Meditation
I have a theory. I call it the self-deviation theory. I hope to prove it in my meditation technique using visualization and disassociation. I believe with routine use the human brain can recalibrate itself to overcome issues of self-doubt, self-love, intimacy, inspiration, grief, anger, anxiety, fear, addiction, trauma, guilt, and find a positive path to redemption. I have a 30 minute guided routine that I hope to be teaching on a regular basis. I’m considering recording a C.D., but my studies and research are on-going and take precedence over all else. I will need test subjects for my research. Residents of Cowlitz County, Wash., should email me at oneforallguru@gmail.com if they’d like to take part in future studies.
Update
I apologize for neglecting my blog. I have been writing a book. It will include the OFA Guru origin story and detailed meditation options for life and death. I will provide a copy to my followers. Thank you for your positive energy. I will continue my blog once this task is completed.
Wednesday, Nov. 29, 2023
I have been doing my best to share “The Three Gifts” and its message via Facebook. This site was originally created for that sole purpose. It is not about me, but I’m told people are curious about my relationship with beings, particularly my guardians/guides/stage crew. My eldest guardian identifies as a dragon, yearning to be the phoenix. They are strong, opinionated and a little impulsive. I call them Gen. They are a sexual being, primal, and the first line of defense against the castaway beings that come to me for help. Ultimately they all want the same thing. They want to go home.
I don’t know the exact number of guardians I have. There is a large gray area comprised of guardians, my deceased family members/friends, and castaways who have been with me for a number of years. I have learned epiphanies come directly from the dimensions above. These dimensions are infinite. I had many epiphanies during the creation of “The Three Gifts” as well as visits from fellow writers. Most recently, at the completion, Erma Bombeck, a mentor from my humor columnist days, shared these words of encouragement, “Cherry pits are planted too.”
Messages from this earthly plane cause a minor physical reaction, like a heaviness in my chest, a tingling down my spine or a weakness in my legs for example. Guardians act as a filter, keeping excessive negative energy at bay. Demons come in all sizes. Guardians have to work overtime when our defenses are weak. For instance, when we are overly tired, ill, injured, intoxicated beyond reason, or under the influence of narcotics. Guardians assist with communication between human beings and castaway beings. It’s an odd game of telephone. Once castaways and guardians realize human beings know they are there, they become very active in their attempts. It would be overwhelming without the guardians. It still can be if there are too many of them to manage, like on a cruise ship.
This reminds me of another writer friend of mine, Paul Harvey. One of the many stories he shared was of a young family. Their daughter needed a blood transfusion to survive. Her older brother was only 8 or 9 but had the best blood match. When his parents asked him if he would be willing to do this for his sister, fear filled his eyes, but he soon agreed. On that fateful day he was quiet as the doctor checked the transfusion lines. He asked the boy how he was doing. His eyes met the doctor’s as he asked, “How long before I die?”
This is how I feel every day.
Dec. 7, 2023
I am annoyed and frustrated. All I can do is plant seeds. People read the title “Guru” and think it a joke. But “Messenger of Death” has the tendency to freak people out.
I am not as powerless as I feel. Why would the beings show me glimpses of the future if they didn’t want me to fix it? Perhaps we are all time travelers being given chances to do the right thing. This elicits the question, “How many chances do we get?”
A friend of mine, who went through a similar situation, wants me to remove the scales from your eyes and let you know all those “miracles” you’ve read about are metaphors the masses have taken literally, because rulers of the day wanted to enslave them. Today we call them the one percent.
“Son of God” every time my friend hears that title he wants to punch someone in the throat. We are all pieces of the whole. If he had told the ignorant rubes of the day that we provide the positive energy food source to the main body, they would have envisioned human beings on meat hooks because, let’s face it, people are inherently stupid. Job was going to sacrifice his child - idiot. Beings don’t want you to kill anybody, especially in their name.
