfold, you’d be right. However, through persistence, providence, and a very professional portfolio, despite many disappointments and many failed attempts, I finally secured a job at a tattoo shop. The work at this shop was slower at this time, so I once again became absorbed in spiritual studies when I wasn’t too busy medicating myself. I deeply missed my father, and I intuitively sensed that River’s mother and I were not going to last. My favorite medication at this time was collecting video games, which accumulated into a literal small fortune, but would eventually end up being stolen. One day, I was deeply impressed with a bold idea to intentionally pursue a deeper understanding. I was impressed to go to the library; that a particular book would be there for me. I was impressed that the book I would find would somehow fit perfectly into the puzzle of my life in its right place designed for this particular time; and be exactly what I really needed next. I felt that I would intuitively somehow recognize the book when I found it. I went to the library and found a book relatively quickly. It was in the small spiritual section of the library. It was a boring looking plain little green book with no art. It had no art on the cover, nor inside, and it was not outwardly attractive in the slightest. To me, it was a peculiar and outwardly unattractive book. To my distinct surprise, after reading a very small quantity of this book, it was clear that this book focused on Jesus as its main source of teachings. The book was an auto-biography and philosophy of a Christian doctor.
During the time when I was approaching mental breakdown and hospitalization with a higher spiritual frequency of awareness, I had a very peculiar spiritual revelation. One night for an hour or more, I was sharply impressed that Jesus had been a real human being. I was adamantly convicted that Jesus Christ had walked the earth and left a cataclysmic testament and catalyst of unsurpassed spiritual significance in death by crucifixion. The revelation had been irresistibly personal and intense, but I had almost forgotten it by this time. Memories of Jesus had been buried among the rubble of many wild brush-strokes on the chaotic canvas of my past spiritual life. But this little unassuming book brought this memory back into focus. Oddly, all the books I had studied over the previous ten years only had brief references, at best, to Jesus. Despite my unflinching disgust for the Christian religion, and my complete abhorrence of that one and only spiritual path, my mother’s prayers, as a still, small voice in the distant past, called to me now from my long distant good memories and, so, I was not opposed to learning more about the real Jesus and His teachings.
From all that I had read and been told up to this point, bits and pieces of Jesus’ teachings from the Bible were good, but I was solidly against all established branches of Christianity. And, I had no respect, and nothing but prejudice and bitter hatred toward the Bible itself as a whole. Nearly every book I had read, many of which were written by respected scientists, outwardly mocked and ridiculed the Bible as mythical, worthless nonsense. And I had never known anyone more than as an acquaintance who had anything supportive to say of the Bible. To me, the old Bible stories were no more than a self-righteous collection of the most dangerous myths and fantasies known to all mankind. I had been taught and indoctrinated in high school into what I thought was proven scientific fact; that the Bible, every church, and Christianity as a whole were based on unscientific, deceptive, vile fairy tales that were responsible for some of the worst closed-mindedness, bigotry, and persecution humanity has known.
During the time when I was approaching mental breakdown and hospitalization with a higher spiritual frequency of awareness, I had a very peculiar spiritual revelation. One night for an hour or more, I was sharply impressed that Jesus had been a real human being. I was adamantly convicted that Jesus Christ had walked the earth and left a cataclysmic testament and catalyst of unsurpassed spiritual significance in death by crucifixion. The revelation had been irresistibly personal and intense, but I had almost forgotten it by this time. Memories of Jesus had been buried among the rubble of many wild brush-strokes on the chaotic canvas of my past spiritual life. But this little unassuming book brought this memory back into focus. Oddly, all the books I had studied over the previous ten years only had brief references, at best, to Jesus. Despite my unflinching disgust for the Christian religion, and my complete abhorrence of that one and only spiritual path, my mother’s prayers, as a still, small voice in the distant past, called to me now from my long distant good memories and, so, I was not opposed to learning more about the real Jesus and His teachings.
From all that I had read and been told up to this point, bits and pieces of Jesus’ teachings from the Bible were good, but I was solidly against all established branches of Christianity. And, I had no respect, and nothing but prejudice and bitter hatred toward the Bible itself as a whole. Nearly every book I had read, many of which were written by respected scientists, outwardly mocked and ridiculed the Bible as mythical, worthless nonsense. And I had never known anyone more than as an acquaintance who had anything supportive to say of the Bible. To me, the old Bible stories were no more than a self-righteous collection of the most dangerous myths and fantasies known to all mankind. I had been taught and indoctrinated in high school into what I thought was proven scientific fact; that the Bible, every church, and Christianity as a whole were based on unscientific, deceptive, vile fairy tales that were responsible for some of the worst closed-mindedness, bigotry, and persecution humanity has known.
At the same time as I was reading this green book, I happened to be simultaneously engrossed in the study of conspiracy theories as a new field of exploration. I collected about sixty hours of documentaries, and soon became disturbingly fascinated by these. I was skeptical about everything I heard, but I had to come to a confession after listening to a barrage of theories: one theme continually surfaced. Even if only a fraction of these conspiracies are true, there must be an intentionally sinister, dreadfully powerful, ancient spiritual force or identity constantly striving to orchestrate the misery and death of the entire human family. The pervasive world wide greed and death-lust unveiled to me through these history-encompassing conspiracies could only be happening if there was some kind of intentional absence of compassion for all life constantly infecting the upper hierarchy and roots of world society. As usual, however, I could not at this time comprehend the big picture of these detailed conspiracies. Virtually all of the books I had read on the spirit world avoided or brushed over accurately identifying and detailing evil. I was as ignorant as the rest of the world to the negative spiritual realities of life and our world. These conspiracy documentaries threw open the blinds and flooded me with clear insights into the stark horrors of wickedness and evil in our spiritual and physical world.
One day, at the same time as my study of this small green book and the conspiracies, my girlfriend’s sister, for some “coincidental” reason, personally gave me a mail advertisement for a series of Bible prophecy seminars happening soon at a local church and suggested that I attend. My instinct reaction was to want to throw the piece of paper away and forget it. But a small voice in me asked the question: “What are you afraid of?” So, I considered this actual situation. My girlfriend’s sister didn’t go to church or outwardly have anything to do with Christianity. As far as I knew, she had no idea that I had hated Christianity and the Bible for many, many years. She did not understand the significance or content of the book I “happened” to be reading. In the same way that I had felt impressed to go to the library to get the little green book, I felt impressed that there was a much deeper purpose to these events. Even thinking about churches and church people filled me with radical resistance and feelings of disgust and repulsion. Regardless, I decided to ignore my instinctive fears and prejudice and go to the first presentation of this seminar series to discover whatever I would discover.
I still wanted nothing to do with any church and nothing to do with Christianity, but I decided I had nothing to lose to be willing to learn more about something, even if it went against my current beliefs. I assumed that the worst thing that could happen would be that I would spend a little time learning more facts that would support my hatred of Christianity, church, and the Bible.
I still wanted nothing to do with any church and nothing to do with Christianity, but I decided I had nothing to lose to be willing to learn more about something, even if it went against my current beliefs. I assumed that the worst thing that could happen would be that I would spend a little time learning more facts that would support my hatred of Christianity, church, and the Bible.
When I arrived at the first seminar, I was surprised at the atmosphere of the church. This church was a seventh-day adventist church, and, unlike the roman catholic churches I knew in my youth, this was a modest building, which I found disarming. I felt warmly, enthusiastically, and genuinely welcomed the moment I walked in the doors. I was unprepared for, and softened by the sincerity and confidence of the people hosting the meetings. But I slipped past them and sat down quietly to blend into the small audience being seated in the auditorium of the church.
I was captivated at a spiritual level by the content of the very first seminar; by the teachings of Jesus from the Bible. The speaker; an evangelist and pastor himself, was overflowing with confidence, conviction, and comprehension of the Bible. He ensured that we all had a Bible in our hands that we would be able to take home, and he would have us read nearly every verse from the seminar right out of the Bible itself. We were encouraged to interact with him during his preaching, read more for context, ask questions, and think freely, openly, and honestly about whether these things were really what the Bible was teaching. The music was classic old-school hymns and most of the time I found it, and many of the slides used for the seminars, cheesy, but I could not detect anything wrong with the substance of the spiritual concepts and words that were being presented directly from the Bible. In fact, I found the spiritual hair standing up on the back of my neck from how deeply some of the passages touched me; particularly the words of Jesus. This first seminar was an introduction to the prophecies in the book of Daniel in the Bible. Everything presented fit my knowledge of the world, and particularly, my fresh new insights into the conspiratorial dark side of world culture. Truthfully, I could not help but confess that even after just one session of reading the Bible myself, teachings of one known as Jesus Christ were stirring a spiritual interest and exploration I had not anticipated.
However, I was still adamantly against being persuaded to join a church or jump into anything new. I approached this as a severe skeptic due to the same reasons I am sure many people have for not being able to take Christians, or Christianity, or the Bible seriously. Feeling like I needed any organized religion to fulfill my life or beliefs was totally not me. I had seemingly endless objections and doubtful questions against the Bible and against any apparently exclusive religion, both in the back and front of my mind, and I was never, ever going to abandon reason, science, or any form of truth to gain any amount of ‘peace’ if it required even the smallest fraction of ignorance or error. If I believe two plus two equals five with utter confidence, would you have cause to feel irritated or uncomfortable? Why would you not calmly and simply teach me that two plus two equals four; not five? If I tell you untruths about the spiritual realm, why might you have any greater cause to feel irritated or uncomfortable? If there is really no cause, then it behooves one to ask: why do these feelings exist? Do we know where they come from? Can we trust them, and does it matter?
Remember at the beginning; I asked you to remember the most miraculous time of your life? This is an opportune moment to consider that memory again. If there is any way possible to any degree, pause; breathe; and meditate on the following thought: we know less than a grain of sand in a beach on the shore of an ocean of stars and galaxies in an unthinkably enormous universe. Perhaps we could stand to know more about what, or possibly, Who, or what kind of Purpose, really inspires these kinds of mysteries, miracles, nightmares, and dreams that we have all experienced. Could it possibly be God; the genuine God behind the Bible?
However, I was still adamantly against being persuaded to join a church or jump into anything new. I approached this as a severe skeptic due to the same reasons I am sure many people have for not being able to take Christians, or Christianity, or the Bible seriously. Feeling like I needed any organized religion to fulfill my life or beliefs was totally not me. I had seemingly endless objections and doubtful questions against the Bible and against any apparently exclusive religion, both in the back and front of my mind, and I was never, ever going to abandon reason, science, or any form of truth to gain any amount of ‘peace’ if it required even the smallest fraction of ignorance or error. If I believe two plus two equals five with utter confidence, would you have cause to feel irritated or uncomfortable? Why would you not calmly and simply teach me that two plus two equals four; not five? If I tell you untruths about the spiritual realm, why might you have any greater cause to feel irritated or uncomfortable? If there is really no cause, then it behooves one to ask: why do these feelings exist? Do we know where they come from? Can we trust them, and does it matter?
Remember at the beginning; I asked you to remember the most miraculous time of your life? This is an opportune moment to consider that memory again. If there is any way possible to any degree, pause; breathe; and meditate on the following thought: we know less than a grain of sand in a beach on the shore of an ocean of stars and galaxies in an unthinkably enormous universe. Perhaps we could stand to know more about what, or possibly, Who, or what kind of Purpose, really inspires these kinds of mysteries, miracles, nightmares, and dreams that we have all experienced. Could it possibly be God; the genuine God behind the Bible?
