Grammy Meets God-Mind

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: March 16, 2019

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Submitted: March 16, 2019





***Stunned on My Birthday - Conversation With God


By Alexander Guinevere Kern




Good day, my Readers. Bless you for continuing to travel along with me, on this Path I Never Wanted.


I was born on March 17th, St. Patrick’s Day, at 5:55 a.m. in 1955.


Tomorrow I will be 64 years old.


As I mentioned before, Stewart Swerdlow proclaims the number 5 is the Christ Frequency.


As you can clearly read in my installment “My Sin Script” Miss Kern is no Angel. Heh! In fact, I am a fairly hum-drum Grammy.


You may have read in my novel (Fictional Non-Fiction, if you catch my suggestion) “Bugged! The Attempted Murder of An American Grammy” I have been a victim of several people Known and many Unknown; designated as a “Useless Eater” and sold as a “Medical Testing Subject” by living Human Beings who are also American.  Thousands of others can tell this story.


I have been disabled from my birth. I noticed a LONG time ago, there is a disabled person in each family of my own, close family.


In EVERY case, the parents (typically Aunts and Uncles and in my personal story, my Father), the disabled Adult/child was, frankly, impossible to deal with, a lifelong torture, a financial burden, cruel and ungrateful, difficult to endure - however the parents spent every last CENT to take care of them. These cousins and my brother and Mother were NEVER forced to get help for their obvious and ofttimes legitimately diagnosed conditions, from Downs Syndrome, to Severe Depression, to Aspergers Syndrome, to Bipolar Disorder to Schizophrenia.


ALL of those cousins, etc., were completely and TOTALLY supported, loved, cherished and taken care of by their parents.  They were entirely protected.  There was NO judgment or condemnation and most of the Parents went nearly broke trying to protect these persons from being discovered, arrested or forced into treatment. The parents were all Well-To-Do.  No one could get past the defiant parents to suggest, even kindly, those critically disabled and ill persons needed some sort of therapy or medical treatment.  These matters ARE private, especially among the Generation of my relatives - at the same time the burden these persons became on their parents and loved ones was IMMENSE.


Often unbearable.


I lived with two of them.  My Father, a gentle, decent and physically weak person, allowed two of my family members to keep him up, night after night, for YEARS, even as he struggled to work full time at a demanding occupation, so he could support, love and sustain their lives in a four bedroom house in a middle-class, wonderful neighborhood.


My Brother-With-Schizophrenia would stand or walk around all night, YELLING his head off, a deep, irrational screeching, bellowing and threatening to kill someone. He filled the house with his “collections” - dozens of televisions, radios, phones, stereos, speakers, beer cans, boxes of trash, coffee makers, CD players, DVD players, electric typewriters, bags of old video cassettes and trash.


My Mother accused everyone of trying to murder her, dye the linings of her purses black, strangle her with technicolor hands, stick pins under her fingernails, steal her white blouses, her navy skirt. Parasites were eating her hair, bloating her belly, swimming through her veins in a yellow submarine, flukes were digesting her brain, there was a TV in the back of her head, a tree was growing out of her head. Radio stations were broadcasting out of her back tooth. Something was coming in and blasting her with gamma rays. She pinned a plate of tinfoil onto her head, and covered her bed headboard with tinfoil. “I’m being murdered by GAMMA!” she’d scream, in that Teeth Across the Nail File Voice.


Okay, one understands the typical features of that thought disorder.


She also called the police to report her own murder. That someone shot her in the back, that The Vandals had stolen her electric typewriter, her new shirt had just up and walked off, an entire family was living in the basement.


She rarely slept, and kept my Father up the entire night, wailing, crying, screaming - until she learned to drink wine. Then she would drink glass after glass. My Father would say, admiringly, “No matter how much your Mama drinks, she never slurs her words.”


When I was growing up, one dare NOT even SAY the words “Alcohol” or “Wine or Beer.” Her father was a terrible alcoholic who ruined her youth, according to her.


They were SO awful, I often thought everyone would be better off if they died. I am NOT the only person to voice that opinion. I kept my opinion to myself. They were THAT insane, selfish, delusional, insulting, extremely abusive - physically, mentally and emotionally. Cruel, loud, accusatory, critical, vile language, a true and present threat to his health and happiness every single day of his life.


