May 22nd and May 23rd: Cristael's book, 'Sacred Light, Spirit Eagle' will be available as a free download on Amazon.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Coming Up: Los Angeles IANDS Presentation
On Saturday, May 25th, I will be doing a presentation of my book, 'Sacred Light Spirit Eagle' at the Los Angeles IANDS Group in Culver City. Here's the announcement sent out by the group.
| |
We request a donation of $10 per person, but no one will be turned away.
Grace Lutheran Church
Directions: From the 10 Fwy, exit at the Overland offramp and go South to Culver City. From the 405 Fwy., exit at Culver Blvd and take Culver blvd. East to Overland Ave., where you turn South.
Grace Lutheran Church is at 4427 Overland Ave, 4 blocks South of Culver Blvd. Turn West from Overland Ave. on Franklin Ave. and park on the street. The room is on Overland Ave. through the Sunday School entrance. Go down the stairs and Room 8 is at the East end of the hallway. If you plan to attend, please RSVP to Denis Purcell (310) 477-7417 or Laiands@aol.com |
Orange County IANDS Group Near Death Presentation
On Saturday, May 11th, I did a presentation at the Orange County IANDS Group. This was my first presentation, and it was a grand experience. People were engaged, they were interested in what I had to say, and they had a great response. Questions and comments sparked like popcorn.
There was one NDE'r in the group, and several people who had had visionary experiences of one kind and another. One woman said she saw her mother after her death, sitting in a chair, and she was as real and as solid as when she was in her earthly body. And a nurse who cared for dying people said that down through the years she had dealt with many people who had visions and other experiences.
The questions that they asked were specific and to the point, and the whole group got into quite a discussion about the science/religion/NDE debates. There was a lot of frustration with the inability of science to understand or even acknowledge NDE'rs experiences as having validity.
All in all, I couldn't have had a better group for my first presentation. Thanks to Robin and Angel and all the group members for their hospitality and their interest.
There was one NDE'r in the group, and several people who had had visionary experiences of one kind and another. One woman said she saw her mother after her death, sitting in a chair, and she was as real and as solid as when she was in her earthly body. And a nurse who cared for dying people said that down through the years she had dealt with many people who had visions and other experiences.
The questions that they asked were specific and to the point, and the whole group got into quite a discussion about the science/religion/NDE debates. There was a lot of frustration with the inability of science to understand or even acknowledge NDE'rs experiences as having validity.
All in all, I couldn't have had a better group for my first presentation. Thanks to Robin and Angel and all the group members for their hospitality and their interest.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Two Freebie Days Coming Up
On May 22nd and 23rd, you will be able to get free downloads of 'Sacred Light Spirit Eagle'.
Go to Amazon Kindle: http://amzn.to/13jipfm
Go to Amazon Kindle: http://amzn.to/13jipfm
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
My First Five Book Reviews Are Up!
I now have five (5) book reviews up. This is absolutely great. Tom Briant wrote a great one paragraph review, short and succinct.
One of the reasons I'm so over the top about this is that now that I have my first five reviews I can get my 'Freebies Days' published on a lot more websites. That means I can get the announcements about 'Sacred Light Spirit Eagle' being free on certain days each month (they vary) out to more and more people.
Reviews are pure gold!
One of the reasons I'm so over the top about this is that now that I have my first five reviews I can get my 'Freebies Days' published on a lot more websites. That means I can get the announcements about 'Sacred Light Spirit Eagle' being free on certain days each month (they vary) out to more and more people.
Reviews are pure gold!
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Upcoming NDE Presentation
Saturday, May 11th: 11:00 to 4:00 pm: I'll be giving a talk at Orange County IANDS Group on my Near Death Experience.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Post-Partum Writers Depression
I came back from my Near Death Experience with no answers. All I had were questions. In particular the big aching overall question in the center of my abdominal region, wordlessly asking, 'What am I going to do now? What is my life worth now? What has my life ever been worth?'
For months after the experience, I stared at the walls. I was everlastingly tired and enervated, and everything was colored over by a formless greyness that kept me from moving, either hand or foot, any more than I had to. And that something inside me kept on squirming and twisting, asking me questions that made no sense. Just a big endless vacancy where there should be answers.
Part of this was grieving over what had been left behind, the fading of passing time. Watching helpless, as the most vivid moment I had ever been in the center of, became past rather than present. Being enveloped in the presence of that Light Intelligence, that pure and endless stream of divine love, that challenge, that demand.