At first, I believed that I would soon find something very wrong with this church and the Bible, and walk away; never to come back. I began staying after the seminars to interrogate the pastor and evangelist with any and every question I could possibly dream of to test their faith. I was adamantly opposed to any form of ignorance, and would allow no room for exceptions, or any fraction of misinterpreting reality and scientific facts. I really let these two fellows have it; throwing everything out-of and in-the-book I could possibly grasp and hurl at them. I grilled them about everything I doubted about the Bible and church doctrine and practice. These question sessions were based on venting all my doubt and skepticism. I seemed to know seemingly countless criticisms of the Bible and Christianity, and, at first, the quantity and creativity of my skeptic stubbornness appeared unquenchable. I covered everything from UFO’s to ghosts, from carbon dating to dinosaurs; and proudly objected with the big bang theory. To my surprise, the pastor and seminar presenter always confidently directed their answers to the Bible, standing on the actual texts of Scripture and history to be the source of every answer. I kept trying to find a crack in their beliefs, but I kept hitting a brick wall. It seemed that nothing I challenged them with could affect their confidence in the slightest. We covered the full range of both the Old and New Testament, and they trusted both together in harmony with the truths of Jesus’ words as their anchor; as the ultimate authority on Truth. It became clear that their motive and passion was to teach the Bible, and the Bible only, and nothing else. So I came to see that their true intention was for me to understand the Bible for myself and to be directed back to it to answer to all my questionings.
What you are about to read may go against the grain of your current spiritual beliefs, and that would actually be quite a normal reaction. In the past, I myself would have strongly disagreed with what I share today. I would have been stubbornly against it. So, please, please, please; if possible, keep going to the end. There will be more than one unexpected turn in this true story, and almost certainly a surprise ending.
It rapidly dawned on me that what I had been told and what I had read about the Bible, compared to what what I was actually reading from the Bible for myself directly, were opposite and apparently endlessly antagonistic views and teachings. So I turned my investigative attention more to the Bible itself to discover what it really contained. I decided to embrace light and awareness to disentangle myself from any darkness and ignorance I might be harboring in prejudice. I needed to read the Bible and test it with science and logic to discover for myself if the things I had been told, and what I had been taught, were true or false, and to what degree exactly. So, I started seriously reading and grappling with the actual content of the Bible for myself. And, I continued to find no place to rest my skeptical hat. Instead of gratifying my assumptions and preconceived opinions by finding excuse after excuse in the Bible to avoid scientific logical facts, I found the opposite. I habitually found logical, factual, scientific, and historical evidence in support of the plain testimonies of Scripture that increasingly eroded my confidence in all opposing thoughts.
I also quickly discovered that the Bible spoke in a unique and peculiar way that other religions and teachings had not dared to so boldly proclaim. It boldly, clearly, and continually quantified evil as sin and the transgression of God’s law. It left me no escape from confessing that I was a sinner who needed the mercy and forgiveness of an immaculate God and Savior. And, without apology, it named the devil; a real, living angel - as the father of lies. The Bible’s doctrines were teachings I had never heard. It testified consistently of an epic, world-long history of spiritual war based on counterfeit, anti-biblical, conspiratorial worship. And it all boiled down to one crucial point: my sin at the cross, and in the blood of - Jesus. According to the Bible, Jesus; the only begotten Son and Divine Companion of Father God in heaven - chose a human life and a human death to show God’s quality of Love. As the sun shows no favoritism in all the earth, so the Creator showed no favoritism in claiming all our unrighteousness as His orchestration and property in Jesus’ blood and death and resurrection. All He asks is we accept forgiveness; all the Sun wants is for plants and man to not hide their faces, but to echo attention and appreciation, and bask in His warmth and glory. All a gentleman can ask when he knocks is: Please don’t say goodbye? (Revelation 3:20 Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me.)
I was embarking on an ever-unfolding journey to blot out lies with Truth. I would discover diverse deceptions, and countless counterfeits of the Bible that had saturated the fabric of my heart and our world culture.Every lie intentionally and grossly distorted or denied the truths of the actual content of Scripture. I needed to re-examine, reinterpret, and understand the Bible based on facts rather than blind faith. I discovered that, unbeknownst to the general public, talented historical and present-day scientists had become absolutely convicted, as I had, of the impeccable truth of Jesus and the Bible. These were scientists and pioneers of every field of scientific exploration: archaeology, geology, anthropology, sociology, psychology, philosophy, history, astronomy, physics, chemistry, biology, etc.. I found myself increasingly baffled how so few people, starting with myself, knew about this. I discovered that I had fallen for the many and various common assumptions in the Christian and American culture about Bible topics such as: the beginning and end of the world, hell-fire, death, judgment, ghosts, what God really wants and is really like, and much more. I, myself, had fallen for nearly all the common myths about the Bible that I grew up immersed in, instead of the actual testimony of the Bible. I continually discovered more evidence through science, logic, philosophy, experience, etc. to trust what the Bible stated than any criticism. Often the pastors and I would stay at the church for hours. I would never easily or blindly follow the Bible or any religion unless everything in my heart and mind was clear and free and true. I must solidly determine whether or not everything made perfect sense from any and every angle, with no catches, no loopholes, no hidden half-truths, and no errors. I decided I would continue to attend each seminar to get to the bottom of this until or unless I found any single thing to rest my hat on which did not sit right at every level of investigation.
In the Bible, I found answers to all of my biggest questions in life; answers that rang true at every level of my capacity to reason; starting at Rock bottom and building up to heaven from there. Finally! - here was the answer to my life-long question: “What is the purpose of being alive?” The purpose of being alive is: to willfully, continually, and increasingly engage in a heart-felt, submissive, appreciative, living relationship with Truth; the Bible; the character of Jesus Christ. This was the spiritual period and exclamation mark I had been blindly and dumbly starving and dehydrated for! No other spiritual teaching I had ever explored even came close to comparing. I found the teachings of Jesus Christ to be the absolute and only pure source of all spiritual Wisdom. Virtually all the other books I had read and things I had been told had put the Bible on the lowliest, dustiest ugliest shelf of spiritual paths. But I had finally woken up to blow the dust off the one Book with pure Light that leaves every other book in the dust.
The conviction I felt from the words of Jesus appealed to my heart directly, and personally, and was often so strong that even though I struggled to maintain composure, I found myself brought to tears again and again during the meetings. I saw more and more clearly that my life and heart, as well as your own, are priceless to Purpose - to Jesus. He had withheld and hid nothing from me, but has protected, guided, and drew me with bands of love, and gave me freedom to get to know Him; the Purpose and Person of Life. God has been masterfully orchestrating our lives with love constantly and continually. This was the inescapable spiritual intersection that claimed my life in the room with the cats. This was my ticket to freedom from lies and self-destruction. This was my catalyst to spiritual metamorphosis; to being born again spiritually. An internal implosion of death; the Purpose of the cross combines the entire history and future of all suffering into God’s glorious sacrifice and salvation in Christ. This is the pitter-patter rain of gentle paws; equipped with agile predator claws. This is the wiring shut of rebellion’s jaw; the merciless death of thunder’s maw. The Bible alone unveils mercy and justice intersecting in the cross of Christ. Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection is my cataclysmic spiritual appointment and metamorphosis, and His death and life are yours as well.
It became more and more apparent that, from my very conception, the veil that had been blanketing my spiritual roots in an icy tomb was woven of all the same fabric; it was all crafted to freeze and bury light and truth. I thought I was the judge sitting righteously over and above anything the Bible had to offer. Yet in really opening my mind to what the Bible and Jesus truly had to offer, my pride descended into disintegration while the Bible and Jesus soared higher and higher; revealed as the only pure Light and Voice of our Creator Himself. The Bible; the revelation of Jesus Christ - liberated my mind and heart from false conceptions of the nature and character of Purpose.
Jeremiah 29:13 And ye shall seek Me, and find Me, when ye shall search for Me with all your heart.
Remember my precognitive experience where I saw the future before it happened; not merely once, but twice in a row? I had experienced, first-hand, the totally illogical impossibility of seeing the future before it happens; not once, but twice within one hour. Although impossible to logic, it was and is not only possible, but an absolute reality. However, it was very clear to me by the demonstration of my experience that the very thought to see the future, and the mechanism or process required to do so, was utterly not mine to create or control. I did not initially decide to see, or want to see the future. The unveiling of the future came to me, both times, totally independent of my will. Prophecy was not my will, nor my power. It was reality (God), and not me, who had the power, and awareness to reveal the future. The God of time is neither limited by, nor confined by time.
Daniel 2:28-30 But there is a God in heaven that revealeth secrets, and maketh known...what should come to pass hereafter: and He that revealeth secrets maketh known to thee what shall come to pass. But as for me, this secret is not revealed to me for any wisdom that I have more than any living, but for their sakes that shall make known the interpretation..., and that thou mightest know the thoughts of thy heart.”
First I was introduced to prophecies in the Old Testament book of Daniel that laid an unshakable, eternal, earthquake-impervious foundation. These were prophecies I had never heard of elsewhere; written during the kingdom of Babylon well over two-thousand years ago. These prophecies, coupled with those in Revelation, foretell the entire future of the world with specific and finely detailed prophecies. The details include crystal-clear time-predictions with specific start and finish dates. To my astonishment, I discovered that all the predictions had been fulfilled flawlessly so far. Our current time impeccably matches Bible prophecy in perfect fulfillment with pin-point accuracy. The miraculous accuracy of these prophecies whispered sacred eternal truth to me, and I could no longer question, whatsoever, Who had miraculously revealed the future to me twice in one hour as a naive child. The Bible’s prophecies, which are in the final stages of perfect fulfillment, fully unmask every historical and modern conspiracy. The Bible alone unmasks sin without apology. The Bible alone identifies the serpentine father of lies as Satan; the leader of fallen angels at war with God. The Bible alone tells the true story of the God of Love Who creates and orchestrates sin and death for the future eternal security of all creation. It was crystal clear to me that the accuracy of the prophecies alone is a spiritual miracle which can only be the very power and wisdom of God. God alone knows all past and future as clear as the present.
From secular sources, I researched the historical details of these prophecies on my own to determine their veracity without opinion or religious bias to confuse my investigation. Encouragement and confidence were forever cemented in my mind as I discovered all the dates and details of these time-prophecies right there in secular history, proving the reliability and flawless accuracy of the Bible. I also researched the authenticity and reliability of the original Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic scriptures, and their preservation and translations over the centuries since they were originally written. I found the same constant theme in this area of study also: there are countless counterfeits and lies concerning the Bibles’ origins, preservation, and translation. All these lies were consciously crafted to hide the straight truths of the Words of Life. Whether it was dinosaurs, UFOs, ghosts, carbon dating, the cross of Jesus Christ, or the flood of Noah’s day, I found the Bible telling Truth, and the world telling lies. Four hundred and ninety years in advance, these prophecies flawlessly foretold the exact year of Jesus’ baptism, and the exact year of Jesus’ death. To my astonishment, they also flawlessly foretold the rise of the roman catholic church: well after Jesus. The prophecies of Daniel and Revelation perfectly predicted the epic holocaust perpetrated by the catholic church during her perfectly prophesied one thousand, two-hundred and sixty years of tyrannical dark-ages rule. The Bible; hundreds, and even thousands of years in advance, had not only foretold the terrible future of atrocious crimes against humanity done by the roman catholic church, it had specifically foretold the reality that the church would commit these crimes while claiming allegiance to Christ Himself. But of course, the prophecies of the Bible don’t stop there. Concerning the end of the world, the prophecies of Daniel and Revelation are equally clear: after her overthrow and deadly wound at the end of the dark ages, the roman church revives, and, although she would at first be outwardly opposed by the governments and morality of North America, slowly but surely, this reverses. The Bible foretold that the government of America would reverse directions over time, subtly but completely reversing course. The Bible foretold a radical change in America - from lamb-like foundations of freedom modeled after God’s Law - to one final, grand enslavement of humanity under church-state tyranny as an image to the papal anti-Christ beast of revelation. The Bible clearly predicted that the satanic persecuting power of the tyrannical roman church during the dark ages will be enforced one final time; this time, by America’s power and military might. Faithfully warning us of our perilous danger, the Bible foretold that church-state apostasy will again mass-murder people like me who trust in the Bible and Jesus’ Word. I was amazed and astounded to discover that Bible prophecy fits perfectly with what one discovers in modern day propaganda, media, politics, conspiracy, culture, and Christianity. Looking around the world today through the lens of Truth, one sees it all happening right before our eyes: a slowly, carefully, demonically facilitated world-wide acceptance of global, satanic, roman-catholic American church-state dictatorship. This hell-bound trap set by Satan channels world-wide culture, and all people, into being receptive to demonic counterfeit worship, instead of the cross, blood, resurrection, and life of the only-begotten Son and Word of God.
