Spiritual Responsibility

Leo Jean's Starlike© paper sculptures: 24 inside a resin pyramid topped by glowing Starlike©Before I trained to work as a spiritual/natural/quantum healer, I really had no idea that I was any good at it.  When I met Leo Jean 27 years ago, I was fortunate to have found a man who, in spite of a myriad of challenges at all levels, had lived his life in a positive mode.

At that time Leo met regularly with a group of young people that were either dealing with their higher level skills or who wanted Leo to help them to develop them so that they could help others.  About two months beforehand there had been a mysterious murder in the community that involved a teen-aged gas station attendant.  While working the night shift he was shot point blank and killed.  Since the youth had no known enemies and was not involved in any illicit activities, the entire city was searching for answers.  Leo told me that he was working with one of the members of his group that was very gifted and wanted to develop his skills to help find missing children.  He had been able to perceive the incident and ‘look’ at the face of the perpetrator.  Leo asked if I would be willing to see if I could do the same.

At the time I found it fascinating that I could actually be able to help solve a crime of this nature.  However, I would soon find that such work is very dangerous because of the type of people involved.  When I went to ‘look’ at the crime with Leo by going to the exact time and place of the incident at the higher level, I could perceive the face of the man that pulled the trigger in some detail.

Around that time, I was approached at the higher level to succumb to a negative commitment in the guise of the enticement of some fabulous reward.  While I immediately refused to ‘sign the paper’ that was presented to me in a dream, the young man that wanted so badly to help find missing children, accepted and ‘signed’ the document in a remarkably similar dream state.  Almost instantaneously he lost his ability to ‘see’ at the higher level and he began ‘receiving’ information from some higher level source that eventually disgraced him.

In order to evaluate our ability to help solve similar crimes, Leo decided to see if I could also ‘find’ the weapon used.  What I ‘saw’ was that the gun had been dumped into a garbage dumpster and there was no possibility of recovering it.  So, I then ‘looked’ to see where the gun had been purchased, so that it could then possibly be traced to the killer.  What I found was a townhouse-style building in the city of Toronto and I could actually read the address.  Leo then asked me if I could ‘obtain’ the number of the special task force that was assigned to such crimes, since the local RCMP wouldn’t work with him.  So I asked for the number at the higher level, and wrote it down.

A few minutes later, Leo was speaking to a person in the special division of the RCMP in Toronto who asked how he could have possibly known that unlisted number.  Once Leo told them that we were working on the unsolved murder case in a city 200 miles away, the officer passed us to someone who took the particulars of the information that we had collected at the higher level.  When given the address in Toronto, the officer revealed that it was the address of a known arms dealer and told us that he would contact us if they wanted to know anything further.  He added that, since we had breached their security, the phone number would no longer be valid.

The following day, as Leo and I walked in the downtown mall together after lunch, I pointed out a stranger that closelyLeo Jean's Starlike© paper sculptures: 24 inside a resin pyramid topped by glowing Starlike© resembled the man I had perceived when I was ‘looking’ at the crime scene.  Leo calmly stated that I shouldn’t get excited and we walked by, as the man nodded hello to Leo.  After we were back in the car, Leo told me that I had pointed out the same man as the young man from our group.  He was one of the detectives on the case.

At that point Leo announced that, if we were going to work together, we would no longer be solving crimes or looking for missing persons because of the danger to ourselves.  With great relief I wholeheartedly agreed.

Leo Jean’s reminder/caveat: “Whether you use it or abuse it, you are responsible for the knowledge you gain here.”

It was through those experiences that I came to fully understand why Leo chose to develop and use his higher level power to help heal people rather than to solve crimes.  While Leo had developed his own skills to help defeat tyranny during his work in the OSS during WWII, he was largely working on his own behind enemy lines to effect the positive outcomes he desired.  He had placed himself in so many life-threatening situations that some people that recognized him 50 years later were stupefied that he had survived his missions.

It wasn’t until many years later that we ‘looked’ again at some unsolved crimes.  One notable one was the Chandra Levy disappearance.  We posted some information on our website that drew some negative comments from the FBI on the phone and people like Howard Stern on the radio who practically accused Leo of being a likely suspect.  All we knew was that those sniffer dogs that searched the park must have all had colds, as they initially failed to find the body where it was eventually discovered.

Over the years I’ve learned the responsibility of how and when to use my higher level skills in the most positive ways to help improve our clients’ well-being with the Light* at all levels.

Find out how to start working with your spirit by visiting my website at OnlyPositiveKnowledge.com !

I welcome and value your input~Please feel free to comment! 

*Light: The pure white light of the universe; purely positive energy; not associated with any one religion or deity; I work spiritually with people from every background from around the globe



Ousting Negativity – Part 2

(…Part 1)

Leo Jean's Starlike© paper sculpture mounted inside 4 glass starsChildren would seem to be the most vulnerable to the influence of spiritual negativity, but they are actually very adept at combating negative interference.  From their neutral innocent standpoint, young children are inherently sensitive to the spiritual realm and already understand how to deal with it.

From early in life children are enticed to interact with beings that exist in higher dimensions and, while adults call this imagination, it is very real.  Sometimes, when a child senses the presence of an inter-dimensional being, it will be in the form of something that begs their trust, like a friendly ghost, an angel or a beautiful fairy.  Rather than immediately accept the impact of such an encounter, a child’s first reaction should be to refuse and throw Light* to hit the being.  If the being is positive, the Light will give it energy and it will sparkle its own spiritual Light.  If the being is negative, it will retreat or vanish when hit with the Light.  If more children were aware of how to use the Light in self-defense, fewer would suffer from the interference of negative beings that feed off of their energy.

As creatures of instinct, we all have the choice to react with fear or defiance when threatened at all levels of our being.  If you react in confidence by refusing first, fear will not be given the opportunity to present itself and break down your defenses.  A child’s imagination can yield powerful results when counteracting negativity, as children are constantly being challenged in their efforts to remain in a positive state.

An example from my early childhood might help to explain how a child whose spirit is helping them to resist the pervasiveness of negativity can stand up to a coercive invitation to interact in a negative realm.  While I don’t remember most childhood dreams, this one stands out significantly.

