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He spread the cards out, after I´d cut them three times.
Studying them, he asked me, "Do you know Bette Midler?"
I was startled. "Why?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Her name popped in my head. I´m
a BIG fan of hers," he added, studying the cards. "Are you a writer?"
"Are you getting that from the cards?" I asked.
"Partly. You also seem to have someone with you who is talking to
me in my head. I think that´s who said Bette´s name."
He pointed at a card. "Your mate is there, too."
"Where?" I asked, staring stupidly at the cards..
"Palm Desert. I can´t tell if he´s
married or not, but he´s definitely your mate."
"I´m not interested in that," I said
(and meant it), "what does it say about my writing?"
"You´re a prophet," he said, tapping
a card. "Your books will be very important." He looked up at me.
"What have you written?"
I thought about the books I´d written. Hardly
prophecy. I decided he wasn´t so hot at tarot cards, although the
"voice" in his head intrigued me. How had it known about Bette?
"Do you get anything else about the school?"
I asked impatiently.
"Don´t question, go," he said and scooped
up the cards.
I went home and called the school in Palm Desert. "I´ll
be there," I said. Next, I called Bette´s offices. Bette was
on a trip and couldn´t be reached. So I left a message with her
offices that Danny would have a month´s worth of meals when I left,
but Bette had only two weeks to get back to me and let me know if she
needed me to find someone else for him. I followed that up with a letter
as I could never be certain Bette got my messages. Actually, I could never
be certain she got my mail either. She´d made remarks in the past
that made me wonder if she´d ever read any of my letters.
Next, I worked out a plan with Bambi and three of her
friends. I had decided when I returned from California, I would get a
smaller place for Tyson and me, so Bambi, now 18, and three of her friends,
who were all looking for a place to live together, could take over my
lease. In the meanwhile, if they all wanted to share Bambi´s room
and pay the rent on the room, I could afford to hold onto the house for
three months They eagerly accepted. Including my sister, there would now
be five adult women in the house while I was gone. Tyson, age 15, might
feel outnumbered, but he and the house would be taken care of, I hoped.
I´d already received a week´s subscription
to the Palm Desert Newspaper that I had ordered. Rooms in private homes
were readily available and I had just enough for one month´s rent,
deposit, and food. I would have to get work to pay for the last two month´s
rent and food. The only problem remaining was the additional $1800 I needed
to pay for the courses. I decided I would just have to trust the money
would come in somehow.
"What do you mean, it will come in somehow!"
my best friend, Faye, exclaimed incredulously. "You have a week .
What do you think, you´ll just walk to your mailbox one morning
and there will be a check for $1800?"
"Why not?" I retorted flippantly. "All
I know is I´m supposed to be in those classes. I have no doubt that
I have done all I can to make that happen. The Universe will have to do
the rest." The very next morning, I went to my mailbox. There was
a postcard in it:
On the other side of the post card was a phone number. When I called,
Mr. Noonan answered. He was, he said, a special investigator and he had
located money for me in the California General Fund. He would do the necessary
paper work, mail me the papers for a notarized signature, then, after
I´d mailed those back to him, he would send me a check, minus his
"That seems fair," I said cautiously,
"Twenty-five years ago, you were in the movie ´Hawaii´,"
Mr. Noonan replied.
"Yes," I agreed. "I was."
"Well, you´ve been collecting residuals from
it ever since. The Screen Actor´s Guild couldn´t locate you
so the money has been going to the California General Fund."
"How much is it?" I asked.
"Minus my fee, $1800," Mr. Noonan answered.
I gave him his 10%, plus twenty bucks for dinner. I´d
have given him more if I could. He was, after all, an angel.
I was to meet another angel on my first night in Palm
Springs. I arrived in Palm Springs in the afternoon, in August. Desert
heat is not like island heat. It is dry; and very, very HOT. I discovered
Palm Desert was some distance away, so I checked into the Spa Hotel for
the night while I figured out how to get to Palm Desert. After a soak
in the hot springs (I was disappointed it was in a concrete tub), I was
feeling nauseous and lightheaded, so I skipped dinner and went to bed.