I also discovered more about why an all-powerful God would ever do something so apparently wrong as to create such dreadful evil; sin, suffering, and death. The Bible laid bare what I had known deep within, but couldn’t put my finger on since the first time I had felt pain: that some pervasive essence of life on earth is not the way it was ultimately, originally intended. All my life, I longed to know the story of where we came from, why we are here, and where we are going. I wanted to rewind the history of my life and the life of all mankind, take a step back, and see the big picture; especially the beginnings. In the Bible, I found the true history and origins of the first conflict in the universe; the true story that led to my suffering, and the suffering and death of all mankind.
From secular sources, I researched the historical details of these prophecies on my own to determine their veracity without opinion or religious bias to confuse my investigation. Encouragement and confidence were forever cemented in my mind as I discovered all the dates and details of these time-prophecies right there in secular history, proving the reliability and flawless accuracy of the Bible. I also researched the authenticity and reliability of the original Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic scriptures, and their preservation and translations over the centuries since they were originally written. I found the same constant theme in this area of study also: there are countless counterfeits and lies concerning the Bibles’ origins, preservation, and translation. All these lies were consciously crafted to hide the straight truths of the Words of Life. Whether it was dinosaurs, UFOs, ghosts, carbon dating, the cross of Jesus Christ, or the flood of Noah’s day, I found the Bible telling Truth, and the world telling lies. Four hundred and ninety years in advance, these prophecies flawlessly foretold the exact year of Jesus’ baptism, and the exact year of Jesus’ death. To my astonishment, they also flawlessly foretold the rise of the roman catholic church: well after Jesus. The prophecies of Daniel and Revelation perfectly predicted the epic holocaust perpetrated by the catholic church during her perfectly prophesied one thousand, two-hundred and sixty years of tyrannical dark-ages rule. The Bible; hundreds, and even thousands of years in advance, had not only foretold the terrible future of atrocious crimes against humanity done by the roman catholic church, it had specifically foretold the reality that the church would commit these crimes while claiming allegiance to Christ Himself. But of course, the prophecies of the Bible don’t stop there. Concerning the end of the world, the prophecies of Daniel and Revelation are equally clear: after her overthrow and deadly wound at the end of the dark ages, the roman church revives, and, although she would at first be outwardly opposed by the governments and morality of North America, slowly but surely, this reverses. The Bible foretold that the government of America would reverse directions over time, subtly but completely reversing course. The Bible foretold a radical change in America - from lamb-like foundations of freedom modeled after God’s Law - to one final, grand enslavement of humanity under church-state tyranny as an image to the papal anti-Christ beast of revelation. The Bible clearly predicted that the satanic persecuting power of the tyrannical roman church during the dark ages will be enforced one final time; this time, by America’s power and military might. Faithfully warning us of our perilous danger, the Bible foretold that church-state apostasy will again mass-murder people like me who trust in the Bible and Jesus’ Word. I was amazed and astounded to discover that Bible prophecy fits perfectly with what one discovers in modern day propaganda, media, politics, conspiracy, culture, and Christianity. Looking around the world today through the lens of Truth, one sees it all happening right before our eyes: a slowly, carefully, demonically facilitated world-wide acceptance of global, satanic, roman-catholic American church-state dictatorship. This hell-bound trap set by Satan channels world-wide culture, and all people, into being receptive to demonic counterfeit worship, instead of the cross, blood, resurrection, and life of the only-begotten Son and Word of God.
I also discovered more about why an all-powerful God would ever do something so apparently wrong as to create such dreadful evil; sin, suffering, and death. The Bible laid bare what I had known deep within, but couldn’t put my finger on since the first time I had felt pain: that some pervasive essence of life on earth is not the way it was ultimately, originally intended. All my life, I longed to know the story of where we came from, why we are here, and where we are going. I wanted to rewind the history of my life and the life of all mankind, take a step back, and see the big picture; especially the beginnings. In the Bible, I found the true history and origins of the first conflict in the universe; the true story that led to my suffering, and the suffering and death of all mankind.
According to the Bible, pain and death arose because of a war of rebellion against God that started in heaven. The focal point of this controversy was centered upon the allegiance of the mind and heart. It was not a physical struggle. Two diametrically opposed and polar opposite hearts and minds clashed, dividing all the beings in the universe into two teams: one team trusting in God’s Word and Heart, and the other team trusting to the words and heart of the leader of unfaithfulness; whose name, before he fell, was Lucifer. Lucifer’s rebellious war was conceived out of doubts and falsehoods about the character and motives of God. A movement of freedom from God and His authority began. This was a movement away from life; masquerading as a movement of Light. This counterfeit “freedom” , established in doubt and anarchy, was cunningly presented as the true path to virtue, peace, and righteousness. Father God was represented as selfish and covetous, and that He reserved blessings for Himself only. Does this ring a bell? Despite feelings or opinions, this perfectly describes and matches, in mirror image clarity, our world’s current spiritual controversies as no other story of our origins. It also touches you and I personally and deeply in the seat of our spirit, emotions, and identity.
Father God creates freedom and time for rebellion to bear fruit to the end of where faithlessness leads. Both teams will be free to acknowledge and question the ripe fruit of their true motives and character over time. In this way, the entire universe will have free access to make the most informed decision ever possible about Truth and Holiness, and Who the Master is. Father God has allowed His creation to rebel their hearts out. This is the only way to secure the eternal peace and freedom of the future of the universe. If you are a parent as I am, and you really love your children, no matter what they do; good or bad, your heart is always intimately knit together with theirs. And you know that you simply cannot discipline, protect, or save them forever. You know that we do no Good trying to limit our children forever. If one of your children was going to die, would you not do anything; no matter how extreme, if it would save their life? Would you not lay down your life in their place so that they could live? Would You not let them crucify You?
Throughout the Bible I found the otherwise extinct, adamant declaration that all people are sinners in need of a Savior. I finally saw what was really meant by this, instead of my previous assumptions. I saw that sinners, according to the Bible, include all mortal people who find themselves faced with being alive in a suffering and mortal state. Sinners include everyone facing death who require deliverance in order to avoid the eternal loss of consciousness and identity. I had experienced first-hand that I was neither the master of my mortality, nor of my mind. My spiritual death experiences had illuminated the unpopular reality to me that, considering the inevitability of death, we all are, ultimately, along for the ride - neither the Captain of the ship, nor the King of all creation. We are certainly no immortal God; we are certainly no Savior.
Up to this point in my journey, I had not found final and complete rest from my haunted nightmares. I had been utterly lacking closure concerning how death - pitch black - could belong in the palette of life. With the solid promises of God’s Word as my foundation; I saw with perfect clarity that all suffering is part of a much larger process by which God is bringing a final end to fear, suffering, and death. My relief from the truths of the Bible was actually so intense that I would never again wake up from dying in the nightmares I had had from childhood to that day. The devastating dreams of death I had been having for thirty years vanished, and never came back.
In one dream after this time, I was in an elevator going up, up, up. I was not alone, but I could not see who was beside me. Fear threatened to rise up in me. But next, I felt a calming wash over me as I surrendered to a security that came from remembering a treasure of Light in my heart. I remembered that no matter what happened, even if death overtook me, everything would be alright in the end because Jesus is my Champion. Purpose was in control. I relaxed; ready to accept whatever may happen, even if it was dying. The elevator continued to go up, and we reached the top and exited out onto the roof of the towering skyscraper. Then, the dream shifted locations, and that’s all I remember. I slept peacefully after that; remembering only these details of the dream upon waking. Praise the LORD!
I learned that death and the devil have the same Master. All creation; including darkness, pain, suffering, and death - are with all the other colors on the palette of our Master Creator. The Bible explores and explains the Master’s use of death in His palette. The Bible also shines light on the lie that God likes to torture people in hell forever. I discovered new-found peace, and again - closure - in the fates of loved ones who had passed away; particularly my grandparents, and even Strider. When life is filled with suffering that does not decrease over time, to believe that suffering has no Purpose and that God is absent, indifferent, or selfish - is to believe that life is really not worth living. It is suicidal.
Father God creates freedom and time for rebellion to bear fruit to the end of where faithlessness leads. Both teams will be free to acknowledge and question the ripe fruit of their true motives and character over time. In this way, the entire universe will have free access to make the most informed decision ever possible about Truth and Holiness, and Who the Master is. Father God has allowed His creation to rebel their hearts out. This is the only way to secure the eternal peace and freedom of the future of the universe. If you are a parent as I am, and you really love your children, no matter what they do; good or bad, your heart is always intimately knit together with theirs. And you know that you simply cannot discipline, protect, or save them forever. You know that we do no Good trying to limit our children forever. If one of your children was going to die, would you not do anything; no matter how extreme, if it would save their life? Would you not lay down your life in their place so that they could live? Would You not let them crucify You?
Throughout the Bible I found the otherwise extinct, adamant declaration that all people are sinners in need of a Savior. I finally saw what was really meant by this, instead of my previous assumptions. I saw that sinners, according to the Bible, include all mortal people who find themselves faced with being alive in a suffering and mortal state. Sinners include everyone facing death who require deliverance in order to avoid the eternal loss of consciousness and identity. I had experienced first-hand that I was neither the master of my mortality, nor of my mind. My spiritual death experiences had illuminated the unpopular reality to me that, considering the inevitability of death, we all are, ultimately, along for the ride - neither the Captain of the ship, nor the King of all creation. We are certainly no immortal God; we are certainly no Savior.
Up to this point in my journey, I had not found final and complete rest from my haunted nightmares. I had been utterly lacking closure concerning how death - pitch black - could belong in the palette of life. With the solid promises of God’s Word as my foundation; I saw with perfect clarity that all suffering is part of a much larger process by which God is bringing a final end to fear, suffering, and death. My relief from the truths of the Bible was actually so intense that I would never again wake up from dying in the nightmares I had had from childhood to that day. The devastating dreams of death I had been having for thirty years vanished, and never came back.
In one dream after this time, I was in an elevator going up, up, up. I was not alone, but I could not see who was beside me. Fear threatened to rise up in me. But next, I felt a calming wash over me as I surrendered to a security that came from remembering a treasure of Light in my heart. I remembered that no matter what happened, even if death overtook me, everything would be alright in the end because Jesus is my Champion. Purpose was in control. I relaxed; ready to accept whatever may happen, even if it was dying. The elevator continued to go up, and we reached the top and exited out onto the roof of the towering skyscraper. Then, the dream shifted locations, and that’s all I remember. I slept peacefully after that; remembering only these details of the dream upon waking. Praise the LORD!
I learned that death and the devil have the same Master. All creation; including darkness, pain, suffering, and death - are with all the other colors on the palette of our Master Creator. The Bible explores and explains the Master’s use of death in His palette. The Bible also shines light on the lie that God likes to torture people in hell forever. I discovered new-found peace, and again - closure - in the fates of loved ones who had passed away; particularly my grandparents, and even Strider. When life is filled with suffering that does not decrease over time, to believe that suffering has no Purpose and that God is absent, indifferent, or selfish - is to believe that life is really not worth living. It is suicidal.