When I was eight years old, I awoke in a dream to find what I recognized to be a ‘witch’ sitting up beside me in my bed.  (She looked like the witch   from the “Mighty Mouse” cartoon.)  When I saw her, I was petrified and stood up on the bed to face her.  The witch told me that she had brought me a gift, and held out a necklace made of round stones that I should put on.  When I refused her gift, she told me that she had come to take me away with her.  When I kept telling her that I wasn’t going to go anywhere with her, she wouldn’t take “No!” for an answer.  As she tried to break my free will, I remained steadfast and didn’t allow her to break my resolve.  As a child I perceived the being that appeared to me as a witch to be ‘bad’ and I was not going to give in to her.

Finally, after what seemed like a very long time (and was probably only a few split seconds), I thought of something.  I told her that, if I were forced to go with her, I would have to say good-bye to my parents.  The ‘witch’ agreed and allowed me to get out of bed and go downstairs to say my farewells.  When I returned, I brought my father with me, wielding a gun.  The witch disappeared and I woke up, trembling, in the tranquility of my bed.  My father often worked nights, so he wasn’t even home, nor had he ever owned a gun.

Although at the time I didn’t consciously know how to work with my spirit, my spirit knew how to help me to use my imagination as a tool to properly refuse while in my dream state.  Many of our higher-level encounters occur in the dream state, so it’s important to learn how to bring positive knowledge to all levels of our being.  If I had accepted the offer of the necklace, I would have accepted some sort of inter-dimensional loyalty to that being.  If I had accepted the summons to leave my body, I would have accepted and succumbed to whatever unknown terms went along with that agreement.  Fortunately, even as a child, I chose to be positive.  After that point, I went through the hardest part of my life, but I still refused to give in to all the negativity that continued to challenge me.

My spirit has been helping me all my life, but I had been conditioned to let go of that all-important connection to the highest part of myself.  Thankfully, I reconnected with my spirit and will continue to learn and, hopefully, inspire others to work within with their own spirit.

My work with Leo Jean has brought me many lessons in how to deal with spiritual negativity, and next I’ll share the story of how a young man was tricked into responding to almost exactly the same enticement that I faced with the ‘witch’ in my dream.

(…Part 3)

Find out how to start working with your spirit by visiting my website at OnlyPositiveKnowledge.com !

I welcome and value your input~Please feel free to comment! 

*Light: The pure white light of the universe; purely positive energy; not associated with any one religion or deity; I work spiritually with people from every background from around the globe


Release the Secret

The other night I watched “Brad Meltzer’s Decoded” on the History Channel, which looked into the U. S. government’s cover up of UFO evidence.  At the end of the show, one of the investigators divulged that, when he was eight years old, he had seen a UFO while traveling by car with his family.  One of the other investigators said that, if they had known that at the beginning of their investigation, he would have thought that maybe his colleague was a little crazy.  However, afterward he could just say: “That’s incredible!”

This response is indicative of how far we’ve come as human beings to respect the experiences of others without prejudgment.  When someone reveals that they’ve seen a UFO, their credibility is immediately taken into question.  Rather than just evaluating the details of the story, a person’s judgment and mental stability come into question.

When I was fifteen years old, I was contacted by a roomful of other-worldly beings who appeared on a small movie screen.  Unlike the usual circumstances surrounding such events, such as when a lone person is traveling in a remote location, I was fully conscious in a public place full of adults and children.  However, since I was the only subject of the communication, my friends advised me not to talk about it, or people would think I was crazy.  So I remained silent for fifteen years, until I was able to tell someone that I trusted.  Especially during my silence, I often wondered about the significance of being the object of the communication and if there would be any follow up. (See my post Early Flat Screen Presentation.)

Most people keep their alien contact or sightings secret, because of the skeptical reaction they anticipate.  Over the ensuing years, they agonize over thoughts like: “Why me?” “Why was I selected as the recipient of that encounter?” “Does this have some significance in my life?”  The investigator on “Decoded” stated that his UFO sighting stood out as one of the wonders of his childhood, yet he wouldn’t talk about it until after the show’s investigation had sufficiently backed up his credibility.  Earlier on the show, Story Musgrave, a former NASA astronaut, pointed out the statistical certainty that intelligent life must exist on other planets and that some could be billions of years more technologically advanced than we are.

While living in California about fifteen years ago, I was also fortunate enough to be witness to a small group of craft passing over our property.  Within a period of about two weeks Leo had called me outside several times to see some ships, but it took me too long to exit the house and courtyard to reach him on the hillside garden where he was working.  Then, one day I threw down what I was doing and rushed outside, just in time to see three small craft moving westward about fifty feet above the house.  They were rather small, about the size of small helicopters, but they were angular in shape and had small triangular wings.  As I looked up at them flying in a v-shaped formation, they appeared to be made of a translucent material through which light passed, but I couldn’t see the interior or if they were manned.  They passed by silently at no more than 20 mph.  I was so excited as I watched them leave my field of vision over the hillside!  Then, about thirty seconds later, a B-3 bomber came over us, and followed the path of the small crafts.  The B-3’s engine was loud and it looked out of place compared to the advanced-looking crafts.

When I saw the UFO’s, I was with someone who wasn’t afraid to talk about what we had seen.  The following day at the local coffee shop, Leo and I related our sighting to a couple of acquaintances, who had been pilots during World War II.  The pilots asked questions about the structure, position, airspeed and heading of the craft.  Although it felt strange to talk about what we had seen, we were talking to experts that understood the experience, and I’ve never questioned the event since.

Carrying the secret of childhood abuse is a similar burden to having witnessed a UFO event, although much more painful, of course.  In both cases, you’re not supposed to tell or talk about your experience.  You’re forced to carry around your secret, because of the fear that your story will trigger ridicule, reprisal or hurtful criticism.  You might fear that, once your secret is revealed, you will be ostracized and that the skeptical reactions of even those closest to you might be too overwhelming and will ultimately change their perception of you as a person.

