Colors, Ghosts and You...

I was flipping through The Path to Immortality, by Mark L. Prophet and Elizabeth Clare Prophet, trying to find the section about colors that I’d remembered reading a while ago, since we’re still clearing out and organizing and re-decorating per the recent Feng Shui consultation. I found it. It is in the 110 page section on “Entities." Entities as in "ghosts." Entities as in: remember the spooky dead guys Patrick Swayze ran into in the subway in the movie "Ghost?" Those are the kind of entities we're talking about here. An excerpt in a minute.

This book covers a LOT of information as the authors successfully go “beyond the veils of mortal existence to reveal man as a spiritual being--spanning the planes of Spirit and Matter.” It covers the Law of Cycles; Planes of Consciousness; Immortality (the soul ; the path of initiation); Entities and, the final section on the Messengers. There are 41 figures, which include very detailed charts; graphs and the names of certain discarnate entities and possessing demons. Not for the feinthearted or for anyone looking for light reading on a sunny day in the park (or even on a rainy day at home).

This morning, I was only interested in finding out more information re: colors and the influence of colors on people and their environment. Here is what I found that I think you might find as interesting as I did:

From page 377:

One means by which the astral vibration of entities [disembodied spirits] can penetrate the physical plane is through colors that vibrate at their level [not a place you want to be]--namely, red, red-orange, black, brown, gray, olive and chartreuse. These colors, together with their metallic correspondents silver and copper, vibrate at the level of astral creations and discordant qualifications such as anger, fear, doubt, resentment, pride, rebellion, greed, death, uncontrolled passion, and so on. They can be seen in the auras of spiritually undeveloped people.

From page 378:

The use of strobe lights, of psychedelic art forms, distorted images, and wild prints in fabrics and in wall coverings opens the door to the astral plane and facilitates the entrée of entities into the consciousness of those who are not careful about eliminating from their persons and from their homes these seemingly harmless distortions of divine art. The removal of such focuses will pave the way for a harmony and a peace that some will find difficult to believe is possible, so accustomed have they become to the modern jangle of discord and disorganization in their lives.

Hmmmm. I have to admit, I’ve never been a fan of chartreuse….always reminded me of the witch’s face in Snow White….Anyway, I was looking for some extra info regarding colors, and I sure found it in this chapter!

More on entities and the movie "Ghost" in later postings…and, I’ll post something sooner than later re: why a lot of beautiful antiques can make anyone feel uneasy…and how you can clear even the oldest pieces with the violet flame (also covered in the book).

Attribution.

Death and Reincarnation

Death. Reincarnation. Death. Reincarnation. Death. Reincarnation.

Ever get that “been there, done that” feeling but you’re not sure why? Well, you’re not alone. Millions of people have pondered life after life, and many more millions throughout the ages have believed in reincarnation, or re-embodiment, the process whereby the soul, the impermanent aspect of one's self, has the opportunity to evolve in order to fulfill its divine plan and return to its God source. Many famous people have believed in reincarnation--Benjamin Franklin, Henry Ford, George S. Patton, Mark Twain, Mahatma Gandhi, Albert Schweitzer, and, Jesus, to name a few.

There are a lot of books out there, online and in print. Some dry; some interesting; some too bizarre to finish reading; some so good you can’t put them down. Here is a list of some of the most interesting books on reincarnation that I’ve read--maybe you’ll find one that piques your curiosity.

If so, please let me know!

Beyond the Ashes: Cases of Reincarnation from the Holocaust, by Rabbi Yonassan Gershom. Published by A.R.E. Press, Virginia Beech, Virginia, 1992. From the back cover: “Rabbi Yonassan Gershom presents compelling evidence that supports this seemingly impossible phenomenon. Based on the stories of people he has counseled over a period of ten years, Beyond the Ashes sheds new light on the subject of reincarnation and the divinity of the human soul…Whatever your faith, you will be moved by this exploration into how the human spirit arises again from the ashes of tragedy.”


I Have Lived Before: The True Story of the Reincarnation of Shanti Devi, by Sture Lonnerstrand, translated by Leslie Kippen. Published by Ozark Mountain Publishers, Huntsville, AR, 1994. From the back cover: “The most thoroughly documented and authenticated case of reincarnation in modern times. The fascinating case of Shanti Devi has been reported in the annuals (sic) of famous studies of reincarnation ever since it occurred in the 1930’s in India. It was not a case obtained through the use of hypnosis or any other means. She consciously remembered her former life in minute detail from the earliest age. She was so insistent that a major investigation was conducted by an impartial committee. Even Mahatma Gandhi became involved and encouraged examination of the case. The results were published and submitted to scientists for analysis. No one was able to disprove the evidence, and it was declared valid.