One of the few literal references in the bible is the long list of begats. There are 139 begat verses, most in Genesis. What these were meant to convey is “so shall it be for your children and grandchildren unless you break this cycle” but the author didn’t have the words. I’ve been there. I understand.
All the teachers who have spread the word of all have been silenced by the ruling class. They have influenced human beings into worshipping the teacher. All is a simple concept, not a religion, but a way of living that provides for us all. The kings and one percent have fought hard to hide and distort this message. All you have to do is look at a mega church and how the donations are used by the demon spawn in charge of them, or the war machine waving a bible and M16 that most of our taxes fund, to know this is true.
Once again, “How many chances do we get?” Don’t waste them.
Dec. 15, 2023
If you haven’t figured it out already, The Three Gifts is Albert Einstein’s Theory of Relativity: E=mc2 or Energy equals mass times the speed of light squared. Einstein was a spiritual person who wanted to be closer to his maker. He wanted to know what I know. I am doing my best to share it.
I was recently contacted by a woman I will call Irene. Irene’s son passed away in 2022 of a fentanyl overdose at the age of 24. I will call him David. Irene has been tortured with feelings of guilt, grief & unbearable emotional & spiritual torture, suffering & pain.
I will not disclose everything I extended to “Irene” but I will share it in part. It may help others in similar circumstances. After much deliberation with my guides and other beings, I sent Irene the following advice:
“I want you to sit at your dining table and write down all the emotions you are feeling. For each emotion I want you to write questions and dialogue to David. He will be at your side as you do this and you will feel him. For his responses I want you to listen to his music.”
I told Irene she will be greatly inspired, but to pace herself, relish the epiphanies to come, even if they are frightening, “Remember this is your journey of cathartic freedom as well as the positive energy David needs to stay connected to you when you rise up.”
I sent Irene some help with this challenge, a talented castaway-turned-guide named Harmony. She joined me around 2015 when a frazzled woman I’ll call Joan wandered into the newspaper I worked for. Joan sat down at my obituary desk and told me she didn’t know how the paper could help her, but the radio told her to come here.
Joan was being haunted by messages through music. She wanted it to stop. I performed a discrete exorcism in the lobby, holding Joan’s hands through the hole in the security glass separating us, releasing Joan of Harmony’s burden. Harmony wasn’t negative energy, just too heavy for Joan to carry. Harmony is excited to reach out and provide help in the creation of positive energy. This will help her to get home someday too.
Of course Irene has free will and can stray from the path I laid at her feet, but she can always return to it if her way grows too dark. I hope she find her way to peace. I hope we all do.
Dec. 22, 2023
I’ve been studying my dreams for 44 years. Everyone has at least three dreams each night, though some are induced by food, medication, stresses of the day, aches and pains, etc., it is the deep REM sleep that taps into the subconscious. I regularly remember these, but during the creation of “The Three Gifts” I didn’t remember any of them. This was a four month period and included a fifth month after its release. My theory is the beings wanted me to rest and absorb the epiphanies I was being bombarded with during the day. The organic brain can only handle so much.
I finally remembered a dream I had two nights ago. It felt odd after such a long period of time. I’m being told to mingle with people, something I am really not good at. I’m pretty sure I’ve made it clear I am an introvert; the living are not my favorite people. They drain my energy and I frighten them without meaning to. If I can’t be honest then I do not speak, hence the vow of silence I observed for two years in my preschool youth.
Today is a dear friend’s birthday. I have been invited to meet their family for a dinner celebration at a restaurant in our hometown. I am the godmother of her children. I will find out how they feel about my guru persona. It is a small town and I will see others for the first time since “coming out” on Facebook. I quit drinking a year ago, and will try to leave before alcohol loosens the inhibitions of others’ negative energy. Gen will step in, and Gen is frightening on purpose. I have no control over how others feel. How they react to a situation dictates weather it has a positive or negative energy in the end. We don’t make those decisions for each other. We can share our energy, but free will overrides all and should be taken seriously. Is your free will a friend or foe?
