College of God & Love, College of Matriarchal Love, Core Tenets, Uncategorized




2-26-21  Continue Chapter 8 




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 ‘She was unsociable, uncaring of everyone’ -

 ‘Kidnapped 3 times – Mexico twice, U.S. once’ 

‘Steals Mr. Riley’s credit card, tries to frame me for it’

‘No Deodorant for Rasa’

‘My talent to draw stunted’

‘The Purpose of Writing My Life’


She didn’t just hate me, she didn’t care about anyone.  One exception.  On Delancey St. Newark a ‘bum’ {today we call them homeless} came to the door begging.  We had a huge loaf of bread – the kind they bake in Eastern Europe, Russia, Poland, Lithuania.  These breads are not like ‘wonder bread,’ they’re thick with flavor & nutrition, with dark crusts & weigh between 4 to 6 pounds.  Mom cut one of these huge loaves in half & gave it to the poor man!  It could sustain him for days.  That is the only act of charity I can recall her making. {I was 6-7}


  She was a mean machine, who once, when I couldn’t finish my home fries, beat me on the head with her fists.  Grandma stopped it.  I figured we were not rich & she wanted me to fill up on fries rather than  eggs, that’s what maddened her, – I was 6 years old.

When we moved to the farm across the street from us one house down was an ancient couple.  I stopped by from time to time – they were poor, must have been in their 70′s or 80′s & not active or healthy.  The man had Alzheimer’s starting. They were kind & the old lady gave me purses, when perused through, had change in them, which she obviously wanted to give me.  Change then was like dollars today – a dime was worth a dollar.

I was dismayed, however, when the poor lady asked my Mom for a ride to the grocery store & Mom said no.  I had to walk over there & say 

“My mother said no.”

That’s just out & out cruelty.  She had the car, she could drive, she could have done it.  No explanation given.  These were old desperate people, the only time they asked us for anything.

It frustrated me when we were at a pizza place & a family a few tables away, the Mom began to speak Lithuanian in a loud voice.  The Dad told her to hold it down, people will hear you, & she said,

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I told Mom, let’s talk to her, but she nodded her head no.  I walked by their table looking at them longingly but could not say a word.  We could have been friends.  Finding someone else who was Lithuanian & spoke it out there was one in a million & we lost it.

When we moved to Middletown, same thing.  I got friends with a lovely neighbor.  The Mom asked, could you ask your Mom if she could come visit?  I ran to Mom eagerly telling her the message.

For a moment she seemed to think about it, then she said no, no explanation.  I was sad.  I believe part of it is she lacked social confidence, her English was not great.  With Lithuanians she was a ‘Queen B’.  We had fetes every Holiday with many guests at our table, they adored her as she set a Queen’s table, & they gave money to us kids, like one man gave $10.  That was worth $100. then.  {I’m sure the money had to be handed over to her.  That was the polite way guests gave her money, by pretending to give it to us.  I follow the same traditional.  Whenever I’m invited to dinner by families I give money ‘for the children’, chocolates, flowers, sometimes treats for their animals if they have them.  One family had many dogs & 4 horses, they got dog biscuits & apples.} 


I made two trips to Mexico, {Acapulco} first for an abortion, second for fun, but it was hazardous.

My Spanish was minimal, I knew like 20 words.  There was a young male who offered me a ride some place, & I got in the car.  Why I was sitting in the back, I don’t know.

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He started driving instead of our destination, way into the jungle, a mountainous region.  He picked up another guy & was talking so nervously, so excited, I knew he was planning to take me somewhere where the two of them could rape me.  I kept saying to stop the car, I’m getting out, but he wouldn’t.

Finally he slowed down enough that I jumped out of the car.  I am now jogging up this mountainous road wondering where the fuck I am, when a dog runs out of the bushes & bites me in the leg, on the calf, a hard bite.  When I went to the gay men’s beach about 20 different guys walked up to me to ask what happened, & the authorities made me sign papers before I left as I think they were worried about rabies.

Then it got worse.  When I went to fly back to America there was a big storm & the plane stopped in Mexico City.  I figured I’d spend a couple days touring before I got the next plane, which I did, walking around in a beautiful lowcut black dress & heels.

These 3 young males stopped me & asked if I  wanted to see Chapultepec Park, & I said yes.  I had no idea it was like going to Central Park in the evening – as it was getting late – & after dark it’s dangerous, until they drove me deep into the park, into an isolated place.  The two aggressive punks left me inside the car while they got out & conferred I presume how to rape me & what to do then.

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The submissive, passive one stayed in the car with me & I plotted with him to get me out.  He spoke English & I think he was gay, so he wasn’t in the plot to rape.  I was in front, the keys still in the car, but the problem was it was the kind you have to shift – I had done it before but was rusty & afraid to drive it.

I jumped out & tried to run, but in heels, & bad floppy ones at that – sandals – they caught me fast.  They are nervous wrecks, again, & through the passive one, I persuade them don’t rape me here, let’s go to a motel/hotel where we can be comfortable.

So they drive me out of the park.  I see two police standing on the side of the road & I scream out to them.  They had no idea what I was saying, but the guys got so scared they went about 50′ & let me leave the car & speeded off.

The police didn’t know what to do with me, but they knew an American family nearby – they took me there.  A friend of the family drove me back to my hotel but not before sexually harassing me, end of story.

Moral:  It’s dangerous for a female to walk around alone any place, to get into a car with any male, especially if she’s built like Jayne Mansfield & wears a revealing dress.

Last item:  I go to the Metropolitan Opera in New York City, first time in my life.  I thought everyone dressed formal, I saw movies.  I put on a blue satin floor length gown, low cut of course, I wear my dark wig that hangs behind me to the waist.  Upon arriving I see I am way overdressed.  I think it was Franco Corelli in Aiida, I was infatuated with him, it was great.

Then I leave & see a limo, he stops me & says he’ll drive me home for free, a young guy.  He has another couple he has to drop off first, which he does.  Then it’s my turn but where the fuck is he going?  I know he’s up to no good, the streets don’t look right, he’s kidnapping me.  I tell him to stop I am getting out, but he won’t.

Finally he stops for a red light, my chance, I jump out & run where I see a cop, tell him what happened, feel relieved, then catch a cab home.

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Two other times they tried to corner me but I got out.  My guardian angels worked overtime.  I go to a Jack LaLanne gym, the young manager sees me & tells everyone an announcement he’s closing early – I know he’s going to corner me & try rape as soon as the others leave {I had just got there.}  I never got dressed & exited a gym so fast.

Then I go to a hair dressing salon where two gay men do the same thing.  The owner tells me he’s going to close the gym, then he & his friend can ‘play sex games’ with me.  That petrified me, I couldn’t even imagine what he wanted to do, I ran like Hell.

Yes, I did get raped several times, I try not to think about it.  They were all date rapes, where a guy threatens you like harm will come to you if you don’t cooperate, or they hint is if you don’t put out they beat you up or hurt or stab you or something, ‘You don’t know what I did to my last girl friend’, etc.  I don’t feel like speaking of the cases right now.


My Dad really hurt me when I went to live with him in B’klyn, regarding my artistic talent.

  When I was little – age 6 to 8 – Marius {Mom’s lover} worked in a paper factory.  Yes, he was the organist in Church, but that was Sunday/Holidays, he had to have a full time job.

He’d bring home reams of paper, like 1K sheets in a batch, they all went to me for drawing.  Dad encouraged me & I became, for my age, a prodigy, so good that in the 1st grade {age 6} they had a child’s gallery in a museum where I was included.

It was kindergarten that my talent surfaced.  I couldn’t speak English so they put me in the ‘lower/dumber’ kindergarten.  Then we had to draw.  I saw a picture on the wall of two birds on a branch, looked at it & drew it.  The teacher came, she called a couple other teachers over, & I was put in the ‘higher’ kindergarten class.

After that, every teacher in every class up to 8th grade, when we had blackboards, made me draw murals on top the boards.  Mrs.  Cooper in 7th grade even asked if I could teach a drawing class.  But I was unable to transmit my ability to the others, it takes practice, & first of all, talent.

The talent never left me, but the skill eventually did, because in the 5th grade {age 10} when I found out Dad would never join us, I made a vow,

“I’ll never draw again, out of protest, it will be noticed, .”

But no one noticed, they didn’t care, I just, eventually, lost my skill, the talent going into other fields like dance & photography.

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I saw a movie where the guy playing Paganini could no longer play after his sweetheart was ordered to marry another man {by the King.}  It was like that.  A trauma or broken heart can stop you dead in your tracks.  Shirley Bassey couldn’t sing for a while after she lost her daughter.

  “I walked on the stage and opened my mouth to sing Goldfinger,” she said. “Nothing came out.”

Samantha Novak, 21, was found face down in the River Avon, near the Clifton suspension bridge in Bristol, in 1985.”

  Dean Martin lost his zest for life after losing his son:

“Dean Martin’s son and a fellow crewman died instantly when their fighter jet slammed into a remote mountainside in dense clouds six days ago, officials said after finding the fliers’ bodies. Searchers found the remains Wednesday of Air National Guard Capt.”

And as I said, I stopped drawing.  But the talent was still there, & obviously, not all my skill was gone because at age 15, in B’klyn, I had a wonderful black lady art teacher.  One day she told me there was a 5 school contest coming up – I should enter.

Enter it I did, to please her mostly, & won second place.  My watercolor ‘Water Tower’ which I painted from my 6th floor window took four days.  The boy who won 1st place took 3 weeks to do his drawing of a from the high roof-type street scene.

OK, during this time also, I did other art, spur of the moment.  They were painting of frustration, anger, unrequited desires, & all the turmoil I went through.  Those had meaning.  But others, where I tried to do landscape scenes, were dead.  My Dad looked at my work & nodded his head,

“No, you don’t have it any more.”

Not spoken in words but implied.

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But Dad, you don’t know the whole story & you didn’t ask.  I quit drawing because I lost you, & now, you dismiss my art like trivia, which I suppose it is.  But why?  Why didn’t you ask me what happened?  Because you were an idiot & an asshole.

I worshipped you & that worship stopped the day my friend George, who had three daughters, after hearing me regale my Dad, simply said,

“He was NOT a good father.”

That statement put a needle into the balloon, & Dad slipped off the pedestal forever. 


I am twelve, my body has gone through changes.  A child has no sweat glands, but now I’m sweating & smelling under my arms.  {There’s other disturbing changes also, lots of thick long hair on my arms & legs, & my crotch hair is out of control, haha.  Later it would be documented in Gent.}

I never asked Mom for anything, I was too afraid.  But I had to have deodorant as I stank, the people in school could smell me;  I asked her to buy me some.