My poor Father was so exhausted from trying to care and provide love and protection for these two deeply disturbed people, he tried to drive himself to a physician for his yearly check up and dropped in the parking lot of the Medical Building, was run over and died.


Our country does not allow and will not allow, mentally ill people to be forced into treatment. Our homeless population is majority persons suffering from mental illness, or are drug-addicted, alcoholics or a combo of all three.


Alas, alack.  Many who choose to be homeless, do so because psychiatric drugs cause them to be flat in effect, damages their physical health, causes them pain, fatigue, suffering, confusion, and general malaise.  So they refuse to take the anti-psychotics. Worse yet, most antipsychotics may ultimately (and do) cause a terrible condition: Tardive Dyskinesia - a side effect of long-term use of neuroleptic drugs, which are used to treat psychiatric conditions. Tardive Dyskinesia causes repetitive, involuntary movements, such as grimacing and eye blinking, writhing of the upper torso, repeated thrusting out of the tongue.  There is no cure and stopping the drugs do NOT stop the movement disorder. Despite claims that it is a rare side effect, that is not true.


I mention all of this for a reason.


There are 6 families - four on one side of my family and two on the other.


Each family includes ONE or two members who suffer from these disorders, or others. No one is at fault. These disorders are often inherited, although to my knowledge there is no proof of that. What they are, is devastating to the person, their loved ones, the family finances, stability, security, reputation and yet, as one therapist told me, “Your father is like ALL the parents: they will spend their last dollar trying to care for the ill family member until they pass on or until everyone winds up in the gutter. They don’t want their loved one to be diagnosed and treated. They don’t want neighbors or friends to know about the issue. They will bankrupt themselves to save a child who cannot be saved. The other children and their needs are back-burned or outright ignored to help the child the parents perceive as the most needy.  The illnesses are lifelong and require lifelong treatment.”


These family members were all spoiled. They got what they wanted and lived exactly as they wanted to. One of them constantly moved from her Low Income apartment due to “bad odors” or “strange sounds” and then disappeared. Her Mother searched frantically until she found her drifting in the streets or in a shelter, located a NEW apartment for her daughter and bought all new furniture and every item the girl had left at her previous apartment. All of her bills were paid, her mother covered all her needs. Until she once again “couldn’t sleep” or “was attacked by turtles in the middle of the night” and disappeared again, leaving behind everything her mother just bought for her.


Ten years ago she disappeared entirely and was finally located in a co-ed Homeless Shelter in Washington, D.C.  She refused to change her clothes, so her mother drove down to see her on weekends, asked her to put on a robe while the Mother washed the only clothes she would wear.


I want you to know the real facts - treatment is not perfect and the law states the mentally ill person can take them or not. As long as they are not harming anyone, they are free to live as they are able to live.  But the families, in my larger family, always totally supported them - they lacked nothing.  However, those adult children refused to see psychiatrists, therapists or to take medication of any kind. Everyone was on that good River Denial.


I joined a support group for members who had children with schizophrenia. I listened with horror to one story after another by people who looked like they’d been in a Blitz for most of their lives. They were DONE.  Age 50 and up - their entire lives savaged and ruined by their sick children.  Even more astounding to me was that their sons were all my brother’s age! And their reward? Verbal and physical abuse, and absolutely NO love return for their unselfish care.


I, too, am disabled.  Yet, I was never helped, financially or in any other way, by members of this family, especially my own Mother and Father.


But that is not all. I noticed all the people in my life, harassing and giving me trouble, their objections to my existence, proclaiming me to be an “unfit mother” or “a whore” or “a slut” (LOL!! On what planet??) and so on, were either interested in getting my husband away from me or were in competition to have my children because they could not get pregnant - and these “ladies” were VERY protected by their parents and family, husbands, lovers, wives, what have you.


Most people have a LOT of help being who they are.


Two of those women grabbed my children, (and the husbands) one each, and paraded them around and told people my children were THEIR children!


If that is not “mental illness” - what IS?


Well, I did not have any help. My marriages did not last - unsurprisingly. One ex liked to remind me I had “no family, no money, no nothing” which is why an abuser like him was attracted to a pretty, hard-working girl such as I was at the time.  “A thin, fit woman with a fat paycheck.”