Christmas Eve will be spent with family. It is tradition. I have a large family. Many of whom I have not communicated with since last year. Those haunted with negative energy will most likely not attend. They prefer to wallow in their misery. If they reached out for my help I would gladly do so, but I can’t help those unwilling to help themselves. It would be a waste of energy to try. It would take a miracle and I have not been granted that ability. I hope I never am, but this riddles me with guilt because it could lead to bringing so many others home. I didn’t ask for any of this. What do I ask for? Please meet karma halfway. Have a happy holiday and a blessed new year living your lives for all.
Jan. 2, 2024
Happy New Year! It’s a time to start fresh. I know I have, taking my crazy out and shaking it around for all to see. I tried to conceptualize “The Three Gifts” in a way that everyone can understand, but it does take some people longer than others, many have to listen to it more than once. Some, however, have the knee jerk reaction to label it as a cult. Silly humans, I’ve said it before, and I will say it again, “I am not a leader. I am the one the leader comes to for advice.” Everyone should be their own leader. You have free will, act like it.
I do not seek fortune and fame. I'm just doing my part to save the world and our very beings. I am surrounded by less visionary individuals, something I hope to rectify. My people are out there. My goal for 2024 is to find them. The Three Gifts are my flag ship in this endeavor.
I know these gifts have the potential to alter an individual's future. I can only deal with people one-on-one. I help them get in touch with their beings, cleanse their energies, set their feet upon a path of honor, but the living are not my favorite people. I could never lead a cult. I do not ask for submission. Remember, faith is nice, but courage is better. Only you know what you need courage for.
So, in honor of the new year, I hope you find your courage. I’m here if you need help with that.
Jan. 22, 2024
People often comment that they would be afraid if they experienced what I do. But I know that if they lived with it from day one, they wouldn’t know anything different and it would be perfectly normal for them. This is not to say I have never been frightened by beings, particularly the castaways that have an abundance of negative energy. Sometimes they merge together. Here’s an example.
I was a junior auxiliary nurse at the old Monticello Medical Center in Longview, Wash., for a couple years in junior high. Most Wednesday evenings I would feed a paraplegic, assist nurses to lance boils, clean rooms, carry biopsies to the lab, and play board games with and read to the patients.
This brings me to the book cart. It was a narrow, two-sided, double decker metal contraption on four squeaky wheels stored in an abandoned wing of the hospital. Normally a nurse would be responsible for returning the cart to its storage area, but one night I was asked to do it. The directions given were simple enough, take the service elevator down two floors, follow the all window corridor, through the double doors, past the old nurse’s station and patient rooms, to the storage room at the end of the hall on the left.
I was honored to be entrusted with the storage key and this duty. Most people trust me instinctively. Those that don’t are untrustworthy beings themselves, expecting everyone to be as shady as they are.
I felt self-conscious pushing the cart down the long windowed corridor. Gardens lined both sides, but I could only see a few leaves and a scattering of bark chips in the black of night. Anyone outside would be able to see me clear as day as I walked alone, pushing the rhythmically squeaking cart. I could see my reflection in the glass, my Farrah Fawcett bangs bouncing as I walked. Unlike candy stripers, I wore white pants and shoes and a yellow smock with a front zipper that wouldn’t stay zipped. I learned this when visitors passed me in the hall and one joked, “The staff looks like their ready for anything.” As crippling shy as I was I was mortified to discover my A cup bra was in full view. I secured it with a yellow duck diaper pin after that.
Entering the double doors I expected to feel relief leaving the fish bowl environ. I didn’t. The dread began with a knot in my stomach. I was in danger. It was tangible. Who was here? Was a homeless person hiding in one of the unlit rooms that lined the hall? All the patient room doors were open, offering an abundance of dark corners to hide in. I wondered if the phones still worked, but didn’t veer from my course.