Now she comes home from shopping.  Let me set the scene.  She’s standing at this mirror-cupboard at the end of the kitchen, next to the living room door.  Across the kitchen – maybe 15-18′ – is the pantry-hallway leading to the outside, with its cement floor, the door is open.

I’m eager to know if I get the deodorant so I sheepishly say to Mom,

“Mom, did you get my deodorant?’

She goes into an instant rage, picks something out of the paper bag & hurls it forcefully across the  room, yelling,


 onto the cement floor of the hallway.  It smashes of course, all the deodorant seeps out.

I am so shocked I cry, & get the dust broom & holder & sweep it up.  This bears channeling.  Mom, what put you into such a rage?  That you would rather lose the valuable money you spent on the deodorant than to see me get it?

MEDUSA:   How dare you ask me to buy you anything?  How dare you want to look good & smell good, look attractive?  I wanted to take your face & grind it into the dirt, scratch it up with gravel, than to see you doll yourself up & be inviting to the public.  I hated you.

ME:   But you trusted me with the duties of the household, you trusted me to take care of the baby & do every chore you asked.  Had you no pity for me at all?

MEDUSA:    How much pity do rapists, child abusers & murderers have?  N pity, no love, no respect, no nothing.  As far as I was concerned you could go to Hell.

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ME:   And the last act you did against me, on your deathbed.  Aunt had called me to make the trip {far away} from the city to Westchester, because of some business with the half sister.  She had to sign papers she refused to sign, I was to persuade her – which I did – I was still somehow a mentor.  Now Mom was in the hospital with the prognosis from the doctors, ‘Six months to live.’  Coffee & cigarettes were her main diet, it caught up with her.  I was praying every day, Aunt was going there anyway, I asked to see Mom.

So I went in – you had to go one at a time, it was the last weeks before death.  I said to Mom I wanted to pray for her, would she let me?  She didn’t stop me.  I prayed for a few minutes.

Now my aunt is driving me home, she’s holding a cigarette in her right hand, it’s shaking with rage.  She says,

“How dare you pray for your mother, making her feel like she’s dying…….God will not hear you anyway, YOU SELL YOUR BODY!”

ME:   Now Mom, instead of being grateful that I prayed, that I cared, you made me sound like a perpetrator who hurt you by prayer.  What was the motive for that?

MEDUSA:   I knew that Aunt had a low opinion of you, as we had a consensus of you being a prostitute, an evil doer, a  bad mother & so on.  People like that are not in the grace of God.  I knew if I complained to her she would let you have it, & that was my revenge.

ME:   Revenge against what?

MEDUSA:   Revenge against the thought that you were not a lowlife, that you deserved God’s love, that God would hear you, you were not bound for Hell.  It’s the same principle you carried when you ‘stripped for God,’ preached & danced, the consensus being that strippers are outside the grace of God, you dispelled that fallacy.  So now you were saying you were in the grace of God, you could pray, God could hear you & help me.  So I had to punch you down.

ME:   Let me get this straight.  It was that important that the idea of me being outside of grace, a lowlife, had to be upheld?  Why upheld then & now, even after your death in 1979.  The family that is left still carry your evil spirit against me. For the most part, I am an outcast, they don’t invite me to weddings {3 different ones}, they have never invited me for Christmas {I spend most Christmases alone} & they ignore me on social media – act like I don’t exist for the most part.  What is it you were trying to prove, they are trying to maintain?

MEDUSA:   You are a ‘marked woman.’  Once I put my mark on you & the other main players agreed, to go back on it would prove we were wrong – we had sinned or transgressed.  And so, you will forever be, within our family, the ‘untouchable.’  We have you marked with different epithets, such as ‘weird,’ ‘not to be trusted to act normal,’ as you don’t uphold the delusions of our clan – the masks – you don’t play our games.  It’s like we believe in different religions, for you to challenge our religion means war.  Since there are a few of ‘us’ & only one of you, you can’t win – that is – not within our family.  You can do anything outside the family, get awards, trophies, accolades, do great things, but within our clan you always were, {since age 10}, & always will be, the ‘untouchable.’  You CANNOT REDEEM YOURSELF, you cannot prove yourself, just as an untouchable can do nothing to change their status, it’s written in the genetics, so they say, once that, always that.  {end channel}

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A book:

“Untouchable by Mulk Raj Anand

The novel published in 1935, narrates a day in the life of a young manual scavenger called Bakha. A peek into the daily life of a man from the lowest of the lower caste who sweeps and cleans latrines for a living, the book tells us how intricately the caste apparatus has both dehumanised and normalised the oppression of ‘untouchables’.

People termed as ‘untouchables’ live with the constant imposed burden of being impure and unwanted. One of the high points of the novel is when Bakha is slapped because he committed the ‘crime’ of touching an upper caste Hindu. It is telling of the arrogance of social power ingrained in the caste system.”………………………

Another book:

“Ants Among Elephants: An Untouchable Family and the Making of Modern India by Sujatha Gidla

The author was an ‘untouchable’ born in Andhra Pradesh who moved to the US in her mid-twenties. In her memoir published in 2017, she writes of her life-long struggle with the social ostracism she has faced because of the caste system which has shaped her identity and the memories of humiliation that burdened her family.

In this anecdotal account of growing up in a society that constantly reminded her of being less human than most, Sujatha Gidla talks about the mistreatment of ‘untouchables’, how they were termed as ‘polluted’ and how their segregation was normalised and forced to be their reality.

Gidla’s deep-rooted anger from the life-long oppression is something you can’t miss in the book. She says: ”If you get them to believe your lie, then, of course, you cannot tell them your stories, your family’s stories. You cannot tell them about your life. It would reveal your caste. Because your life is your caste, your caste is your life.”……………..

Me speaking to Mother God:

ME:   It seems to me, Mother God, that there is a strong parallels between my family’s view of me – which started unrighteously at age 10 – & society’s view of me being a stripper – that both look on me as an outcast.  My family simply added on to the bad image my entering the adult trade – more fuel for the fire of burning me at the stake.

What does this all mean to Mother God, who orchestrated & managed my life?  What good is this?  She loves me & would never do me harm.  What good does all this do me & society, then?

MOTHER GOD:   You are a representative of those that are oppressed, downtrodden, ‘Blessed are the poor, the persecuted, etc.”  By you winning against the status quo, the Patriarchy, the haters, the cowards, the discriminators & Pharisees, your victories are not just for yourself, you win for them all.  You win for billions of those oppressed.  So don’t give up or in, don’t back down, stand your ground.

You gave a theatrical name for various folks of your clan.  Their name for you would be “Queen of the North who came to challenge us,”  you decked all in white fur.  {end channel}

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There was an old man, Mr. Riley, who became Mom’s sugar Daddy after she went to buy a car.  The first car we bought was a ‘balloon,’ ancient, my bro drove it into a ditch in the field & there it stayed.  But later guess we got a better one,  after Mom put out to the dealer.

Mr. Riley came by to take the family to dinner.  I went to the first one & thereafter was excluded, because he liked me.  I was kind to him & when he visited went out of my way to chat.  He said,

“Why is it that every time I come by, Rasa is working?”

They said,

“She just does that when she sees you coming.”

It was because of this good man that we got storm windows, central heating & hot water.  The house went from uncomfortable shack to ‘Wow, this feels so good!’

But here’s the incident I want to share.  One time Mom took me shopping with her – to Steinbeck’s in Trenton, New Jersey.  She bought a fortune in underwear, girdles, slips, stockings & such.  Those things were much more expensive then than they are now.  At the end she brings me Mr. Riley’s charge card & says,

“Rasa, you have such beautiful hand writing – will you sign this?”

I look at it, see his name & tell her I can’t, because it’s another person’s card.  I was about 12-13 years old.

She then signs it herself.  The saleslady saw this whole thing & said not a word.

I forgot the incident until a few weeks later Mom says,

“Someone stole Mr. Riley’s credit card, & they say it was you.”

It was YEARS before I figured it out.  So my Mom was a cold hearted thief, among other things…………………

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‘The Purpose of Writing My Life’

I’m not done yet but want to give my reasons for the efforts put here.  For one thing, its catharsis, the way you do with therapy, tell your story.  Venting what happened in your life is not grudges or revenge or hate, it’s simply stating this or that happened, it made me feel certain ways.  Then you get it off your chest.  It’s like talking to a good friend, if only someone listens & you feel they care, it helps.

The Part 2 of my life was taken from some of the You Tube videos, which I made for catharsis.

But before I’m finished with Life, I want to make sure that it is explained as it was, as I have noticed that people misunderstand, misread, twist, change, portray a life not accurately, but by the surface, their own ignorance, uninformed ideas, delusions & assumptions, & then there goes your life down the drain.

Take the life of Aimee Semple McPherson, one of the greatest women of all time.  I read a great biography of hers, that told the real deal.  There was a second one I trashed  as a dumb woman said her motive in life was to gain power.

The best one is by Daniel Mark Epstein:  “Sister Aimee:  The Life of Aimee Semple McPherson.” She did more FAITH HEALING MIRACLES than Jesus Christ himself.  She was the most famous woman of her time.

Toward the end of her life she met a fat guy, who sang in her Church, a bed hopper.  He had not a shred of religion in him.

In the end, how is this phenomenal Holy Person remembered?  By a scandal where she was kidnapped that somehow got twisted into ‘it was her fault, she made it up.’  And last but not least, ELMER GANTRY.

Sinclair Lewis was a contemporary of Aimee, he knew her story well.  He took the fat opera singer, turned him into a great evangelist, Aimee into his Jr Partner, not too bright. The vocalist, who never preached anywhere but in bed, gets portrayed by Burt Lancaster as the top reformer of his day.  He seduces Aimee, takes over her ministry – she has to pay off  a prostitute – Aimee turns out to be some kind of retard as her Church is burning, she just stands there.  That’s how Hollywood turned it around, made a fool of her & put a man as the star.

I am pondering what will they do to my life story?  I had an outfit that wanted to do a documentary on me, but all they wanted was sex, pornography, the people I knew in show business & porno.  After a while of putting up with this, I told them I was a woman of God, God was first & foremost, & if they didn’t see it that way, no deal, so they hit the highway.  Yes, I got something out of it.  They procured the movie that was made on me – ‘She Did it His Way,’ produced when I was 21 – I had been seeking it for 50 years.