Just as the world is coming around to questioning the government cover up of UFO activity, the cover up practices of the abuse of children by religious organizations like the catholic church are finally being examined.  When prestigious people like heads of state, military personnel or scientists state that they have witnessed UFO events, the public never questions their integrity; it was a remarkable experience.  When celebrities reveal their childhood abuse, it’s seen as a factor in driving their success.  For most of us, it’s a painful process of wondering if we’ll be perceived as dysfunctional or ‘damaged goods’.  However, many more people are finally letting go of their fear of exposure.

As I’ve grown to love myself over the years, I’ve learned to talk about what happened to me, since withholding the information had been a negative impediment to my well-being.  You are the product of your experiences so, if you keep events like a UFO sighting or childhood abuse a secret, the effects of not speaking out can be more harmful than just telling it like it is.  Just pick your audience; there are some people out there who will listen without judging you.  When you’re ready to let go, remember to refuse and release the negativity that you’ve been accepting.  You’ll feel better, happier and much lighter!

NOTE: The illustrations posted here are only to suggest what the UFO that Leo and I saw looked like. It didn’t look like either sketch but more like a composite of both (the 2nd relating only to the translucency of the metal).

Find out how to get started working with your spirit by visiting my website at OnlyPositiveKnowledge.com !

I welcome and value your input~Please feel free to comment! 


Religion Can Strike a Sour Chord

My Other KeyboardFor most of my life I’ve quietly been a non-believer and it always amazes me how adults continue to believe in the creation and other stories that their religions narrate.  While I still respect the choice that religious people make to believe in something as intangible, abstract and incredible as an omnipotent being that created everything from scratch, it would be less farfetched to worship the big bang.  However, when you think about how children are conditioned and encouraged in very clever ways to follow the footsteps of their parents or government into a given religion, it’s not hard to understand why religious beliefs are so embedded into the minds of almost all human beings.

Recently a client mentioned to me how fortunate she felt because she had never been indoctrinated into any religious belief system as a child.  I felt so pleased for her, because she had never been forced to participate in such an incarceration of the mind.  I reflected on my own catholic upbringing that was filled with conditioning by experts. My earliest memory of being punished was when I was three years old.  I had just returned from having attended church for the first time without my mother.  Our neighbor, a staunch religious woman, had caught me “sweeping the floor” with my nose, and advised my mother to punish me immediately with a spanking.  My mother questioned this advice but, because she was being pressured by one of her peers, duly spanked me for my irreverence.  Even though I protested that all I had been doing was counting the boots of the people in the row in front of us!

After learning that I was to do everything exactly as everyone else did while in the house of cards, I became an observer.  I used to watch everyone as they entered the church: walking up to the basin of holy water, dipping their finger in and genuflecting down on one knee as they crossed themselves with the blessed liquid.  Everyone was so serious, all dressed up in their finery.  If a young girl forgot to wear a hat or scarf over her head, a helpful mother would kindly provide her with a Kleenex and bobby pin to ensure her respectful appearance.

One Sunday there was an unexpected transition from the normal solemn mood of the mass.  The organist, who happened to have been my first grade teacher, suddenly stood up while playing one of the livelier tunes that she usually played with such reverence.  As she stood up, she looked around as though she was expecting everyone’s admiration.  My mother who led the choir looked at her with some surprise.  As the weeks went by, the organist continued to stand, then even smile and move in rhythm with the music as the pressure for attention mounted.  To everyone’s relief, the poor woman was soon replaced, so that the somber monotony could resume.

It was around that time, when I was about 12 years old, that my mother announced that I was going to be able to take piano lessons.  I was ecstatic at the prospect of finally learning to play the big old upright that stood in our dining room.  Some of my older five sisters had started lessons, but never seemed to stay with it.  For two and a half years, I was the happiest person around.  I practiced piano every day before dinner, but was among the shiest of all pianists. When my mother brought company over and asked me to play, I would agree only if they all sat in the other room.  I was so happy that I didn’t have to take lessons at the convent, where tales of yardsticks as weapons were wielded on faulty fingers. When I won first place at a regional piano competition, I was both proud and relieved because they had allowed me to focus while I played facing a wall.

However, soon my musical elation would be thoroughly quashed as religion interfered.  One day as I was getting money for the bus to go to my weekly lesson, my mother mentioned that I could soon start learning to play the organ at the church.  I looked at her with incredulity.  My immediate response was: “Then I’ll quit!”  To which my mother responded: “You’ll regret it!” I felt threatened and came back with: “I might regret it, but I’ll never play the organ at church!”  I knew only too well how many hours had to be spent playing at the church while the choir practiced.  And who would always be popping in to see the ladies but the depraved priest that had raped me a few years earlier!  Even more troubling was when the priest accepted my mother’s invitation to dinner that Easter.  It was difficult to sit across the table from that man, knowing that he was held under such esteem by my mother, while I was still under his threat not to tell or my family would be punished.

Although music and religion have intertwined since ancient times, from when temples were built to maximize the impact of sounds and song to when many musical artists attribute their talents to early song worship, religion always strikes a sour chord for me.  It brought me nothing but grief as a child and continuously presents divisiveness on our planet.  In a world where freedom is of concern to us all, what about the religious freedom of children? Despite all the physical and psychological efforts by the religious conditioners in my early life, I’m glad that I was able to see through the hypocrisy and rationally decide for myself about the notion of God.

On the positive side, my experience set me on a spiritual search for meaning in my life.  It wasn’t until I started working with my spirit that I finally understood that the ultimate goal of every human should be to personally attain harmony with their spirit.



Find out how to get started working with your spirit by visiting my website at OnlyPositiveKnowledge.com !

I welcome and value your input~Please feel free to comment! 

*Light: The pure white light of the universe; purely positive energy; not associated with any one religion or deity; I work spiritually with people from every background from around the globe

7. Spiritual Recognition

7. Spiritual Recognition

One of Leo Jean’s Starlike Sculptures

Upon meeting Leo Jean I immediately had life changing experiences that brought me from existing as a vulnerable victim to living as a confident person who is fully responsible for my entire being.   It wasn’t until I saw my spirit for the first time, though, that I really felt a connection to my place in the universe.

