This may well be my last journal entry for eight days. Tomorrow morning, I will receive an operation om my eyes. Then I won´t be able to use my eyes for reading, writing, or computer work until Thursday, November 24th…Thanksgiving Day! Well, if I can see better, then that will be good cause for thanks, won´t it?
This morning, I went to the Main Hall of the John of God Casa, looking forward to seeing him after a week of very quiet days while he was in Germany. But, I misunderstood the line I was supposed to wait in and wound up not going before the entity, at all. I had my slip of paper with the translation of my request for healing, but it was awfully general because I guess I´ve been so snobbish about my good health that all I can think of is very general `cover-the-waterfront`sort of stuff. This morning´s paper said: `Health and strength lthrough old age so I may serve God all my life`and also `Healing for my family and loved ones.`But when they never called the 8:00 o´clock line`I was waiting for, I simply stuck that paper in the Triangle on the wall…sort of like the prayer papers in the Wailing Wall.
By this afternoon´s session, my stiff eyes had succeeded in getting my attention and it suddenly occurred to me that I should ask for healing on their behalf. According to my eye doctor, one eye looks up and the other looks down, so I need prisms in my glasses to make them work together. One neuro-opthalmologist said it could be a brain tumor but an MRI led nowhere, so prisms it has been, with updated prescriptions every few years. So, what else is new when you´re seventy-four? I need glasses. So what? My glasses need prisms. So what?
But today, I took the glasses off and took note of how my eyes really feel. Stiff. Squinty, when called upon for face recognition across the room. And I got the translator to ask for healing for my Up/Down Eyes, noting the 4th cranial optic nerve the specialist had singled out as suspicious. So, armed with a real, physical complaint this time, instead of just the `general tune-up if you can find anything wrong`notes I had carried in before, I went, single-file, through the two powerful-energy and fragrant Current Rooms where mediums sit in meditation and, at last, stood before Joao de Deus-in-Entity. This time, he looked directly at me, took my slip of paper without reading it, pointed his finger to each of his eyes and said `Tomorrow morning.`
The only other time I had been before him was my first day at the Casa when he barely looked at me and sent me in for an operation that turned out to be on my abdomen. This time, we communicated and it might have been because I was actually asking for something I needed. Almost as if he was thinking: `Well, I wondered when you´d get around to admitting that you do need my help here! All you have to do is ask!`
A full fifty-percent of the healing process is up to each participant to plumb their own depths and to get honest about what is going on within themselves…to recognize patterns or old habits holding them back and to determine to change what needs changing. I never had eye trouble until my `psychic eyes`blew open at age 42. Maybe they are still a little out of sync with my material eyes? I don´t know, but this is the sort of thing we should try to explore because so much of our bodily complaints often have roots in our spiritual life.
For instance, one of the examples I have recently read about in a book I picked up here was of a man who complained of having a tight chest with lots of congestion. Once he got to examining his life and background, he realized that it was his way of protecting himself against other people…a habit that started in childhood as a way to fend off an over-controlling mother. His chest became his armor against the world and he asked for help with that and during his operation, watched the entities chipping away the calcification he had built up. Lucky him, he could see stuff innerly. Maybe they´ll talk to me since I can only hear. But I´ll just take what I can get and be glad of it.
One result will be to find out exactly how dependent I am on the purpose and entertainment that pages and screens provide. How about it, Yáll? Anybody want to `Fast`along with me and diet from using your eyes for closework until Thanksgiving evening? Perhaps I could set up some spillover healing for you if you go into Recovery with me?
My last blog was designed to convey the atmosphere of this place (John of God´s Healing Casa in the small town of Abadiania, Brazil), where I have deliberately landed on my second stop in this current, year-long, around-the-world journey of mine; embarked upon just three weeks ago tomorrow. So now, I shall attempt to describe my surroundings a little more clearly:
The Portuguese language is a mouthful for all Americans…..well, truthfully, all languages are for me, as my multi-lingual sister, Ann, will attest. Even the name of this little town was once a challenge, back when I called it Aber-dane-eeya. Wrong! It´s pronounced Aba-jhan-ya. Knowing Spanish, which I don´t really, doesn´t help very much either; but as usual, there´´s a lot of English translation going on here, so we dummies can float along as we always do internationally, because the whole world studies our mother tongue.