The knot in my belly was working its way up my spine, like someone walking up behind me. I quickened my pace and glanced behind me. Did a shadow behind the nurse’s station move? Human beings have always frightened me more than beings. However, the closer I got to the end of the hall, the more I felt the tingle of energy gathering around me. I could actually hear an energy vibration humming in my ear, drowning out the squeaking of the cart.
I pulled the key from the pocket of my smock, thankful it was alone on the chain. The cart was no sooner inside the storage room before I locked the door and headed back down the hall. I knew I was dealing with a mass of negative energy larger than any I’d come across before. I tried not to run. Showing fear would only encourage them. The humming was a physical sensation in my hands now, shaking them as I reached for the double doors. My hand froze mid-way as the humming suddenly stopped. The hesitation was short-lived and when my palm hit the metal bar a shrill scream, close to my right ear, pierced my brain as I was propelled out the door as though shoved from behind. I skipped a step on the other side.
Suddenly silent again, I looked around for reassurance, but only saw my reflection in the darkened windows. My neck was sore but the tingling sensation was gone. I continued silently back to the elevator and the second floor.
It wasn’t until the next day that I realized I couldn’t hear out of my right ear. My mother pointed out I was talking really loud at my parent/teacher conference. It was two weeks before my hearing returned to normal. I couldn’t explain the anomaly. I didn’t understand it myself. The deafness was proof that it happened, but I never spoke of it. My experiences have been processed in silence and alone. Always alone.
Feb. 6, 2024
I’m still in a transitional stage, trying to find balance between the worlds of human beings and beings. I try to communicate with my guardians one or two days a week, but scheduling time to meditate and blog after a full-time job has been challenging. I sell cemetery property and pre-planned funeral arrangements. My career has hovered around death for more than 20 years. Death comforts me. I understand it. It makes me feel safe, welcome and understood. Grieving families appreciate me for the most part, but it's the new castaways passing through that receive my sympathies. Most go home with their families at least for a while. Some stay with me, and some find their way back to me. Castaway beings enjoy the cemetery. A lot of love and reverence has been poured on those grounds. The energy is positive indeed. It's been said that grief is just love with no place to go, but I promise you, when you send that energy out into the universe it finds them, no matter where they are.
March 1, 2024
People don’t understand. This was not a choice I made. This was a burden from day one. As a child I begged the universe not to make me do this. It wasn’t my fault I knew things people weren’t supposed to know. I have been ripping my heart out trying to come to terms with this path, a path best walked alone. Messengers of death are seldom anyone’s soulmate. I’m just trying to save the world one evolutionary leap at a time. I don’t have all the answers. Hell, I don’t even have all the questions, but I hope to inspire and unite the energies we need under a common goal: living our lives for all.
This is not something I expect to accomplish in this lifetime. I’m only planting seeds. They will continue to grow long after I am gone. The fruit will nourish generations I will eventually be “re-earthed” into. I wonder if these burdensome gifts will re-earth with me down the line, or will I be blessed with ignorance.
It amuses me that when we connect with someone our energies literally connect. I was walking the coastline of Icy Strait Point, Alaska, when I first felt the Shaman’s energy. I was on my way to an excursion I paid for with my cruise. I entered the pole building theatre with other travelers to watch members of the Huns Tlingit tribe perform the story of Chookaneidi. When the audience was asked if anyone would like to join the ceremonial dancers on stage, I uncharacteristically said, “What the hell.” After all, I was making memories.
When I returned home I could feel the weight of all the new castaways that connected themselves to me. It will take time to properly meet them all. The Shaman and the blind doctor who passed away in my apartment have really hit it off, melding into a strong energy that often graces my evening meditation, so much for walking this path alone.
The Shaman was instrumental in creating the outline of talking points for my session visits. I honestly believe just reading these points on my website can be cathartic and enhance self-awareness and direction. They can be viewed by clicking on services.