Isaiah 45:5-9 I AM the LORD, and there is none else, there is no God beside Me: I girded thee,
though thou hast not known Me: That they may know from the rising of the sun, and from the west, that there is none beside Me. I AM the LORD, and there is none else. I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I, the LORD - do all these things. Drop down, ye heavens, from above, and let the skies pour down righteousness: let the earth open, and let them bring forth salvation, and let righteousness spring up together; I, the LORD have created it. Woe unto him that striveth with his Maker! Let the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth. Shall the clay say to Him that fashioneth it, What makest Thou?...
though thou hast not known Me: That they may know from the rising of the sun, and from the west, that there is none beside Me. I AM the LORD, and there is none else. I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I, the LORD - do all these things. Drop down, ye heavens, from above, and let the skies pour down righteousness: let the earth open, and let them bring forth salvation, and let righteousness spring up together; I, the LORD have created it. Woe unto him that striveth with his Maker! Let the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth. Shall the clay say to Him that fashioneth it, What makest Thou?...
The Bible accurately pinpoints and describes, in perfect clarity, the identity of the true enemy. This blew my mind and changed my life because it was not death or suffering or sadness as I had believed it was. The true enemy of all mankind is the father and spirit of lies; of self-sufficiency, superiority, partiality, hierarchy, separation, jealousy, and hypocrisy. The ultimate battle for you and I is not a physical war using guns or bombs. It is a spiritual struggle of the mind and heart where our allegiance is the prize. Our true enemy is failure to surrender in soul submission to the forgiveness and fellowship extended to us in the blood of Jesus Christ. The true enemy is all resistance to a broken heart at the cross; the spiritual intersection of all creation.
Matthew 26:46-50 Rise; let us be going: behold, he is at hand who betrays Me. And while He was speaking, lo, Judas; one of the twelve, came, and with him a great multitude with swords and staves, from the chief priests and elders of the people. Now he that betrayed Jesus had given them a sign, saying: Whomsoever I shall kiss, that same is He: hold Him fast. And forthwith he came to Jesus, and said, hail; Master; and kissed Him. And Jesus said unto him: Friend, why art thou come? Then came they, and laid hands on Jesus, and took Him.
When Jesus called Judas friend it was not a lie; nor was it sarcastic. Jesus genuinely loved Judas as a brother and a best friend ought to. Jesus loved His own flesh and blood child no different, whether he embraced and appreciated Him, or conspired against, and betrayed Him. My tattoo: Thou art God - was to remind me of the principle of impartial Love. It was to remind me of the Spirit of my grandfather; the Spirit of unfailing true friendship and honor; the Spirit of Jesus. The cross of Jesus sees far beyond trespass and debt - to the burning desire in the heart of God for reconciliation with His children. Fathers justice in the death of His Son was generous enough to forgive every sin of every human who ever lived or ever will live. But, as is the Way of a true Gentleman, forgiveness and Light can only go where they are welcomed and embraced in the heart; rather than repulsed and condemned.
Revelation 3:20 Behold, I stand at the door, and knock. If any one hear My voice, and open the door,
I will come in to them, and will sup with them, and they with Me.
The value of humanity is equal in each ones’ breath and awareness. Our value is measured in our potential in Jesus Christ and Him crucified; in the blood and tears of God.
To die in our place
is His death;
our disgrace.
He died with the thieves and the gall.
In Christ, we are One:
in the death of God’s Son,
Jesus pours out God’s Love
on us all.
We have been been told many counterfeit stories of time travelers in the sky with a reward for all. But there is one and one only true story of a super Hero: a time Traveler of heaven Who travels time to save all of earths inhabitants.
2Corinthians 5:21 For He hath made Him to be sin for us, Who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.
When Jesus called Judas friend it was not a lie; nor was it sarcastic. Jesus genuinely loved Judas as a brother and a best friend ought to. Jesus loved His own flesh and blood child no different, whether he embraced and appreciated Him, or conspired against, and betrayed Him. My tattoo: Thou art God - was to remind me of the principle of impartial Love. It was to remind me of the Spirit of my grandfather; the Spirit of unfailing true friendship and honor; the Spirit of Jesus. The cross of Jesus sees far beyond trespass and debt - to the burning desire in the heart of God for reconciliation with His children. Fathers justice in the death of His Son was generous enough to forgive every sin of every human who ever lived or ever will live. But, as is the Way of a true Gentleman, forgiveness and Light can only go where they are welcomed and embraced in the heart; rather than repulsed and condemned.
Revelation 3:20 Behold, I stand at the door, and knock. If any one hear My voice, and open the door,
I will come in to them, and will sup with them, and they with Me.
The value of humanity is equal in each ones’ breath and awareness. Our value is measured in our potential in Jesus Christ and Him crucified; in the blood and tears of God.
To die in our place
is His death;
our disgrace.
He died with the thieves and the gall.
In Christ, we are One:
in the death of God’s Son,
Jesus pours out God’s Love
on us all.
We have been been told many counterfeit stories of time travelers in the sky with a reward for all. But there is one and one only true story of a super Hero: a time Traveler of heaven Who travels time to save all of earths inhabitants.
2Corinthians 5:21 For He hath made Him to be sin for us, Who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.
“Christ was treated as we deserve that we may be treated as He deserves. He was condemned for our sins, in which He had no share, that we might be justified by His righteousness, in which we had no share. He suffered the death which was ours, that we might receive the life which was His. 'With His stripes, we are healed.’” <Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages p. 25>
It also dawned on me why I had had lucid dreams of flying. Was it an accident that I knew it was real?
1Thessalonians 4:16-18 For the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout; with the voice of the Archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then, we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore, comfort one another with these words.
I learned the truth about the Sabbath commandment and Sunday worship. I learned that the seventh-day Sabbath of the Bible’s fourth commandment is Friday sundown to Saturday sundown (Saturday), not Sunday as is commonly practiced world-wide. I learned that the only reason most Christians keep Sunday is because of satanic catholic church tradition. The anti-Christ catholic church herself declares out of her own mouth:
“It is well to remind the presbyterians, baptists, methodists, and all other Christians, that the Bible does not support them anywhere in their observance of Sunday. Sunday is an institution of the roman catholic church, and those who observe the day observe a commandment of the catholic church.”
<Priest Brady, Elizabeth, NJ ‘News’ March 18, 1903>
Jesus spoke plainly to the church in His day, and His message was also His foreknowledge and warning to the church at the end of time; today. Mark 7:9 And He said unto them: Full well ye reject the commandment of God, that ye may keep your own tradition.
<Priest Brady, Elizabeth, NJ ‘News’ March 18, 1903>
Jesus spoke plainly to the church in His day, and His message was also His foreknowledge and warning to the church at the end of time; today. Mark 7:9 And He said unto them: Full well ye reject the commandment of God, that ye may keep your own tradition.
I decided to keep the Bible Sabbath of the fourth commandment, and surrender the consequences to God. I prepared to ask my tattoo biker boss to let me take Saturday off so that I could follow my convictions. I knew that, logically, this was hopeless; Saturday was our busiest day. But I was determined to ask anyway, and leave the results in God’s hands. Monday passed; Tuesday… I had still not asked him for the Sabbath off. I was waiting for the right time, when he was in a good mood or ...something. Wednesday and Thursday passed, and finally it was Friday; my last chance. It was the end of the day. I had just finished my last tattoo. I put my tattoo machine down, and headed out of my booth to “pop the question”. Just before I could open my mouth, the owner proceeded to tell me not to come in on Saturday (the next day) because the piercer had some other urgent priority that day. I couldn’t believe my ears. This was unbelievable – the shop had never, ever been closed on Saturday! And the rest of God’s working as I followed conviction to honor the Sabbath is no less amazing. By the time the next Sabbath came around, I owned the shop, and I have increasingly appreciated and sought to remember God’s Sabbath ever since.
I remember one time I had to pay the rent for my tattoo business, and it was the last day of the month; the thirty-first. I was five-hundred dollars short. It was four o’clock; a half-hour before the bank closed. I had prayed about it, but I was at a loss about what to do; I had no alternatives, no back-up plan, or money. All of a sudden, a new client walked in. We consulted for a very short while, and he wanted a big tattoo. All on his own accord, he decided to leave a huge deposit; without me asking. He left me five-hundred dollars – exactly what I needed to pay the rent! (Nobody had ever left a deposit like this before, and nobody ever would ever again.) I had just enough time to take the money to the bank before it closed.
Following the first seminar, I attended every single seminar thereafter (there were about twenty-six in total), and shortly after, I was baptized. (Be sure to read to the end; this roller-coaster has yet to make its final and most intense ascent-and-fall.) I was extremely excited about what I had discovered, and, at the time, I could see nothing wrong with myself or the church. To me, there was nothing more awesome than this Love that I felt, and nothing more interesting than the Bible. Over the upcoming years of my life, I would read more than I had read so far - combined. I would study the Bible and Ellen G. White exponentially to this very day. I was bursting with inspiration, curiosity, energy, and zeal, and I had an unquenchable desire to share with others - the blessings and joy that I had received so richly and abundantly.
Following the first seminar, I attended every single seminar thereafter (there were about twenty-six in total), and shortly after, I was baptized. (Be sure to read to the end; this roller-coaster has yet to make its final and most intense ascent-and-fall.) I was extremely excited about what I had discovered, and, at the time, I could see nothing wrong with myself or the church. To me, there was nothing more awesome than this Love that I felt, and nothing more interesting than the Bible. Over the upcoming years of my life, I would read more than I had read so far - combined. I would study the Bible and Ellen G. White exponentially to this very day. I was bursting with inspiration, curiosity, energy, and zeal, and I had an unquenchable desire to share with others - the blessings and joy that I had received so richly and abundantly.
I was soon convicted that I could never be happy with a partner that did not resonate with me in my desire to be wholly united and faithful in Love. I proposed my heart on this matter and marriage to my daughter’s mother, and she was thoroughly not interested. So, we finally went our separate ways. This meant living apart from River, and being less connected to her; not having her in my life most of the time. I would still get to spend time with River when communication between her mother and I was reasonable, and at first, communication seemed manageable. Although River’s mom was not enthusiastic about River going to church with me, she was not completely opposed either, so River and I generally spent weekends together going to church. Going to church together became our routine; our tradition. Due to River’s mother being on disability, government lawyers began enforcing maintenance by court action against me, adding a daunting bill to every month’s expenses. Debt and lawyers were readily combustible fuel to the fire of every lack of friendly parenting between River’s mother and I.
I began to share what I was learning with more and more people; and foremost with my daughter and family. I was fearlessly confident; sharing Jesus and the Bible even, and especially - as I was tattooing them. My tattoo shop and personal business seemed to be a great environment in which I could share what I had been through and discovered. Nearly every client was all ears; I could say whatever I wanted, and people could not help but listen. I even put church books out on the counter of my tattoo shop, and encouraged clients to take them home. However, most people were really not interested, and I didn’t want to push. I still tested the water with every person I met - to see what opportunities might arise if the Bible and Jesus were lifted up.
River, however, was immediately warm to Jesus and the warm church environment. She shared with me in my heart after God’s Word: in the simple and heart-compelling teachings of Jesus from the Bible. Exactly as I had been with santa, she had no objection to the God of miracles; genuine Truth, and Love. Memories of my childhood; of my mothers prayers; of the bloodied, pure-white porcelain and stained glass of the cathedral, and of my grandfathers’ death, were a constant, quiet, dull roar in the background of my mind and memory; like an insane, insatiable, torrential vortex approaching fruition as River and I settled into church culture and tradition.
