It was odd, he thought
That as often as not,
In conversation, he fiddled and fought,
He pushed and pulled, he’d twist and cajole,
Suggest and test, infer and refer,
He’d name and game and deny the same,
For what?

Insane! He deigned,
For what will remain
When all is dust, including his brain,
No good nor bad, no heaven and earth
No body to poke, no blowing smoke,
No talk to walk, no walk to talk,
Nothing to gain?

Is it there? He looked,
In many a book,
In relationship, he’d give; he took;
He lived and learned, he crashed and burned,
He lost and found, he met the ground,
He’d sing and sigh and wonder why his god
Forsook?

And then, he saw,
In the midst of it all,
Submerged within, in wonder and awe,
A piece of the puzzle, a hint, a clue,
An ‘other’ perspective, a different view,
A glimmer, a shimmer of love so true –
God’s call?

This love, he knew,
Went through and through,
In all situations, it’d lead him, too.
It meant forgiveness; it sent a dove;
It kneeled and healed in an incredible field
Of energy and light, of softness and might,
Imbued.

And so, he loved,
And everything changed!
Synchronization was all that remained!
No judge and no jury, no wind and no fury,
In peace and light, there was no need to fight,
No needs, no deeds, no ‘net proceeds’ –
Surrender!

Just love, he said,
It’s all in your head!
In eternity, you’ll never be dead!
No day, no night, no end in sight,
Count it all joy! Be girls and boys!
Take nothing serious; just get delirious!
It’s inbred!

This world, he’d preach,
Is just here to teach,
It’s all an illusion, no conclusion to reach,
There’s nothing to do, and nothing so true,
As what is carried within each of you!
So love, and love, and once again, love!
He beseeched.

And then, he remembered,
This, too, was numbered,
‘Synchro-destination’ pulled all rugs from under.
Relinquish, relent, no need to repent –
Forgive and forget, wherever he went,
No expectation, no desire, no outcome,
Just “I Am.”

In Spirit, he found,
Love all around,
Absolutely, in sky and in ground,
In people, in places, in everyone’s faces,
The truth of love beyond even good graces,
It shone, full-blown, allowed death no more traces,
It abounds!

And then, no thought,
Not even ‘Why not?’
One destination is all of our lot,
Eternal bliss is impossible to miss!
So hug and laugh, and dance, and kiss!
The journey’s over, the time is this
We’ve got!  

  "Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth--that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves, too." -- Goethe

Brian Logsdon (brian@sletter-inc.com) is the Bridging representative in Great Falls, Montana and a lover of the Love.

 

Stories # 7

"Life Without Lisa"

By Richard Ballo

            Regardless of how rock-ribbed a person’s belief in life after death is, when a loved one dies, the loss is very real and emotionally devastating.  The loss of physical contact, the inability to have meaningful, fulfilling conversation is often overwhelming.  The knowledge that the loved one survived so-called death and lives on in spirit is affirming, but does not negate the real loss experienced on the earth plane.

            When Lisa Ballo died from cancer at age 38, despite the fact that both she and husband Rich knew that life goes on and had studied many spiritual/metaphysical and alternative approaches to life and health, Rich was utterly desolate.  His beloved Lisa was no longer sharing his bed, his dreams and plans.  Suddenly it was just Rich who single-handedly had the daunting responsibility of raising his five- and-six-year-old sons.

            Despite the fact that Rich didn’t think he could go on and often didn’t want to, he somehow survived the leaden days that followed Lisa’s death.  He didn’t think it would be possible for him to ever piece a meaningful life together again, he doubted he could ever enjoy so much as shared laughter or any sweet moment of life.

            As a professional writer, Rich recorded his personal journal by committing his thoughts on paper.  Little did he know that his journal would become the basis for a book entitled Life Without Lisa: A Widowed Father’s Compelling Journey Through the Rough Seas of Grief.

            In the book, Rich candidly shares the healing process he went through as well as some of the visitations he had from his wife after her death.  Both Lisa and Rich firmly believed in life after death and his experiences with Lisa from the spirit world profoundly reinforced his belief.