Sometime in the night, I had a dream. The dream was
of four women - myself, Bette, a friend of mine, and a friend of Bette´s.
In the dream Bette was lamenting about good and evil and the pain people
suffer. I put my arm around her to console her. An invisible voice spoke
loudly, reprimanding me. It said, "We´re trying to teach her
I replied, "Oh, yes," and removed my arm. My
friend patted Bette´s hand, which I resented. My thought was, if
I can´t console her, why should she? She´s not even a friend
of Bette´s. Then I recognized she was as much a part of Bette as
Bette´s friend and I were, or anyone else was for that matter. I
looked at the three of them and announced, "Knowledge leads to understanding.
Understanding leads to self-mastery. And self-mastery leads to God."
At that moment, I woke. I realized my bed was rocking
and the room was filled with Light. In the middle of the room was a very
tall Angelic Being. It didn´t have wings, but it was surrounded
with Light. "You are about to begin a journey," the Being said,
smiling at me. As strange as it seems, I nodded, closed my eyes, and went
back to sleep.
The next morning, as I awoke, I immediately thought
of what had happened in the night; I knew it had been real. My mind drifted
back to an experience two years before, while I was meditating.
While still In New York, I´d read There Is A
River, by Thomas Sugrue. It was the biography of Edgar Cayce, often called
"America´s greatest seer. After that, I read all of the Edgar
Cayce books I could find. The books renewed my spiritual faith and taught
me to meditate. For me, meditation is a time of inner silence when my
mind is absent of all thought, visions, dreams, and voices. (Those happen
in between meditations.) I have long noted that when I am meditating,
life´s challenges are still present, but they are so much easier
to meet. When I am not meditating, I struggle. So for twenty-five years,
I have meditated more days than I have not.
On that morning, my mind had been on an Edgar Cayce
book I´d been re-reading the night before. Something in it had triggered
deep within me an absolute acceptance of the reality of God. I´d
shut the book in great excitement, my heart joyfully leaping as I thought,
"There IS a God!" As I sat to meditate, I could feel that feeling
again. I closed my eyes with the thought, "God Is" filling my
mind and joy filling my heart. Then a voice spoke. It seemed to be my
voice, but it spoke without my volition, and it was different somehow:
like a still, quiet voice. It said, "I will lift thee up and use thee."
My eyes flew open. I was certain I´d just heard from God.
In an interesting survey I read in The Reader´s
Digest, I think, a large majority of the people surveyed believed they
had heard at some time in their lives the voice of God. Now I was one
I became more convinced it had been God when I heard
that same voice again, a couple of months later, as I was floating on
my back in the blue-green sea off Waikiki, lazily kicking my feet. I had
been pondering for several days an argument with a beloved friend, who
had stated one could only be "saved" by believing in the divinity
of Jesus Christ. Her belief had astounded and saddened me, leaving out
as it did billions of people and implying anyone God had created needed
to be "saved´. As I stared up at the clouds, however, I wondered
if I was the one being closed minded. Suddenly, I heard "that voice"
again. It said:
"The Lord Thy God Is One. Whether Man Calls Me
By God, Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, Yea, Even Krishna, It Is I. For I Am
With Man Always. As Long As A Man Believes And Acknowledges That Which
Is Greater Than The Sum Of His Parts And His Works, That Which Is His
Creator, He Worships Me. For My Name Man Has Never Known, And Could Not
Utter. I Am That I Am. And I Am With Thee Always."
I swam back to shore, climbed out, and having nothing
to write on or with, I walked the few blocks to my apartment, hoping I
could remember the words. I needn´t have worried, the words were
etched in my mind.
I´d been waiting ever since for God to lift me
up and use me. I´d expected something spectacular to happen right
away. It hadn´t. I wondered if it was happening now. I took a city
bus into Palm Desert; eager to discover my destiny.
The very first day of class I discovered the answer
to life´s greatest (for me) puzzles: Why some prayers are answered
and many, seemingly, are not. Why bad things happen to good people. Why
some people heal and others do not. Why miracles happen, and why they
don´t. Why some people are psychic a lot and others are never psychic
at all. Why mystical voices, visions, and angelic beings are not commonplace.