Few people would ever understand the spiritual components of my life – I have to explain them, they understand ON THEIR OWN LEVEL.  Which reminds me of the analogy.  There was a Holy Man in India sitting under a tree.  He was deep in reflective spiritual thought, a blissful trance.

An alcoholic came by & said he was really stoned on whiskey – a drug addict walked over & said he’s been imbibing LSD or heroin, a marijuana smoker saw him & said he was high on grass.  Not a single holy person came by & gave him credit for the truth, they all projected what they were.

Then there’s that classic of the blind men defining an elephant.  One touches his tail – he’s like a rope.  The other touches his trunk, he’s like a snake.  Then his leg – he’s like a stump, & his side, wow, he’s a big wall.

There are people who relate to parts of me, people who see in me what is inside of them.  How many people see my devotion to God, her grace upon me guiding me through life, my serving her through all my activities, learning & teaching?

How many people are CAPABLE of seeing my relationship to God which culminated in seeing her Face to Face, reaching the Sahasrara & Enlightenment?

Yes, they see it in St. Francis of Assisi, Saint Padre Pio, other saints.  They see it in them.  But in me, they see a body builder, a Stripper for God, a dominatrix, a Cougar, & various parts of my vocation & personality.  They understand the parts, maybe, they don’t see the picture.  If anyone wants to know me, they must hear my story of what I live for, what motivates me, what makes me tick, what gives me life, & what I am striving for, & that is God & God alone; to know, love & serve her & be happy with her on earth & in Heaven.  Through every bit of my life She has guided me & I obeyed her, she has taken me to places I did & did not want to go, She has influenced me to serve her where it would do the greatest good to myself & humanity.  That is the real story, the rest are miscellaneous tidbits.

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2-24-21   Continue Chapter 8 – HOW ABUSE MADE ME STRONG


Abuse is like weight lifting or body building – RESISTANCE training.

“Resist the devil, & he will flee.”

They PUT YOU DOWN, & you have to figure the psychology of why you’re NOT A LOW LIFE.


They INSULT you – you have to LEARN TO LAUGH, look at THEM as idiots.

They BULLY you – You have to learn to WALK AWAY if you can’t physically, then mentally.

You must learn to RESIST NEGATIVITY, resist the demons attacking you, the psychopaths & sinners, the wrong doers, even the innocents who are IGNORANT & say with Jesus,

‘Mother, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

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To rise above evil, I was a lucky person to have had Catechism – which I took to heart.  I learned of the one Person that taught me all I needed – Jesus Christ, & then his saints.

Without this  background, knowledge or training, it could be difficult  to manage life. We need to be stoic, patient & brave.  Indeed, indigenous people don’t know about Jesus or the bible, but they get training like ‘warrior training’ {just saw a video on You Tube from Hazen Audel – Primal Survivor – with a tribe in Africa – he had to become a ‘blood warrior’ – live mostly off blood & milk from cows,  not show any kind of pain when attacked by bees or fire ants, etc.} & people hand down their wisdom to each generation – it isn’t a blank page.  Enduring hardship is the main thing.

However, some people don’t stand up to suffering – instead of getting stronger, they let the pain destroy them, or they take it out on others.

If you look at crime shows you see criminals who torture & kill – not those who kill for money – they are hard hearted & have no feelings – but those who enjoy the suffering of others – sadists – & torture them before they murder them.  I will ask Mother God to explain it in her words.

ME:   Explain how bullies, criminals & torturers work.  Do they feel relief from their own pain by the sufferings of others?

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MOTHER GOD:   It’s called projection.  They put on the other person their own pain, what they feel inside, thereby relieving themselves or emptying themselves of it for a while.  Like dumping onto the poor scapegoat all their sins, then pushing him off the cliff.

ME:   But they do what they do again & again, & so, their own pain/sickness comes back.  Why doesn’t it leave them the one time?

MOTHER GOD:   It’s a malady, it’s in their unconscious, it comes back to memory & feelings, then they have to dump it again & again.

ME:   What is the difference between that & the hard hearted, who kill for money or advantage?  I saw the account of the woman who killed her husband with morphine.  She tried to kill her grown son by fire, after drugging him, but it didn’t work.  Finally she drugged him with a heavy tranquillizer, put a ligature around his neck & strangled him.  Then she took an electric saw, cut him into pieces, put him into garbage bags & threw his parts along the highway.  

There are countless stories of men or women killing spouses for money, insurance or property, sometimes not even that much, like one case, 16K, a woman poisoned her husband for that amount.  I saw a case where an American military man in the Philippines got his wife killed for $100. 

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How do you explain the psychology there?

MOTHER GOD:   That’s a different type of thing that I called hard hearted.  They don’t care about other people, only their own selfish pleasure or needs – the needs of the flesh.  They don’t care if the person lives or dies, they just want the money.  Many people are like that, fortunately, not all of them kill for it, some don’t have the guts, some just too scared to get caught.  But they exploit people & don’t give a damn about them.

ME:   OK now let me ask this.  If my evil bro received what I did, how would he have fared?  That is to say, if he loved Dad, disobeyed Mom in this respect, & Mom & the others in the family tortured him the way they did me, what would happen?

MOTHER GOD:    He was so weak that even being a spoiled brat, he became an alcoholic bad enough to go to AA.  No one abused him.  He was given room & board to get through college, then later, he failed at business or finding a wife, Mom provided him with both.  Again he did not prosper, he left his family in debt when he died.  Had he been abused like you were, he would have killed himself -  destroyed himself with drugs.  He would have been an addict & died of an overdose.

You’re wondering why his Catholic education would not have sustained him.  Because he didn’t take it to heart, he was lukewarm.  He didn’t sacrifice or pray, he didn’t practice the things a holy soul would.  He went to Church & Communion from time to time, that was it – nothing else. 

ME:   And my female cousin?  If we all ganged up & abused her?

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MOTHER GOD:   She would not have gone to college, just stayed in ordinary work rather than professional.  She would not have won successful men, the confidence wouldn’t be there, she would not have sat on a ‘high horse.’  Her position in life would have been ordinary, like hairdresser or secretary or waitress, nothing to brag about.

ME:   Then it was appropriate for me to get the abuse, not them, as it benefitted me, would not have benefitted them.  My cousin did a lot of good by being in the position she was in, she helped many including me.  Had she been poor she couldn’t have helped anyone.  {end channeling}

OK let me just add here, for those who’ve suffered real abuse, here are some symptoms- they are mental, emotional & physical:   PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Many times as an adult fear would suddenly come over me, for no reason, & I would check all the windows & doors to make sure they we locked.

When still young, in my twenties, I might be in public talking to people & something  stressful would happen, & I’d cry.  Small stresses brought back the PTSD.  This went on until I was about 30.

I  had HEADACHES every day – I think it was repressed ANGER,  & severe bouts of DEPRESSION which could also be repressed anger.  If I wasn’t smiling people would ask what’s wrong?  I’d say ‘nothing’ & they said ‘you look so sad!’  I had surgery on my face at age 33 to take away that depressed look – it wasn’t good for me or my show business.

I also – to this day – have a stuffed up nose, 24/7, & I suspect this is the repressed need to cry.  It started long ago, somehow have not been able to get rid of it although I don’t get depressed any more.  When I entered into a state the Yogis call ‘nonduality’  all my depression & anxiety went away – that was 2007.

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I have the tendency or temptation to put myself down in words & deeds.  Sometimes I come across so nice, so humble, that people say ‘there is such a thing as being too nice,’ & they also mistake kindness for weakness {& treat you like shit}. 

 They took away all my confidence AS A WOMAN.  I did not have good luck with the men I loved – I would suffer ANXIETY SO BADLY I’d always make a fool of myself, look like a drooling, anxious, man-chasing idiot.  This brought contempt & ill treatment from guys I loved.  I was reliving the abandonment of Dad, the feeling of rejection & fear of it – as soon as I loved a man I chased him so hard he ran harder.  Anxiety destroyed my love life.  James Brown ended because of it.

It gets COMPLICATED.   With men I’m NOT in love with, I do have confidence.  Most of my confidence is in my relationship with God, where I’m ANOINTED or empowered by her.  She gave me GIFTS.  These God Powers work.  But down in my flesh is another story.  There, as a woman, I still feel the way family made me feel – I have no RIGHTS, I cannot receive, only give.  I must be exploited, it’s all I’m good for.  It’s hard for me to explain & makes me uncomfortable to try.

With my family I could not escape.  That is the problem for children.  Who do they turn to, in a nuclear family?  Who could I?  I woke up every morning with HATE facing me.  Not one family member in the house showed me respect or love.  It was unbearable.  But God did this:


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God did something so I would not fall into despair or  hopelessness.  Sometimes when I went to sleep I’d leave my body & appear in a bath of light.  I was floating within pastel light, feeling bliss, the light & I were one, like I had no body.  I couldn’t explain it & told no one – I had no one to confide in anyway.  I will ask Mother God, how would you explain this light?

MOTHER GOD:  This was a prelude to the Sahasrara – the God Self & Heaven.  You weren’t ready to be there permanently, but God let you visit for relief from pain.


That’s another thing Medusa had to do to empower herself & become successful – learn to drive.  Her instructor, Marius Bernotas.

Now we’re all in the car with her driving, Marius at her side instructing her.  We’re almost to our driveway, which is a left turn.  Marius says,

“Turn left here,”

And she turns left, INTO THE DAMP WHEAT FIELD, the worse part of which is there is an 8′ deep hole there that Marius dug for our garbage – & were we now going to fall into it?  Luckily no.  Smart move.

Once she got the hang of it she was all over the place.


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Like many country people desperate for money, Mom decides to be a purebred dog breeder.  She acquires a beautiful Irish Setter – more opportunity to abuse someone.

When poor ‘Dina’ is in heat Mom has her imprisoned either in the corn crib or a shed we once kept 2 pigs.  She’s not allowed to come out for two weeks, not even for walks! Of course I visit her, feed her, console her.  She cries & whimpers but I can’t let her out.

Why was this beautiful dog not allowed in the house?  I have no idea, it was Medusa’s policy.  I mean, the farmhouse was a shack, the dog would not or could not degrade it any lower , but you couldn’t tell Mom anything.

She takes me with her as she carts Dina far away, to a ritzy part of Pennsylvania, to a breeder, who she pays $100.  This charlatan puts Dina into a cage with her champion Irish Setter male, Mom & I go away for a research trip to  ‘Longwood Gardens,’ we return in the hope Dina has been bred.  All I saw was her cowering in a corner of the cage, where she must have stayed for the hours of our absence.

Dina never got pregnant, there a hundred bucks we could have used for food.  Mom did not fulfill her puppy mill ambitions.  Luckily, a year or so later, Aunt & Uncle found Dina a home near them in North Salem.