Two of my marriages I walked out - for very good reasons. No woman in her right mind leaves a marriage when she has children, knowing she is going to have to raise those children alone, be viewed as a threat to other women’s marriages, be denied benefits because she DOES work and earn money, but not enough money to pay the rent, utilities, insurance, car insurance, clothing, doctor visits, health care insurance, etc.  Unless she has no other choice  - and I did not have any other choice.


Two of my marriages the man walked out - he found a much younger, far more attractive woman - period.


Hang with me, there is an important reason I am writing about this today.


It may seem I am being unfair or unkind or unsympathetic. The fact remains my children and I received NO HELP AT ALL.


Not only am I permanently disabled, too, as determined by the US Government, but I am the only member to seek treatment and stayed on course with the treatment plan - for 20 years. Their drugs and therapy did NO good whatsoever. A lot of money down the commode. Never mind the stigma, which therapists declare there should not be - yet they are the first to scrutinize and evaluate and criticize if they felt I was “wasn’t taking my medicine” or “showed too much energy.”


WHAT? I have never had any energy my entire life, except maybe when I was a child!  I took their rotgut dirty drugs and became even MORE disabled. Did you know 60% of people on Disability are disabled due to medication side effects?


Of all the disabled family members, I am the only one to have children. My parents could not have cared any less about their own Grandchildren’s well being.  When I desperately needed their help, I was told, “I’m not a babysitter. I’m not a laundry mat,” “I’m not a taxi service.”


No one who heard this story, or was a witness to their callous refusal to assist their own family member, who was at least TRYING to work and care for my children, could bring themselves to believe my parents were that cruel. Whatever issues they had with me, usually related to my rebellious teen-age years, my High School boyfriend or the fact my willingness to seek help for my Depression shed a light on the fact there was a history of mental illness in my family, my children, their own Grandchildren were innocent and they still refused to help me.


My Parents would not come near me when I started taking medication for anxiety. They insulted me and my Father detailed my condition to my Mother as though I were not present, ten feet away from them.  They called me a Drug Addict. They told their friends I was a Drug Addict. They never forgave me for getting treatment for my depression. And giving a detailed family history about the mental illness in our FAMILY.


I nearly died from another dental abscess and my Mother said, dryly, “Isn’t DORS going to help you with that?”  The Department of Rehab tries to help all of its clients, but asking for money for dental or medical treatment in general requires a bit of paperwork and waiting for about a month. I would have died from the infection by the time I received a check to cover the cost of a dental extraction.


Around 18 years of age, my brother started to show the same symptoms of my Mother’s illness. I pointed this out to my Father and begged him to get my brother to a doctor.  I would have done anything to prevent him from suffering as she did.


My Father told me “You are no longer a part of this family” and threatened to cut me out of the Will.


I was so dejected I went into Yet Another Depressive Episode.


Every Parent of one of these adult children lied and denied and spent a fortune trying to keep them out of jail.


My Brother was arrested for running around our neighborhood with our Grandfather’s rifle, aiming it at a young girl, among others.


My father spent $15,000 to keep him out of jail. The Judge was very kind, and understanding, but not even he would order a 50/50, 48 hour hold at a hospital so my brother could be observed, diagnosed and possibly held for treatment, typically for about six weeks.


My other brother and I were stunned! My brother could not communicate during the trial. He spoke in what we call Word Salad. He had NO idea where he was.  Belligerant and obnoxious and unrepentant.  The Judge was not willing to incarcerate him, due to his obvious disability, but neither would he order my brother to be held for two days in a mental health facility where he might have received help.


The stories concerning other family members were identical.  No money was spared to take care of them, no matter how awful, nasty or even violent they were to their parents, their siblings and other family members. They were incredibly spoiled and arrogant. None of them ever worked or contributed a dime to the family.


And I was equally disabled, worked, paid my taxes, for 29 years.  When I went through hard times, no one helped. Ever. I sought treatment and took it completely compliant.


In fact, no doctor or hospital would treat me or admit me. They did not see any evidence I suffered from mental illness.  I had to force them to take me in!


As I have described in my essay about my time with Harlan John, my children and I have been through hell. We were cash poor, surviving on my low income as a drafter, lived-in Homeless Shelters and Battered Women’s shelters and begged for food from church pantries and soup kitchens. I applied for every benefit for which I could qualify, and often I was turned down, once because I earned $5.00 an hour in the wealthiest city in the United States. They felt I earned too much money!