Anyway, picture a highway running west from Brasilia (Brass-see´-lia) on the way to the pretty big town of Anapolis (500,000). Abadiania is a pit stop along the way, with local businesses lining that six-lane road. `The Casa,`as John of God´s complex is called, sits about half a mile off the highway, at the end of a ten-block, paved-but-mildly-potholed strip of asphalt lined with casual businesses sprung up to serve the spiritual tourists who flock here from all over the wold; most seeking healing.
Many small walled pousadas offer rooms facing inner gardens and hammock-strung shelters. These charge between $17 – $25 per day, depending upon the meal plan selected, fanciness, and proximity to the Casa gates. They usually have kitchen facilities for those who wish to patronize the grocery store and breakfast or snack right there. Some nice hotels here can charge up to $60 per day, often with some meals included. Plus, there are most beautiful homes and apartments for rent for longer term stays or families and small groups. Anyone, healthy or handicapped, can find accommodations to suit them and their budget.
Food in Brazil is SUPERIOR to food that I have found in the rest of the planet! I have not met a meal here that I didn´t adore! And that is saying something, because in the large neighboring country to the south, whose name begins with an A…. on a different trip, I could never find any meal that I liked…and forget the beef they are so famous for, unless you want to spend $50 for a plate of it. Anyway, food here being so wonderful, there are miraculous little restaurants all along this roadway to the Casa, where one would like to spend all day, drinking Acai Berry shakes and tasting every single menu item, priced between $4 – $15. So, who would elect to cook? I settle for coffee and granola at the pousada for breakfast and then yum-yum….try to figure out where to take my tastebuds for the other two meals.
When the Casa is open for the Healing Sessions every Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, we are all served a delicious bowl of soup and a good chunk of bread as guests of the Casa every noon. But that shall be the subject of a future blog. The town has been very quiet for over a week because John of God has been in Germany, conducting a huge four-day healing event. I was here two weeks before he left, so I have experienced much; but I shall wait until the end of this week when things are back to normal to report on the details of life in a day at the Casa.
Now, after that aside about the soup served at the Casa three days a week, I shall continue my description of the great restaurants in this tiny, but cosmopolitan place. Beautiful Moema, a fashion model, runs the home-cooking-delicious, Alchemy Buffet, with her Mom; and an Irish man owns Frutti´s, a true health food hangout where you can sit for hours consuming acai puddings and smoothies and hailing your friends as they go by. I went with my pousada mates yesterday to where the locals eat across the highway and enjoyed an unlimited buffet for $3. Unbelievable! I was python-full of salads and veggies when I left.
My pousada room with its own shower bathroom, costs $16.67 per day, and food costs, (with the help of the excellent local grocery store) could be kept as low as $5 – $10 per day. So, I can live on a budget of $25 per day….less than being at home. Life is Good! I had a backache, so I splurged on a $40, one-hour, full-body massage, which was heavenly. Attractive white and bright-colored clothing is temptingly displayed from small shops along this avenue and many, including the Casa, sell lovely crystals, large and small.
One must make a 40-minute bus trip to Anapolis to do any sort of banking, such as ATM withdrawals, and that takes the better part of a day. It makes sense to get enough Brazilian Reals (pronounced hey-eyes) to last a month. With two trips to that big city under my belt, I´m becoming a little more savvy about how to navigate, especially as to how to find the Onibus station for my return trip home. People are very willing to humor someone who is willing to make a fool of themselves for information. We laugh a lot, but it gets the job done.
The internet now closes for lunch…so I will finish when I return at 1:00 p.m.
Well, I´m back at the computer, but have decided to spend my time blogging on my other website, www.insecretdiffusion.com It will be muy interesante, so better go over there for a looksee. Get on that RSS feed, if you haven´t already done so. That´s where many of my spiritual new understandings are going to be posted. Just now, my posada is full of some very curious women from all over the world who are plying me with fabulous questions to ask The Holy Spirit. We spend our evenings in the hammock shelter discussing the answers I´m getting….with simultaneous translations into Slovenian and Portuguese, no less.
I´m running behind in posting my blogs as this town has very few internet computers and I´ve had many other things needing my time. I wrote this future blog post ten days ago, on November 1st.
The easy part of explaining my past week at John of God´s Healing Casa, here in Abadiania, Brazil, is to suggest that you go to YouTube and read about it yourself. There, that´s done. Now you know!