I felt that I had found the ‘right’ and ‘perfect’ church, and that I could be proud to be leading my daughter and family in a way that even my grandfather failed to rise up to. (My grandfather; near the end of his life, but before his fight with cancer, had started climbing the bottom rungs of the ladders of secret societies of satanism and the catholic church.) I felt satisfaction in believing that I had succeeded where even my well-meaning grandfather had failed. An elderly couple in the church immediately took me under their wing. We sat together in church and they welcomed me to their home. They made an arrangement with me that they would go out of their way to pick me up and take me to church on Saturday mornings. I felt that God Himself was restoring my ruined hope in family relationships, and that He was starting by giving me new spiritual family and new spiritual grandparents. My new spiritual grandfather wasn’t fond of my tattooing career, but he was just like my grandfather; a strong advocate of avoiding controversy and conflict. He never pressured me. We prayed for God’s will for the future and I kept tattooing. Besides my spiritual grandfather, the rest of the church apparently saw tattooing as the perfect career in which the gospel could be shared with the world.
Being convinced that marriage would be best for me and my family, I prayed for a Godly wife. I soon fell madly in love with a woman I had tattooed. It appeared to me that God Himself was leading us forward by signs and wonders. She came to church with me, and we got soon got married. I remember one Sabbath morning in particular; I was so hung over from drinking the night before that I did not want to get out of bed and go to church. I was roused by my spiritual grandfather persistently and patiently knocking on my door. I reluctantly surrendered and got up and went to church; against my feelings; because I did not want to let him down and go against the honor of our agreement. Later that day coming home from church, I cried like a baby in the back seat of their car on the way home because I had been overwhelmed by messages of God’s Love the entire Sabbath at church. It was then that the deepest value of the command to “remember the Sabbath day” was permanently written in my softened heart.
River and I brought as many friends as we could to church. We shared the warmth we felt inside from Jesus’ Words and Spirit, but River was the first one to feel and acknowledge the touch and infection of festering leprosy. In the same footsteps of my real grandfather, this church culture and tradition had planted defiled seeds in the heart of the father; concealed from awareness or acknowledgment. The seeds could not be discerned because they had not yet sprouted, grown, and borne fruit. River was the first one to be honest about sin-sick problems. Her father was too blind to see; and too deaf to hear the suffocated cries of the Spirit in his own daughter - the same cries I felt on the hard pews as a boy. It was River who first confessed with her mouth that she had been struck and infected by the venom of a backbiting, self-sufficient, leprous church spirit. My first marriage lasted four months, and ended on valentines day when I searched out my wife and found her walking with another man. I felt the grim familiarity of feeling foolish and heartbroken all over again. But I was even more resolved to take more time and precaution - to determine and discover the fulfillment of a ‘good wife’. Not much later, I met another woman at my tattoo shop who started joining me for Bible studies. She was very interested in my story, and the Bible, so we began to explore our inspirations with one another.
Andy moved back to the area and started tattooing at my shop. We also did some Bible studies. He was in an extremely vulnerable state. He fell deeply in love with my daughters mother. Myself, I began to feel increasingly uncomfortable in the tattooing environment, and I thirsted for the ability to live my life in a way that would unleash the passion and potential I had for God. I decided to leave tattooing to follow my heart.
With the inspiration and prayers of my spiritual grandparents and new girlfriend, I made a decision and took action; one I would never regret. I took a complete and major loss on my tattoo shop, and started selling church books door to door full-time in the middle of winter. I went from making one hundred and twenty dollars an hour to making about forty dollars a day at best. This seemed hopeless as far as finances and future security were concerned, but I felt happy and free inside; in my heart. My family and friends basically thought I was crazy. Would you blame them? - I don’t.
River, however, was immediately warm to Jesus and the warm church environment. She shared with me in my heart after God’s Word: in the simple and heart-compelling teachings of Jesus from the Bible. Exactly as I had been with santa, she had no objection to the God of miracles; genuine Truth, and Love. Memories of my childhood; of my mothers prayers; of the bloodied, pure-white porcelain and stained glass of the cathedral, and of my grandfathers’ death, were a constant, quiet, dull roar in the background of my mind and memory; like an insane, insatiable, torrential vortex approaching fruition as River and I settled into church culture and tradition.
I felt that I had found the ‘right’ and ‘perfect’ church, and that I could be proud to be leading my daughter and family in a way that even my grandfather failed to rise up to. (My grandfather; near the end of his life, but before his fight with cancer, had started climbing the bottom rungs of the ladders of secret societies of satanism and the catholic church.) I felt satisfaction in believing that I had succeeded where even my well-meaning grandfather had failed. An elderly couple in the church immediately took me under their wing. We sat together in church and they welcomed me to their home. They made an arrangement with me that they would go out of their way to pick me up and take me to church on Saturday mornings. I felt that God Himself was restoring my ruined hope in family relationships, and that He was starting by giving me new spiritual family and new spiritual grandparents. My new spiritual grandfather wasn’t fond of my tattooing career, but he was just like my grandfather; a strong advocate of avoiding controversy and conflict. He never pressured me. We prayed for God’s will for the future and I kept tattooing. Besides my spiritual grandfather, the rest of the church apparently saw tattooing as the perfect career in which the gospel could be shared with the world.
Being convinced that marriage would be best for me and my family, I prayed for a Godly wife. I soon fell madly in love with a woman I had tattooed. It appeared to me that God Himself was leading us forward by signs and wonders. She came to church with me, and we got soon got married. I remember one Sabbath morning in particular; I was so hung over from drinking the night before that I did not want to get out of bed and go to church. I was roused by my spiritual grandfather persistently and patiently knocking on my door. I reluctantly surrendered and got up and went to church; against my feelings; because I did not want to let him down and go against the honor of our agreement. Later that day coming home from church, I cried like a baby in the back seat of their car on the way home because I had been overwhelmed by messages of God’s Love the entire Sabbath at church. It was then that the deepest value of the command to “remember the Sabbath day” was permanently written in my softened heart.
River and I brought as many friends as we could to church. We shared the warmth we felt inside from Jesus’ Words and Spirit, but River was the first one to feel and acknowledge the touch and infection of festering leprosy. In the same footsteps of my real grandfather, this church culture and tradition had planted defiled seeds in the heart of the father; concealed from awareness or acknowledgment. The seeds could not be discerned because they had not yet sprouted, grown, and borne fruit. River was the first one to be honest about sin-sick problems. Her father was too blind to see; and too deaf to hear the suffocated cries of the Spirit in his own daughter - the same cries I felt on the hard pews as a boy. It was River who first confessed with her mouth that she had been struck and infected by the venom of a backbiting, self-sufficient, leprous church spirit. My first marriage lasted four months, and ended on valentines day when I searched out my wife and found her walking with another man. I felt the grim familiarity of feeling foolish and heartbroken all over again. But I was even more resolved to take more time and precaution - to determine and discover the fulfillment of a ‘good wife’. Not much later, I met another woman at my tattoo shop who started joining me for Bible studies. She was very interested in my story, and the Bible, so we began to explore our inspirations with one another.
Andy moved back to the area and started tattooing at my shop. We also did some Bible studies. He was in an extremely vulnerable state. He fell deeply in love with my daughters mother. Myself, I began to feel increasingly uncomfortable in the tattooing environment, and I thirsted for the ability to live my life in a way that would unleash the passion and potential I had for God. I decided to leave tattooing to follow my heart.
With the inspiration and prayers of my spiritual grandparents and new girlfriend, I made a decision and took action; one I would never regret. I took a complete and major loss on my tattoo shop, and started selling church books door to door full-time in the middle of winter. I went from making one hundred and twenty dollars an hour to making about forty dollars a day at best. This seemed hopeless as far as finances and future security were concerned, but I felt happy and free inside; in my heart. My family and friends basically thought I was crazy. Would you blame them? - I don’t.
The aging church saw great potential in my genuine youthful zeal, and soon I was given an opportunity to go to the Philippines for three weeks to be the speaker for an evangelistic series. I prepared and presented about fifteen evangelistic seminars to audiences of about one hundred to three hundred people. At the end of the seminars, eighty-seven people were baptized. It was during this trip that my next wife and I decided to work towards marriage. But I started the whole thing off by being totally honest with her: During my evangelism campaign, although I did no outward sexual sin, I had been seduced by one of the several that attempted to seduce me, and if it had not been for my utterly embarrassing discovery that ‘she’ didn’t have female private parts, God only knows what would have happened. It wouldn’t be until years later that I would discover that my wife was far, far from the only one in the church who had been told this story.
As soon as I got back, I had a paid position doing Bible work for my local church. This was a very unique opportunity because it was hard enough to get a church position in the big city with education and experience, let alone in my small hometown with no professional training whatsoever. The church saw something in me that they felt was worth investing in. I had no idea that my still-strong worldliness of heart cloaked in Sabbath suits and self-sufficiency had made me so popular and attractive in the eyes of the church. My job in the church as a Bible worker seemed hopeful toward brighter possibilities in church leadership. My fiancee soon left River and I to go far away to a church college which would train her to also become a Bible worker. Again, I felt ‘on top of the world’ - that my life was now, and forever a ‘dream come true’.
For my new ‘dream’ career, I was to share the Love and Truth that I had discovered. I thought: What could be better? Since I was going to be teaching the Bible and its prophecies regularly, I determined to study much deeper and more earnestly. I gained a well rounded, broad and deep understanding, wrote over thirty-five Bible studies, and had a large part in the baptism of five people or more in my local area; using the Bible studies for their preparation. Fully immersing myself into the culture of the church, my job was to not only seek others who were similarly interested in the Bible, but to be a vital part of the livelihood of the church. The church elders, and some members, were aware of a general lacking in the churches’ spiritual vitality. A continual theme in my conversations with church elders, pastors, and fellow Bible workers was: how to address the lack of church growth and vitality, and inspire the other church members with more zeal. I thought that this lack of growth and vitality might change, and that I would surely be able to be a part of incredible changes for the better.
As soon as I got back, I had a paid position doing Bible work for my local church. This was a very unique opportunity because it was hard enough to get a church position in the big city with education and experience, let alone in my small hometown with no professional training whatsoever. The church saw something in me that they felt was worth investing in. I had no idea that my still-strong worldliness of heart cloaked in Sabbath suits and self-sufficiency had made me so popular and attractive in the eyes of the church. My job in the church as a Bible worker seemed hopeful toward brighter possibilities in church leadership. My fiancee soon left River and I to go far away to a church college which would train her to also become a Bible worker. Again, I felt ‘on top of the world’ - that my life was now, and forever a ‘dream come true’.
For my new ‘dream’ career, I was to share the Love and Truth that I had discovered. I thought: What could be better? Since I was going to be teaching the Bible and its prophecies regularly, I determined to study much deeper and more earnestly. I gained a well rounded, broad and deep understanding, wrote over thirty-five Bible studies, and had a large part in the baptism of five people or more in my local area; using the Bible studies for their preparation. Fully immersing myself into the culture of the church, my job was to not only seek others who were similarly interested in the Bible, but to be a vital part of the livelihood of the church. The church elders, and some members, were aware of a general lacking in the churches’ spiritual vitality. A continual theme in my conversations with church elders, pastors, and fellow Bible workers was: how to address the lack of church growth and vitality, and inspire the other church members with more zeal. I thought that this lack of growth and vitality might change, and that I would surely be able to be a part of incredible changes for the better.
I strove constantly to share Bible truths with lukewarm church members, old friends, and family, and strangers door to door, and invite everyone to church. I was extremely slow to realize that no matter how awesome all this was for me, truth alone was just not attractive to people, and neither was church. I slowly, slowly began to see that I was still so selfish that, in my zeal, I wanted people to change my way. I had little or no genuine interest to be friends with people as they really were because I thought that until they were converted and baptized, they were ‘heathen’. I really just wanted ‘my truths’ to conquer people with the same heartbreaking experiences that had broken my heart in Jesus’ blood.