I had two children under 5 at the time. I have never received alimony or child support. Typically the “father” simply dropped out and moved. There was no Internet in those days. Their Mothers were unavailable for comment - and they were also Grandmothers! No one cared about my children, other than women who knew nothing about raising children and STILL grabbed mine!


See how easily Harlan got ahold of me? - my children were older, I had no place to live, no job, no jingle - nothing.  He zoomed in, picked up on my energy, kept me fed, bought me anything I wanted, took care of me, after his fashion, and all I had to do was sleep with him.


Not because I was sexy - get real! Not because I “knew a trick” as my ex used to say when he saw an attractive man with an unbecoming woman.


Because I had Kundalini Fire and he needed it  - knew how to raise it and use it and make our . . . uh . . . romance, hotter than Hell.


Welp, I suppose I should have been grateful. All he did, though, was grind my self-esteem into mud.


And he was still more useful and kind to me that most of my “therapists.”


God, help us all.


I wept to the Artificial Buddha Impersonator about my ex who took my baby, turned her over to his MOTHER (after claiming he had to have his Keeyid) and then took off with his secretary, “How can he do this to me? I was married to him! There were two other children who depended on his income! What on earth was wrong with him?”


The Buddha Impersonator tilted his head back, gazed impassively at me through the bottom of his glasses and intoned, “You drove him crazy.”


Oh, how comforting.


My Story, my experiences, worsened over time, as did my Depression, for obvious reasons.


I was about 28 years old and lovely.  My front tooth had just fallen out - and I was heartbroken. I did not have the money to buy an implant. Finally I talked to a dentist about a flipper, which would have filled in the Alfred E. Newman smile.


Feeling deeply sad, I shared this with the Buddha Impersonator.


“I will sit with you while you mourn the loss of your beauty,”  said the most illustrious dunder-headed asshole in therapeutic history.


He was, as limned previously, grotesque-looking and personally abhorrent - and knew a young woman like me would never have screwed him.


That is how the real world WORKS.


When my last ex “excused” me forcibly from our home, not a month after I’d been hospitalized again, and left for France with his much younger and truth to be told, far more intelligent new girlfriend (now wife) I was once again, poverty-stricken, living on $945 a month SSDI.


You all have read that tale - you get the big picture.


I died.


I had joined a local church, mostly people over 70 years of age. There were a few couples with young children, one single man, several younger adults.


The minister was impressive - she earned her degree in childhood education and later a Doctor of Divinity. Unselfishly, she served that church for 17 years.  Howsumever, she was not fond of me. I still am unsure why.


Our Bible Study class met once per week. The ladies also went out quite often for Girls’ Night entertainments, to which I was never invited.


A lot of ladies my age - and all very likable. All married - to men whose loyalty they questioned. Yet they never invited me to their Fourth of July parties, Back Yard B-B-Qs, never asked if they could visit to see my art work.


ONLY the Church Council President took care of me and befriended me.


One neighbor checked in on me. She was the matriarch of a large family, none of whom did a damn thing around her house - and her children were all over 20. The poor woman worked herself to death and was herself VERY ill.  She still stopped by to visit for 15 minutes, then one of her children would call repeatedly or showed up at the door.


She held backyard parties and never invited me. Her daughter would bring down a plate of food.


Now, come ON. I am not that horrid a person! I could barely walk three blocks and could no longer mow my lawn, so I paid her kids to do it.  I cleaned my house, took care of my cats, bathed and dressed daily, tried to do a little painting and writing - bothered no one, did not drink alcohol, do drugs or hold wild parties.


She did, at first, no doubt wonder why I did not date, or why no man visited, so she sat across from me one day and said, “You’re a nice lady, Miss G, but you’re not my type.”


Imagine Grammy K after THAT interesting comment.


Of course I comprehended nothing. I just told her I liked men.


Whom I have not dated in 21 years now.


They do not ask me.


I mentioned this to my therapist. He said, “The whole neighborhood wants to know, so they picked her as the info-gatherer.”


No one asked if I needed help in the house, help bringing in groceries, help mowing the lawn, help fixing my car, help meeting someone to date. No one asked about my health, my family, my hobbies. But they sure did NOTICE no man came over and no one took me out for companionship or friendship!