My first contact with Leo Jean was so exhilarating!  When I arrived at his office, his large Boxer dog growled hello to me.  Leo told me not to worry, because his dog was providing him with some information about me.  I asked if Leo’s accent was French and he stated that he was Belgian.  He said had intentionally kept his accent although he had left Belgium when he was very young.  When I had phoned to make the appointment, I remember saying before we hung up: “We’re going to be such good friends!”  I felt a little embarrassed about that statement at the time, but it turned out to be so true.

As I started to tell him about the recent events that had unfolded, I felt that I could trust Leo with the entire truth of my situation.  I told him about how my then-husband seemed to have been taken over by some supernatural force, and Leo looked me straight in the eye as he told me that he would help me to comprehend what had occurred.  Then I told him about the simian-like beings that I had encountered when I was a teenager.  He told me that we would deal with all that later.  I also asked Leo if it were possible to learn how to use the other 90% of my brain, and he nodded and stated that we would look into it.

Then Leo suggested that we get to work to help me regain my equilibrium.  First, Leo asked if I would permit him to remove all the negativity from me, including that which had damaged my electromagnetic field.  Then he asked me if I would allow him to help me to close my damaged spiritual openings, so that he could perform a healing. Even though I didn’t know what that meant at the time, I agreed because I believed that Leo knew what he was doing.

Once Leo had worked to close and heal my spiritual openings, and to realign my electrical and electromagnetic fields, he then directed me to close my eyes very gently and to mentally ask my spirit to show itself.  No sooner had the thought crossed my mind that I wanted my spirit to show itself, than it happened.  With my eyes closed, I saw a tiny spark of brilliant white light twinkle, then fade into the distance of my mind’s eye vision.  Wow!  That was my spirit!

For the next few minutes, I was flabbergasted.  For all of my life, previous to this moment, I had been searching for something that would give my life meaning.  Now here it was – my spirit!  I was in awe that I actually had a spirit that could respond to me.  The fairy tale was definitely over.  Now I had the most fundamental element of all with which to pursue my life.  All the fear that religions had instilled in their followers about the consequences of being a non-believer was instantly identified.  As I had always suspected, even as a child, it was all just coercive conditioning.

After that healing session, I felt like such a weight had been lifted from me!  I felt happy again.  It was a distantly familiar feeling that I hadn’t felt since I was at least three years old.  I felt invigorated and bubbly.  I smiled so much that day that my face ached from not having used those facial muscles for so long.

That night I received a call from my then husband.  When I told him about my appointment with Leo, he became very upset and demanded to know why I would ever go to see someone like that.  He implied that those types of people are only interested in preying on troubled women.  I assured him that he was wrong and that he should be happy that I was feeling so much better.  My soon-to-become ex was definitely worried.

Leo had invited me to attend one of his evening classes at the college and I was only too pleased to sit in.  Toward the end he asked if everyone had brought their spoons, because he was going to teach the class about mind power.  The students held up their spoons, and Leo directed them how to use their minds to twist their spoons at the neck.  There were many “Ooh’s” and “Ah’s” as the students focused their mental energy at the spoons and twisted them.  I had never seen anything like it before, and was excited about such a different approach to using one’s mind.

A few days later, Leo invited me to meet with some people that had been working with him for a while.  Some of the people were learning to use their psychic skills to help others in the group.  After the others had left, one of the ladies, a registered nurse, told me that she would like to help me.  She asked Leo to help her look at my ex, so that they could help determine what danger he presented.  She asked for my ex’s name and “looked” at him.  She said she saw a tall man with long stringy hair.  I said that my ex had never worn his hair long.

Only then did I remember that he had told me very early in our relationship that he had lived in England for three years and had let his hair grow while there.  I was impressed by how this woman could perceive him directly.  She said that he had been delving into some very dark knowledge during that time and seemed genuinely disturbed by him.  My ex had always told me that I was never to read about, talk about or even think about anything paranormal.  And here was this woman, telling me that my ex had acquired great knowledge of a dark nature.  I felt a cold chill go up my neck.

Then Leo told the nurse that he was going to have to go into a spiritual battle, because my ex and his ex-wife were now attacking him at the higher level.  Right then I had a déjà vu, as if I had already known that Leo would fight my ex at the higher level.  Leo made the statement that my ex’s ex was even stronger than my ex and that she would have to be dealt with immediately.  I was pretty scared for a few minutes, then the fear turned to relaxation as the negativity subsided.  Leo was stopping the attack of negative energy that those people were directing toward me.

Within two days, my ex phoned to say that he would be arriving in town that night to pick me up.  I immediately called Leo and told him that I was still afraid of my ex.  Leo asked me if I wanted to go back with him and I stated that I clearly did not, but that I was terrified of him.  Leo said that he would allow me to stay with him until he left.  I couldn’t believe that I was actually going to get away from my ex!

That night Leo picked me up and took me to stay with him and his family.  The following day my ex showed up at the door and I hid with my head under a pillow, so that I wouldn’t be able to hear his voice.  I was trembling with fear at the thought of having to see my ex again.  After about fifteen minutes, Leo came to tell me that my ex had left, but that he was probably wasn’t going to give up that easily.  I spent a few days indoors so that he wouldn’t be able to approach me on the street.

After we knew that my ex had left town, Leo told me that he had left something for me.  I was puzzled as he showed me my ex’s wedding ring inside a small bottle.  He took it out and balanced it on its edge on the table.  It was vibrating!  I asked what was wrong with it and Leo said that my ex had placed a curse on the ring.  What we were seeing was the effect of the strong negative energy level within the element of the ring.  If I were to touch my ex’s ring, I would once again fall under his influence and would feel compelled to return to him.  I certainly didn’t want that, so I never touched the ring and immediately got rid of it.  It was interesting that, as I got rid of the ring, I got rid of Mr. Corcoran.

Only then did I begin to realize how little love and respect I had for myself before Leo opened my mind to the unseen reality around us.  Throughout my life I had systematically been giving away my positive energy to the predators that had exploited my good intentions in life.  With so little self-respect, my own self-worth had diminished and I felt trapped within the negative circle of guilt, shame and helplessness that I had drawn for myself.  Over the next few months everything would change, as I began to learn about my spirit and the immense potential that it had always offered but that I had never acknowledged.