The answer, I discovered, was the subconscious mind.
Now all I had to do was learn everything I could
about the subconscious mind.
Dr. Harmon is a wonderful teacher. Incredibly knowledgeable,
he teaches as all Masters teach: simply, with gentle guidance, and wise
counsel. He also teaches with great humor, and I became more and more
enchanted with his stories of "Bad Billy", the adventurous lad
he had been. I knew he was teaching us, as he shared his personal journey,
how the soul grows.
As I continued my exploration of my own soul, I began
to do "automatic" writing. I designated one hand for my "emotional
mind" and the other my "spiritual mind". I placed the pen
on a piece of paper and asked if any emotions would like to express themselves.
I got page after page of ´o´s´, just like we used to
do in grade school when we first learned penmanship. Then I got LOTS of
pages of letters of the alphabet. I quickly learned that my hand didn´t
like to lift off the paper between words or lines, so I turned the paper
sideways to give myself more room. Eventually the letters began to make
words, though the words didn´t add up to anything meaningful. Bored,
I quit practicing.
The next day I tried again. Only this time, I put the
pen in my spiritual mind hand and placed it on the paper. Immediately,
my "hand" wrote my name. I stared at the paper. I hadn´t
thought of writing my name, or had I? And if I had, why had I? I put the
pen to paper again. My hand moved fluidly across the paper. The writing
was very messy and large, and the words ran into one another, but the
message they spelled were clear. It said: "We are here." I lifted
the pen and stared at the words. "Who is here?" I asked aloud
and put pen to paper again.
This time my hand wrote: "Spirit."
I asked aloud, "Who and what kind of Spirit?"
"Your guides," they wrote.
I asked for names. I was given two, Rama (pronounced
Rah MA´) and Ramet (pronounced Rah MAY´). I was told these spirit
guides were aspects of my Higher Self and the Higher Self of my mate.
"What mate?" I asked. "Where is he?"
"Bebe is near," they wrote.
They also advised me to quit job hunting and concentrate
on my studies. "Have faith," they wrote. "Your needs will
be provided." Three days later, an opportunity to house and cat sit
for two months presented itself. I took it happily and continued to do
automatic writing (though for me, the thought comes and then I write it,
my hand doesn´t write it "automatically") with my spirit
guides. (Unfortunately for my emotional mind, I did not return to it.
Too bad for me, for had I done so, I´ve little doubt my therapy
would have begun sooner and progressed much faster.)
The next two months were heavenly. I went to class,
read the class books, swam daily in the pool, had many mystical experiences,
and discovered hummingbirds. (We don´t have hummingbirds in Hawaii.
I think they are as delightful as I imagine fairies would be. Actually,
I think they ARE fairies embodied in earth forms.) Though I was as content
as I think it is earthly possible to be, I wondered, as the weeks rolled
by, what had happened to BeBe. I didn´t really care if he didn´t
show up - intimate relationships had proved more curse than blessing in
my life - but I hated to think my guides had been wrong.
Too soon, the courses were coming to a close. We had
less than two week left when a fellow classmate, Shirley Smith, and I
went dancing to celebrate our coming graduation. Dr. Harmon and his wife,
Merrien, joined us. An excellent dancer, Dr. Harmon danced with each of
us. When it was my turn, he put his arm around my waist. I leaned into
him and my knees buckled. Not only did he have to hold me up, he had to
practically drag me across the dance floor. As I´d been bragging
earlier about my dancing prowess, I was quite embarrassed. I think he
wondered whether I was a liar, drunk, or both.
When I got home that night, I was very confused. I
knew what had buckled my knees: sexual energy. Where had that come from?
I had not felt any kind of energy like that from or towards Dr. Harmon
all through the classes. Besides, Dr. Harmon was married, though it was
no secret the marriage was dissolving. Merrien Harmon had informed several
of her friends of her desire for a divorce, and that news had, as such
gossip usually does, spread rapidly. I decided I was simply experiencing
a classic crush on the teacher; albeit, a bit late. My crush, however,
seemed to get worse with each passing day.