March 13, 2024
My alter ego as the OFA guru allows me to move freely between beings and human beings. I feel at home in my skin for the first time.
The OFA was catapulted into reality when I finally learned who I was in my last life. I’ve always known I was blown out of a plane and died alone in the wilderness. Earlier this year I learned it was a bomb. I don’t think it was meant for me, but it still qualifies as murder. Yes, this makes me angry. The parties involved are long dead, but not the negative energy that drove them. We still do battle.
In some ways I am not as strong as my last human being, but I have lived twice as long as they did, so I am wiser.
While I am in human form I feel obligated to fight for their best interest. I recently rallied on the steps of the Olympia Capitol in support of Universal Healthcare at the state level, with Whole Washington, because health care is a human right. I was proud to be there.
After listening to all the impassioned speakers I went inside in search of a restroom. It was my first visit to the capitol building. I was surprised by the amount of marble. It reminded me of the mausoleums at work. I felt right at home.
I was climbing a narrow marble staircase when I felt it. I had walked through a strong emotion, but it wasn’t strong enough to take hold of me. I sloughed it off and continued on, not wanting to spoil the positive vibe of being surrounded by likeminded individuals: liberals, progressives and socialists.
Later that evening I was visited by guilt. I should have delved deeper into that energy. It screamed, spitting with rage, “It’s not just my business! It’s my land! It’s my home!” A heart seized in a chest and a red weathered cheek fell upon the cold heartless marble. Karma would welcome them to join the crew. Its anger wasn’t evil. It was tormented.
I expect the crew went through the usual protocol. Gen flailed her tail and spread her scaled wings ablaze, the calling card of the phoenix. Any messages would be conveyed to The Viking and eventually relayed to me.
I was regularly pulled into trances as a child, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve learned to recognize the pull and stave them off to some degree. All the energies that surround me serve as a buffer between both beings and human beings. They can be draining. This is the double edged sword of the empath. It comes with a price, but I do my best to make the price worth it. Karma is watching.
The Viking’s messages through tarot tell me to rest my elderly pains, meditate, and plan a trip. We all need things to look forward to. I already have one in the works, a short jaunt to California to celebrate with family. Lots of positive energy to look forward to. My family is expecting two sets of twins. Blessings all around.
March 29, 2024
Dietary Health Tip
Take some time to check in with yourself before your evening meal. A simple 5-10 minute meditation asking, “How was my day? What were my choices? I have made choices; and those choices have made me. How did I evolve today? Where is my positive energy?” Find your balance and calm, this way, you won’t eat your feelings with your meal.
Pragmatic/Empathetic
There are many who take pride in being pragmatic, which means, according to Oxford Languages and Google, ”dealing with things sensibly and realistically in a way that is based on practical rather than theoretical considerations.” Cannibals are pragmatic. It’s only sensible to eat the weakest among you to survive if food is scarce. However, it is the empath who would volunteer to be eaten, in order to strengthen the weak.
Life in the Trees
In my youth I concentrated on the branches, how I would climb them, where I would hang a swing, or build a tree house. Only the strongest would do.
As I got older I thought about the roots. How they are so much bigger than the tree. How they feed it, stabilize it, and touch the roots of other trees. This is where I concentrated my efforts to raise my children to be strong.
Now, as I enter my twilight years, I think about the tops of the trees, as if noticing them for the first time, how they reach for the Heavens that shine down upon them, a culmination of all efforts that came before it. The branches and the roots helped them to get where they are. They are spindly and weak, yet they rise above all else.
The Bigger Picture
Since we are here to create positive energy, what is that energy used for? Where is it being channeled? Is the universe a rock garden with black holes siphoning its energy to a cosmic digestive system? These answers are outside my pay grade, but since I’ve asked, I know the answer will be forthcoming. It’s always nice to have something to look forward to.