But it´s hard to explain, or even understand, what´s going on with me. Have you ever heard the term, `Drunk with love for God?` Well, that´s me, and getting drunker all along. This place is the Real McCoy. Spirit here is so ever-present that no ceremonies, chants, or any other pose or rituals are needed to drum it up. Spiritual feelings are all around you, bringing to fullness that special resevoir behind the eyes where spirit dwells. It´s in the air we breathe and there´s soft lovelight and kindled eyes in everyone we meet.
I have come home! The spiritual spot on this planet where my little inner gyroscope no longer spins, begging me to move on again, perchance to find where I belong. I´ve only felt this once before … on a midnight train in Romania, of all places!
I´m still prodding this feeling, expecting to wake up and find it gone. But while I have it right here now, available, I want to get acquainted with its edges, perchance I´ll see some more of this elsewhere, or can drag a little with me when I finally tear myself away. For the present though, I´m not going anywhere, having up to five months to indulge myself in this spiritual paradise. However, I do need to cover more of South America and especially travel down the rest of the Andean Mountain Chain in Chile, so I may not be able to sacrifice doing that.
Last night, I quantified this. Did the bus from Brasilia, where I landed, have an accident and I not notice? This is as I imagine Death to be! Far, far, far away, on a slab of memory as two-dimensional as any book page, is the land I left behind just fourteen days ago. It appears to me white and misty. Far, far ahead are the lands I go to next and then a path and plans and plane tickets bought, to take me away around the world. That´s misty white, as well.
Nothing else exists but this small, twelve-square blocks or so of rural Brazilian village…sophisticated enough today to have brightly-painted, enormous tour buses, bringing guests from everywhere in the country for the national holiday, Day of the Dead. Well, Americans call it Halloween.
It´s as if a giant cookie-cutter has wedged down from the sky and cut a round shaped little town out and lifted it some many yards above the normal map-faced, rolled out dough. There´s a Hush up here and I am drawn to spend my free time in quiet, inner contemplation; alone in my little monk-cell-like pousada room. I´m just beginning to comprehend why monks and nuns love the life they lead. Trance comes easily, especially with the ultra-special music here, which I now hope to load into my empty little MP-3.
Friends come easily too, and I have many, many, many now. I make a hobby of admiring love-lit faces, even in the children, for goodness sakes! Nobody tries to make this happen. It just does, all by itself. We walk in dreamtime. John of God, the full-trance medium healer and founder of this place, somehow whenever I slide my thoughts to him, strikes me in memory as `not there,`so self-effaced is he. I see, instead, a great hole in dark blue sky, surrounded by a corona of silvery efforvescence. I realize that this is how a portal looks; a Stargate, through which Beings From Above pour in to heal the humans.
Joao de Deus (as they say in Brazil) is a full-trance medium through which thirty-three different entities might appear, one by one, manifesting in his real body while he `disappears`for the duration. These incorporating entities include St. Francis of Assisi, Saint Ignatius of Loyola, King Solomon, and many others. When the entity is in residence in John of God´s body, he looks different, as do his eyes. People line up and pass before him, spending only a few seconds before being told to do one of several things for their treatment. Hundreds come twice a day.
There are the facts and then, there are the feelings. I had stomach surgery the first day…invisible and painless, while sitting with the others who were getting oerations. I didn´t even know it was happening but in the subsequent 24-hours, I had to stay in bed, as everyone does, post surgery. I found that my whole lower abdomen was tender. My stitches will be removed tonight and something else will be done tomorrow in a session called Revision. All remote and painless. Apparently, hundreds, or even thousands (?) of spirit entities are present, helping all of us.
I´m so healthy, I never expected that operation, especially on my first day, but a staff member said I´d never really know what it accomplished….perhaps it was a future malady; now averted? I feel just great and have no residuals. I loved my 24-hour bedrest since I´m a lazy bum and liked that excuse. I take a prescription made of pasa flores (passion flowre) and drink blessed water; stay out of direct sunlight; drink no wine or alcohol, eat no chile peppers and no pork products for forty days. Piece of cake!