I had grown up being finely trained in a world saturated in the habit of self-focused satisfaction, and I had only just begun to taste what Love is really like. I thought I wanted to share the truth with people, but what I really wanted was to kick the Lord out of the driver’s seat and create the kinds of metamorphosis and miracles for others that He had created for me. I learned the hard way that wanting people to change by sharing facts drives people away. Those that were closest to me would be the most humbling lessons.
I had grown up being finely trained in a world saturated in the habit of self-focused satisfaction, and I had only just begun to taste what Love is really like. I thought I wanted to share the truth with people, but what I really wanted was to kick the Lord out of the driver’s seat and create the kinds of metamorphosis and miracles for others that He had created for me. I learned the hard way that wanting people to change by sharing facts drives people away. Those that were closest to me would be the most humbling lessons.
After many challenges and much strife and struggle, about two years from when we had met, I got married back in the hometown church. Of course, River and I, and my new wife, naturally had bright dreams of sharing a loving family, but the problems only got worse. Under the wing of my spiritual grandfather, my wife and I were blessed with a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go to India on a mission trip. It was my privilege again to be the evangelist, and after speaking at a series of Bible seminars, at least seventy-five people were baptized from those who attended our presentations. But something was deeply wrong in our marriage, and my wife was struck with a broken heart and intense illness well before we left to go back home.
It was not long after having returned home that I lost my Bible-work position because the marital problems we were having became public. We had been going to counseling with our pastor, and also with a multitude of secular and church counselors. We had worked hard on honesty and communication; coming totally clean about our childhoods, and our deepest problems; drugs, alcohol, and sex, but nothing seemed to help. How could so much chaos and sin be the result of a genuine relationship with God? Most of our counselors; especially most of those in the church, seemed to begin to see a weight of evidence tipping toward me as being the primary cause of the rotten fruit of our marriage. I knew I had failed my wife and that I would do no good to join taking sides, so I turned within and to God to find Light in this thick darkness. The end of my church career dreams came to a halt when I confessed to the church that I had hit my wife. I told them nothing of the truth that I had snapped when she had thrown our cat across the room - because I knew that I deserved righteous judgment for being selfishly angry at all. Our marriage broke down even further, and, after five years of being together through severe highs and lows, my wife finally finalized our divorce.
I suffered the most devastating broken heart I had ever had by far. I didn’t want this, and I felt that it wasn’t my choice. Up until the divorce was finalized, I pursued my wife many times with everything I could pathetically muster in my heart to win her heart again, but I failed miserably. Not only did her heart lose all spark of hope with me, but also, like my first wife, she abandoned church, and branched out in new directions of companionship and spiritual infidelity. Just before our divorce finalized, Andy, who had bonded with River, was found dead from suicide. He had left a message basically holding River’s mother accountable. Andy’s family blamed River’s mother. Knowing Andy personally, I stood against the blame and chose to join in being blamed by Andy’s family rather than joining Andy’s family in blaming River’s mother.
I got married again a short while later to a third wife. This would be my third failure at marriage in the church and the lid to my coffin in the church spotlight. My spiritual grandfather eventually personally confided to me that, over several years, he had watched his wife with anguish as she labored to befriend my wives and discover my darkest sins to work with other leading women in the church to bring my reputation and marriages to ruin. As far as my reputation went in the church, there was nobody whose sins had been made so public or appeared so disgusting to the church grapevine as mine, and I had earned my reputation fully.
It seemed that before I knew what had happened, my apparently final dream come true - had once again - turned into my worst nightmare. I’d lost everything all over again. I lost my new church and spiritual family, three wives, my career, my best friend, and on top of this, my life as a father was crumbling to dust between my fingers. I felt more hollow and incurably wounded than I ever had, so, naturally, I could not see the Light that awaited me to stop crying and open my eyes.
You see, I was about to discover that the leprosy of sinfulness in the church wasn’t just in me and my spiritual grandparents, it was also in the very leadership, culture, atmosphere, and history of “my church”. Today, I sit on a vast treasure of proof that the leadership of every church on the planet is leading its sheep into the insatiable black hole of the roman church culture of death. Admit it or not, all popular church leadership and world religion openly, and secretly - bow to the pope and the devil. Command to bow to the mark of the beast (papal Sunday worship), or die, is coming soon - to finish Bible prophecy.
It was not long after having returned home that I lost my Bible-work position because the marital problems we were having became public. We had been going to counseling with our pastor, and also with a multitude of secular and church counselors. We had worked hard on honesty and communication; coming totally clean about our childhoods, and our deepest problems; drugs, alcohol, and sex, but nothing seemed to help. How could so much chaos and sin be the result of a genuine relationship with God? Most of our counselors; especially most of those in the church, seemed to begin to see a weight of evidence tipping toward me as being the primary cause of the rotten fruit of our marriage. I knew I had failed my wife and that I would do no good to join taking sides, so I turned within and to God to find Light in this thick darkness. The end of my church career dreams came to a halt when I confessed to the church that I had hit my wife. I told them nothing of the truth that I had snapped when she had thrown our cat across the room - because I knew that I deserved righteous judgment for being selfishly angry at all. Our marriage broke down even further, and, after five years of being together through severe highs and lows, my wife finally finalized our divorce.
I suffered the most devastating broken heart I had ever had by far. I didn’t want this, and I felt that it wasn’t my choice. Up until the divorce was finalized, I pursued my wife many times with everything I could pathetically muster in my heart to win her heart again, but I failed miserably. Not only did her heart lose all spark of hope with me, but also, like my first wife, she abandoned church, and branched out in new directions of companionship and spiritual infidelity. Just before our divorce finalized, Andy, who had bonded with River, was found dead from suicide. He had left a message basically holding River’s mother accountable. Andy’s family blamed River’s mother. Knowing Andy personally, I stood against the blame and chose to join in being blamed by Andy’s family rather than joining Andy’s family in blaming River’s mother.
I got married again a short while later to a third wife. This would be my third failure at marriage in the church and the lid to my coffin in the church spotlight. My spiritual grandfather eventually personally confided to me that, over several years, he had watched his wife with anguish as she labored to befriend my wives and discover my darkest sins to work with other leading women in the church to bring my reputation and marriages to ruin. As far as my reputation went in the church, there was nobody whose sins had been made so public or appeared so disgusting to the church grapevine as mine, and I had earned my reputation fully.
It seemed that before I knew what had happened, my apparently final dream come true - had once again - turned into my worst nightmare. I’d lost everything all over again. I lost my new church and spiritual family, three wives, my career, my best friend, and on top of this, my life as a father was crumbling to dust between my fingers. I felt more hollow and incurably wounded than I ever had, so, naturally, I could not see the Light that awaited me to stop crying and open my eyes.
You see, I was about to discover that the leprosy of sinfulness in the church wasn’t just in me and my spiritual grandparents, it was also in the very leadership, culture, atmosphere, and history of “my church”. Today, I sit on a vast treasure of proof that the leadership of every church on the planet is leading its sheep into the insatiable black hole of the roman church culture of death. Admit it or not, all popular church leadership and world religion openly, and secretly - bow to the pope and the devil. Command to bow to the mark of the beast (papal Sunday worship), or die, is coming soon - to finish Bible prophecy.
As in the days of Noah; so also are these final days of earth and God’s judgment. We look to ourselves and our leaders for peace and safety from the doom foretold in Bible prophecy concerning man and earth. However, no peace or safety will be found outside the wine of the wrath of God in the blood of Jesus shed for you and I.
I had fought to convert my family and wives and best friend to church, and I had fought River’s mother and River to get River into church school. The church had offered to pay for River to go to private church school, and, after struggling with River’s mother for a long time, I finally managed to convince both her and River to attend church school. But it all soon backfired because River quickly became as disgusted with church school as I was with roman church as a little boy. River went back to public school. River and I had lost our church culture anchor, and weekend time and tradition, and slowly, but surely; our hearts breaking, we continued drifting and being pulled further apart. After thoroughly proving myself a fool to River’s mother and my family by being the silly boy who cries ‘wife’, and ‘church’, communication with River and her mother became more and more challenging. I became very depressed and turned inward to medicate the pain of my losses.
I had fought to convert my family and wives and best friend to church, and I had fought River’s mother and River to get River into church school. The church had offered to pay for River to go to private church school, and, after struggling with River’s mother for a long time, I finally managed to convince both her and River to attend church school. But it all soon backfired because River quickly became as disgusted with church school as I was with roman church as a little boy. River went back to public school. River and I had lost our church culture anchor, and weekend time and tradition, and slowly, but surely; our hearts breaking, we continued drifting and being pulled further apart. After thoroughly proving myself a fool to River’s mother and my family by being the silly boy who cries ‘wife’, and ‘church’, communication with River and her mother became more and more challenging. I became very depressed and turned inward to medicate the pain of my losses.
Near the end of my longest relationship of five years; my second marriage, I had an experience which is best inserted here.
One night, I woke up from a troubled sleep to a migraine. I tried to go back to sleep, but the pain was too much, so I took a pill and tried to sleep again, but the pain was again too much to lay down, so I got up and sat on the couch until the pain receded. I got back in bed, and eventually got to sleep after wrestling with my troubled thoughts.
I woke up a little later and wanted to turn the light on. I reached over to turn the switch, but the light wouldn’t go on. I tried again, and still there was no effect. I was still half asleep, so my thoughts were foggy, but I soon realized that the switch I was turning was the wrong switch – I had changed lamps a while ago. So I groped around (I still had my night shade over my eyes) for the other switch, and hit it. Yet the light still did not go on. By this time, I was getting frightened. I laid back down, took a short break, and a breath to calm down, reached up, and moved my night shade up off my eyes. I then looked over and found the right switch, and, making sure I was pressing it correctly, pressed it with strong intention and purpose. Still no light.
One night, I woke up from a troubled sleep to a migraine. I tried to go back to sleep, but the pain was too much, so I took a pill and tried to sleep again, but the pain was again too much to lay down, so I got up and sat on the couch until the pain receded. I got back in bed, and eventually got to sleep after wrestling with my troubled thoughts.
I woke up a little later and wanted to turn the light on. I reached over to turn the switch, but the light wouldn’t go on. I tried again, and still there was no effect. I was still half asleep, so my thoughts were foggy, but I soon realized that the switch I was turning was the wrong switch – I had changed lamps a while ago. So I groped around (I still had my night shade over my eyes) for the other switch, and hit it. Yet the light still did not go on. By this time, I was getting frightened. I laid back down, took a short break, and a breath to calm down, reached up, and moved my night shade up off my eyes. I then looked over and found the right switch, and, making sure I was pressing it correctly, pressed it with strong intention and purpose. Still no light.
The fear and anxiety further thickened; somehow, my nightshade had returned to cover my eyes, so I moved it back to my forehead. I tried one more time to push the switch, but to no avail. I tried to move my body to get off the bed, but I couldn’t seem to be able to move the majority of my torso. I realized that I was still half asleep, so I strove to shake off the lethargy. I struggled again to move, but I just couldn’t shake it. I tried a couple more times to move, and I think I even tried to turn on the light again, but nothing worked. I felt my nightshade back over my eyes, so I moved it again, and tried to move, but it was all just totally useless, and it finally dawned on me that I was trapped!