Just before graduation, Dr. Harmon called me into his
office. He asked me about my plans when I returned to Hawaii. I told him
I was thinking of opening, thanks to his encouragement, a practice as
a hypnotherapist. He told me that was exactly what he´d hoped, and
that I could call him on the phone as often as I needed or wanted his
support and guidance. I was thrilled. Then he asked me to help him with
his book. I was more than thrilled. He also told me we would always be
friends, good friends. I was certain he was telling me he was aware of
my crush and was gently discouraging me. Hurt and embarrassed, I mumbled
a "thank you" and left.
I returned home and whipped out my pen and paper. "Who
IS this BeBe," I demanded, still feeling angry and hurt. "Why
hasn´t he appeared?"
"You call him Bad Billy," the guides wrote.
I sat in shock, staring at the words. I went back over my automatic writing
- which I kept in a large spiral notebook - and found ´BeBe´.
Staring at it, I could see that what I thought were two small ´e´s´
could easily be two large, messy periods. Still, the Guides had been wrong:
Dr. Harmon clearly was not my mate. At that moment, the phone rang. It
was Dr. Harmon.
"I don´t know why I´m doing this,"
he said quietly. I held my tongue. There was a moment´s silence,
then he said, "Do you have something to tell me?"
"Yes," I said, and took a deep breath. "I
have a crush on you. Will you help me get over it?"
"No," he said softly. There was another moment
of silence, then he spoke again, "It will take some time. Will you
stay here in the Desert while Merrien and I work out our divorce?"
"No," I said, wishing I could. "You go
through your stuff without me. I´ll wait in Hawaii. I´ll return
when you´re divorced."
It took two years.
Merrien changed her mind about the divorce. She and
Hugh had been friends a long time, much longer than they had been mates.
He´d helped her completely recover from a devastating stroke when
the doctors had considered such recovery impossible. She realized how
much she had come to depend on him and she decided she wanted a separation,
not a divorce. Hugh reminded her she had asked for the divorce, telling
him they had grown apart and she was eager to be on her own. She was right,
he said, they had grown apart and he, too, was eager to be on his own.
He didn´t mention me.
I spoke with Hugh by phone daily as we collaborated
on the book. I could hear in his voice his sincerity when he said he wanted
to be with me, but felt he had to stay with Merrien until she was emotionally
ready to accept the divorce. He asked me for patience. Had it not been
for my guides, I´m not certain I would have had the patience. "Trust"
they wrote. "Believe" they wrote. "He is your mate," they
wrote. "Have faith. Be BeBe´s Bride."
I continued to write on the book and see clients. Not
wanting to invest in an "official" office because I would be leaving
soon - I thought - I´d made a hypnotherapy room out of the Master
bedroom after Bambi and her friends had left. They had been very upset
when I´d returned and broken my promise to let them take over the
lease. I didn´t blame them. But I´d returned home penniless
and had no-where else to go. It was them or me, and I had Tyson to consider.
I had also managed to antagonize Bette. She had not
gotten either my phone message or my letter and she felt I´d let
her down with Danny. She also felt I´d been overcharging her for
Danny´s food and cooking. I didn´t even bother to remind her
how expensive food is in Hawaii, and gas, nor that she had offered me
twice the amount, which I had turned down. Besides, I suspected she was
more upset about Hugh than she was about Danny. She´d called me
a couple of times in Palm Desert and I´d been highly enthusiastic
about Dr. Harmon.
"Is he coming on to you?" she´d demanded,
incensed by the idea of a teacher - a married teacher - compromising a
"Of course not," I replied, indignantly. "There
isn´t a hint of sexuality between us."
It was hard explaining from that remark - which had
been absolutely true at the time - how we had gotten to the point of him
getting a divorce and me waiting in the wings. So hard, I didn´t
After a year and a half of waiting for the divorce,
I rebelled. I began to believe I could trust neither my guides nor Hugh.
I started dating a man who was earnestly pursuing me. It was my father
who checked my rebellion. "A marriage," he told me gently, "is
difficult to end, even when it is time to end it. It is even more difficult
when a business partnership is involved. If you love him, trust him."
I sat down, after my talk with my father, and told my guides I had to
have a sign that would help me to believe.