And part of it was readjusting to an Earth that was suddenly strange and alien to me. It was like visiting a long-ago childhood home and finding it smaller and dingier and more cramped than I remembered it being, and knowing that I was going to have to live in this small enclosed life, inside this body, for who knew how long. How many more years would it be before I would once more be free? And what was I going to do with all this empty time and squeezed-in space?
I remembered the words of Dr. Viktor Frankl, 'We do not ask life, what is the meaning of life? Life asks us, what is the meaning of your life? And life demands our answer.'
But I had no answers. And it was in that long-suspended state, of twisting and turning in that meaningless nothing, that I began to write. For a long time it was journal writing, which was like head-beating on walls, or on the keyboard in front of the computer. And finally I realized that what I needed to write about was the Experience itself, rather than the verbal fits and starts of my pitiful angst and my pitiless analytical brain, each at endless war with the other.
So I began to write. Who, what, when, where, but no why or how. I spent time wrestling with sentences, like wrestling with eels that twisted and turned and kept slipping away from my self-conscious attempts at describing the indescribable and unscrewing the inscrutable.
As the book began to take lumpy shape I found myself becoming a witness to myself, at the same time living the experience, and observing myself living through dying. I spent days when I had no awareness of being in a small apartment, for I was back in the mountains west of Pecos, riding my horse along trails that were enclosed by tall pines, where the only sound was the wind in the trees, riding my horse one moment, then remembering that she had been dead for decades. Hating to come back to the tiny apartment and the noisy, smelly, siren-ridden streets of Los Angeles.
Over days and months and several long years I became a witness, writing, stretched between two worlds, one earthly illusion, the other a vivid out-of-body reality. Writing became the suspension wire between the two, as I danced and whirled and lost my balance and grabbed it back again.
And then it was done. Finished. Completed. Like a long and strained birthing after endless labor, it was out of me. And somehow in that separation it had taken on its own life. And it was almost ready to leave me and go out in that illusory world and speak its truth.
And I was left wondering what I would do next.
For months after the experience, I stared at the walls. I was everlastingly tired and enervated, and everything was colored over by a formless greyness that kept me from moving, either hand or foot, any more than I had to. And that something inside me kept on squirming and twisting, asking me questions that made no sense. Just a big endless vacancy where there should be answers.
Part of this was grieving over what had been left behind, the fading of passing time. Watching helpless, as the most vivid moment I had ever been in the center of, became past rather than present. Being enveloped in the presence of that Light Intelligence, that pure and endless stream of divine love, that challenge, that demand.
And part of it was readjusting to an Earth that was suddenly strange and alien to me. It was like visiting a long-ago childhood home and finding it smaller and dingier and more cramped than I remembered it being, and knowing that I was going to have to live in this small enclosed life, inside this body, for who knew how long. How many more years would it be before I would once more be free? And what was I going to do with all this empty time and squeezed-in space?
I remembered the words of Dr. Viktor Frankl, 'We do not ask life, what is the meaning of life? Life asks us, what is the meaning of your life? And life demands our answer.'
But I had no answers. And it was in that long-suspended state, of twisting and turning in that meaningless nothing, that I began to write. For a long time it was journal writing, which was like head-beating on walls, or on the keyboard in front of the computer. And finally I realized that what I needed to write about was the Experience itself, rather than the verbal fits and starts of my pitiful angst and my pitiless analytical brain, each at endless war with the other.
So I began to write. Who, what, when, where, but no why or how. I spent time wrestling with sentences, like wrestling with eels that twisted and turned and kept slipping away from my self-conscious attempts at describing the indescribable and unscrewing the inscrutable.
As the book began to take lumpy shape I found myself becoming a witness to myself, at the same time living the experience, and observing myself living through dying. I spent days when I had no awareness of being in a small apartment, for I was back in the mountains west of Pecos, riding my horse along trails that were enclosed by tall pines, where the only sound was the wind in the trees, riding my horse one moment, then remembering that she had been dead for decades. Hating to come back to the tiny apartment and the noisy, smelly, siren-ridden streets of Los Angeles.
Over days and months and several long years I became a witness, writing, stretched between two worlds, one earthly illusion, the other a vivid out-of-body reality. Writing became the suspension wire between the two, as I danced and whirled and lost my balance and grabbed it back again.
And then it was done. Finished. Completed. Like a long and strained birthing after endless labor, it was out of me. And somehow in that separation it had taken on its own life. And it was almost ready to leave me and go out in that illusory world and speak its truth.
And I was left wondering what I would do next.
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