            “I know that my wife Lisa’s spirit still influences me and is still around even though she ‘died’ in 1993,”  Rich emphasizes.  “Since then, Lisa has come to me mostly in my dreams. Her appearances helped me accept the fact that her soul determined that she had to go to the other side. For whatever reasons, this is the path her soul intended.”

            Rich explains that it wasn’t just wishful thinking that brought these experiences to him.  “No matter how hard I wished her to appear and tried to will a visitation from her, I could not force it to happen,” he assures.  Instead, according to Rich, she just spontaneously appeared at various times without his bidding.

            He reports he was comforted when she appeared to him.  They would hug, but all too soon she would tell him that she had to go.  He’d say okay, even though he didn’t want her to leave, but he knew she had to go.  He had a couple of extremely vivid experiences like that.  Those were early on within the first year after her death.

            Once Lisa appeared in his bedroom in Florida.  According to Rich’s account, Lisa came and sat on the bed beside him.  She was naked, but the only thing he could really see were the surgical scars on her abdomen that had resulted from multiple surgeries to remove various tumors.  It was a very vivid and a somewhat disquieting visitation for Rich.

            After Lisa was diagnosed with cancer, she and Rich searched for answers and healing therapies. “We went to Sedona to experience the energy vortexes.  I had my palm read and she had her aura read.  The guy told her that her aura was the strangest one he had ever seen because it was bright white light from the shoulders up.  This was eight months before she died.  He was probably seeing her close connection to the spirit world and her imminent return to spirit,” Rich hypothesizes.

            Actually, a variety of therapies did extend her life, Rich believes.  The two studied and participated in meditation, Reiki, hemi-synch at the Monroe Institute, acupuncture, sound therapy, light therapy, and ayurveda with Deepak Chopra at the Lancaster, MA, center he headed up at the time.  She took vitamins and practiced Silva Mind Control methods. 

            Lisa Ballo was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor on her 35th birthday, yet she lived to the end of her 38th year just before turning 39.  “I am convinced all these alternative treatments benefited her because her cancer had metastasized into her  reproductive organs just a couple of weeks after diagnosis—  it was very fast moving.  After that, she went full force into all these different well-being approaches and lived almost another four years,” Rich explains.   A woman they knew of with the same type cancer who did not pursue alternative therapies died within six months of diagnosis.

            Since her death, Lisa’s presence has become apparent to Rich in a variety of ways, not just through dreams and visitations.

            One day just prior to publishing Life Without Lisa, publisher Karla Wheeler was on her way to the office when she felt compelled to turn on the radio, something she rarely did while driving, as she preferred to drive in silence. At that very moment, a favorite song of Karla’s was playing. It was Anne Murray’s “Can I Have This Dance for The Rest of My Life?”  Karla was struck by the fact that she must hold the presses; Life Without Lisa couldn’t go on the press until the book gave readers personal glimpses of Lisa, such as her favorite songs, ice cream flavors, reading material, taste in clothing, etc.

            Later that morning Karla asked Rich if they could insert a few descriptions of Lisa’s preferences and explained what prompted her to make major changes in the book at the eleventh hour. Rich explains,“ I almost fell out of my chair. I was almost breathless as I stammered out that Lisa loved that song so much that we chose it as our wedding song! Karla was deeply touched by this synchronicity and told me she was convinced this was not mere coincidence, that she felt Lisa’s spirit guiding every step of the publishing process. Needless to say, Lisa’s likes and preferences were inserted throughout the book, which we’ve been told adds to the book’s readership appeal.”

            Another “not a mere coincidence” involved the photograph used on the cover of the book.  Rich and his publisher decided to select a lighthouse for the cover because it was symbolic of Lisa’s having been a bright light to so many people.

            Rich asked Allan Wood, a photographer who specializes in lighthouses and who was Lisa’s friend in high school and became his friend as well, if he and Karla could look at some of his shots and consider publishing one on the book cover. Allan sent about 20 lighthouse photos from which to choose. Rich and Karla picked the one that’s on the cover because it had so much feeling to it.  They thought it characterized the conflict within Rich that is presented in the book, representing so many facets of the process he went through.  Flowing water yet rough seas; cloudy skies with a chance of clearing and sunshine; jagged rocks in foreground yet the comfort of a lighthouse in the background. So that’s the shot that they used.