So they assumed I was gay.  Huh?


So how come Not One Person in that church, or in my neighborhood, ever mentioned they had a brother/cousin/uncle/father/friend who was divorced or widowed???


It made no sense to me.


I visited other churches, hoping for a larger, more diverse congregation. Most churches were more than half empty, had no Singles and were about to close.


Those exquisite, nearly Medieval structures, nearly empty.  By now, I have heard two of them closed their doors forever, including my home church. Down to 9 people. On my way to Walgreens I used to drive by two large churches which had long ago closed and were boarded up.


So much for Christianity, huh.


After the Attempted Murder of This American Grammy - I began to research what in HELL had happened to me and my life.


I wondered what I could have done, in ANY life, to deserve the hideous molestation of my peace, my mind, body and brain, by my fellow American Citizens.


Dr. Michael Newton and thousands of Near Death Experiencers state firmly Souls choose their Lives - they plan them, they plot them, they set up Karmic Intersections for “work” - Earth is a school, a role-play for Energy Issues (the word Karma is so atrocious) - “nothing is an accident” - “everything is arranged, prompted and programmed for your education.”  “We try to give you the experiences you wanted to have. How you interpret those experiences is up to you.”


Well, I died, and guess whacky?

That was NOT my Plan. I always knew my Plan - a typical, simple plan of a routine Soul.


I marked up a map of my part of Baltimore. I knew what my Prompts were - I learn FAST when my life is in danger. I saw that EACH prompted Intersection involved people who would take care of my various health problems and a Prompt for MENSA for socialization needs and a hook up with the only man I have ever really loved.


I can PROVE every single Programmed Intersection - I can PROVE what happened instead of what was supposed to occur.


My own lover, who was to be with me the rest of my life - arrived right on time.  My ex hated him - he knew I really, truly, adored that gentleman.


Well, he was still a daily pot smoker so I was not thrilled. Grammy detests weed.


(My Grandmother used to say, “Gwennie, pretty is as pretty does, and POT is NOT PRETTY.”  I guess I took her at her word!)


And within one month and he AND my ex were so infatuated and obsessed with my 23 year old daughter, they boldly TOLD ME SO and ruthlessly competed over her affections. No man in HIS right mind tells his ex-wife or ex-girlfriend he is sexually hot for her daughter! There was NO need to insult or hurt me!


The Queen being who she is, tore them a new one.


They Did Not Call Again.


I endured at Parksley Avenue what NO human ever could. I had NO choice, no money, no place to go, no one to help me.


I received many, many “altered Dreamscape dreams” (if you’ve never had one or don’t believe your Mind can be manipulated, good for you, but the degraded and depraved members of the military who use tech to accomplish this love it when you DON’T believe me) - in which Spirit Beings chided, insulted, criticized, spewed filthy language at me, vicious.  These Beings taunted me with how I was in Prison for deeds “which will take you two lives to make up for/“


I wondered what my Soul had done to deserve what was clearly a Hell Program. How perfect I was for such a loving “lesson!”  Sick, powerless, weak and vulnerable.


I have prayed for death for 30 years. I died, and because some Soul wanted more time on the Earth Plane Vibration, SOMEHOW I was resurrected in another Timeline Movie, Folks and woke up none the wiser.  And was tortured with very real weapons and controlled with very real Mind Control for 14 years.


I know the Realm of Light and the Denizens of the Dark Side. I’ll bet no one knows them like I DO, except for Occult practitioners.


The Realm of Light was 100% aware of what was happening with Grammy. And that I had been set up for that abuse.


Love and Light? One nasty Being bellowed at me, “Love and Light is NOT what you GET. Love and Light is what you serve!”


I did not agree to their Plan and their Program.


But they sure as heck used me for their crazed agenda.


The Light has never responded to my request for 1/21st of a second NDE so I can see what on Earth I had done to warrant such an abuse of the Soul.


Not a word. Not one word of comfort. Nothing.



They know I have written all you can read on Booksie.


They are just waiting for me to die, as all Humans do, believing in their Bug Culture that is the surest way to be secure in their persons that Grammy can bother them no more. The Arrogance of the Immortals. Does. Not. Make. Them. Holy. Does. Not. Make. Them. RIGHTEOUS. Does Not Make Them Good.