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The same with our goat.  After freezing in the shed alone all winter someone took her to a goat herd – ‘Frisky Flora’ was her name.  I shall never forget the day she was shaking badly in that shed from cold.  Mom wasn’t home – I brought her into the house with bro – within seconds she was on top of the TV!  We had to return her to that shed where she had a little stall with no straw, a big window next to the stall, about 15 degrees outside.  No animal was safe in our ‘house of pain.’


In discussions of the past with some family members, I was accused of ‘not getting along’ with Mom {ha ha ho ho} & some clowns now & again think because I describe / explain what happened I am full of negative feelings toward her.  These are lies.  I always loved her.  I hated what she did to me during the abuse,  I was angry at the abuse, but I always loved her in God’s love & before she died I said to God,

“Don’t let her go to Hell, I will PAY FOR HER SINS.”

Is that revenge & hate?

Let me give an example of my love when I was 7 years old – we were living on Delancey St.  I recall now she was sick & occupied a bed in the living room {aha, that must be where bro slept!} & she’d been ill for days.

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By my school, called Wilson Ave. School, there was a small store where we bought candy.  One day I saw a cross in a see-through box & asked the proprietor about it.  He proudly showed me that if I put my eye close to the glass in the middle {it was but a half inch or so across} you could see the entire Lord’s prayer written!  It seemed like magic,  wow, was I impressed – this would be a good gift for Mom being ill.  I asked how much, & he said,

$1.05  {$10.35 today’s money.  This was 1952}

How could I afford it?  I got 35 cents {$3.45 today}  lunch money each day, if I kept it for this cross, in 3 days she could have it, so that’s what I did.

How eager I was to bring it to her sitting up on the bed, & showing her the cross with the Lord’s prayer inside it!  She seemed to like it.  So I was happy………………………

to be continued

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2-23-21   Continue Chapter 8   MEDUSA HAD TALENT

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To lighten things up a bit let me explain that Medusa had talent.  She wasn’t all bad – Hitler made the trains run on time.

I must give her credit for back at the farm she did several things mail order, which even I benefitted from.  One thing was she joined the ‘Book of the Month Club.’

I remember age 12 reading ‘Gone With the Wind’ in two days & nights, reading nonstop.  My 7th grade teacher, Mrs. Cooper, {she loved me dearly} finally couldn’t stand me peering down at this book in my lap, walked over to my desk & took a look.  She didn’t complain, I believe she felt if I was going to have my head down all day in school, Gone With the Wind was worth it.  I also remember ‘Rebecca’ by Daphne DuMaurier, which I loved.  She got these books monthly, I read them all.  That was how she improved her English. 

 Dad, however, did no such thing.  He was busy translating history books from Polish to Lithuanian & writing poetry, crying in his soup for the long lost days.  He had a REAL LIFE in Lithuania & being 17 years older than Mom, it was harder for him to adjust.

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Another valuable thing she did, at least for herself, was a course in floristry.  {Many years later she would buy spoiled bro a greenhouse, floristry business in upstate NY – he worked it into the ground.  Pun intended.} She already knew how to grow things – was a genius at every sort of edible plant & flower garden.  Now she learned how to make professional bouquets, like one you’d see at the Waldorf Astoria in the lounge, & corsages.

For my 8th grade graduation dance she awarded me a corsage of 7 yellow rosebuds. Everyone liked it.   {To see how it was fashionable in those days for all dances, see the Annette Funicello TV show.  She went to a party at a friend’s house & her date gave her a corsage!  People on You tube commented WTF?  But then it was expected for all nice parties.} My outfit was a cotton yellow top & full skirt of the same material.

A little aside here.  My 8th grade graduation ceremony a friend of the family bought me a dress.  It was scoop neck gathered bodice in light blue chiffon with a full skirt – they called that ‘semi formal.’  It was the fanciest dress I’d ever had.

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Then there was a celebration at the Salvation Army Retired Officers residence where my Mom was the Chef.  This places her first real professional job {after Thorn’s Milk Bar}at my being 13 – the year then was 1958.  

another aside:   {She got the job through PULL, a pull poor Dad never had.  In Germany my Uncle had been the driver for a woman named Clara Kaiser.  She was the Dean of Columbia University.  She loved my Uncle & Aunt & sponsored them, with Grandma, for their entrance into the U.S.  Her next door neighbor up the hill was the lady who owned the magnificent Victorian mansion I spoke of in Waccabuc.  This lady gave employment, room & board for Aunt, Uncle & Grandma, & they lived on the third floor.  This woman, understand the importance of connections, wrote a letter to the Salvation Army Officers Residence when Mom applied for the job, recommending her highly,  & because of this Mom embarked on a lucrative career where she eventually ended up at the Reader’s Digest in Pleasantville.  In between she was offered a job at the Russian Tea Room near Carnegie Hall, for $30,000. a year {not sure which year, early to mid 1960′s would be worth about $250,000. or nearly $5,000. a week – was the one who told me pulling my leg?} – which she turned down, I was told, because it wasn’t enough bread for her to move to New York City. 

She told us this story – it could have been true.  At the Reader’s Digest Guest House {which she managed} she made dinner for Governor Nelson Rockefeller, & he said,

“That was one of the best dinners I ever ate.” 

The garden she created at the Reader’s Digest she used for dinners at the Guest House (veggies & some flowers) – they featured on the back of one of the Digest publications, praising her for it.  {end of second aside}

So here I am sitting there, where everyone brings their families to be introduced.  Across from us is the janitor’s family with a brother & sister teens.  The sister stands up & lo & behold, she’s WEARING MY DRESS.  Medusa gave her my dress, without even asking me – as if I was a non person. 

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As I said, she was a genius at agriculture.  She made a vegetable garden inside an old broken down chicken coop.  The ground still had lots of chicken shit & old door & window frames with glass, which she placed over the foundation, creating what’s called a ‘cold frame,’ inside of this she planted cucumbers, radishes, lettuce, onions, so she’d say, 

“Rasa, get me some cucumbers, or lettuce or spinach,”

& I’d run there & we had these things fresh every day.

Here are some of the things we planted, enjoyed & later tried to sell – {except the selling didn’t work, we went bankrupt.}:

Strawberries, peanuts,{they don’t taste good until you roast them} muskmelons, watermelons, wheat, corn, lingonberries, blueberries, peaches, tomatoes, blackberries, raspberries, cabbages, every kind of green leaf for salads, turnips, potatoes, rutabagas, beets, carrots, beans, peas, EVERYTHING I can’t even remember.  {The call that a ‘truck farm.’}  And we had these grow up big, healthy & abundant, enough where if they knew how to sell them, we could have made a small fortune.

Mom also made some nice tulip beds & what is most important, a Holy Virgin rose garden, with 100 bushes most beautiful & all colors, which only I was willing to weed, with the Lady’s life size statue at its head.

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We also had many other flowers such as zinnias, nasturtiums, lilies, etc.  The house came with a big apple tree with perfect ones for pies, she made the most yummy pies.

Which comes to her most lucrative talent – cooking.  When she first started she was an expert at Lithuanian food, which included exquisite cakes, such as Napolean {to this day my fave cake} & those of several layers which might include a layer of strawberries, exquisite frostings made of pure butter {I had to knead the hard butter into a cream, add sugar, then she added food color & maybe flavors.} 

 On Christmas she created a round log cake with markings & branches to look like a birch bark tree, inside filled with strawberry preserves.  (She made hundreds of jars of preserves from our own gardens- of every kind of jelly, jam, tomatoes & grew mushrooms in the cellar, & knew what mushrooms in the woods were edible–all I remember is ‘baravykai’-fat one & another I can identity but don’t recall its name.} 

She made her own farmer cheeses including the sweet cheese for Easter with raisins & slivered almonds {which I learned to do here at my house one year, with cottage cheese as the base}, her own yogurt – all from our cow which she milked {which I also made here, I had a guy get me raw milk.  You add some buttermilk to ferment it, let it stand a couple days in a cool place, make sure the top of the jars permit air to get in, like if you cover with wax paper pop some holes in it or use permeable cloth on top.  Don’t use aluminum foil.}

Traditional Lithuanian fare includes lots of potatoes & flour dishes.  {We are a cold country, similar to where I live in upstate NY.}  She made homemade ravioli filled with cheese or meat or potatoes.  There was stuffed peppers or cabbage filled with rice & ground meat {she ground her own meat which babushkas in Eastern Europe still do}.  Us kids learned to make the best potato pancakes {they must be grated on a fairly small grate, a bit of flour, an egg or two, lots of oil, that’s it.}

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And so she was an expert at Lithuanian fare because of her roots, but when my brother’s friend came for dinner {only his friends were permitted to eat with us, not mine} she tried to impress with American food & burned it.  But live & learn, she got ‘The Joy of Cooking’ & other books & practiced a thousand times & learned all there is – including all kinds Italian fare – & eventually was a professional Chef – something to be proud of. 

Abusers can be talented, & they don’t have to be stupid.  Sinners can be pretty damned smart.



So who wanted her to go to my Mother-daughter dance?  Who needed her?  She would spoil it.  I could not understand why the staff, when I told them she wasn’t coming, seemed puzzled, like ‘What’s wrong?’  Nothing’s wrong.  Mom is an abuser & I am a non person.  I love Scouts, she hates me, leave it alone.  I’ll be there, that’s all that’s necessary.  She was the ONLY MOTHER out of thirty scouts who didn’t come, but I was HAPPY.

Oh yes, I was the ONLY SCOUT also who didn’t wear a uniform as Mom wouldn’t buy it.  I attributed it to poverty, it wasn’t necessary.  {Years later she refused to buy my ‘senior pictures’ in High School.  So there’s no image of me in the Year Book.}

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 Looking back if I had had a better relationship with Dad I could have asked him for these things – but we hardly communicated after Mom closed the iron door.  And so, when she shut him out, he forgot me.  And I had given up on him taking me in.  Years later, when I left California in 1972, I came back to live with him in the same apt. in B’klyn.  I told him I would pay the rent – & he said OK but remember, I’m still the boss – haha.

     Scouts was one of the greatest experiences of my life, due to the camaraderie, being outdoors together & the things they taught us.  Every meeting we held arms & sang,

“Let me call you sister, I’m a Girl Scout, too,

Let me hear you whisper, all the Scout laws true,” etc.

To the tune of ‘Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you.’

What a wonderful feeling to be loved & RESPECTED!