            Weeks later when Rich visited Allan in his office to give him a copy of the book, Rich happened to notice an enlarged, framed version of the photo hanging on his wall. Rich says, “It dawned on me that this particular lighthouse bore a striking resemblance to the one on Lisa’s headstone, as shown on page 207 of the book. Allan and I wondered if it could possibly be the same lighthouse.”

            Rich visited the headstone company where he bought the gravestone and asked them if they could find out what lighthouse the etching was based on.  A few days later, Karla got a phone call saying the lighthouse used as the model for the headstone etching was Portland Head Light in Cape Elizabeth, Maine.  That’s the same one featured on the front cover of Life Without Lisa! “We were amazed by the news and could only conclude that Lisa had orchestrated the whole thing from the other side since the lighthouse chosen for the book cover was identical to that of her tombstone!  After all, I had never been to that lighthouse and I didn’t pick out the gravestone; our sons did. I had no idea they were the same exact lighthouse,” Rich says.

            “I am certain Lisa’s spirit was there with the kids when they picked out the headstone, with Allan when he sent the lighthouse photos, and with Karla and me when we pondered the photographs.  Lisa’s presence from the other side reaffirmed that our decision on that particular photograph for the cover was her preference. She was still being a light guiding our way,” Rich happily concludes.

Excerpt from the new book, "Life Without Lisa: A Widowed Father's Compelling Journey Through the Rough Seas of Grief", by Richard Ballo

 

Stories # 8

"The End of Times"

By Jean-Claude Gerard Koven

 ----------------------------------------

In the early part of the millennium, the people of planet Earth underwent the most monumental shift in their history. Some made it, many did not. This is the story of their epic struggle to break free of the illusion that entrapped them for the last 75,000 years.

----------------------------------------

I often imagine myself hundreds of years in the future, looking back at the present era of humankind's transition into the next dimension. Here's a sample of what now might look like from then. . . .

 So many beautifully phrased lines by some of the world's most brilliant writers seemed to presage the great shift. Charles Dickens in the opening of A Tale of Two Cities wrote: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Thomas Paine's words seem almost clairvoyant: “These are times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman.”          

 But perhaps the most poignant and prophetic remarks came from one of the world's greatest statesmen, who galvanized the free world with his resolve, eloquence, and unflinching courage. In an address to the House of Commons on June 18, 1940, Winston Churchill said of the impending battle that would soon engulf his beloved England: “What General Weygand called the Battle of France is over. I expect that the Battle of Britain is about to begin. Upon this battle depends the survival of Christian civilization. Upon it depends our own British life, and the long continuity of our institutions and our Empire. The whole fury and might of the enemy must very soon be turned on us. Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be free and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands. But if we fail, then the whole world, including the United States, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister, and perhaps more protracted, by the lights of perverted science. Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, ‘This was their finest hour.’”

 Two score and six years later, a new battle raged, pitting the forces of light against those who would hold the populace of the planet in shackles of fear. Unlike Hitler, the redcoats of King George, or the players in the French Revolution, the cast of the War of Transition was not easily identified. While the earlier protagonists had boldly stepped forth and made their intentions known, this time those who sought world control hid in the shadows and met in secret. These were rich and powerful puppet masters whose pulling of the strings was shrouded in anonymity. Their goal was so deceptively simple that only a handful of Lightworkers and Planetary Servers were able to see what was actually taking place.

From our perspective several centuries after the great shift, it is easy to see that everything happened as it was destined. At the time, the entire solar system was passing through a sliver of space called the Photon Belt, a narrow radial extending outward from the central sun (a black hole) of the Milky Way galaxy.

The belt was primarily intended as a trigger for the rise in frequency that would shift the planet and its inhabitants into the next density – the promised golden age of peace and love. What wasn't fully appreciated when the plan was first set in motion was the degree of despair and negativity that gripped humankind. As the Earth's vibrations were raised she had little choice but to undergo significant tremors in her effort to balance the great dissonance among the unconscious and fear-ridded dwellers on her surface. The concentrated band of light/love energy triggered many uncommon weather patterns, volcanic eruptions, and earthquake activities on the Earth, as well as a heightened sense of panic felt by many people – though that was not part of the original plan.