Karma and Reincarnation: Transcending Your Past, Transforming Your Future, by Elizabeth Clare Prophet, Patricia R. Spadaro. Published by Summit Publications, Inc, second edition, 2004, Gardiner, Mt. From the back cover: “The word karma has made it into the mainstream. But not everyone understands what it really means or how to deal with it. This insightful book will help you come to grips with karmic connections from past lives that have helped create the circumstances of your life today. You'll discover how your actions in past lives—good and bad—affect which family you're born into, who you're attracted to, and why some people put you on edge. You'll learn about group karma, what we do between lives, and what the great lights of East and West, including Jesus, have to say about karma and reincarnation. Most of all, you'll find out how to turn your karmic encounters into grand opportunities to shape the future you want.

Attribution

Mom, Archangel Michael is blue!

Attribution

About 18 months after my husband, John, died, we seemed to hit somewhat of a plateau in our life without him. Our older daughter, Christine (no real names here) was in first grade and Claire was 3 ½. Chris horded pictures of her Dad and slept with the soft blue “Greatest Dad on Earth“ sweatshirt she had picked out for him the year before he died. Claire looked for him everywhere we went--just like a psychologist had warned me she might. She opened doors to closets and bedrooms and cupboards looking for him--in our house, in my parents‘ house, in anyone‘s house. Even in hotels. It about broke my heart every time. Apparently, she had no idea where he went, or what happened to him. All she knew was that he wasn’t there. Claire’s endless searching for her missing Dad really upset Chris, who was able to have a slightly better understanding of the permanency of death. “Mom! She thinks he’s on vacation and that he’s going to come back! Can’t you do something?!”

I had no idea what else to do--we’d been to a child psychologist a couple of times; bought puppets for play therapy and read a couple of books and had heart-to-heart talks. So, I prayed. I prayed to God for an idea about how to help my daughters deal with their Dad’s death and his absence from our daily life.

On a Saturday morning, I told them that we were going to draw pictures for Daddy (they used to draw them all the time for him to hang up in his office) and ask the angels to take them to Daddy in heaven. And, we added a prayer to Archangel Michael at bedtime and asked him to protect us and Daddy and help us see Daddy in heaven that night. We put the pictures in between the pages of our Bible and went to sleep.

The next morning, Claire got up first, came into the kitchen and asked for Cheerios. Not wanting to impose my hopes of hearing one of those incredible Angel Stories you read about in Guidepost while waiting at the doctor’s office, I got her breakfast and waited. Chris came out a few minutes later and said, “Well, Mom, did you see Dad in heaven last night?” I said, no, I hadn’t. Had she? No, she said, but she did remember being in Archangel Michael’s house, which, she said, had all blue windows, like the (stained) glass ones in churches,except a little more like crystals, and she remembered feeling safe and seeing a lot of other angels there. But Dad wasn’t with them.

Claire looked up from her bowl of Cheerios and said, “Archangel Michael is REALLY tall!” I asked her if she saw him last night and she said, “Yes! And, he’s REALLY tall!” Her eyes were wide open. I said, “Well, did you see Daddy?” “Yes. But, Mom, Archangel Michael is REALLY tall!” I said, “O.K. But, what was Daddy doing?” She said, “He was wearing a white bathrobe. But, Mom! Archangel Michael is REALLY tall! Lots taller than Daddy!” And, that was it. She went back to her Cheerios and I didn’t press her for more information, even though I would have liked to have gotten into her head and seen what she had seen.

In The Science of the Spoken Word, there is a chapter dedicated to Archangel Michael, that introduces specific prayers you can say for the protection of yourself, your family, friends, country, etc. I highly recommend you get a copy--or check out this link on Archangel Michael. The easiest prayer to learn and to say with children is the one for Traveling Protection, found on page 93:

Lord Michael before, Lord Michael behind,
Lord Michael to the right, Lord Michael to the left,
Lord Michael above, Lord Michael below,
Lord Michael, Lord Michael wherever I go!

I AM his love protecting here!
I AM his love protecting here!
I AM his love protecting here! (3x)

And, what might you visualize? Why, fiery rings of blue, of course!

Angel stories to share, anyone?

Jesus went where?

Family. Nothing quite like it--for better or for worse!

Now, one of the other (7) books by Mark and Elizabeth Clare Prophet that John and I had acquired over the 18 months prior to his diagnosis was The Lost Years of Jesus: Documentary Evidence of Jesus' 17 Year Journey. I started reading it when he got sick and took it with me on our trips to the clinics. I was looking for something on the lighter side, something interesting; something close to a novel. It was interesting--filled with pictures and maps; got my mind off our problems for a bit, and, most importantly, didn’t require much from me.


One night, I got home late from visiting John at the hospital and one of my aunts and my grandmother, who were babysitting, were still up. I got a glass of water, thanked them for their help, and started to go upstairs to bed. My aunt (unfortunately plagued by chronic narrow-mindedness), picked my copy of The Lost Years of Jesus off the kitchen table and, holding it somewhat in my face, asked, “So, where do you think he was?” I said, “What?” She said, “Jesus. Where do you think he was?” It was not going to be pleasant and I was determined to not engage.