4. Uncertain Circumstances

In retrospect, if I had known the upcoming consequence of leaving the city with my ex-husband, I might never have made the journey.  It was, however, exactly the result of having been placed in such a precarious situation that I discovered the spiritual realm and the significance of working with my spirit.

During the summer of 1983 we moved to a small rural village called Lac La Hache (translated ‘Axe Lake’), located just north of the town of 100 Mile House and about 300 miles north of Vancouver, B.C.  My ex had bought a cabin with no running water and no telephone connection on a dirt road about a quarter-mile from the main highway.

Shortly after we moved in, my ex drove to the city and returned with his son, Jesse, who was then 10 years old.  Most of the day they were outside shooting gophers with slingshots and practicing ax throwing and archery in the nearby woods and fields.  My ex had been raised on a farm and learned to hunt as a child.  One day they brought home a dead gopher in a box and placed it on the back fence, saying it was to dry for a few months so that they could examine the bones.  Before doing that, though, my ex had cut off the rodent’s tail and nailed it to the side of the house.  I thought all this to be very strange but, since it was a guy’s thing, I wasn’t supposed to understand.  Jesse’s mother came to pick him up and seemed puzzled at why we were living under such conditions, especially noting the water tanks above the basements stairs that supplied our ‘running’ water.

Our next-door neighbor had a structure with several long poles tied together at the top, and he had tied his very large ever-barking dog to a chain.  He told me that the pole structure was for hanging deer, and I was horrified to think that I would have to view this from my kitchen window.  His dog, he explained, had been abused, so it was dangerous and couldn’t be released.  I decided to thwart that man’s cruelty by showing some kindness.  One day, while my ex was on one of his many trips to the city, I saw some deer on the edge of the fence that separated our properties from the forest, so I ran outside and shouted at them to go away.  Several times when my ex was away, I saw the dog off the chain and invited him over with the scent of a meat snack, which he would gently snatch from my extended hand.

There wasn’t much for me to do in that place, and my ex always seemed to be going somewhere without me.  I remember someone saying to me one day that I should be careful not to get cabin fever, because it happened a lot up there.  I laughed, but wondered what that meant.  Sometimes, when we went to town to buy groceries, we would have lunch at the hotel or at the local popular diner.  While at the hotel I was watching one of the waiters who seemed to be having some sort of meltdown, while other people were talking to him.  I asked my ex what he thought was going on, and he said that the owner of the hotel was in the habit of bringing homeless youths from Vancouver Island to work and live.  He added that the owner was someone who had the means to build the only landing strip along the highway so that he could land his Leer jet when he visited.  This person was rumored to own 25,000 acres, including the town.

One morning I woke up with a burning itching sensation on the top of my left foot.  I pulled off my sock and saw that there was a half-inch long triangular-shaped scrape there.  I wondered how I could have hurt my foot at that spot and not known it.  Then I thought that maybe a spider had bitten me, and I had just scratched the skin off.  I showed it to my ex and he shrugged.  The wound took at least a week to heal.

Later that year, my ex brought his son up to stay with us during the holidays.  I remember how cold it was to go outside in -40F (and C) to quickly toboggan down a nearby hill.  The cabin wasn’t very well insulated, and when it got really cold, the windows would ice over.  It was dreadful, to say the least.

The next month, in January 1985, my ex announced that I was to go down to Vancouver to stay with Jesse for a couple of weeks while his mother went to the Dominican Republic on holiday.  On the way back to town with Jesse, my ex announced that he also had to go out of town, so I would be staying with Jesse on my own.  I never questioned him anymore, since his answers were always so elusive and, besides, it meant being in the city away from that ridiculous cabin near the woods.  I enjoyed being in the city again; it was my first time back in over a year.

Jesse’s mother, a former nurse, had made a practice of traveling around the world to learn various healing methods in the hope of setting up her own practice. She had lived in Ecuador where she set up a sensory deprivation chamber, and had studied acupressure in China. When she returned from her trip to the Dominican Republic, she told me that she had also gone to Haiti to sit in on a voodoo ceremony. When she mentioned the voodoo ceremony, I recalled the shrunken two-toed sloth that she had brought back from the Amazon years before as a gift for my ex.  She startled me when she said that she thought that my ex should be more spiritual.  I didn’t know what she meant by that, and just nodded in agreement.  Since my ex was now back at the cabin, I was expected to return the 500 miles by bus.  My car had been sold to raise money to buy the cabin and a rental car was not an option at the time.

Before I got on the bus in Vancouver I bought a Psychology Today magazine to read en route.  I read an article that sparked something in my mind and lead to a realization about my life.  The article referred to some studies that found that individuals who had been raped had suffered ongoing trauma, especially if they had never received therapy from the event.  The study showed that, if a person went for more than 5 years without getting help, their symptoms would compile and cause significant psychological damage.  I suddenly realized that I had never received help from the times when I was assaulted as a very young child and, moreover, that I had been raped as a teenager, such as by my best friend’s brother after high school and again, more violently, while on one of my trips to Europe.  I had survived all of that, but had never considered any further consequences.  I just kept going as best I could, without ever telling anyone.

Upon my return from the city, I gasped when my ex announced that we were going to join the local gym, and that we had an appointment that afternoon to take a tour.  Although I had attended aerobics classes at the university, there had never been any mention of a gym in our lives up to that point.  Although puzzled I was enthusiastic, since I have always made a point of staying in shape.  That afternoon we met with a charming woman who showed us around the facility just outside of town.  Before that, I never even knew the facility existed.  My ex was so interested in this gym that I asked him when and where he decided to join.  His response was garbled and then he demanded: “Do you want to join or not?”  Despite the unusual offer and my ex’s sudden change of mind about fitness, I agreed to a one-year membership.  Interestingly, I would never set foot in that building again.

The next thing I knew, my ex had to leave on another trip to the city and would be gone for about a week.  He brought me some supplies, including some food, cigarettes and a gallon of wine.  There I was, all alone at the cabin, with no telephone, no vehicle and almost no money.  The only money that I had at the time was a hundred dollar bill that I had hidden away for emergency use.  At least I had that.  It was now bitter winter and I spent almost all of my time indoors because of the cold.  When my ex returned from his trip, the bizarre sequence of events that followed could only be described as scenes from a scary movie in which I was the one running for my life.