Sixteen days ago, I flew from Tampa to Brazil. By now, I can hardly remember that frantic afternoon spent doing last minute errands before catching the plane to Brazilia, the capital, in the very center of the country on the high altiplano. I then hit the ground running with a five-day `13 Indigenous Grandmothers`boot camp (my word) where we got up before dawn to be bused 1.5 hours from our rural coffee plantation hotel to the big council tent in a lovely peace park called Unipaz. It was a loving and fanciful, free-form blend of ancient tribal truths involving council fires and the four directions, sage, and New Age; although it was orchestrated by true Western organization skills and modern technology. I feel as if I have glimpsed the shape of where our next religious revolution is taking us: back to the early past and into the spiritually-individualized future, all at the same time.
For five days, we learned a lot about ourselves and each other; as well as beginning to consider this planet as a living being. The Grandmothers wisely reminded us of our total dependence upon water, which was the theme of the event. We share that characteristic with the Earth, herself. If our tissues, (hers and ours), dry up, they get cracked and eventually, we will die if we don´t have enough to drink. So will our planet, with us on board, if our global water is not protected. They reminded us that each human being also arrives wrapped in its own little bag of pure liquid; though I suspect that the comparison with the planet stops there.
The Grandmothers are all respected tribal shamans and elders from deep in the Amazon; the plains and coastal regions, and far north in Alaska of America; Japan; Nepal; New Zealand, Australia and Africa, who have been meeting several times a year all over the world, bringing their ancient tribal wisdom to our modern population… which could certainly use a dose of it. These old ladies keep a pace worthy of a whole troop of Green Berets – meeting in council with each other, as well as spending hours meeting with us; conducting State ceremonial visits to branches of the Brazilian Government, and many, many other claims upon their sleep and restorative alone time. Lovelight flowed from faces of the mostly-women crowd, who always fly from far-flung places to glorify the importance of Grandmothers… and not in your usual Hallmark Card, syrupy way.
But, I have to confess that my very best moment came when the conference was over…at least for me. Some participants were soldiering on, to canoe deep into the Amazon. I needed to find a ride to the bus station to travel to Abadiania and the John of God Healing Casa, where entities have, for 54 years, been entering the body of a simple man, who has been called the greatest spiritual healer on the planet.
Distances in this recently-manmade city of Brazilia are so far-flung, that it would have cost $80 to taxi into the city, but only $50 to hire hotel manager Raphaela´s, husband to drive me to the station so I could catch a $20 bus for a two-hour ride. I dropped the idea of city sightseeing in favor of heading into beautiful, rural Brazil. My driver turned out to be a professional soccer player (they call it football here), on his way to his practice session.
Ladies and Gentlemen! Eat your heart out! I got to spend an hour driving in fast traffic with Eduardo Jose Turges. At least, I think that´s what he said, in our Portuguese/English attempt at communication. I don´t know sports worth beans, so I probably got it wrong. I can´t find that name on any list of their teams, so I´m sure I did misunderstand. He´s a goalie and the teams on top and they soon fly to Europe and he´s madly in love with his new wife of three months and a baby´s already on the way. Eat your heart out, Enquirer!
Eduardo soon realized that I couldn´t uphold my end of the conversation about any sports, let alone, his…..so he tried modern music. Nope! Í´m Just as dumb on that score. But things changed quickly when I pulled out my laminated topographical map of South America, with a profile of the human spine displayed beside the continent, making the obvious comparison of the Andean Mountain Chain and a human spinal column. Oh my God! I´ve never looked at it that way! May I take a picture of this map, so I can show my teammates?` Of course, this had to happen in heavy, six-lane traffic. A car shot dangerously across our bow just as he was balancing his iphone for the shot, but after the danger was past, I complimented him for his champion, game-winning reflexes.
What would Brazil do to me, I wonder, if I had crashed their star goalie by sharing a bit of my far-out thinking?
Even though he was late for training, Eduardo carried my bag into the station, explained my needs at the ticket booth, and later, came back to make sure I was headed for the correct bus slot. By now, we were such good friends, hugging goodbye, that the ticket lady probably thought I was his mother-in-law. Surely, recognizing him for the sports figure that he is, she came out of her booth and carried my extra bag through the terminal; even introducing me to three other people headed for Abadiania so I´d know when to get off.
But, it was sometime during the next two hours, traveling through that gently rolling countryside, that I truly died and went to Heaven! You´ll have to read about that in my next blog.