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Baseball, Fireworks, and hONEyhoUSe

May 21, 2013 in Spirituality

On April 20, 2013, I went to a baseball game.

I decided to brave the windy spring evening for several reasons.

Tax season had just ended and I needed to relax for a while.

I enjoy watching baseball.

The promotions for the evening included a fireworks show after the game and a concert before.

Fireworks are always fun.

Those who had heard the group previously promised I would like the music.

I’m picky, almost snobbish, about my music so no matter what my friends said, I reserved the right to form my own opinion, especially about live performances.

Once in the stadium, we made our way to the northwest corner to an area known as “The Breezeway.”

The location was true to its name.

A westerly wind churned.

I stepped back a few paces to use the outer wall of the stadium as a windbreak.

honeyhousehONEyhoUSe wasn’t so lucky.

The four-person, female group experienced the full force of the wind as they began their short pregame concert.

They didn’t seem to mind.

It certainly didn’t hinder their music.

From the first chord on Yvonne Perea’s guitar, I was mesmerized.

There was so much sound coming from one guitar – more than seemed possible.

She joined Hillary Smith and Mandy Buchanan to create luscious vocals and impeccable harmonies.

I stood and listened with a smile planted on my face, oblivious to everything else around me.

Their scrumptious music almost allowed me to forget about the events of the previous week: the bombing in Boston, the fertilizer plant explosion in Texas, the unprecedented implementation of martial law the day before.

Then, it happened.

One of their songs reached out past my critically pleased ear and grabbed my heart.

Time went into slow motion and inspiration raced through my head.

Baptized myself in the Rio Grande.

No one else baptized me. I took responsibility and did it myself.

I believed I was helped as I stepped onto dry land.

My beliefs determine whether ceremony is beneficial for me.

Baptized myself in the Rio Grande
Let the water wash it all away

Water is sacred. It is for cleansing. It doesn’t have to be holy water or water in a baptismal pool.

Driving along the lost highway
Seeking peace of mind

This song explains a path to Peace of Mind.

I experienced this throughout the entire song.

The insights radiated into my being.

Tears ran down my face.

The song climaxed into the bridge and a gust came around the corner of the stadium.

I knew immediately it was more than wind.

It was spirit.

Confirming the experience for me.

And, providing a peaceful response to the turmoil of the previous week.


Here are the complete lyrics to Rio Grande, the song that grabbed my heart. You may listen to a sample of it on the page linked here. It is the third song from the top.

Baptized myself in the Rio Grande
I believed I was helped as I stepped onto dry land
Baptized myself in the Rio Grande
Let the water wash it all away

Driving along the lost highway
Seeking peace of mind
Looking out for what’s to come
Can’t imagine what I’ll find
Too scared to pull over
Too stubborn to drive away
Heard a voice from deep within
Child, time to obey

Baptized myself in the Rio Grande
I believed I was helped as I stepped onto dry land
Baptized myself in the Rio Grande
Let the water wash it all away

Walking along the riverside
Waiting for the rain
Keeping up appearances
Can’t carry all this pain
Too scared to get much closer
Too stubborn to walk away
Heard a voice from deep within
Child, time to obey

Baptized myself in the Rio Grande
I believed I was helped as I stepped onto dry land
Baptized myself in the Rio Grande
Let the water wash it all away

War Programming

August 24, 2012 in Spirituality, World

Yesterday’s article hasn’t yet let go of me.

The aspect that haunts me the most is how Christian religion, the one I lived within for the first forty or so years of my life, is so effective at making its followers comfortable with the idea of a blood sacrifice.

This isn’t an off-hand comment.

I am an expert in this discipline. Prior to following another path, I taught classes weekly and studied daily while working within the business of this particular brand of Christian religion. Sometimes I was paid for my efforts. More often, I did the work as a volunteer. It was my passion.

Even today, I continue to interact with those who follow this path.

They easily and flippantly talk about the justifications for taking life as a form of severe punishment, what I call blood sacrifice. They call it war or capital punishment or self-defense.

I often wonder if they hear the words they are saying.

As I have mulled over this phenomenon, I have to wonder why humanity would willingly fall prey to such self-destructive and counterintuitive behavior.

Thom Hartmann asks similar questions in his book Threshold: The Progressive Plan to Pull America Back from the Brink. He provides a historical perspective of previously peaceful societies and attempts to determine why they turned to war. There is evidence that, in many cases, war may have been the direct result of the illogical thinking that comes out of mental illness.