3. Living with Abuse

Although I sometimes pondered my telepathic and visual encounter with those beings, I wasn’t able to talk about it for fear of being ridiculed.  My solution was to set it aside in my mind and hope to deal with it later, as I had done with the early abuse events.  As I grew older, however, I still found it difficult to fit in and seemed to spend a lot more time alone.

During my last year of secondary school, after which I had planned to go on to university to study to become a teacher, my math teacher announced to all the students that, since there was a surplus of teachers in the system, anyone who planned to become a teacher should think of another career.  I was going to pursue a teaching career because I thought I would be able to afford the one-term university requirement. Since I really didn’t know what else I wanted to do and I certainly wasn’t going to go back to the student counselor’s office, I decided to enter the work force.  I didn’t want to continue to live at home and sponge off of my parents, so I found a job as a sales clerk in a trendy clothing store.  It wasn’t long before I moved to a nearby city to share an apartment with my sister.

After a few months my sister was offered a job in Vancouver, British Columbia, so she left and I lived on my own for several months.  Then I followed my sister out west, when her firm offered me a job as a junior accounting clerk at their head office in Vancouver.  I lived with my sister for a month until she moved in with her boyfriend, and I had to find my own apartment.  After a year the firm moved to New Jersey.  Since I didn’t want to move east, I found other work and saved my money, so that I could travel.

During the summers that I was turning 19 and 20, I made a couple of solo trips to Europe, where I traveled to France, Spain and the Netherlands.  My main interest was to take in the culture, but I also met many people along the way.  At the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam I saw the largest painting I had ever imagined: Rembrandt’s The Night Watch.  While in France I toured Versailles when the palace was still in restoration.  In Madrid I visited El Prado, in Barcelona I enjoyed Gaudi’s architectural works and in Granada I was fascinated by El Alhambra before it was restored.  Apart from my cultural tours I spent several weeks in southern Spain on the Balearic Islands of Mallorca and Ibiza.

Just prior to making my first trip to Europe I met a married man who was twice my age.  When I returned we dated and he showed me a carving of a woman’s face made from a deer horn.  He told me that a woodsman had carved it for him and that it represented his ideal woman.  For the first 5 years I was hopeful about our relationship, although he had a small son from his marriage and kept promising to divorce his wife.  I wasn’t really keen on getting married, because I didn’t really believe in the fairy tale but, after 7 years, Mr. Corcoran convinced me to tie the knot.  That was one of the worst decisions of my life.

Before the marriage my ex was intent upon coaching me in life.  Even though he had very little to show for his own accomplishments, I was young and impressionable and allowed his guidance.  At the age of 20 he helped me to buy my first property, a farm in eastern Ontario, Canada where I started my first company, a concrete-breaking and excavating venture.  By the time I was 24 I was the general contractor for the development of a subdivision adjacent to Whistler Mountain, B.C., the site of the recent 2010 Winter Olympics.  I bought a house and started taking university courses at Simon Fraser University during the winter months.  I loved going to classes and studying.  It gave me energy and resilience, while the darkness of my relationship developed.

My ex-husband turned out to be abusive, both psychologically and physically.  Not only was I part-time mother to his son but I was, on many occasions, host to his ex-wife when she returned from her trips around the world.   My ex expected me to welcome her because she was Jesse’s mother.  At that time the experience of pseudo-motherhood was exhilarating; my stepson became my best friend; and I loved the periods of time when he was with us.  Although I had hoped to have children myself, it was fortunate that I did not succeed with that man.

The first incident of abuse made me feel like I was somehow to blame for making my ex-husband angry.  His niece had come to visit and was staying with us for a few days.  As my ex and I lay in bed on the first evening of her visit, he asked me very casually what I was thinking.  I mistakenly told him what was on my mind – “Wouldn’t it be nice if my two youngest brothers could come to visit?”  Out of nowhere came a punch to one side of my upper face.  I screamed out and he went into a rage.  He had always come across with the demeanor of a nice guy, especially with all of his many friends and family.  His niece called from the next room to see if everything was okay, and he told her it was.  The next day I had a swollen black eye that I had to cover up with sunglasses so that I could attend my university classes.  What kind of person was this?  How could he possibly hurt me?  I had always told myself that, if a man ever hit me, I’d leave him immediately.  That was one promise to myself that I sadly never kept.

The second time that my ex hit me was about 2 years later, after we had gone to a popular bar in the Whistler Town Center.  It was the first time that I was asked to go to that establishment, since it was full of after-work men from the various construction sites.  I remember chatting for a few minutes with one of the subcontractors on our job then, in the truck afterward, my husband stopped and turned off the ignition.  He started pummeling my face with his closed fists, as I raised my hands to try and fend off his blows.  I learned at that moment that he was an insanely jealous and angry man.  I didn’t know what to do, other than remain quiet and sobbing, as he ranted on about how I had embarrassed him by talking to another man.  I was terrified.  I was too afraid of him; of what I would do next; and of failing in the relationship.  Yes, I was afraid to fail in the relationship.  I somehow blamed myself for what had happened.

However, I was also afraid that I might have permanent damage to my face the next morning when I woke up covered in bruises.  I slipped away to the nearest town, 40 miles away, with the excuse of going to the bank and grocery store.  While there, I went to the emergency unit of the Squamish Hospital to ask a doctor to check out my wounds.  The female doctor told me that I was going to be all right, but that she was bound to report any such abuse to the police.  I begged her not to do that, since I was terrified that my husband would have killed me in retaliation.  I don’t know whether the incident was ever reported, but I never received a visit from the RCMP.

Along with the physical violence, there was constant psychological abuse from my ex who turned out to be an incorrigible alcoholic.  While I was attending university, he always came adorned with plenty of alcohol and friends at exam time. As a teenager I had become accustomed to partying with my friends on weekends but, with my ex, it had become the life of an alcoholic and I had no friends of my own.  Once, when I tried to quit smoking, he offered me a cigarette after three months, and I accepted.  He would never allow me to succeed or be happy at anything.  It all had to be for him, or not at all.