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We went to a lake once, {my best friend Sharon – smartest girl I knew -  brought the greatest potato salad she shared with me} we learned how to make a ‘Bunsen Burner’ – how to make a bed properly {there’s a trick to corners!}, how to make carnations out of tissues, some simple cooking recipes, but the one incident that jars my memory happened on the six mile walk, it taught me something about myself.


None of us had ever walked six miles before.  I think they lied, it was more like sixteen.

Two of my best friends were named Monja & Nadja – fraternal twins – I think they were Russian.  Both beautiful, Monja was tall, Nadja not so tall, blue eyed honey blondes.

So we walk & walk.  We stopped for lunch at a farm where someone treated us.  We also went along the way to an ice cream place & a wonderful lady paid for all our ice cream.  To me, it was Heavenly.

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We walked through woods & fields.  We were Scouts, so we had honor – we did not eat one strawberry calling to us from a field.

But at the end of the trip, about a half mile before base camp, Nadja & I both collapsed.  We said not a step further, this is it.  Then Nadja said, no, you don’t understand, I really truly cannot take another step!

OK I said, then get on my back, I’ll carry you the rest of the way – & that’s what happened.  I can honestly tell you, she wasn’t heavy & I stopped being tired!…………………..

to be continued


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College of God & Love, College of Matriarchal Love, Core Tenets, Uncategorized




2-22-21   Continue Chapter 8    MONSTER MOM VISITS SCHOOL


The age of 10 was a PIVOTAL year, when the darkness of abuse had arrived.  I’d been under the impression  Dad would come live with us – this belief ended, don’t recall how, perhaps Mom gave him his final ultimatum I heard about,

“I don’t want you any more, I hate you, we will never be together again, & when you die, I WILL PISS ON YOUR GRAVE.”

That same year, she made the pact I told you about with the rest of family, that they had to hold me down, & all agreed – I heard them.  I was in the 5th grade.  {My sin was I refused to sin against Dad.}

It was that year evil Bro was graduating grammar school & Mom & Mempho were to come to a ‘parent-teachers’ get together.  I was eager if they would speak to my teacher, a female.  I loved most of my teachers & they loved me.  I was always one of the brightest pupils, dependable, obedient, in fact, my second grade teacher made a telling remark,


“You kids, if you don’t know what to do, look at Rasa & DO WHATEVER SHE IS DOING.”

Ha ha, what was I doing?  Sitting with my hands folded on top of the desk, eagerly waiting on teacher for what to do.  My Dad told me this years later {he came to visit for the last time before his death, from Spain, to maybe say goodbye to Mom as she was dying.  She did not permit him to see her.  But he & I got a chance to talk & I found out a few things, like the abortions, when they lived together she had four – one was his, the other 3 not.  I knew of  3 afterward, that’s how I tallied 7.  BTW I wondered, how did she ever find the illegal abortionists?  There were no computers.  Did she look in the yellow pages under ‘kitchen table?’  She didn’t even speak or read good English then, it baffles me.}

And so, I asked Dad what was I like as a child, in his eyes, was I a bad person?  He said,

“No, you were the most obedient child.”

On that note I might just add in the last year of Mom’s death my bro heard her say {Mempho was there also}

“Rasa was the best one.”

And bro objected,

“Mom, you’ve got to be kidding,”

but she repeated,

“Rasa was the best one.”

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But to get to my point, her visiting my school.  I usually adored my teachers & they me.  I was the designated monitor of every class after second grade {prior to that I was not yet fluent in English}.  I was also the designated blackboard decorator/designer, my job to make murals on top of the blackboard – in every class I attended.

So now my Mom comes to school for parent-teacher day.  Eagerly I approach to find out what happened.  She says the teachers praised Jimmy, that he was great.  But what about me, what did my teacher say about me?

“She said YOU ARE WEIRD,”

came from Mom.  I was devastated, wanted to cry.  Years later thinking about it she lied.  First, she never went to see my teacher.  Second, if she had, no teacher would say such a thing.  It’s not the kind of word they would use.  In those days ‘weird’ was a damaging description – like calling a man a homosexual, it evoked shudders. 

That was their word for me, I know, because Mr. Thorne came by the house.  I go to his car & he chats me up.  Then he says,

“They told me you are weird.  {Who could ‘they’ be?  Mom & her Jr partner, Mempho.}  Are you?”

I said no.  So he said, 

“OK, then come to work for me,”

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And I did.  Woe was me when I was working & Mom was there.  Will never forget when she slapped me in front of the customers.  For what I can’t remember, but it was the slightest thing – at home, she preferred her fists.  To this day I am ‘strong at the broken places.’  Where she used me as a punching bag, when I started lifting weights, those spots, like my trapezius, got amazingly developed.


I was in mad love with Elvis, from the age of 10 to 12.  At 12 I smuggled a lipstick to school, put some on, & then wrote on the back of both my hands, ‘I love Elvis.’

Arriving home I got scared & tried to wash the lipstick off my lips & hands, but there were traces.  Sitting at the dinner table, I tried to keep my hands hidden which of course made them more obvious.  Mom gave me a fierce look, grabbed me by the hair to the sink, whipped out the box of brillo {steel wool pads} & proceeded to wipe my hands.  I tolerated this a few seconds, but her rage increased & she tried to scour my lips.  At this point I ran.

Usually when Mom hit me, I never ran.  I felt that if a parent hits you, it would be wrong in the eyes of God to prevent it or escape – as it said ‘Honor they Father & they Mother.’  Their word was law, the were the representatives of God.  The term abuse was not yet coined – believe it or not, I did not know I was being abused.  I did not know I had ‘human rights,’ that everyone did.  And as I look back I am disgusted that not one human being, family, teacher, anyone, ever interviewed me on what was going on at home.  

One teacher saw me with my eyes so swollen from crying I could barely open them.  She asked me about it & I told her I’d been crying all night, but she asked no further.

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The guidance counsellor was no different.  My transgression became playing hooky – skipping school or classes.  Why?  I was mentally/emotionally EXHAUSTED, & I could not concentrate, I could not do my homework, I couldn’t think straight by the age of 15 – when we moved to Middletown.  I also started staying away from home, even all night.  Again, why?  Why do you think?  To stay away from THEM, to avoid the abuse.

When we were on the farm I WAS NEEDED FOR SLAVE LABOR.  They all worked, made money.  I had to first of all, be the BABY SITTER.  Then there was ironing, dish washing, house cleaning, feeding & watering what animals were left.

One time Medusa {Mom} said to me,

“I’m going to give you $40. a week allowance because you do all the work at home.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.  Then she presented the idea to evil brother & Mempho.  They screamed,


Of course she broached it to them so she would come off as the good guy, she got overruled.

Now when we got to Middletown, there was no farm, no animals.  The house was beautiful, a split level tract home with fancy furniture Mom splurged on with the farm money.  The house to me was like a little mansion, easy to keep clean.  I was still supposed to do the ironing & if I failed to iron my bro’s pants right, he gave me dirty looks.

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Most important of all, my little half sister was 9 years old & could be left alone.  What does that add up to?  They DIDN’T NEED ME FOR SLAVE LABOR ANY MORE.  And so, what did they need me for?  To PICK ON.  They could now pull out all the stops in abusing me, insulting & ridiculing me including at dinner.  And if I walked away from the table, I was told I could not eat – so I didn’t.

They even would not allow my little sister to sit with me & speak to me.  When she tried, they’d call her.  This was the child who I taught to read, write & draw, & read the  bible to.  I helped her develop into a scholar who graduated school with an A plus average – she said she loved learning.  It was because I instilled it into her, doing ‘school’ an hour a day from the age she was 3-4 years old.  And now, she was not allowed to speak to me, & being a frightened child, she obeyed.  And that commandment stuck into adulthood – she has not spoken to me FOR FORTY ONE YEARS.


We had an old barn at the farm house, it was filled with all the stuff the previous family had used & dumped, For one thing, about fifty pairs of moldy shoes.  {They also had boxes of books they copped from the library, many of which I read.}

One time someone from the family called the salvation army & asked them to pick up these shoes.  They came I shall never forget, with a huge truck you could put a whole household of stuff in!  But Medusa was there.  She did not permit them to take the shoes!

Now there was a tree on the corner of our road  {Eli Harmony Rd. a dirt road between the highway on one side & the main Freehold Rd. on the other – don’t recall the names} – this tree was large, like two feet in diameter, an Oak, & when the sun was hot bro & I stood under it waiting for the school bus.

One time the telephone company came to ask permission from Mom to cut the tree down.  She gave it INSTANTLY – I was heartbroken.  Moldy shoes vs a Sacred Oak – shoes stay, Oak goes.  This kind of begs channeling.

ME:   Mom, moldy shoes vs a great beautiful Oak Tree.  Where were your values?

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MEDUSA:   I was mixed up.  Surviving WWII made me think old shoes were valuable, one could wear them in an emergency.  The Sacred Oak?  I never thought about it.  I just took it for granted.  You had a rapport with it from waiting for the school bus – I didn’t.  I was wrong, you were broken hearted.  Yes, I’m sorry for my sins.  That was so long ago, you still remember.  You live with so much pain when you recall what we did, it is a shame.  But it’s over, you will be paid for your life story & a movie made.  Think of us as contributors, haha.

ME:   Oh, so you have a sense of humor?  Wait ’till I tell all the other anecdotes, then you can really laugh, haha.


One time my girlfriend & I went on a yacht with a couple old fogies instead of going to school – they were her friends.  I got a qualm about our absence & exclaimed, re the chief guidance counsellor,

“Hey, Betty, what do we tell Mr. Wright?”

The fogey at the wheel cried out,

“Tell Mr. Wright he’s wrong!”

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I already explained, I was overwhelmed with abuse at Middletown.  I couldn’t think straight, do my homework, & was psychologically exhausted from pain.  My solution was to try to relax, stay away from school when I could, do something else, have a good time if possible.  In fact, at age 15 I would go to bars, stay out all hours, then spend the night with this 16 yr old wealthy guy who lived in a bungalow – I’d have someone from the bars drop me off, bang on his door at 2AM until he answered.  I probably missed one day of school a week.

One of those days was dramatic.  My girl friend Betty & I decided to cut out.  I had worked secretly {Mom always got me fired when she found out.}  We called a taxi & I told Betty I had $40. in the bank, let’s get it & do something.  The taxi driver stopped & waited, then we took off.  Where we were going I don’t recall, but the driver was a nosey parker & heard our conversation & DROVE US TO THE POLICE STATION!

OMG  the embarrassment!  Police call our parents & they are of course called to school by ‘Mr. Wright’ & his accomplices.