Explaining Myself
The hardest thing for me to explain is that it’s not about me. It’s about pulling back the curtain. It’s the wake up call. I am only the messenger. I have made mistakes along the way. I’ve tried to enlighten people who don’t want to be. They prefer the mass hypnosis of happy slave distractions and commercialized squalor while licking the boots of their masters. I won’t make this mistake again. I have done what I was destined to do. The seeds have been cast to the wind. Now I will try to live in peace, waiting to welcome those who come to me for guidance.
Worship
Any energy that demands to be worshipped is negative energy in sheep’s clothing. If you must worship something, let it be justice, let it be honesty, let it be healing, let it be nature, let it be peace.
May 7, 2024
I recently lost a dear friend to cancer. She was the librarian at the newspaper I wrote for years ago. Donna was the first friend I made there. She was kind and patient as my social issues had me hiding in the archived remnants of 100 years. The energy in the newsroom intimidated me. It was a beehive of activity, reporters trying to get the interview, the quote, the next Pulitzer. I was trying to feed my boys, ages 11 and 7. Most of the females employed here didn’t have children.
I’d been on the staffs of my high school and college papers, but they hadn’t prepared me for this. This was something I had to figure out on my own, but Donna shared her knowledge of this once family owned icon in the community. The company was recently purchased by a corporation out of Iowa. They had laid off dozens of employees, and gutted Donna’s library, tossing out history because it was yesterday’s news. Donna saved what she could, donating it to the local historical museum, and scanning onto microfiche.
Donna understood me. She was an introvert too. She loved her job. She took pride in it. Her energy was clean. It wasn’t burdened by greed or envy. She eyed me warily at first. I looked like I might be another shallow Barbie doll coming to use her skills then make fun of her size to her cubical pod of coworkers.
Yes, Donna was a large woman, just over 5 foot and well over 300 lbs. She was always covered in dog hair. She loved her dogs and miniature horses. Donna dressed them up and brought them into nursing homes during the holidays. This is who she was. This is what I saw when I looked at her. She was a shining light of hope, and I loved her.
That first year was hard, but I survived regional news knowing Donna was there, behind the glass wall watching over me, ready with words of comfort when my empathy betrayed me. Sensitive souls don’t survive at newspapers. We told each other our deep dark secrets, and helped each other clear away negative energy. This was particularly needed when I was picking up court actions and everyone I saw was a junky, drug dealer, wife beater or child abuser; and when I was put in charge of the obituary desk and was absorbing all the second-hand stages of grief.
The paper was revamped and Donna and I became members of the community news team. She never went out on location or conducted interviews, but she was a valuable cog in our five member, well-oiled machine. I think this was her happiest time at the paper. I know it was mine.
It was a sad day when Donna was laid off. I helped carry her things to her van. The five of us hugging and crying as we said goodbye. I worried about her future. Would she be able to find another position? She stopped by the office from time-to-time to catch up. Donna opened her own dog boarding business. I was very proud of her. She had a special understanding of animals. This was her niche.
We lost touch when I resigned from the paper and began working for the funeral home, though I knew in my heart she would always be there for me. I saw her briefly at the funeral home when one of her friends passed away. She looked gaunt, under 300 lbs. now. Her cancer was aggressive and Donna passed within weeks. I was honored to sit with her family as they met with the funeral director. Donna had preplanned her arrangements for direct casket placement. No family was present at the graveside. I represented all those who loved her. I ran my hand over her cloth-covered casket before it was lowered into the grave.
The energy she left behind, shadows of negativity that didn’t rise up with her, stayed with me. I did battle with her gluttony, self-doubt, fear, etc. These negative energies would not be allowed to settle on her family. Donna’s sister and niece expressed gratitude towards me. They knew we were friends, and I tried to express how much her friendship meant to me. Words can only do so much.
A celebration of her life will be held on a day I’m scheduled to work (I’ll try to leave early), and her obituary is being written by a former editor at the paper. This blog may be my closure. Save me a seat Donna. For you, it will be the blink of an eye.