EIGHTEEN

The channeling sessions became more exclusively devoted to writing the book and less about the more trivial things such as the past lives of my family members and finding missing objects. Wotan was keen on finishing the project as if he was under some sort of time constraint and complained that I was not writing fast enough. He drew a set of three symbols, that I suppose were to go on the cover, a circle, a heart, and a triangle, not necessarily in that order; I don’t recall exactly. The circle and heart indicated universal love; I don’t remember the meaning of the triangle and now that I think of it, it may even have been a square. He drew an excellent round circle for a disembodied spirit, though. 

Diana became a stay-at-home mom, and we opened a second store in Medford. It was tiny, but had a diminutive rent to match. I thought it would be a good way to buy used merchandise for the other store, and this quickly proved to be correct. Retail sales were slow, however, especially with our sending the best items to Ashland. I began working there once or twice a week, mainly to do paperwork and ordering. One day I watched an inebriate stumbling on the other side of the street and hoped he didn’t notice my shop. But he stumbled right across the street, through my door, knocked over a small counter and fell unconscious on the floor. There were certainly no customers in his way. Wotan assured me that he wasn’t dead, however, and after an uncomfortably long nap he stood up and left. The Medford store turned out to be a place where there was time for channeling and few distractions.

I was told that the book could not be completed by automatic writing and that I needed to learn to hear 'The Christ’s' voice through meditation. I told him that I’d never been able to meditate, not being able to clear my mind, always distracted by my thoughts or the 'radio station' playing constantly in my brain. He assured me that I could do it, and led me through the preliminaries such as picturing each thought as a cloud and imagining the clouds drifting away until they were gone. I would close the store so as to not be distracted, and lay down on the floor. This was not the best way to pay the bills, but I did not want the book project to end, as over one hundred pages were already finished.

Meditation was not coming easy for me, but I was urged to persevere. One Sunday, we all went for a drive in the country along with our niece, Suzie’s daughter Nicole. At a museum in Jacksonville I spoke with one of the guides, via ‘writing’ on my palm, and he said to try and see him. The only thing I saw, however, was a moth fluttering around a small tree. “That was me”, he declared, saying that I was advancing towards my goal of ‘hearing’, but that my allegiance needed to be tested. He told me to get in the car and just drive; he’d let me know where I was going along the way. I’d read enough of the Old Testament at this point to recognize the story of Abraham and how G-d asked him to start traveling by faith, not knowing where he was headed.

My family, of course, wondered where we were going, but all I could offer them was “you’ll see”. After awhile I was led to a dirt road and to the top of a hill where I was told to get out of the car. I was ordered to take a penny from my pocket and bury it as a contract between the entity and myself. This completed, we were free to go. At my next 'session' in Medford I was taught to allow my lips to move rather than a pen, and that entities were now able to speak, in a whisper at first, right through my mouth. After about a week or two of this method, I became able to actually hear that elusive voice, of perhaps I imagined, G-d himself, 'The Christ'. At first still and small, the voice would soon grow louder.

It was now unnecessary to use automatic writing ever again, unless I was teaching it to others. One friend I tried to teach was able to produce only squiggles and a chain of letter em’s. But although this impediment to finishing the book was now lifted, Wotan rarely mentioned the book again; rather I had to bug him about completing it. I was able to not only hear his voice but also the voices of the other 'guides' as well. They announced that they had something else in mind for me, even more important than the book. They wanted me to come up to heaven and join them, where I could truly perform a service to my fellow man and become a 'guide' myself.

Wouldn’t I need to die to do that, I asked? Well, yes, was the reply, but they had already worked out the details of a car accident where I’d be taken to the heavenlies without any pain or suffering. If I agreed, it could be accomplished the next time I drove to Medford. I must tell you, dear reader, that I did not appreciate this latest turn of events. For one thing I was the father of a new baby, only six months old at this time, as well as a ten year old boy. My relationship with my wife, who was tiring of my whole channeling bit anyway, was improving. And my dreams of becoming a ‘New Age’ leader would be up in smoke if I died; I wanted to stay alive for that. I decided to strive for a little normalcy in my life and took Shaya and Nicole to the movies the following Sunday, to see “The Adventures of Baron Von Munchausen”, in Medford.

Along the drive I was extra cautious in traffic, and at one point noticed an accident that had taken place only minutes before I passed it. Had that been meant for me, I wondered? No, I needed to think clearly and just enjoy this Sunday off with my son and niece. But the 'guides' had not given me the day off. At the snack bar, even before the movie began, they admonished me that if I did not decide to join them, they would not protect me against cancer 'down there'. I shuddered; ‘down there’ could mean prostate cancer, something that ran in my family and had killed my paternal grandfather. I ignored them, determined to just have a normal family outing.

But they gave me no peace that afternoon. I heard the voices of not only my ‘personal’ spirits, but many others as well including someone’s ‘guardian angel’ from Europe and the ‘angels’ of various friends and family members. I wondered what sort of gift I’d received in being able to 'hear', a mixed blessing to say the least. I glanced over at the kids who were laughing and enjoying the comedy, while I could barely follow the plot of the film what with all the activity going on inside my brain. I hoped I’d see that movie again someday, assuming there would be a ‘someday’ for me. It all began to seem like a bad dream, that I was helpless to awaken from. I most definitely did not want to die if I had any say in the matter. Nothing had been added to the book in weeks; things were not going according to my plans, at least. I decided to try a long shot.

In my few visits to church, one teaching had clearly stood out; that no human problem was too hard for Jesus to solve. I’d heard that he’d even raised a man from the dead. I knew from the ‘guides’ that Jesus was still alive as a spirit even though he’d died by crucifixion almost two millennia previously. At the end of the church service I’d observed the congregation praying in Jesus’ name, some of them dropping to their knees. Feeling that I had nothing to lose, I fell on my knees on my bathroom floor and prayed: “Jesus, I don’t know if you can help me, but I heard in church that you do help those in distress that ask you. I have a new daughter and young son; I don’t want to die. Is there any way I can serve G-d other than dying right now?”

Immediately I heard a voice distinctly different than any others I’d heard. It said: “Rise in the presence of an angel of G-d. I am here only to say that the spirit you have been serving is Satan.” Now in a standing position, I asked the angel if he would speak further with me, but he was gone. I had received an unexpected answer to my prayer but it began to make sense. A sick feeling washed over me, of shame, dread, foolishness, fear and disgust, all at once. I implored the angel to return to no avail. In addition to the other emotions, I also began to feel alone. I asked out loud for my guardian angel Timu, has he also abandoned me? “I am here”, said Timu, “yes, you have been serving Satan; surely you knew that all along!” No, I said, and I no longer want to do so. I don’t want to hear any of your voices ever again, unless a true angel of G-d.

“I’m an angel of G-d”, another voice declared, “ask me what you will”. I asked what I should do now; he said to abstain from wine and grapes all the days of my life. Is that because I drank wine in the service of the Devil, I asked? He replied affirmatively, but I felt I could no longer trust the voices I was hearing and asked him, and all of them, to depart. “I no longer wish to hear your voices” I demanded, at which the voice began to dim to a whisper and then disappear, “you’ll never hear my voice again...”

Feeling elated, humming the Alex Chilton song “Free Again”, I walked downstairs to the living room where Diana was watching a TV show. I’m free, I announced; the voices are gone. They were evil after all. I prayed to Jesus and they left. “Finally”, Diana remarked; “Hallelujah”.