Now my Mom goes in, dressed in her finery of green wool suit with real mink collar, high heels.  What does she tell the counsellor?  Same ole’ bullocks,

“I am a single mother struggling to take care of several children.  No man helps me.  I have done all I can.  We escaped Stalin & Hitler, now this.  This daughter of mine is incorrigible.  Not only does she play hooky but she STAYS OUT ALL NIGHT WITH MEN.  I am worn out trying to corral her & get her to live a moral, virtuous life.”

These words are approximate & her English was not that great, but she made herself out to be the victim/martyr of this delinquent child,  poor, poor innocent mother all alone fighting to pay bills.  She probably added that her husband had deserted her.  Had she told the truth she would have said,  oh, since Mom has gained a sense of humor, let me ask her, 

ME:   Mom, if you had told the truth what would you have said to the counsellor?  And you cannot lie where you are now so say it straight.

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MEDUSA:   Wow.  I would have to say I was a wayward wife who got my virtuous husband pretending to kill myself.  Then I got tired of him & had affairs with many men, aborting most of the children we begot, except for the last man, when I deserted my husband for good & gave birth to his child.  I had a total of seven abortions.

This daughter I hate & want to kill her.  I am demoralizing her all I can & getting the rest of the family to help.  I hate her because she loves her Dad, so I take out all my frustrations on her.  The rest of the kids are permitted also to use her as a scapegoat.  We project everything bad unto her, then we throw her under the bus.

I also hate this girl because she’s pretty & has sex appeal & men prefer her.  I am obsessed with what she is doing & I with my new boyfriend am stalking her, tracking down where she stays at night, & having an older man call her with obscene phone calls, saying he saw a porn video of her.

ME:   Thanks Mom, couldn’t have said it better myself.  {end channeling}

Now this guidance counsellor calls me into his office & begins to berate me.  He talks about HIMSELF a lot, how he messed up in school for a while, but turned around into a hero & finished school, & look at me & then the most important burning question in his mind is, which he asks over & over again as if I had murdered someone,


The truth is, no one in school.  In fact, I am not having sex with anyone, we only make out.  My girl friend & I {her idea, not Betty, another friend} would call up the barracks of Fort Dix & Fort Monmouth & get blind dates.  They’d take us to dinner & make out.  Then there was that wealthy boy I spoke of, I can’t recall his name.  They had a house in Rumson, N.J., right on the beach, & the Dad got him a job at age 16 as a real estate researcher, & he got his own little house I visited.  Other than that, old men in bars tried to screw me but failed, that was it.

But the counsellor asks again, & again, & again, like his life depended on it.  I think of a friend in school, his name is Hunter Grant, a tall lovely gent – we are just friends.  So I say him & the teacher recoils like so,

“That’s a lie!  He would never have sex with you!  Now tell me who!”

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At this point I began to cry & the brave man is bewildered.  Not a word, just I can leave.  Never asked me one single question about my life, my motives, reasons, nothing, just who did I have sex with.

And that was Mom’s obsession also – who was I having sex with.  I just wanted to get out of the house, they were torturing me.

She had a new boyfriend that she got through work.  There was an older man who delivered the milk supplies to the school {she had begun her career as a chef for the Salvation Army, then Stouffers, then High Schools, & last but not least,  Chef at the Reader’s Digest plant in Pleasantville, New York.}  At the High School she got a kickback from the milk man, he had to bring us ample supplies of all that he sold & fill our fridge regularly.  I remember him, sort of fat, I knew his voice.  Mom would make him an elaborate breakfast after he brought the goodies – the lumberjack breakfast, which means bacon, eggs, pancakes & toast with trimmings.


This man had a nephew & this guy became her new boy friend.  Bill was a wonderful man.  He once took me bowling, taught me how to strike & I hit six strikes in a row.  He also bought me the most beautiful expensive sweater.  He was kind & good.

But the uncle was a dirty pawn in the hands of Mom.  One day the phone rings & it’s for me.  I’m in the tiny kitchen with just a thin room divider there, it has a counter, & on the other side of the partition is the large fancy dining table.  Mom picks up the phone, calls me to it, is sitting in the dining room where it’s easy to hear.

The man – later I recognized his voice as the milk man – says,

“I saw a porno video with you & the guy John Doe {can’t recall his name} & it’s ALL OVER TOWN.”

  I am shocked, flabbergasted & embarrassed,

knowing it was impossible but how do I deal with this, what do I say?

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Now understand, that in 1960 pornography was illegal & uncommon.  Anyone in it would be vilified, outcast & a pariah, really embarrassing idea.

It was a while later I realized it was Mom’s milkman & she was in the other room getting her jollies.  This deserves a channel also,

ME:   Mom what was your purpose in having the milkman call me with this story?  Did it delight you to embarrass me?

MEDUSA:   For you, it was an ESCAPE from us – to go out, have fun, do whatever, including this boy.  You were my slave, not allowed to live life, not allowed love in any form.  {Tell them about the birthday cake.}  No one was to love you, respect you, care about you or desire you in any way.  You were to be a nonentity, a nobody, discarded, vilified & hated.  That was my goal.  I would do anything I could to hurt you.

ME:   Why in particular did you contact the boy I would spend nights with?  And even have the milk man call about a porn video, crazy prank.

MEDUSA:   You were to stay home where we could abuse you, that was all.  No perks, no job where you’d have money, no dates, no love life, no nothing.  Of course, at this point, you no longer listened & went places & did things but wherever I could, however I could, I circumvented your moves.  It was all based on hate & destruction, not protection or concern.

ME:   How did you convince people you were telling the truth when all you did was lie?

MEDUSA:   Psychopaths are perpetual liars, because they do it all the time, they get good at it, experts at manipulation.  We know how to tug at emotional strings, we know how to get people to do what we want.  I hate myself when I look at what I was, I was vile & corrupt.  I hurt many people. {end channel}

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They also found out, through my girlfriend who also knew him, the address of the wealthy 16 yr old I’d stay with.  Can you believe they went to his house?  He defended himself saying I pounded at the door & he had to let me in, as it was 2AM or later.  They told him not to let me in, but he opened the door to me times after that.


I go visit my best girl friend who lives about 100′ from my house.  There’s a big chocolate cake on the table, her little brother is digging into it.

Freyja says to me,

“That’s your cake, Rasa, for your birthday.  I baked it, took it to your house.  Your Mom & Medusa opened the door.  I told them I had a cake for you.  Your Mom says that we don’t need the cake – we make our own.  Good bye.” 

Of course, no one baked me anything or gave me anything, not even a greeting or card.  This begs channeling,

MOM:   Why no cake for me?  Had you no decency?

MEDUSA:   How dare anyone like you enough to bake you a cake?  That would make you feel special.  You’d know you were loved.

ME:  Is this a good time to mention the layout of the house?  Maybe you will laugh or others will.

MEDUSA:   Be my guest.  {end channel}

We sell the old farmhouse, Mom gets all the money – Dad gets none although he got us the down payment.  She splurges on the fanciest furniture possible, in all except my room.

She shares a room with Mempho.  It’s red velvet, twin beds with fancy covers, thick soft red rug, red velvet couch with fringe, a boudoir with the best perfumes like Shalimar & Chanel #5, the room is about 15X20′.

My room is about 8X10 – all BURLAP, RAG THROW RUG & 2 tier bed that I share with little sister.

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There’s an empty nice room in between us that I could occupy but AM NOT ALLOWED.  I am told it’s for Grandma when she comes over – which is ONCE A YEAR.

Downstairs bro has his own suite with adjoining bath.  He has his friends come over where they drink themselves silly into the night, a huge racket.

One time my female friend comes over, I invite her to stay with me in the spare room.  Mom sends Mempho to pace back & forth in front of the room as we try to relax, chanting,


We can’t relax, chat or sleep.  Finally we’ve had enough, we both get dressed to go to her house nearly.  Mom comes out & TRIES TO PREVENT MY LEAVING! She raises her arm to strike me, & for the first time in my life, I stop her arm.  I’ve been stronger than her for years as I work at hard physical labor – carrying water on the farm – but I never prevented her from beating me.  This is a first, she is shocked.  It’s probably a moot point, but I will ask again, why could bro always have friends over, drink & make noise, but the first time I have a friend over, we are mistreated?

MEDUSA:   Because you are a nonentity, not allowed any privileges, not a member of our family, an outsider like Dad.  Things are reaching a climax.  {end channel}


A good spot to explain.  My female friend & I, when we were taken to the police by the taxi driver, thereupon both got expelled from school.  The family decided they had to release me now to go live with Dad, which was arranged.

He got a nifty apt for us for $56 a month – a big step up for him, which unfortunately was on the 6th floor, no elevator – but I loved it.

Mom pretended that Dad contributed nothing to us, but he was paying the mortgage on the house in Middletown.  Someone told me it was $160. mortgage, which seems exorbitant, but maybe I recall wrongly & it was less?

When I was on my way, on the bus, I already told this, she speaks to Dad on the phone & he tells her now that I will be with him, he will no longer contribute.  She flags down the bus & tries to make me get off, with no luck.  It is bizarre that because of me he was contributing money when I got none of it.  No money for clothes, school supplies or dentist, I was penniless, & every job she’d find out about, she got me fired.  So I did not benefit from his money.

Now I’m on my way to a new life, new adventure, I can’t wait.

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Just one more question to Mother God:

ME:   Did you plan me to get expelled from school so I could finally get out of there, have a new life, & meet my destiny?

MOMGOD:   It was impossible for you to live there any more, they would have ground you into the dirt.  You escaped with your life.

ME to MEDUSA:   When you found out Dad would no longer send support, because of me, did you feel it was the final outrage?  Were you livid?

MEDUSA:   You can’t imagine the degree of hate I had for you both.  But I had my final revenge in the story ‘Mom’s final act of hate against me’ which you told in Part 2.  {end channel}

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College of God & Love, College of Matriarchal Love, Core Tenets, Uncategorized




2-21-21  Jim Doud Visits-Souls at Table



Yesterday I wrote an article about Jim Doud & I believe he appeared in this dream.  So did my friend who got diagnosed with breast cancer, as well as two other people I have yet to identify.

I’m in a restaurant, soft lighting, in a booth.  The booth is a rectangle, two people seating across each other, a single seat left, jutting out from the booth.  The wall is behind me & the door is to the left, a few feet past a corner in front, the walls are brown lacquered wood, the table is medium light grey, some sort of plastic material.  I sense that to my right it’s lined with windows, but I don’t see them.