They are not good for MANKIND.


Who call themselves Love and Light in order to secure and control our brains, minds, bodies, energies - but are in fact, Satan and his angels of darkness, no matter where he has parked his desk tops and flat screens lately.


Sorry, Satan.  I know you are really only several Planes below Love and Light and I am not mad at you.  How are the demons I have damaged with my humor and my wicked wit?  “Source” depends upon your Thespian Crews, so what can I really say? You do your job - rather well, unfortunately for me.


No matter how many prayers and begging, The Light offered no comment, no comfort, no uplifting dreams, no Light Beings filtering down the feelings of love and acceptance and assurance, that Grammy has never done anything to deserve Hell in her life, torture of her person, abuse of her Soul.


But they remain silent. Because what they say can and WILL be used against them.


Not. One. Word.


People have cried out to “God” many times and just as often, their Soul is brought up and God answers them.


I gave up and began writing this series of installments. This is my own story. THEY will ramble on about how I know nothing; I am only an Ape; I can’t live without one of their Light Being Bug Souls; I don’t understand God’s Ultimate Plan is far more important than my drivel and my happiness.


And so on, ad infinitum.


They are SO gutless, they won’t even say it to my Ape face.


Invisible and Visible Beings who tortured me as just as COWARDLY.


Cowards never tell their names or put their name out there, where everyone can read their story and their point of view.


I may be called crazy, but I am damn well no COWARD.


Stewart Swerdlow teaches about Hyperspace Healing, and specifically about a Deity he calls God-Mind.


Learning to enter Hyperspace is not as easy as he claims. I consider it a worthy objective.


Connecting with God-Mind is supposed to be a no-brainer, since our Crown Chakra is the center of God-Mind in humans.


Mr. Swerdlow teaches how to contact and pray to God-Mind.


I found God-Mind answers every question I ask Him.


One aspect of this connection is that it is possible to obtain God Mind Totality.


Extremely, extremely difficult.


Working with Hyperspace energy is dangerous.  One might say you need special training to heal with Hyperspace energy. Your Soul CAN be provoked to go into Hyperspace, where all is known and all answers live.  Hyperspace is behind ALL Realities.


I LOVE to enter God-MInd. It feels like Home to me. I rest there. I dream there. I sit in the Mind of my Maker and feel peace . . . sheltered . . . protected . . . loved.


Two days ago, God-Mind talked back.


Grammy was, for once, silenced.


God began to speak.  He wanted me to know Him, how He thinks, what He wants for Humanity, how He views  . . . everything.


Deeply serious, loving, he cherishes all He has created.


He does not agree with Karmic Agreements which cause suffering to Human Beings, because He Made All Things.

The “Love and Light Beings,” who are Know-It-All Snobs, and speak of how THEY are particles of Source, who is All Light and All Love and All That Is, speak disparagingly about Humankind.


“No more intelligent than pigs, cows, horses, dogs . . . “


Even though they CLAIM SOURCE made All That Is - which includes Humans, according to Source.


Apparently they believe Source made THEM immortal so they are BETTER than those silly Lifeform Human Creations.


Their Lives as Us are “unimportant and don’t matter and are only for Evolution.”


They pay off energy debts (Karma) by arranging and programming Intersections with other Role Players so they can switch roles and learn how they treated the other Being by being treated the same in this life.


But God does not think like this.

God believes two wrongs do not a right make.


God’s revelation about Himself felt more like He seeks Perfection, Correction, Healing, than in terms of moral or ethical, even. He seeks peace among all parts of His Mind, all Beings of His Creation.


You could aver that the Monsters who tortured me in my former home were “negative aspects” of God-Mind.


God is far more likely to think of them as aspects which require healing. He spoke eloquently concerning the healing of Mankind.


He grumbled about the Teachers and Masters of Source, who dare to claim they educate, and reward with “Heaven” those Beings who “acquit themselves of their roles” properly, whose Souls are applauded after a good “Performance.”


Source claims it is not racist or prejudice. Of course it is!  The Soul only receives comfort and joy and uplifting and healing and all the answers It wants, once the HUMAN DIES.


This is hypocrisy, for God created All Things.


God does not think like that.  He is not into “Dramatic Performances” but about showing love, thinking love, being Love, indeed, and healing with that emotion.