This transition through the Photon Belt was never meant to be a dark secret that blindsided an unwary populace. Quite the contrary. It had been predicted for millennia by many indigenous cultures and had been part of humanity's arcane teachings since the beginning of recorded history. However, those who served the dark side knew of it with a startling precision. Their primary intent – on which they focused their efforts for the fifty years leading up to Earth's entry into the Photon Belt – was to distract the populace. If people's attention was sufficiently diverted, the chances of them perceiving the possibilities for transition into higher realms of consciousness offered by this brief passage through a highly charged portion of the galaxy would be close to nil. The dark side would score a major victory by keeping the majority trapped under their control.

 And so, humanity was fed a steady bread and circus diet of wars and Super Bowls, terrorism and Oscars, along with a constant parade of red herring issues that polarized the battles between fundamentalists and free thinkers. So brilliant was the dark side in executing their plan that their victory seemed virtually secure. While some people chose to embrace the heightened energy field and accelerate their ascension, the rampant fear and feelings of separation and alienation of the majority of the populace made them easy prey for the magi of the dark. They were manipulated and managed with astonishing ease.

But the fat lady hadn't sung yet, and the handful of Lightworkers and Planetary servers who could see the game at hand rode, like Paul Revere before them, “through every Middlesex village and farm for the country folk to be up and arm.” The trickle of awakened beings grew to a gentle flow and soon became a raging torrent. All across the planet people heeded the cry, wiped the sleep from their eyes, and took to arms. They fought not with guns and bombs but with light and love. Consciousness grew like mushrooms after the rain, and people eagerly took back their personal power from those who had so badly misused it for their own personal gain.

The tiniest candle can easily illumine the darkest room. Even those who fell deepest under the spells of the dark masters came to see the flicker of its flame. It was a trying time for many – especially those precious souls who found it so difficult to release the literal interpretations of their earlier beliefs. Fearing the wrath of their imagined gods, they cowered in the crack between obedience and conscience. Cries of blasphemy, false prophets, and venomous epithets were hurled in the furious storm of emotion that ensued. But, in the end, both sides were allowed to reach out to the multitude.

Not all chose to move into the next density. Many wished to continue the game of being human. But all those who elected to move into the light received the loving assistance to make it happen. It was Winston Churchill again, speaking to the same House of Commons just two months later, in August of 1940, who said the words we still feel in our hearts: “Never was so much owed by so many to so few.”

________________________________

Jean-Claude Gerard Koven is a writer and speaker based in Rancho Mirage, CA. He is a featured weekly columnist for the UPI (United Press International) Religion and Spirituality Forum and the author of Going Deeper: How to Make Sense of Your Life When Your Life Makes No Sense, selected by both Allbooks Reviews and USABookNews.com as the best metaphysical book of the year. For more information, please visit: www.goingdeeper.org.

Stories # 9

"Telling It Like It Is"

By Jean-Claude Gerard Koven

----------------------------------------

We all have gurus. Even if they don't have Sanskrit names, speak with a subcontinental lilt, or wear flowing robes, they can turn out to be our greatest teachers – provided we recognize them when they grace our lives.

----------------------------------------

It is said that when the student is ready, the master appears. This adage is usually associated with going to India to sit at the feet of some swami-ji who speaks in parables and gives his students the occasional whack on the head. Certainly I've met countless disciples who fairly waft through life inhaling the intoxicating wisdom of their manifested master. And I've always been left wondering when it would be my turn to find the one great sage who would sweep me into a state of eternal bliss.

Looking back over my wanderings through the metaphysical maze, however, I see that innumerable teachers have skillfully guided my journey. Unfortunately, at the time I was so married to a certain model of what a master is that I failed to recognize mine along the way. The fact is, even if the vast majority of us deny it, we all have gurus. Most of them aren't obvious. They don't have Sanskrit names, speak with a subcontinental lilt, or wear flowing robes. They appear ordinary in every way, yet they turn out to be great teachers.

“When the student is ready. . . .” What a grossly misleading phrase, for it implies a time when the student is not ready. From one standpoint, we are always ready. We are always in the presence of masters. We are always being taught and tested, always refining old perspectives and gaining new ones. All we really need to do is wake up to what's really happening and participate more consciously. During those wondrous moments when I am truly present, the entire universe is my teacher. Each flower, each bird, each sunset is my personal guru. Everyone I meet, every TV program or movie I see, every book or article I read changes me in ways so marvelous and consummate that they can only be divinely guided.