*(RESTAURANT, WE AT TABLE:   This is a GATHERING of the people you wrote about & thought about yesterday, most likely, in the article on Jim Doud.  He is the GUEST OF HONOR.


The LACQUERED WOOD represents SUFFERINGS – which you wrote about – How Mom betrayed him & the other cops after they helped her.  The GREY of the table is your MIND or BRAIN which remembers & states these events.)*

There’s a chubby lady sitting at the end of the booth eating a baked chicken leg in her hands, close to her face, while before her sits a small round glass with stem filled with what looks like whiskey.

*(LADY, EATING BAKED CHICKEN LEG:   This is my poor friend who got cancer.  The symbol of EATING MEAT is SUFFERING.  They say that baby Christians have to have consolation or sweetness, candy, cakes, desserts, as they can’t yet take sufferings.  But when one matures spiritually, they can have the MEAT of God which is MOST NUTRITIOUS TO THE SOUL – what hurts the most enhances us spiritually {if accepted graciously}.  She is feeling the pain of FEAR – represented by EATING CHICKEN & the leg could be saying ‘WHERE I HAVE TO GO {SURGERY & OTHER TREATMENTS.’}

Before her is the ELIXIR of GRACE, represented by WHISKEY, because alcoholic drinks make us HIGH, give us comfort or relaxation, we are ‘inebriated with delights.’

  Across from me sits a male & female, the male closer to the window & they don’t pay attention to anyone else, just chatting with one another, seeming ‘distant’; she for sure has the same glass the lone lady has – I believe he does too, but I don’t see it.  They are absorbed in one another to my mind, just a bit rude not to pay attention to me or anyone else.  After all, we are all at table together, should have camaraderie.

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*(These people are included in your presence this day – this might be two SOULS in PURGATORY who I don’t know, they don’t know me.  they are receiving GRACE, which is the ELIXIR or WHISKEY in front of them.  This is the Mass I say for Souls, the other Mass is for the lady friend.)*

Now a man has arrived to my left, sitting next to me.  He’s thin, middle aged with salt & pepper hair.  He goes into a discussion with me about his clothing {he’s jubilant.}  He said he was wearing ordinary clothes, but decided to dress up for this occasion, do I agree he should have?  I say I approve.  He’s wearing a bright, clean white shirt, a vest made of a silvery {has some copper to it?} silky material, & a tie – I can see all of it as if he just has the white shirt with the hanging tie, like the vest disappears when I see the tie.  The tie is dark with many medium dark designs on it, flowery.

*(CHANGE IN CLOTHING, IMPROVEMENT, FROM CASUAL TO ‘DRESSY’:   This is a definite STEP UP IN SPIRITUALITY for a Soul – Could be Jim Doud or it could be another Soul in Purgatory.

If it’s Jim Doud then wherever he is, alive or dead, we have ENHANCED his STATE OF BEING – the CLOTHING is not literal cloth, but LIGHT that RADIATES FROM THE SOUL.

I wrote about him WITH LOVE, I GAVE HIM LOVE, which lifted his Soul.  In the article I made a dedication to him, I said, like a kiss which I didn’t have the guts to give him under the mistletoe.  It was a series of images of beautiful flowers, mostly TULIPS  {two lips – I didn’t plan the pics that way, just happened.}

And as I said, it could also be another Soul who I cannot identify, in Purgatory.  If Jim Doud is alive now I estimate he’d be around 90, as I was 14 & he was between 26 to 35.  So if I am 75 he’d be at least 87.  {His grey hair could be saying he’s alive & old, or his thoughts are silver, which is precious love.}

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The BRIGHT WHITE SHIRT is his clean, pure soul shining as WHITE LIGHT.  The SILVER with a touch of COPPER SHINY VEST is his Eternal Love & Sufferings {silver is precious, valuable, copper has a touch of red, usually refers to sufferings, like blood.}  Over his CHEST {the vest} refers to the HEART & this is what CAME OUT OF HIS HEART, FEELINGS, DESIRES.

His TIE.  Need help on that from Mother God.

MOTHER GOD:   The tie could mean this:  It’s very dark with dark designs, which shows SORROW OVER HIS HEART.  He’s saying to you he was JUST AS SAD that nothing happened between you – not even a kiss – AS YOU WERE.  Dark, black is a funeral here, a lack of.  He had DESIGNS ON YOU {on the tie} but they did not come to fruition.

ME:   This is a great revelation to me.  I didn’t know he cared.  Again, strike for Mom & Mempho who spoiled every relationship they could, that I could have had.  They pretended of course that I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell with Jim Doud – but the truth is, my age – I was getting older every year & in 3 years I would have been legal for sex & marriage.  Meanwhile, I told in my article how he was attracted to me to demonstrate weight lifting – but I felt it must have been a ‘fluke,’ had nothing to do with being interested in me – but Mother God says he was.

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Let me ask Mother God:

ME:   If I had had a decent family that loved me & they did not interfere in my friendship with Jim, could something have come of it?  Like a real relationship, maybe even marriage?

MOTHER GOD:   Yes, for sure you could have had a relationship, a real one.  Yes, there is a chance you could have married.  You would have loved each other, that is for sure.  So here he is, wherever he is, alive or dead, speaking to you telling you he cared.

ME:   Wow, that is so CONSOLING & gratifying, makes me feel like I was VALUABLE.)*

We’re the only ones at table with nothing in front of us & I say to him

“Shall we order?”

He says yes, we should.  I imagine we’ll have drinks like the others………………………………..

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*(NOTHING ON THE TABLE FOR US BUT SHALL WE ORDER DRINKS LIKE THE OTHERS?  & HE SAYS YES:   This seems to say he is not in Purgatory, so he’s alive.  If it’s a departed Soul, he would have received from my daily Mass.  This could be saying he received Light & happiness from my thoughts & words yesterday.  

So we are GOING TO CELEBRATE, or in other words, when you have food or drinks at a table, you are celebrating.  We haven’t done it yet, but we will celebrate, we’ll drink & get INEBRIATED WITH DELIGHT.

Wow, what a dream.)*

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College of God & Love, College of Matriarchal Love, Core Tenets, Uncategorized





2-20-21   to continue Chapter 8:   THE COPS MY MOM BETRAYED



Jim Doud was the handsomest cop I’d ever seen – we’d ever seen – & all who saw him were infatuated.  My Mom, her niece who lived with us {who I call Mempho} & me.

But I was no contender, so they thought, as I was only 14.  I thought of myself out of the running also, because they convinced me I was unattractive, undesirable, worthy of no one good.  But they were vying for his attention.  

Who could nail him?  Mom or Mempho?  Who did he like, who did he find desirable?  The truth is – me – except I did not believe it then, I only know it after years of looking back & putting the dots together.

I shall never forget the Christmas we had mistletoe & put it on the door above where kitchen met dining room.  Jim stood there on purpose {he often visited us as he frequented Thorn’s Milk Bar & both Mom & Mempho worked there} waiting to be kissed.  Wow, did I want to kiss him!  Mom kissed him, Mempho kissed him – it was my turn.  But try as I might, I could not summon the courage.  He couldn’t say  ‘Rasa, kiss me.’  My relatives did not say I should, so it never happened & to this day I can feel my pain & disappointment.  Let me channel Mom,

ME:   Everyone wanted Jim Doud.  You might have guessed I wanted to kiss him under the mistletoe even though I was young but I was a young lady, not a child.  Why did you not say ‘Rasa, kiss Jim?’  I know the answer will be gruesome, but let’s have it.

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MEDUSA {MOM}:   That would be like Cinderella’s ugly stepmother telling her to kiss the Prince.  We deserved the Prince, you were but an underling to do the dishes, feed the animals, clean the house.  You were, to us, a nothing.  Why give someone like you the pleasure of kissing that most handsome of all cops? 

ME:   But what did Jim Doud think?  Did he find you attractive or Mempho?  Did he make advances to either one of you, act romantic?

MEDUSA:    Unfortunately, he did not want us.  And you, when I found out about the weight lifting stint with his shirt off, I was livid with rage.  That’s when I started to figure how to destroy him – with rumors that he was gay. 

ME:   Why did you believe he would want you when he was a 10 & you were a 5?  

MEDUSA:   I thought all men wanted sex, but I had not much experience with men that handsome & sexy, I could get just about any man for sex as long as he was average, I did not hit the high notes, I scored with the low.  This was a high note I couldn’t reach & it infuriated me.  I got a taste of reality ‘ Medusa, get off your high horse, you aren’t up to speed for men like that.’  It hurt my ego.

ME:   Now that I’m a grown woman, looking back, I know the incident mentioned proved it was me he chose, if it was to be one of us.  And you from heaven are compelled to tell the truth, you cannot lie in your state, what do you see?

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MEDUSA:   What I see is that all or most men that had a choice of one of us preferred you.  We refused to see you as you were, we projected onto you all vile things, demoralizing thoughts & feelings, which we wanted to believe & wanted you to believe to undermine your confidence.  But outsiders didn’t see it that way, & the people we could not influence saw you differently.  Jim Doud, as did most men, found you attractive & brimming with sex appeal.  Your body was beautiful, your face was exotic.  That’s what they saw that we tried to cover up. 


One day Jim Doud, as he often had, stopped by the farmhouse.  He came to the kitchen, sat down for  tea – he always had tea with us.  But this time we were alone.  He asked me if Mom & Mempho were home – he said he didn’t know they weren’t.

We chit chatted & somehow the subject went to body building – I have no idea how we got there.  It was a hot day.  He said let’s go outside & he’d demonstrate weight lifting to me.

He took two cinder blocks, we had weights lying about that my brother lifted – he took off his shirt, put the weights on the block & began to show me the moves.  I sat there mesmerized by his beauty – he was masculine & muscular.

About twenty minutes went by, Mom & Mempho appeared, they excitedly asked how long had he been there?  He said ten minutes – I later told them 20.  Both were flustered like they had caught something in the act that should not be.

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That was it, nothing more happened.  However, do the math.  Man comes to house where he usually visits two women he knows, but they aren’t there, only their younger version.  He could leave, could he not?  But instead he chooses to stay, takes off the top half of his uniform & demonstrates body building to the female.  Why?  I will ask my Mother God.  Can you explain this in simple words?

MOTHER GOD:    He was trying to seduce you, or in other terms, groom you for future intimacy.  They knew that – as they were older & knew how it works.  He had no intention of doing anything to you then & there, but at a later date, your mind would be riper for his advances, say, if he kissed you.  You would have seen his beautiful body, not just his face, & welcomed the kiss, you’d be susceptible.  It never happened because of the events that took place, but it was what he would have liked.  Your age was no big deal – yes, a bit unusual – but men have sex with young girls all the time, they just don’t talk about it.