While in Palm Desert, I had been swimming in the pool
and thinking of the mate my guides had ´promised". ´How
will I know this man?´ I´d asked aloud. At that moment, I´d
looked up and right in front of me, at the end of the pool, was a rose
bush, covered with roses. ´He will be a man of roses,´ I heard
myself think. When the class went to Hugh´s home for our graduation
dinner, there in his back yard was a huge rose garden. "Fifty-four
rose bushes," he told us proudly. "I´m a man of roses."
Later, I received a package from him in Honolulu. Opening it, I found
a perfect live French Lace rose. I hadn´t even told him my rose
"You have until noon to provide a sign,"
I announced imperially to the guides. Impatient with them and myself,
I went to look for a present for a friend´s birthday. In the store,
I was riding up the elevator, eyes straight ahead. Slowly, the largest
bouquet of roses I´d ever seen came into view right at the top of
the escalator. I stepped off and stared at them. Then I smelled them.
Smiling - I recognized a sign when I saw one - I went to buy my present,
noting the store clock as I passed it. It read 11:59 A.M. When I came
back, the roses were gone! Were they real? I wondered and asked a sales
lady passing by if there had been roses at the top of the escalator a
few minutes ago. "Oh yes," she said brightly. "They were ordered
for a state dinner. You´re lucky you saw them, they were only here
for a minute or two."
Three months later, Hugh and Merrien were divorced.
I turned the lease on the house over to my son (now out of High School)
and his friends, then flew back to Palm Desert to join Hugh. It was too
soon. Hugh was stressed - mentally and emotionally - as well as exhausted
- physically and financially - from the divorce. Though it had begun amicably
enough, it had ended with rancor on both sides. Despite this, they were
still working together. Merrien had helped him build his practice and
school. She was reluctant to leave. He was reluctant to have her leave.
They had worked out a testy truce at the office.
I was shocked. I´d left my Hawaii practice, which
had been doing very well indeed, to start a practice as Hugh´s partner.
Merrien, well aware of my arrival in town and my relationship with Hugh,
was not willing to have me even walk in the front door. I was not willing
to walk in the front door either, until she left. As far as I was concerned,
this was the woman who had "cost" me two years with Hugh. I was
not in the mood to consider her feelings or reflect on how valuable and
important those two years apart had been for me. I had built up my own
Practice and become secure in my own therapist abilities. I´d also
had more time with my children, though I´d spent too much of it
moping around, waiting impatiently for my "real life" to begin.
(If I could impart only one piece of advice for all girls and women, it
would be: Your "real life" is NOW, with or without a boy or a
man in it. Enjoy every moment.)
Hurt and feeling betrayed by Hugh, I "holed"
myself up in my townhouse. I pretended I was working on the book, but
really, I was worrying about my relationship and my savings. Hugh had
been generous in the divorce settlement, leaving himself barely enough
money to maintain the offices and rent a small apartment for himself.
Not that I expected him to meet my expenses. My father raised me to be
self-sufficient, and self-sufficient I am. Nevertheless, my savings were
Hugh would arrive at the end of the day with food he
would cook in my tiny, ill-equipped kitchen. He pretended he didn´t
miss his spacious home, his beloved rose gardens, or his gourmet kitchen.
It was clear, however, as I watched him trying to please me, that he was
as miserable as I. Though I was sympathetic, and tried to be understanding,
inwardly I was fuming. I, too, had suffered loss: I´d left behind
clients I cared about, an island I loved, and most difficult of all, my
beloved family. Now I was being cheated of a courtship as well.
Stuck in the middle of the anger and pain of both an
ex-wife and a future wife, I was under a great deal of stress. Financial
concerns added to my stress, which hammered at me daily, especially in
my neck. The pain was becoming intolerable, even with my healing techniques.
I couldn´t understand why the neck was getting the best of me; I´d
met and conquered every challenge to my body in the past.
As a young man, I´d had a strong and healthy
body; only I´d damaged it repeatedly with strenuous - even dare-devil
- exploits. My back had been fractured three times: Falling off the roof
as a kid. Playing football in High School. While serving in the army.