It began to sink in that I was under attack by the devil, and I was terrified. Demonic power had not only my body, but also my voice paralyzed. I immediately chose to try to cry out - “Lord.” My voice was pathetically hoarse and virtually nonexistent, but this was the only act I was capable of in my willpower. The sound of my own choked attempt at words seemed laughable and futile. I instinctively began to recite the “Our Father” prayer; the same one my beloved dear mother shared with me in my infancy. As I kept going, my voice gained a fragment of strength, and by the time I got to the ‘Forgive us...’ part, I personalized the prayer. I was crying; tears pouring out. I was so intensely thankful to God that I could simply cry out to Him. My eyes were open during the prayer, and a light coming through the door got brighter. I finished the prayer. I don’t know how this transitioned, but shortly after, I actually woke up. Throughout this dream, I was absolutely convinced that I was awake; I just thought I was groggy.
River began to be more and more affected by the negative attitudes toward me and the things being said about me, some of which appeared on Facebook. One comment by one elder family member about me was “I wish you had never been born.” I was painted as the bad parent who wanted River to go to boring church and eat weird food, like almond milk and plant shakes. I was the parent who was ‘not normal’, was ‘not fun’, and who talked about ‘silly things’ from the Bible.
River and I began drifting further apart and spending less and less time together. My relationship with River; being a role model, friend, and active father in her life - were all extremely important to me, but I was at a loss as to how to positively change the mess I had made. I was consumed and confused by the tribulations of my past, and I was almost entirely preoccupied with undergoing some new kind of metamorphosis I didn’t have the first idea how to understand. The breakdown of connections and communication got deeper and deeper until finally I was hardly seeing River anymore.
River began to be more and more affected by the negative attitudes toward me and the things being said about me, some of which appeared on Facebook. One comment by one elder family member about me was “I wish you had never been born.” I was painted as the bad parent who wanted River to go to boring church and eat weird food, like almond milk and plant shakes. I was the parent who was ‘not normal’, was ‘not fun’, and who talked about ‘silly things’ from the Bible.
River and I began drifting further apart and spending less and less time together. My relationship with River; being a role model, friend, and active father in her life - were all extremely important to me, but I was at a loss as to how to positively change the mess I had made. I was consumed and confused by the tribulations of my past, and I was almost entirely preoccupied with undergoing some new kind of metamorphosis I didn’t have the first idea how to understand. The breakdown of connections and communication got deeper and deeper until finally I was hardly seeing River anymore.
I felt like a failure in everything in life. I wanted to be a good father and a good Christian and I felt deflated and hopeless. My mind and life crumbled to pieces still further, and I retreated and moved back in with my dad, who had now moved closer to Kamloops to start his own tattoo shop.
Earlier in my church life, I had a dream. I found myself in a huge grassy field sloping downhill. I seemed to be attached to some kind of spiritual chain that was pulling me slowly but surely down the hill toward a road with militarily trucks on it. I fought against the pull of the chain, but fighting was hopeless, and soon I was being loaded onto the back of a truck to crowd in with other prisoners. As the truck was driving us somewhere, the prisoner next to me expressed misery for the execution we were about to suffer. I remember reminding him that no matter what happens to us, we have always been in the hands of the God of the universe. This is the last scene of the dream that I can remember.
I spent many months apart from River considering all that had happened and tried to make sense of it all; with little or no apparent progress. I spiraled downward into loneliness and depression; particularly feeling unquenchable pain from separation from River. I was heading for another mental breakdown, or at least another cataclysmic crash, and my health and sanity wound down into one final thread, and finally, I snapped. I left home; my father, and even my wallet behind in the middle of winter, and, with no money, and no hope but prayer, I hitch-hiked for dear life to reach my daughter and share my broken, insane heart with her.
I nearly died on the way, and was immediately thrust into a spiritual high as I began walking and talking with God from dawn until dusk for about forty days straight. River didn’t know what to think of my usual unexpected ‘wild’ spiritual tangent. After visiting River, I felt impressed that God wanted me to pay a special visit to my spiritual grandfather. By this time, my spiritual grandfather and grandmother had broken apart and were not living together because they could not get along or understand each other.
I became obsessed with one goal; to beg my spiritual grandfather to forgive his wife no matter any sin; as Jesus would have us do. I felt the hand of God and delivered the message, but the bitter blame that had built rigid walls like in my family and all my own relationships was as hard as a diamond, and, I had failed again. I visited different churches and tried to share the good news I still knew in God; and also that there was something deeply wrong with me and our church; but it seemed everywhere I would turn, nobody wanted to listen. I eventually returned home to my dads house after a miserable struggle with my father over where home really was for me. I felt utterly alone. Soon I would discover that my spiritual grandfather had died and that his wife never forgave him, even though he forgave her on his deathbed.
Here is where Purpose would appear to fade into non-existence. However, recently, to deliver me from a hopeless heart, Purpose has permanently established a holy seal on the Rock-bottom reason why my entire life - unto this very day - has been filled with one greater disappointment after another.
You see, there is one treasure of infinite value that makes my life, yours, and the telling of my roller-coaster story worth every twist, turn, and dive, and that treasure is the following:
The Bible and the Promises of Jesus turn out to be 100% true and accurate every time; down to the finest and final details.
God had told me and all church right from the beginning how it would be:
Matthew 5:3 Blessed are the poor in Spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Revelation 3:17 Because you say:I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing;
and know not that you are wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.
Jesus’ promises are true and all other promises are lies.
The Purpose of life is to break all hopes and dreams based in our self-exaltation and pride in this fallen world. The purpose of this world and this life is to leave us with nothing but Love found only in the Heart of our Father seen pure in His Son Jesus Christ and Him crucified. God puts us through it all for our own Good; so that we might surrender all hope not found in Truth. God gives us as much of the bread and wine of the world as we want; for the purpose that we develop an unquenchable appetite for the bread and blood of Jesus. The Word and Promises of Jesus never fail, but sinful humans -and especially church culture “my church” - always do, and the worst enemy I could ever have - is none other than myself.
I am the bad guy; the chief of sinners. It was and is my sin that Jesus died for in His mercy. I was finally brave enough to do unbiased research into the truth about the leadership in the seventh-day adventist church. Suddenly, everywhere I looked, I saw proofs that ‘my church’, and ‘my heart’ as well - had been infested with vile seeds long ago. I finally was brave enough to open my eyes wide to evidence that the leadership of the church I had loved was sleeping with the anti-Christ. I discovered that just like in Jesus’ time, all church culture, starting with my own; had been conquered by impostors: agents of the enemy in the highest levels. As in the past in the church of Jesus day, the goal is to destroy Jesus; His Promises, and His disciples. The deception is delivered in the form of flattery and self-sufficiency - in ‘peace and safety’. This was the source of the evil in my heart; in my church, in my childhood family, and in my spiritual family.
Today, I am so glad it all happened exactly as it did, or my heart could never have been broken; my eyes could never have truly opened. Today, it is no surprise to me why my entire life has been, and is - a constant warfare and bloody trail of disappointments. The future prophecies of God’s flood with Noah; plagues with Moses; ladder with Jacob, and knife with Abraham - are closing fast, and there is no time left but to point to the sure Promises of God and His righteousness.
1Timothy 1:15 This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation: that Christ Jesus
came into the world to save sinners;
of whom
I
am chief.
Purpose was only satisfied to utterly break my heart. I needed to realize at the deepest level of my heart that I am truly a hopeless sinner. I am a brother who is one flesh with all sinful mankind, and one flesh with the Son of man in His life and death. There is no person and no church that can save, or help me. The special Promises; the Word of Jesus - are the only Light, Hope, and Truth in this world. All else is counterfeit. We only have one Friend and one LORD; Jesus Christ the Son of God our Father in heaven. He is coming back very, very, very soon in perfect fulfillment of every promise He ever spoke.
Feel free to look on FB: Brook DesHarnais for further encouragement and special Promises.
Earlier in my church life, I had a dream. I found myself in a huge grassy field sloping downhill. I seemed to be attached to some kind of spiritual chain that was pulling me slowly but surely down the hill toward a road with militarily trucks on it. I fought against the pull of the chain, but fighting was hopeless, and soon I was being loaded onto the back of a truck to crowd in with other prisoners. As the truck was driving us somewhere, the prisoner next to me expressed misery for the execution we were about to suffer. I remember reminding him that no matter what happens to us, we have always been in the hands of the God of the universe. This is the last scene of the dream that I can remember.
I spent many months apart from River considering all that had happened and tried to make sense of it all; with little or no apparent progress. I spiraled downward into loneliness and depression; particularly feeling unquenchable pain from separation from River. I was heading for another mental breakdown, or at least another cataclysmic crash, and my health and sanity wound down into one final thread, and finally, I snapped. I left home; my father, and even my wallet behind in the middle of winter, and, with no money, and no hope but prayer, I hitch-hiked for dear life to reach my daughter and share my broken, insane heart with her.
I nearly died on the way, and was immediately thrust into a spiritual high as I began walking and talking with God from dawn until dusk for about forty days straight. River didn’t know what to think of my usual unexpected ‘wild’ spiritual tangent. After visiting River, I felt impressed that God wanted me to pay a special visit to my spiritual grandfather. By this time, my spiritual grandfather and grandmother had broken apart and were not living together because they could not get along or understand each other.
I became obsessed with one goal; to beg my spiritual grandfather to forgive his wife no matter any sin; as Jesus would have us do. I felt the hand of God and delivered the message, but the bitter blame that had built rigid walls like in my family and all my own relationships was as hard as a diamond, and, I had failed again. I visited different churches and tried to share the good news I still knew in God; and also that there was something deeply wrong with me and our church; but it seemed everywhere I would turn, nobody wanted to listen. I eventually returned home to my dads house after a miserable struggle with my father over where home really was for me. I felt utterly alone. Soon I would discover that my spiritual grandfather had died and that his wife never forgave him, even though he forgave her on his deathbed.
Here is where Purpose would appear to fade into non-existence. However, recently, to deliver me from a hopeless heart, Purpose has permanently established a holy seal on the Rock-bottom reason why my entire life - unto this very day - has been filled with one greater disappointment after another.
You see, there is one treasure of infinite value that makes my life, yours, and the telling of my roller-coaster story worth every twist, turn, and dive, and that treasure is the following:
The Bible and the Promises of Jesus turn out to be 100% true and accurate every time; down to the finest and final details.
God had told me and all church right from the beginning how it would be:
Matthew 5:3 Blessed are the poor in Spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Revelation 3:17 Because you say:I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing;
and know not that you are wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.
Jesus’ promises are true and all other promises are lies.
The Purpose of life is to break all hopes and dreams based in our self-exaltation and pride in this fallen world. The purpose of this world and this life is to leave us with nothing but Love found only in the Heart of our Father seen pure in His Son Jesus Christ and Him crucified. God puts us through it all for our own Good; so that we might surrender all hope not found in Truth. God gives us as much of the bread and wine of the world as we want; for the purpose that we develop an unquenchable appetite for the bread and blood of Jesus. The Word and Promises of Jesus never fail, but sinful humans -and especially church culture “my church” - always do, and the worst enemy I could ever have - is none other than myself.
I am the bad guy; the chief of sinners. It was and is my sin that Jesus died for in His mercy. I was finally brave enough to do unbiased research into the truth about the leadership in the seventh-day adventist church. Suddenly, everywhere I looked, I saw proofs that ‘my church’, and ‘my heart’ as well - had been infested with vile seeds long ago. I finally was brave enough to open my eyes wide to evidence that the leadership of the church I had loved was sleeping with the anti-Christ. I discovered that just like in Jesus’ time, all church culture, starting with my own; had been conquered by impostors: agents of the enemy in the highest levels. As in the past in the church of Jesus day, the goal is to destroy Jesus; His Promises, and His disciples. The deception is delivered in the form of flattery and self-sufficiency - in ‘peace and safety’. This was the source of the evil in my heart; in my church, in my childhood family, and in my spiritual family.