I said, “It’s late. I’m going to bed. I haven’t finished the book yet and I’m not going to get into a debate with you.” My grandmother piped up, “I know where he was--he went to the East to study.” I said, “Oh, were you reading the book?” She said, “No. My father told me when I was 12 years old.” I said, “What?” She said, “When I was 12 years old, I was attending the Sacred Heart Academy in New York City.” (She was half French, half Italian; born in Constantinople and raised speaking French, English and Italian.) “One night I asked my father where Jesus was between the age of 12 and when his story started up again in the New Testament. He asked me where I thought he was. I told him that I didn’t know where he was, but I didn’t believe that he spent all those years doing woodwork and carpentry with his father. My father said, ‘You’re right. He didn’t.’”

She went on to explain that before meeting her mother, her father had been interested in becoming a Jesuit priest. He had a friend who was a Jesuit who was working in the Vatican at the time (before 1900), who gave him a small book to read and told him that if he could read that and go forward with the knowledge contained within, and understand and be able to live with the fact that it would never be shared with the Catholic lay people of the world, then he would be able to be an excellent Jesuit. My great-grandfather read the book, and decided he could not become a Jesuit. Why not? Because the book told about the same story that is told in The Lost Years of Jesus--that Jesus went to the East, to India and Tibet and studied with the lamas and teachers there, before he returned to begin his mission of three years as described in the Gospels. My great-grandfather could not reconcile the Catholic Church keeping such critical information from the people.

My aunt, who was listening to her mother’s story in disbelief, said, “Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

My grandmother looked up at her with her big, deep-set brown/black eyes and, very matter-of-factly said, “You never asked.”

On that extraordinarily awkward note, I went to bed and left them to their own discussion.

Ah…family dynamics! Ya’ never know what your grandma knows unless you ask!

Today is Tuesday, and it is blue. Blue is the color of God’s Will. While it was my growing faith in and acceptance of God’s Will that would sustain me then and in years to come, my grandmother’s newly revealed family mysteries contributed greatly to the “coloring” of my journey!

Gone at dawn

John died at dawn on a Thursday. The day before he died, he woke up at 7:21 a.m. and asked, “What time is it?” When I told him, he closed his eyes, slowly shook his head back and forth and said, “Darn.” For a minute, I couldn’t even breathe. I knew what this meant--that he would hold out one more day so that he could die at dawn.

One of the other books that John kept on his nightstand was The Chela and the Path. In one of the chapters, it describes how the angels bring in the color of the day at dawn. When I read it, I thought it sounded really neat. When John read it, dying at dawn became his goal. Since he was definitely dying, he figured, “Why not pray to die at dawn?” And, so, about two weeks before he died, he asked me if I would please start praying for him to have the opportunity to die at dawn so that he could see the angels bring in the color of the day. So, I began praying to God to grant his request, not knowing how such a request might be granted, because, you know, I had worked in a nursing home years before and most people passed on in the middle of the night when no family members were around to hold them back emotionally. Not really wanting him to die at any time of the day, and still hoping for a miracle of some sort, I ended my prayer with “according to God’s will.” I had always prayed for God’s will throughout my life, but this time, I have to admit, I was really hoping that God’s will was somewhat similar to mine. It wasn’t.

Later that night, at around 9:00, John went into a coma and a nurse from hospice came and stayed in an adjacent room. At around 1:00 a.m. on Thursday, my sister came over to be with me at his bedside. About 2 hours later, he started that horrid breathing pattern that is so difficult for the living to hear. My sister panicked somewhat and called the hospice center and they said it could last up to 3 days like that and they would send some kind of a machine over in the morning. I told her to forget that--and to get the newspaper from the kitchen and see what time dawn was the day before. She did. I told her that when it got close to the same time, we had to really start paying attention, because, knowing John, he was going to be as focused in death as he was in life. And, boy, if ever there was a guy who was determined to die at dawn, it was John.

His room was painted off-white and had a window facing the East, so we opened the curtains and waited. Sometime shortly after 6:00 a.m., the room began to literally change---accelerate-- in vibration and color. At first, it was filled with what I can only describe as what felt and looked like sparkles of light, white light, similar to the sparkles at the end of one of those hand-held sparklers we had as kids on the 4th of July. Then, the colors started filling the room--pink, purple, light gold, aqua, violet, green--colors I’m not sure to this day that I’ve seen before or since--it was as if we were standing inside a cloud of color and light. And, there seemed to be the very tangible presence of angels in the room. I mean big angels; larger than life angels, who filled the room and radiated so much love and hope and peace and warmth that I was so overwhemed for a few moments, that I forgot about John. Thank God my sister was there--because she was experiencing and seeing everything that I was. We were speechless. It was as if we were in a different compartment of time and space, even though we hadn’t left John’s side.

I had been holding John’s hand for hours by then, and after a few minutes, when the light and colors and radiation were most intense, I looked at his face, which had a soft, pain-free, peaceful expression on it and heard him quietly exhale. He was gone. It was as if his soul took flight and was absorbed into the light, into the arms of the angels or cosmic beings or whoever it was that was there with us. My sister whispered, “Is that it?” I said, “Yes.” And, it was. We just looked at each other, with tears streaming down our faces, in awe of what had just occurred.

Today is Wednesday and it is green. It was on a Wednesday that I realized my husband would be gone by dawn the next day.