And yet, in my life there is one person who has truly become my personal guru. What is most amazing is that he regards me in the same light, which only goes to prove that when two beings tell it like it really is, it's always a teaching/learning experience. This person's name is Robin Willner – although few know his real first name, since he has been called Lefty from the time he was knee-high to a grasshopper. He is ranked as one of the world's top tennis players in his age bracket—in a year he'll be competing with the octogenarians. Over his career, he played against (and often beat) some of the greatest names in professional tennis: Pancho Gonzales, Ken Rosewall, Dennis Ralston, Bobby Riggs, Gardnar Mulloy, Tony Trabert, to name a few of the stars that blazed the way for today's highly paid professionals.

Twice a week, Lefty and I meet on the tennis court and hit a few. Our lessons have a curious rhythm to them: we rally a bit, then we come to the net to talk. Here again is a case of how preconceived notions can get in the way of what's really being offered in the moment. Contrary to what you might expect, Lefty almost never talks about the mechanics of the swing. He relegates hitting the ball to secondary importance, akin to having one's focus on the destination rather than the journey. He thinks such clichés as “keep your eye on the ball,” “timing,” and “following through” are as misleading as “when the student is ready.” In fact, it might surprise you that when we talk, the topic is rarely about tennis. Usually we talk about the events of the day or challenges we're both facing. Yet in this universe in which all things are connected by zero degrees of separation, everything is about tennis. To Lefty—and to me—the game of tennis is not isolated from the rest of our experience. It is one pixel in the vast hologram of existence, and as such is a perfect metaphor for everything else in life. Last night was a perfect example.

Lefty has an extraordinary ability to hit balls that come at you with blinding speed. And as with a skilled baseball pitcher, nothing in his body language lets you know whether it's going to be a slow curve or another blazing fastball. He hits every shot with the same smooth, graceful motion, honed over the past sixty-five years, that has always drawn the envious admiration of all who watch him. Everyone wants to be able to emulate Lefty. I'm no different. Except I don't just want to hit a tennis ball like he does, I want to be able to live every part of my life as he does. If I can do that, the tennis will come on its own.

Lefty is one of the few people I know who says what he means and means what he says. When he tells you something, you can take it to the bank; when he makes an appointment, you can set your watch by his arrival. He doesn't speak in politically correct terms, he just tells it like it is. Last night he revealed the secret of his life-long philosophy, which is also what makes his tennis strokes so maddeningly pure: moving straight through it. Whatever the circumstance – just move straight through it. Don't be thrown by how hard or soft life's events come at you – just move straight through them.

When the ball comes at you, meet it head on. Don't flick the wrist or move the body quickly out of the way. Don't flinch at the last moment or skip crucial parts of the swing. Don't panic or rush things because you doubt your ability. Just move straight through it.

I knew that when I finally learned to move straight though the ball, everything about my life would change. I would come one step closer to being reliable like Lefty. I would have discarded my need to tiptoe around the beliefs and sensitivities of others, and surrender my power in the process. I would have reclaimed my true essence and found my unique voice, untainted by the need for consensus or approval. I, like Lefty, would have the courage to tell it like it really is.

Last night Lefty said I moved straight through about sixty balls. I could feel the difference—without my hitting them harder, the shots went faster. Without sacrificing grace, I created the time to make a complete move – both back and through – and the ball knew it.

I'm glad Lefty doesn't wear flowing robes or speak with a clipped accent. I'm very blessed to count such a remarkable being among my true friends, and I value each moment we're together as a divine gift. I am ready, and the master has never been late. Not even once.

__________________________________

Jean-Claude Gerard Koven is a writer and speaker based in Rancho Mirage, CA. He is a featured weekly columnist for the UPI (United Press International) Religion and Spirituality Forum and the author of Going Deeper: How to Make Sense of Your Life When Your Life Makes No Sense, selected by both Allbooks Reviews and USABookNews.com as the best metaphysical book of the year. For more information, please visit: www.goingdeeper.org.