Today, I am so glad it all happened exactly as it did, or my heart could never have been broken; my eyes could never have truly opened. Today, it is no surprise to me why my entire life has been, and is - a constant warfare and bloody trail of disappointments. The future prophecies of God’s flood with Noah; plagues with Moses; ladder with Jacob, and knife with Abraham - are closing fast, and there is no time left but to point to the sure Promises of God and His righteousness.
1Timothy 1:15 This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation: that Christ Jesus
came into the world to save sinners;
of whom
I
am chief.
Purpose was only satisfied to utterly break my heart. I needed to realize at the deepest level of my heart that I am truly a hopeless sinner. I am a brother who is one flesh with all sinful mankind, and one flesh with the Son of man in His life and death. There is no person and no church that can save, or help me. The special Promises; the Word of Jesus - are the only Light, Hope, and Truth in this world. All else is counterfeit. We only have one Friend and one LORD; Jesus Christ the Son of God our Father in heaven. He is coming back very, very, very soon in perfect fulfillment of every promise He ever spoke.
Feel free to look on FB: Brook DesHarnais for further encouragement and special Promises.
The following is another dream I had:
I was in the field area west of eagle rock and north of the industrial park. There were massive boulders on fire raining down on the earth, and people running and screaming and dying. I was not afraid, but everyone around me was. The people dying were terrified because they did not know God. They had no idea what was happening or why, apart from the fact that the world was ending and they were about to die. I don’t recall feeling empathy.
I’d like to share one final dream with you:
I’d like to share one final dream with you:
One night, I dreamed a dream:
I was standing behind the corner of a wall, and He (the LORD God Almighty) was there on the other side.
His body was being blocked from my sight by the wall. He was the Source of the brightest, most Holy Light; of a purity and amplitude that had never so much as crossed my wildest imagination. He was too bright for me to behold Him directly, but with the solid wall there, I was able to survive seeing the radiating fiery streams of Light ceaselessly emanating out of Him. In pure living Color, these streams of Love undulated between fire and rainbow hues. It was all I could do just to keep my eyes squinted open enough from behind the wall to take in His ultimate glory. Fiery living Love is His Character; His Spirit; His timeless Heart, and I could scarcely bear the paramount intensity.
The streams of His radiant Glory were not only washing through, but also gently drawing me from beneath and behind; supporting me with strength which was entirely not my own. His Glory washed through me with a current of emotional and spiritual magnetism which attracted me towards Him - not drawing my body, but drawing my heart; mind, and soul.
In miraculous, Divine awareness of all my life’s history - to the finest detail - I felt and knew all of the ways I had ever believed and behaved out of harmony with Him. I completely comprehended that the cost of every mote of my sin was irrefutably responsible for Christ Jesus’ blood shed for me. This not only broke, but utterly crushed my heart and self-sufficiency to dust. I was impeccably aware of God’s complete and perfect, hair-splitting record of all my sins. Manifesting and sharing His omniscience, my entire life and heart was exposed naked, magnified, and impressed upon me. I perceived His ineffable, Divine awareness of all the guilt and all the shame that He claimed in Jesus’ blood, as His own, for me. I realized the price for what I had earned, and deserved, in the most solemn, and awful majesty - the full measure and pure essence of death itself. Naked in soul before Him, I had lusted after, and embodied hell, and the hellion. There was no escape from my own self-realized condemnation, and I expected and awaited immediate, eternal separation from our Father, and from Life.
At the very bottom of the bottomless black-hole pit of darkness, death, guilt, and shame is the depth to which His fiery Light saturated. But, to the deepest depth; to the core, and essence of my innermost being and identity, I was being bathed, washed, and cleansed by His fiery Love - by the Light of Jesus’ blood shed for me; ceaselessly pouring and flowing through my filthy, wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked heart. His Mercy, and my sin, - were juxtaposed in ultimate stark contrast - only due to my perception of His miraculously perfect Awareness. I was absolutely unraveled, unwound, and undone by self-condemnation, self-renunciation, and self-abhorrence. But; o, for the matchless Grace of God - there was zero condemnation from Him whatsoever. His only Influence on me; His only Will towards me - was the constant, unfaltering, undeserved gift of forgiveness. His Will and Light; was life for me; reassurance and confidence; eternal security.
During the first part of the dream, I was experiencing involuntary impulses to turn and hide from Him because of my horrendously sinful character and record. I knew that I was so unworthy that the best thing for me, if I was left with my own strength, was to cease to exist. I was 100% drained of all physical energy and strength of my own. On my own, at every moment, I would have totally collapsed into a puddle; then a vanishing vapor of death. However, the life and strength of His Spirit was continually; constantly supporting, and sustaining me - with eternal Energy- and so, I was gifted to stand in the glorious grandeur and unspeakable magnificence of His Presence.
Without audible words, He was speaking the following message into the very cradle of my soul – “I know…... yes, I know it all; I know you better than you ever can imagine, and, I Love you. Yes; I Love you. My Peace I give to you. Be not afraid. I Love you.
Tears without end poured out of my eyes like a torrential fountain of gushing water. The ecstatic release of the pressure of the entire burden of all my sin was exponentially more powerful than the most intense volcanic eruption this world has ever seen. I was basking in the Light of the very bosom; the radiant womb - of God; of Life. I experienced an all-pervading sense of peace and love which I could never hope to accurately portray to you with this mere human language.
I was standing behind the corner of a wall, and He (the LORD God Almighty) was there on the other side.
His body was being blocked from my sight by the wall. He was the Source of the brightest, most Holy Light; of a purity and amplitude that had never so much as crossed my wildest imagination. He was too bright for me to behold Him directly, but with the solid wall there, I was able to survive seeing the radiating fiery streams of Light ceaselessly emanating out of Him. In pure living Color, these streams of Love undulated between fire and rainbow hues. It was all I could do just to keep my eyes squinted open enough from behind the wall to take in His ultimate glory. Fiery living Love is His Character; His Spirit; His timeless Heart, and I could scarcely bear the paramount intensity.
The streams of His radiant Glory were not only washing through, but also gently drawing me from beneath and behind; supporting me with strength which was entirely not my own. His Glory washed through me with a current of emotional and spiritual magnetism which attracted me towards Him - not drawing my body, but drawing my heart; mind, and soul.
In miraculous, Divine awareness of all my life’s history - to the finest detail - I felt and knew all of the ways I had ever believed and behaved out of harmony with Him. I completely comprehended that the cost of every mote of my sin was irrefutably responsible for Christ Jesus’ blood shed for me. This not only broke, but utterly crushed my heart and self-sufficiency to dust. I was impeccably aware of God’s complete and perfect, hair-splitting record of all my sins. Manifesting and sharing His omniscience, my entire life and heart was exposed naked, magnified, and impressed upon me. I perceived His ineffable, Divine awareness of all the guilt and all the shame that He claimed in Jesus’ blood, as His own, for me. I realized the price for what I had earned, and deserved, in the most solemn, and awful majesty - the full measure and pure essence of death itself. Naked in soul before Him, I had lusted after, and embodied hell, and the hellion. There was no escape from my own self-realized condemnation, and I expected and awaited immediate, eternal separation from our Father, and from Life.
At the very bottom of the bottomless black-hole pit of darkness, death, guilt, and shame is the depth to which His fiery Light saturated. But, to the deepest depth; to the core, and essence of my innermost being and identity, I was being bathed, washed, and cleansed by His fiery Love - by the Light of Jesus’ blood shed for me; ceaselessly pouring and flowing through my filthy, wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked heart. His Mercy, and my sin, - were juxtaposed in ultimate stark contrast - only due to my perception of His miraculously perfect Awareness. I was absolutely unraveled, unwound, and undone by self-condemnation, self-renunciation, and self-abhorrence. But; o, for the matchless Grace of God - there was zero condemnation from Him whatsoever. His only Influence on me; His only Will towards me - was the constant, unfaltering, undeserved gift of forgiveness. His Will and Light; was life for me; reassurance and confidence; eternal security.
During the first part of the dream, I was experiencing involuntary impulses to turn and hide from Him because of my horrendously sinful character and record. I knew that I was so unworthy that the best thing for me, if I was left with my own strength, was to cease to exist. I was 100% drained of all physical energy and strength of my own. On my own, at every moment, I would have totally collapsed into a puddle; then a vanishing vapor of death. However, the life and strength of His Spirit was continually; constantly supporting, and sustaining me - with eternal Energy- and so, I was gifted to stand in the glorious grandeur and unspeakable magnificence of His Presence.
Without audible words, He was speaking the following message into the very cradle of my soul – “I know…... yes, I know it all; I know you better than you ever can imagine, and, I Love you. Yes; I Love you. My Peace I give to you. Be not afraid. I Love you.
Tears without end poured out of my eyes like a torrential fountain of gushing water. The ecstatic release of the pressure of the entire burden of all my sin was exponentially more powerful than the most intense volcanic eruption this world has ever seen. I was basking in the Light of the very bosom; the radiant womb - of God; of Life. I experienced an all-pervading sense of peace and love which I could never hope to accurately portray to you with this mere human language.
It was being demonstrated to me beyond any shadow of a doubt that His Divine, reassuring, unchanging, all-knowing, immaculate, faithful, merciful Love was specifically for me - forevermore. I had been alone with Him; as though there was no-one else in the entire universe. He never spoke one audible word. He never touched me. I never saw any part of His body or face, and yet, I felt eternally wanted; understood, secure, comforted, and at Home. Had I been able, I would have remained there for ever and ever.
In the deepest depths of the essence of my being, I know this was not merely a dream. This experience was more real; more intense and vibrant than all the experiences of my life combined.
Revelation 7:14 …These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes,
and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
In the deepest depths of the essence of my being, I know this was not merely a dream. This experience was more real; more intense and vibrant than all the experiences of my life combined.
Revelation 7:14 …These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes,
and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.
I did not wake up right after this dream, but, when I did wake up in the morning, I did not have even a hint of trouble remembering every single detail in distinct clarity. It was not like my lucid flying dream; I had not begun the dream by realizing I was dreaming. However, I remembered it as though it had been real; as though I had been more than wide awake for the entire dream. If I were to estimate the amount of time this entire dream seemed to take, I would guess it was about thirty seconds at most.
It was the most important thirty seconds of my entire life.
Exodus 33:19-23 And He said: I will make all My goodness pass before thee, and I will proclaim the name of the LORD before thee; and will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will shew mercy on whom I will shew mercy. And He said: Thou canst not see My face: for there shall no man see Me, and live. And the LORD said, Behold, there is a place by Me, and thou shalt stand upon a rock: And it shall come to pass, while My Glory passeth by, that I will put thee in a clift of the rock, and will cover thee with My hand while I pass by: And I will take away Mine hand, and thou shalt see My back parts: but My face shall not be seen.
Joel 2:28 And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out My Spirit upon all flesh;
and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams,
your young men shall see visions:
and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams,
your young men shall see visions:
Acts 2:18 And on My servants and on My handmaidens I will pour out in those days of My Spirit;
and they shall prophesy…
God is looking for friends and so am I.
Please forgive me; for my sinful heart.
Can we be friends?
Luke 10:38 Now it came to pass, as they went, that He entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received Him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard His word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to Him, and said: Lord, dost Thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.
Won’t you join me; as a child, and sit with me at Jesus’ feet
with open hearts and ears - right now;
while we still have opportunity?
and they shall prophesy…
God is looking for friends and so am I.
Please forgive me; for my sinful heart.
Can we be friends?
Luke 10:38 Now it came to pass, as they went, that He entered into a certain village: and a certain woman named Martha received Him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, which also sat at Jesus' feet, and heard His word. But Martha was cumbered about much serving, and came to Him, and said: Lord, dost Thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone? bid her therefore that she help me. And Jesus answered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things: But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her.
Won’t you join me; as a child, and sit with me at Jesus’ feet
with open hearts and ears - right now;
while we still have opportunity?
