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hank you all who have tried to call or email me. I haven't been able to call out, nor use my usual email. Earthlink cables were housed in the Trade Center and all of Manhattan users are attempting with futility, to share one access number.
I am so grateful for your love and concern. Have no fear. I am fine, while attempting to integrate surreal images of Tuesday's disaster into my daily reality.
I try to avoid glances out my window towards the Twin Towers. I now realize how effectively they anchored me at the start of every day. When I do look, the reality hits and I feel sick. I find myself obsessing about little things, when my psyche cannot wrap itself around the reality of the big thing.
From my rooftop, I watched people jump from the second tower just before it fell. It is so true, how indelible the images remain when viewed in person. I sobbed as I felt (and watched) a herd of souls catapult from their bodies just before the building collapsed. I continued to send the message, "GO TO THE LIGHT!" I sensed that one particular soul shepherded them to the Light with tremendous focus. His name was "David."
I stood in line to give blood but they were inundated and ran out of plastic bags. Unfortunately, too few people have been found to use the generous donations. I'm praying to be shown how my gifts might be used to help, mindful of the necessity to respect and support others through the important grieving process and not rush in too quickly. I long to assure those left behind, that their loved ones still exist; that death is an illusion.
I live on 13th Street—one block south of 14th—the boundary that separates the eerie silence to the south, from stores to the north. Today, those shops and restaurants attempted to rev up to a semblance of business-as-usual. Traffic on those streets was halted sporadically for National Guard trucks, police-escorted Metro buses—used to carry medical personnel and rescue workers—and screaming ambulances, fire engines and police cars.
We all know what each other feels when we stand in any given crosswalk on 6th Avenue—"The Avenue of the Americas"—and look south. The Twin Towers were our compass that directed us north and south. Yesterday, I stood in the middle of the vacant intersection at 6th and 13th, beside an elderly woman who dropped her bag of groceries on the street, freeing both hands to cover her face as she wept at the sight.
Uncontrollable grief overcomes many of us at the most unexpected times, overriding diverting thoughts with powerful emotion. It happened for me today, while waiting for the overcrowded "F" train, one of the few currently in operation. A young man from Japan sat on a crate, playing "Oh Danny Boy" on his "erhuir," an odd looking stringed instrument. All who sat on the bench with me—to my right and to my left—cried without embarrassment. A burly man who waited near the tracks wiped his eyes with his dirty sleeve.
One of the most heartbreaking stories I heard on the news last night, came from a rescuer at "ground zero," who reported that a Hispanic man had grabbed her, crying that his brother had reached him on his cell phone, trapped in the rubble and aware that rescuers were trying to reach him. His cell phone cut off, and Verizon Phone Company was able to beam a signal to his phone.
The woman and the man's brother waited until enough rubble was cleared that would allow them to approach the location of the renewed signal. Suddenly, the rescuer heard the three horn blasts that warned of an immanent building collapse. Two blasts indicated a building already falling. She ran for her life. She never found the man who led her to his brother, and the tumbled building buried the location that they had just approached.
We are energy, and we beam telepathic signals to each other all the time, beyond time and the illusion of death. I knew that my telepathic signal did reach those who left their bodies at the moment of the collapse of the second tower. Your prayers and thoughts will reach the thousands who have died in the last few days, as well as those who remain.
In Beyond Boundaries, I related the story of a consultation I did for a client years ago, a woman who is an FBI agent. In her session, I viewed the projection of a soul and relayed the image of this man with a white beard, blue shirt, carrying a paper under his arm. He said to my client, "Your thoughts helped us know where to go."
My client knew the identity of this man. She said that he was a scientist from Cal Tech in Pasadena, CA. who was on a flight from Los Angeles to San Francisco. He was to deliver a paper at a University in the Bay Area. A disgruntled airline employee took control of the plane, forcing a nose-dive into the ground in San Luis Obispo. She said that she heard the alert about the incident on her car radio and knew immediately, that she would be called to the scene.
She remembered that as she searched through all the rubble at the site, she contemplated all the souls who must be going to the Light at that moment. She was astonished to learn that just those thoughts guided so many of them to the Light.
Amazingly, my daughter was able to call me from where she is living in Jerusalem. In that tumultuous country, she has found tremendous joy and serenity. Her conversion to Judaism and marriage into the Hasidic community is the subject of my next book, The Israel Story: Roots and Wings, A Hesitant Journey into the Land of Hasidism. She said that Joseph, her very kind and loving husband, had been worrying about me all day. "What can we do for her?" he was asking, over and over.
Finally, he came to my daughter and announced (in Yiddish), "I have decided that we shall invite your mother to come stay with us for as long as she wishes. She can be here where she is safe and loved." I asked her to please thank Joseph for his kindness.
I laughed and said, "I now have a most generous invitation to come stay in the most dangerous country in the world, for my safety."
"I know, Mom," my daughter replied, "there are many terrorist acts committed here on a regular basis. But Hashem (God) watches over us. More people were killed in one day in New York City, than in years in Israel." Maybe she has a point. Today I heard that more people have died here, than the numbers that perished in Pearl Harbor, a major airline crash and on the Titanic, combined.
I have decided to dedicate my Fridays—my writing day—to consult for those who have lost loved ones in this disaster, at half price. Please leave a message at the Illuminations number—or email us—if/when you know of a victim's friend or relative who is being challenged by this disaster, and for whom a consultation might assist in their spiritual awakening. I will respond through individual consulations or in small groups, similar to the "Reading in the Round" format.
I've seen contracting fear transform into expanding love and hope when people are shown specific examples of their intimate connection to the Source, moments when they experienced an awareness of that connection, but did not define it as such. And I've seen peoples' lives change and gain meaning when they receive evidence that death is, indeed, an illusion. And I've seen countless numbers of people awaken to their spiritual paths, with the loss of loved ones.
As always, I ask, and will continue to be shown how to serve. And you will be shown. So don't hesitate to ask. Please send your thoughts and prayers to all these souls—the grieving friends and families, and to all those who are going "home."
One more thing:
Before forwarding any more Hallmark Card-ish platitudes, please ask yourself where and how the horror of this tragedy affects you, personally. What is it stirring up in you? What does a particular feeling—fear, anxiety, anger, sadness—remind you of? When have you felt this before? Where does that thread lead you?
It is only by accessing and processing our own personal emotions about this—by reaching deeper within ourselves—that we can get to the root of our personal darkness, all that we've returned to heal and evolve on from. This is the only way that we can avoid reflexive reactions of judgment, hatred, bigotry, and vengeance. Quite often, those emotions are our projections (or should I say, projectiles?)—into our world and onto others—of our own, unprocessed baggage.
Indeed, we have returned to this physical dimension to unpack our bags of fears, mis-beliefs and perceptions of separation of (or abandonment by) the Source. Let us take this opportunity to sort through all that has held us back—all that has delayed our soul's journey—and take another look at untruths that we have carried to our graves. When we follow those revealing threads, then healing can begin. Only then, can fear transform in to love, forgiveness, compassion and understanding. Only then, do we become the receivers of truly intuitive, divine inspiration.
PS: Regarding political and sociaI sentiments, I cannot say it more heartfully nor succinctly than Michael Toms (below), the founder of New Dimensions Radio, PBS
Much love