The third and last time that my ex hit me was when one of his friend’s friends asked us over for drinks one evening during the holidays.  I chatted with one of the guys, who happened to be a dentist.  My ex had made certain that I had my teeth repaired when we first met, kind of like making sure that the horse you bought had good teeth.  I remember telling the dentist that the dentist that repaired my teeth had asked me out for drinks after one visit.  After I said that, I walked by my ex and he punched me right in the solar plexus.  Out of breath, I stumbled out of the house and walked several blocks to our place, where I decided that I would try and hide from him.  I was still in shock and started to walk aimlessly away.  After a couple of hours I had to face him again but, by then, my trust had turned to fear.  I was becoming conditioned by the abuse and would continue to try and please him.

In 1983, just after I had completed a successful semester at university, my ex-husband decided that he would take me far away from the city, to the middle of nowhere, so that his control could be absolute.  When I finally gained the courage to leave him, it would be like living a nightmare, only I would be fully awake and would have to survive the terror alone.

2. Early Flat Screen Presentation

Quick sketch of the beings I saw when I was 15 years old.

If only I had known how to work with my spirit when I was a child!  It would have made my life so much simpler, happier and meaningful.  Instead I had been subjected to intense early religious conditioning, and had already begun to condition others when I was stripped of my innocence at such a young age.  In retrospect, I realize that had to undergo those experiences in order to search outside known boundaries to find my way.

As a child I always strived for excellence in whatever I did.  My schoolwork was impeccable.   When I skipped the 5th grade and entered into the 6th (at age 10), my marks continued at the top of the class.  Then I entered junior high and my shyness became intolerable.  As I excelled in my classes, my new classmates greeted me with gests.  I wanted to fit in and to be popular, and my marks began to reflect this attitude.  Although I was still getting above average grades, I couldn’t stand to stand out as an intellectual.

I took two tests in secondary school that had any significance as I emerged from that educational experience.  One was a test that predicted what sort of profession best suited me.  I was surprised to find that I should work toward being a scientist.  The second test was a North American IQ test that was distributed in 1970-1 when I was fifteen.  When I was called to the guidance counselor’s office to learn my test score, he told me that I had scored a 98.5 out of 100, and that this represented that I was in the top 1.5% of all the students that had taken the test.   I was embarrassed and probably blushed.  Then he asked me if I had cheated.  What?  How could he possibly accuse me of having cheated on an IQ test for which each student was tested in a controlled setting.  When I replied that I had not and could not have cheated, the counselor told me that it seemed impossible.  As I sat there in disbelief, Mr. Delorme told me that the only other student in the entire school that had received the same score was the 12-year-old new student from Scotland.  Yes, the genius that everyone made fun of and that eventually started acting like a clown to stop the jeers and teasing.  I repeated my statement that I had not cheated, and the counselor looked at me with disdain.  I was humiliated as I left his office.  I had just been falsely accused of cheating, and felt like I was being punished.

Later that school year in May of 1971, I was out with my girlfriends walking around at the newest fast food place around 7:00 in the evening.  We had just sat down to have something to eat inside the Red Barn Restaurant when I heard someone calling my name: “Gloria!”  I looked around, but I didn’t see anyone calling me.  Again I heard my name: “Gloria!”  I looked around again and asked my girlfriends if they knew who was calling me, but they shrugged and continued to talk.  Finally, again I heard my name: “Gloria!”  And I looked up at the wall in front of me.

There on the wall was a sort of movie screen that had opened up.  On the screen I saw the person that had been calling me.  He walked up to the front of the screen and started speaking directly to me with his eyes focused on me, but his lips didn’t move.  His voice was clear and he spoke in perfect English into my mind.

As the speaker spoke to me I looked around the room that he was standing in on the apparent screen.  There on both sides of the room were what appeared to be light-gray-colored control panels with colored lights on them.  Seated in front of the panels were five other people.  Everyone was wearing garnet-colored jumpsuits with a short standup collar and a V-shape pattern on the chest.  Two of the others were females, but they all looked like a different race of people.  They all had simian-style faces, with straight black hair that was pushed back from their faces and cropped at the shoulders.  Physically they all had healthy adult forms, just like humans.

When the speaker made contact with me, they all looked up and seemed to all be listening in on our conversation.  Just as they all turned to look at me, another male being walked into the room through an open doorway and, with his hands behind his back, he stood at the back of the room and watched.  It was all quite friendly and calm.

The speaker continued to speak into my mind and I felt a connection to someone long known or awaited.  I was transfixed upon the screen as the communication continued.  As they prepared to end our communication, I was left with the following phrase: “This life you lead is a test.  In order to pass, you must learn the natural law.”  I also somehow understood that they would be continuing to observe me from their vantage point.

Once the screen disappeared, I looked at my girlfriends and asked: “Did you see that?”  They said they hadn’t seen anything and wondered what I was talking about.  I was astonished and asked in wonder: “You mean you didn’t see those people right there?”


Gloria c.1970

I pointed up at the wall, and they looked at me strangely.  No, they hadn’t seen anyone up on the wall and I should keep my voice down, because people were looking at me.  So I asked: “So, what was I doing?”  My girlfriends told me in hushed voices that I was staring up at the wall for five minutes, and that my face was all red.  That was it.

The next few moments made me question what I had just seen and heard, because my girlfriends were obviously not in on the conversation.  So, if they didn’t see or hear it, then I had been the only subject of the communication.  Fine.  I would deal with this on my own.  The thing that bothered me most was that I had been in telepathic communication for five minutes, but could only remember the parting message: “This life you lead is a test.  In order to pass, you must learn the natural law.”

After whispering to my girlfriends about what had happened to me and receiving their feedback to keep it quiet, that’s what I did.  I never spoke about it to anyone again for years, thinking that it was better that people didn’t know about my contact experience.  It wasn’t until 15 more years had passed that I was able to begin to digest and deal with what had occurred in the restaurant.

From my perspective, my experience was a confirmation that more exists outside our normal realm of existence than is apparent.

Find out how to get started working with your spirit by visiting my website at OnlyPositiveKnowledge.com !

I welcome and value your input~Please feel free to comment! 