Consequently, by the time I was forty, an x-ray revealed three ruptured
discs, with one of them completely destroyed. Of course, the medical doctors
wanted to do an operation to fuse my spine, but I told them I would heal
it myself. They shook their heads and warned me the discs would continue
to deteriorate. Since the subconscious mind controls the body, I began
telling my subconscious to heal the discs in my back. I continued this
message daily by imaging the discs whole and healthy. The pain went away.
Seven years later another x-ray revealed three perfectly shaped, normal
In my 50´s, I began to have difficulty breathing.
No-one seemed able to determine the cause, though it was getting so bad
I was having difficulty walking across a room without having to stop to
catch my breath. Finally I found a doctor specializing in thoracic medicine;
which is how I met Dr. Warren Jacobs. He took X-rays and discovered interstitial
fibrosis, an almost invisible fibrous growth that slowly fills the lungs,
thus limiting - and eventually eliminating - the ability of the lungs
to absorb oxygen. I was told medical science could stop the growth with
the use of steroids, but nothing could reverse the damage already done.
I thanked Dr. Jacobs. Now that I knew what was wrong, I could fix it.
I also knew my subconscious mind could do more than stop the growth, it
could reverse the damage already done.
The second step in any healing (after discovering what
is broken, ill, or out of balance), is to find the emotion or emotions
that caused and/or are contributing to the injury, illness, or imbalance.
I sat in a hot tub, closed my eyes, and began to name emotions. As I named
anger, my chest constricted; when I named resentment, it constricted again.
Still in a light self-hypnotic state, I asked to know the source of the
anger and resentment. Immediately, my mind returned to a visit I´d
made to a very close friend, some six months prior. I´d clearly
seen serious errors he was making in an important business matter and
had tried to share my observations with him. This, despite the fact that
as a therapist, I knew better than to offer unasked for help. I tried
to help him over the next several weeks. Not only did he refuse my help,
he would - each time I tried to bring the matter up - consistently hold
newspapers or magazines in front of his face to shut me out! Remembering,
I could feel the anger and resentment all over again. That I could feel
the emotions now was a sure indication I´d not released them.
Emotion is energy, powerful energy. It is the energy
that combines with thought to manifest physical reality. Negative emotions,
like my anger and resentment, manifest negative conditions. Suppressing
my anger and resentment had caused my lungs to fill with a fibrous growth
that could kill me. What I had to do now, in order to reverse that, was
to release those emotions.
I thought of my friend. I reminded myself he, like
everyone, possessed a direct line to better guidance than I, or anyone
else, could offer. I could not know whether he had accessed that guidance
directly, indirectly, or not at all. I could not know if his Higher Self
had guided him to make the very errors he had made in order to grow or
even to offer an opportunity for others to grow. I reminded myself that
it had been my error to offer unasked for advice and my error to have
let his childish reaction to that offer affect me. Certainly it had been
my error, and loss, to let that incident affect my love for him. Shutting
down love had caused my body to begin shutting down the very breath (lungs)
of life. I thought of my friend and our bond since childhood. I thought
of all I loved and admired about him and as I let my buried love re-surface,
I felt the anger and resentment melt away in its warmth.
The inward healing of my emotions accomplished, I now
needed to attend to the damage already done. As I thought of the fibrous
growth in my lungs, the thought of a large oak tree flashed in my mind.
Realizing the oak tree was the interstitial fibrosis as imaged by my subconscious,
I asked my subconscious how to get rid of the oak tree in my lungs.
I suddenly thought of a workshop I´d taken with
Dr. John Ott who had done great research with light and time frame photography.
His work had been used to create the fantastic images of rapidly blooming
plants in the movie Fantasia. The thought occurred to me of using that
technique to reverse the growth of the oak tree; i.e., the interstitial
fibrosis. Like a movie reel in my mind, I reversed the growth of the oak
tree, shrinking it down into the acorn from which it had grown. I asked
myself what to do with the acorn. Knowing that composting is a returning
of organic matter back into the vital prime energy of nature, I composted
- in my mind - that acorn back into my vital prime energy; then I thanked
my subconscious mind for making it happen.