Initially, it seems war became a solution for the problem of a scarce food supply. Instead of pooling resources and jointly solving the resource problem, groups killed one another to acquire food, including human flesh.

Hartman explains that once humanity became comfortable with killing other large mammals for food, this opened the way to slaying humans for the same reason.

Today, we think we are more civilized about our blood sacrifices. We generally don’t harvest human flesh from war. We depose of it. (A certain “Stranger in a Strange Land” would call this “wasting food.”) In doing so, we prove we are no longer fighting war for survival.

Instead, we practice the mental illness of war because “we have always done it this way.”

Obviously, something outside of survival instincts drives our passion for war.

Closer investigation shows the role of religious programming, especially religious music, plays a major role.

This is startling… and it has purposely been going on for centuries.

This article reveals how J. S. Bach’s Baroque period music may have played a role in this process.

Burned guitarIn it, Belgium Professor Baron Baretzky “explains that this discovery could have several ramifications as it ultimately deals with sound and using sound as interception of the mind in order to achieve a hypnotic state that then could be used to introduce anything from belief systems to war propaganda.”

I have a degree in music education. Some of my religious work was as a church musician. I agree with professor Baretzky. Music is a great tool to set a mood or program the masses.

I remember singing Christian war songs, under the guise of spiritual warfare, that focused on slaughtering God’s enemies, the blood of Jesus, and numerous other subjects that pointed to blood sacrifice.

This careful programming through religious music prepared the religious masses to fight yesterday. It is claimed that Churchill used Christian soldier tunes to encourage Roosevelt to join World War II.

The same technique is used today. The masses are carefully programmed through religious techniques, including music, so that once a politician uses the correct buzzwords, such as “terrorism,” “evil,” or “Satan,” the religious masses will follow him anywhere.

They will go to war, support a war, and defend a war.

As our society claims progress on the road towards peace, this underlying programming for blood sacrifice remains in place

This is by design.

And, religion isn’t the only culprit.

I’ll look at other areas of this programming tomorrow.

Changing Time

February 11, 2012 in Spirituality

“Tell me about that piece of paper – the one with the musical score.”

Rebecca was puzzled.

“What paper? What music?”

Five minutes earlier, she had finished giving me a massage and left the room so I could get dressed.

After putting on my clothes, I had reached for my glasses before putting on my shoes and socks. As I put the glasses on my face, I noticed a paper on Rebecca’s desk. It was a musical score. It opened with octave quarter notes followed by triplets.

Suddenly, my head began to spin and I was in another place and time. I had dreamed this. Someone had given me a saxophone, my primary instrument in college, put the musical score in front me, and told me to play.

I played.

When I awoke, I wondered what the dream meant. I hadn’t played a saxophone since the early eighties.

Now, the score from my dream was on Rebecca’s desk, so I went to the door and called for her.

Rebecca explained that the paper was scratch paper, left behind by her boyfriend who led a championship bagpipe group. She said it had no importance.

I knew otherwise.

Then she said something profound.

Clock in hands“Time isn’t what we think it is. It isn’t linear. It is cyclical. Sometimes the end happens before the beginning.”

I looked at her in astonishment.

She realized how ridiculous she must have sounded and began to explain.

“I don’t know where that came from. I just channeled that.”

I smiled.

“I’m not surprised. I was listening to a recorded interview yesterday and I heard someone say the exact same thing – in the exact same words.”

Her eyes went wide with astonishment.

“You heard someone say the exact same thing in the exact same words? I’ve never thought of time like that.”

I briefly explained about an interview that Bill Wood and David Wilcock did with Kerry Cassidy on Project Camelot Radio. The wide-ranging conversation covered a variety of topics. I had a memory of Wood making the statement about time.

We looked at one another. We each knew both of us had a foot in the real world and a foot in the dream world. We both knew there was an important message here. We each strove to grasp it.

Rebecca had another appointment and I did too, so we didn’t pursue the matter any further.

A few weeks later, my son walked into my office.

“If I go back into my memories and relive a situation and respond differently, I heal my emotions over the situation.”

Peter doesn’t talk much, so sometimes his communication is both awkward and profound.

While I processed what he said, he asked the question as I thought it.

“Does that change the past?”

I remembered what I had heard in the interview. I remembered what Rebecca had said to me about my dream.

I thought about Peter’s question.

Is it possible to change the past?

What do you think?

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