1. Early Impetus

My life changed significantly when I learned to work with my spirit over 25 years ago, and I could then view my existence in a whole new perspective.  Perhaps my story will inspire you to work with your spirit as you search for meaning in your life.

Ever since I was a young child I pondered the reason for my existence.  How did we come to be on this planet and for what purpose are we here?  Burdened with a childhood steeped in deep religious doctrine, I began to break away at the age of 8, at least in my thoughts, from the notion that God was the most important factor in my life.  It was at that time that I remember lying in bed and saying to myself: “I’m not worthy to be married to God.”  I had just decided that I didn’t want to be a nun, as my mother had been nurturing me to be up to that point.

It wasn’t the first time that I had questioned catholic doctrine as a child, like in the first grade.  My teacher was telling my class all about how our religion doesn’t worship pagan gods, statues or idols.  I put up my hand and asked the legitimate question: “But what about all the statues in our church?”  That question met with firm facial disapproval by the teacher, as she quickly changed the subject.

Later on in 1966, at the age of 10, I was still trying to meet the standards that every “good” catholic girl is supposed to strive for.  I had excelled in my catholic studies and was already “confirmed” by the bishop.  In the spring I volunteered to teach religious doctrine by introducing the catechism to 1st grade catholic children who were attending the local protestant school.  Two other students had also volunteered and we met in the church basement on Wednesdays after school.  After our class on the third week, I decided to show my fellow instructors how to make prank calls on the phone in the basement kitchen, like one of my sisters had done a few days earlier.  We were laughing away at one of the calls, when a voice came on the phone, obviously the priest who had picked up the receiver upstairs, telling us to stay right were we were.

An endless minute later, Father LeFaive came charging down an interior stairway (that I never knew existed) and broke open the door.  He was livid with anger, asking who was responsible for talking on his phone.  Being the ultimate honest child, I admitted my guilt and the priest told the other children to go home.  He pointed to a tray of plastic glasses on the counter of the kitchen, and ordered me to bring it upstairs for him.  I climbed the stairs with the tray of plastic glasses with such fear of punishment that I could barely breathe.  I knew that I was in deep trouble when the priest told my mother what I had done.

To my surprise, when we entered the upstairs doorway, we entered into the priest’s kitchen, not into the church itself.  My heart was pounding with fear by then, as the good father told me to put the tray down on the counter.  Then he told me to go through the archway leading into the hallway but, instead of turning right and going into the vestry, he pointed over my shoulder to go through the doorway straight ahead.  As I entered the room I saw that it was the priest’s bedroom.  The bed was immediately to my left, while I remember looking at myself in the mirror on the opposite wall.  I wondered what he was going to do, as I watched him in the mirror.

Well, it didn’t take but a few seconds upon entering the room, when Father LeFaive told me to lie down on the bed.  Of course, I did so immediately.  He was, after all, my priest.  I saw him undoing his belt, and so I thought that he was going to beat me.  However, as I was entering a state of panic, he told me to close my eyes and go to sleep.  I remember peaking through my almost-closed eyelids as I watched the priest and I went into some sort of altered state as I left my body to the sexual punishment meted out by that sick man of god (I omitted the capitalization on purpose).  When I returned to consciousness, my clothes were back on and we were in the vestry.  Father LeFaive looked me square in the eyes and said to me, in no uncertain terms: “Run home now, or you’ll be late.  You can’t tell anyone what happened.  If you ever tell your mother or anyone, the devil will punish your entire family!”

Wow!  That kind of ended my belief in any kind of benevolent deity.  So my search for a real meaning to my life began in earnest.  When I was a disgruntled teenager (no wonder!) I asked my mother on a few occasions why the priest would have taken me into his bedroom.  My mother would be so indignant when I brought up that subject that it took a lot of courage for me to break into such conversations.  Her response was always to shrug and say that I must have seen the inside of the priest’s house from the vestry or gone in when my younger brothers were altar boys.  Then, as I would try to relate the exact details to explain what had happened, she never listened, and always insisted that I was mistaken.  Her religious beliefs blinded her to my plight, and our relationship became intolerable.

Something similar had happened when I was 6 years old, on my first sleepover at one of my classmate’s.  Our moms were best friends; my mother was the choir leader at our little church in the village, and her mother sang alongside her.   My friend’s father was one of the two village policemen, and he used to sit in his easy chair in the livingroom and shout out orders.  During the night, as my friend and I lay asleep in her bed together, I woke up to find that her father was pulling me down to the foot of the bed.  I asked him what he was doing, and he told me to go back to sleep.  I watched as he pulled my girlfriend down, then I went back to sleep.  In the morning, when my friend’s mother asked me how I slept, I told her that her husband had “come in and woke us up”.  She dismissed my statement stating that he had just gone to use the bathroom.  When my mother arrived to pick me up, I immediately told her about being awakened in the middle of the night, and the other woman looked at her and explained that he had just gone to use the bathroom.

As I grew into adulthood I always remembered these events vividly, but I never dealt with the emotional impact that they had on me.  My mother, who was supposed to be my most trusted guardian, could only dismiss my allegations as some sort of imaginary concoction or misinterpretation of the events.  As a result of my fear of reprisal from the church and my mother’s non-action, I learned to keep things to myself after that.  Since these two very notable experiences had happened during my primary development years, I was hardly able to deal with them on my own.  At home I was nicknamed “Gluck”, short for “Gloria the Suck”, because I was always crying for my mother.

As a result of my early childhood experiences, I was extremely shy. Although I was able to articulate my viewpoints with my close friends, I was unable to master any form of communication with groups.  Instead, I would utter some silly phrase or out-of-context comment that would make others look at me strangely.  As a teenager I decided that I wasn’t going to follow the path that everyone else was heading for.  I couldn’t, because I had these terrible secrets, and felt I would never fit in.  So I abandoned the ideals that had been presented to me as a child, and began to search for more meaning in my life.  I felt there was something terribly hypocritical about the trappings of a so-called normal life, so I decided that I would seek that which was real.  At least what was real to me.

I wanted to know about my purpose here.  I didn’t want a fairy tale.  Then at age fifteen, I had some of the most profound five minutes of my life, when I was presented with the seeds to my quest for substance in my existence.