I honestly thought He meant, He was seeking parts of His Creation which needed “correction for errors,” not allowing Dark Force entities and Human Monsters to torment me and thousands of others because of Soul Contracts or the Power of their Will or their sure knowledge that once their bodies die, they will be sent back to Source no matter what they do - what they do - what they do - so why not use Miss Kern, who has already died and is dead-ended in her miserable Human Life as a Test Study Subject, Medical Human Trafficking Slave?


Why not? She’s only Human.


God does not think that way.


I humbly and tearfully asked why the Light Being Teachers and Spirit Guides do not give me comfort or direction.


He said, “ASK ME. I will answer your questions. Don’t bother with them.”


So I asked what crime or sin I had committed to draw into my World, these demonic and Satanic and dastardly men and women and their gruesome array of sadistic Mind Control tech and SATweapons testing and general Life of Hell.


His answer shocked me . . . it FLOORED me . . . it explained *everything.*


All of it. All of my life.


He said, “You were the least of these.”


Sometimes the Soul does not know what God is up to.  Surely the Source did not know what God was up to.


Teachers and Spirit Guides and Masters be damned. Not even THEY would help a sick, old, medicated, hopeless, helpless, poverty-stricken old Grammy, alone and lonely beyond lonely in her collapsing life and house.


I find it interesting that Souls uncountable deny there is a Yahweh. There is, of course, no Jesus, either.


Yet this is a Jesus Christ lesson, is it not?


I was the least of these - and almost NOBODY helped me. Crap about how the kids were “better off” with step-mothers who only wanted my husbands so they grabbed my children and presented them as THEIR children. I have those nasty, little cat-fight bitch letters from the one in Mississippi - a pile of them - I have never MET her and she knows nothing about me. I rarely even answered her vile letters.  I was weak, powerless and vulnerable, deeply down in Spirit, alone, frightened, poor and thought I would die if anyone ever took my children.


So I assume the “Source of All That Is” arranged that?  Not to mention a certain Fly in New York has all the downloaded Akashic Records, making Source a friend of the Devil, the Dark Force, or what?


My wealthy parents and all the other parents who give out their life energy and money to protect and defend their insane and defective children, but never had a thought, prayer or dime for me, not even a dinner invitation.


The Holy Church people who heard a rumor that I had been dumped by my wealthy doctor husband for a young, beautiful PhD woman, and yet found no sympathy or urge to be sociable, to invite ME along on Girls’ Night Out parties?


No one knew ANYONE who might have wanted to be friends with me??


Something about Love - Christian duty, faith, charity, caring, compassion?


That rather than ask if I needed any help, only wanted to know if I was gay or straight because they never saw anyone enter or leave my house?


I fell down the stairs, I fell in the shower, I FELL OUT OF BED, due to drug side effects, drugs which did not cure or relieve my depression, nor my super hypertension.


All I ever did was go from Doctor to Therapist to Church To Pharmacy To Dentist. The Church Council President drove me to and from - and sat for HOURS with me in ERs and dentist’s offices, the waiting rooms of many doctors. She was the ONLY ONE who ever took care of me.


Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter - no one invited me. The Church Council President always did.


That was my “life.” Souls rejoice to Hypnotherapists how grateful they are to share a “Life” with us, although when they first assault an innocent fetus, they have to give it time to “adjust to becoming a HOST.”


Adjust to being a HOST - to . . . Parasites??


Some Souls report the Baby does not like them and wants to get rid of them.  They tell the baby they are there to have fun, to play games.




I was as sick as all of my other family members, and received no assistance but from a very few.


I have paid back every cent I ever borrowed to those few who helped me, even when they did not know me at all. Every cent.


I was a figure of pity  - deserving of love and compassion, yet all you cared about was who I was DATING?


I remember every person who extended their kindness to me without any expectation of repayment.


I remember you.


And so does God.


God likes, wants, loves - to heal wounds, to love His Creation, to correct errors, to bring relief, to free the slaves, to . . .


help the least of these.


“Matthew 25:40-45 New International Version (NIV)


40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’


41 “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’


44 “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’


45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’



Guinevere - Healed in One Fell Swoop


21 Pages, 21 Grams, The Weight of Five Nickels, the Weight of the Human Soul.


“I made it all, the Seen and the Unseen, Subject To My Sole Rule.”


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