Mr. Thorn had a ‘greasy spoon’ – an average place that seated about 16 people in the front room with tables, the counter could seat 15-20 – a side ‘porched in’ room could seat about 30, but it only filled up 4th of July.

Mempho was working there, then Mom, then my brother, & last but not least, when I was 15 he hired me.

The local cops had privileges there, he treated them like royalty.  They got half price on all food & drink & could use the office for phone calls.  This was way before the day of cell phones, & a time when long distance cost a fortune. 

 {P.S.  Look at the pic below of the gorgeous lady with the white tunic.  This is approximately how I looked as a teen – I was a 10.  She has on an inch of makeup, with all the makeup I could have looked like that – I wore none.  I know I looked that good because there was one image of me in a bikini age 13 & I was SHOCKED when I saw it – movie star material.  I never knew I looked that good.  I asked my Dad years later’was I ugly?’  He said, ‘You looked like AVA GARDNER.’  I said was she ugly?  He said no, she was beautiful.   Unfortunately, our own image of ourselves is formed by those around us – family, friends & society, when we are young.  My Mom & others close to me convinced me that not only was I ugly, but also WEIRD.  They destroyed my self esteem as a woman.  You saw what Jim Doud looked like from the pic above – he honestly was as good as that, a 10.  So you can understand why he & other men might prefer me to women who were less than 10.}



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Once Mom started there, she would sneak into the office to use the phone to call Dad {long distance, New Jersey to NYC} about their affairs – I’m sure she was pleading for money – but besides that, to tell him the tall tales, lies, about me, what a bad girl I was.

Now get this.  I told you about my dog Ciulis, when he got hit by a car, but they would not let me stay home, they forced me to go off with my half sister to Aunt & Uncle.  It was not ask, it was cohersion.  Wonderful Mom would take care of Ciulis, what could I do anyway?  She would take him back to the vet soon to have the pin, which was sticking out of his hip in raw flesh, removed.

But she did not come get me for six weeks.  Aunt Dagmar had to call & force her to come get me.

Meanwhile, during those six weeks Mom got into trouble, because she had NOT taken care of the dog – she left him like that, with the metal pin sticking out of his leg, hopping about in unimaginable pain – on a short chain that kept seizing up.  I had before leaving, visiting my neighbor Ruth, met a female ASPCA officer, we chatted.

The officer decided to pay me a visit – it was just a short walk away – but I wasn’t there – the dog was.  When she saw the condition of the dog she reported it & the ASPCA took her to court.

It was when she got me from Aunt’s she told me the story.  She said the cops from Thorns came to testify for her, that she was a good woman, a good mother, took care of her kids with no help from any man, took the dog to the vet when he got hurt – etc.  all bullshit, the same bullshit she told the guidance counsellor at my school, which got me expelled {to be explained later.}  So SHE GOT OFF THE CHARGE.

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{Did she then do the right thing, take the dog to the vet & have the pin removed?  Two months passed by, she did nothing.  I took care of him – he was in such pain he hardly could function, life was no longer worth living.  All she & my  brother did was finally call the dog catcher, have him removed to be put to death.  I can still see him, to this day, hopping onto the dog catcher’s truck, feeling ‘death will be better than this.’} 

 Now the cops.  Mr. Thorn found out someone was using the phone in his office to make long distance calls – the bills were huge.  Mom told him it was the cops doing it.  Mr. Thorn for some strange reason believed her {proves what a good liar she was, a manipulator} & their privileges were removed – no more half price food, no more calls from the office.  And it didn’t end there.

Jim Doud, to get even with him for not wanting to fuck her, she passed the rumor he was homosexual.  No such thing, but she said it to so many people so many times, his reputation was tarnished.  This was back in the day, when being gay was serious, it made you an outcast.  He never came to our house again.

The flowers below are dedicated to the memory of Jim Doud.  They are the kiss I didn’t have the guts to give, under the mistletoe

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College of God & Love, College of Matriarchal Love, Core Tenets, Uncategorized




 2-20-21   The GLASS DEPT STORE that I own  



I own a vast dept. store, as big as the biggest,  & it’s in a Mall, & where the entrance/exit doors are is all glass walls with sliding doors.  Those who own the Mall have the keys to my store.


*(GLASS DEPT STORE I OWN:   It’s my LIFE STORY, I own my life.  But there’s a LADY who owns the entire Mall – This would be Mother God or the Bl. Virgin, who owns the entire BIG PICTURE, the comprehensive view of the world, besides my individual life.

GLASS signifies that WHICH CAN BE SEEN.  I am now regularly writing installments or chapters on my life – segments – these would be the ROOMS in my story.  Also am putting them onto my WEBSITE where THEY CAN BE SEEN each time I write a segment.)*

I’m inside it & things go on in every room.  There are man MEN around, they are noisy, I am maintaining ORDER.  Then it’s closing time, somehow I get rid of the men – all except ONE who is supposedly helping me, but that’s just an excuse of his to hang around me.

*(ALL THE MEN, I GET RID OF THEM:   Although I don’t write about mostly men, somehow, in the dream, it’s so many men, but only one remains at the end.  This is without a doubt my LOVER who is my SPIRITUAL HUSBAND.  This heralds once again he will stay with me while all others are gone.

His hanging around wanting to have sex with me is the only way he knows how to relate to me.)*

I must now shut down all the LIGHTS, so I go from room to room – some of the rooms are large & long, like corridors, all is well lit.

Electricity is expensive so it’s important to turn off the lights, although I see a nightlight that I say to the guy with me I will leave on.


*(SHUTTING OFF LIGHTS:   Is ending each chapter when finished.  I put the light or the view of it, finished, turn it off.  Leaving a night light might be referring to various incidents again in brief.)*

There’s a wall here, with fancy green/gold wallpaper, & it camouflages a DOOR.  I must check it, I open the door – it’s my old room at the farmhouse.  I check the 3 windows, the two side ones were open too far, {one side is the driveway, one is the side yard with large trees, back window faces fields & woods} I leave like 6″ open, the back one was shut.  I tell the friend that I must not have the windows wide open in case of a bad rain storm, & I shut the lights.

*(ROOM @ FARM HOUSE:   These are some of the old memories.  The GOLD/GREEN over the DOOR signifies LOVE/LIFE.  I was not loved by Mom & family, but I had love, God had love for me, God gave me great life through the NATURE AROUND ME @ the farm.

The WINDOWS could be views or POINTS OF VIEW, here’s how it went from this angle, that angle, & a third.  One, the driveway, might be the PUBLIC PERSONA of me – second, the window facing the inside, where you cannot see the yard from the road, might be the PRIVATE PERSONA OF ME, MY PRIVATE/SPIRITUAL/PERSONAL LIFE.  The third – which is the only one CLOSED – might be the SANCTUM SANCTORIUM, the GOD SELF, which I’m NOT  PRIMARILY COVERING IN THIS BOOK, therefore it’s CLOSED.)*  

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We then go out through the front, but before we do so apparently there were several large suitcases & bundles we put together – he has one – & there’s so much in it, it’s on it’s back so the big part of it is open, his clothes are stacked like a foot & a half higher than the case – I suspect he’s smuggling 2 of my sweaters out for himself, the one I can see more easily is not a large size, it’s beige knit with Easter decorations embroidered.  It doesn’t really matter if he took a couple of my things.

*(MY THINGS, 2 SWEATERS, HE MIGHT HAVE COPPED, IT’S OK:   These of course are not literal.  Always look for the mystical/psychological aspect of a thing.  He got from me some SPIRITUAL LIGHTS/POWERS, ANOINTINGS.  Here two are pictured, I expect the primary ones.  The one that is most obvious, which I can see, is not a large size {my size} BEIGE KNIT WITH EASTER DECORATIONS EMBROIDERED ON THE FRONT.  What is this, Mother God?

MOMGOD:   This sounds like the SPIRITUAL MARRIAGE, where, when united to you he’s also united to God, as you are a God-woman, One with God, now he also becomes One with God, rises up like the Resurrection, into the Light.  You not only don’t mind this, you wanted it, hoped for it.

There’s another SIGNIFICANT GRACE which you cannot identify, that he ‘TAKES WITH HIM’ or ‘CARRIES.’)*

Before we went out the door he said to me there were good hotels/motels around here, we should go to one for the night – he looks sheepish here.  I know he wants sex, but I tell him no we won’t.  If I wanted sex I could have done it anyway in my dept. store, without paying the extra price.

I then think he might take revenge & steal some of my parcels I prepared.  Not sure what of value is in there, not that much, still, what’s mine is mine.

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MOMGOD:   You have HIM but you refuse him sex & you fear, IS THERE SOME KIND OF A LOSS?  Have I or will I lose anything of VALUE?  The answer is no.  You don’t mention it in the dream, but when you leave, there are no bundles for you, only he has his suitcase.  He got something from you of value, he got the Grace / Anointings of God – you did not NEED anything from him.)*

As we go outside there are two females who want to use the restroom in my mall – the Lady who has the keys allows them in.  But now the entire dept. store goes dark, as it has AUTOMATIC LIGHTS like a car which shut off when you leave the car.  I wonder if those two ladies got caught in my rest room in the dark, I see them leave & don’t know.  The sliding glass doors are closed, I am shut for the night, my male friend is the only one that survived the ‘cleanout’ of all the people.

*(TWO LADIES USE MY REST ROOM, MOTHER GOD PERMITS THEM:   These are two women IN MY LIFE that I do not SPEAK ABOUT BY NAME, I might allude to them but indirectly, not specifically, no one will know why they are unless they are familiar with us & make a guess.  So they are IN THE DARK.  Using my REST ROOM could mean they get CONSOLATION/COMFORT from me.

The ONLY ONE WHO SURVIVED THE CLEANOUT IN MY LIFE NOW THAT IT’S COMING TO A CLOSE:    Is my ex lover, who is JOINED WITH ME SPIRITUALLY.  He is the only one virtually in my life, even though I haven’t spoken to him for a long time – we are still together spiritually / mystically / psychologically.  But the rest of the people in my life I am SEPARATED FROM.)*

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College of God & Love, College of Matriarchal Love, College of the Gender War, Core Tenets, Uncategorized


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Disclaimer:  In Lithuania my Dad’s income was probably above average, his status as a Professor & Founder of  the first State Teacher’s College in Lithuania was ‘elite.’  But arriving in America as immigrants, not speaking the language, was a rough road.  He did the same work he did before but as a volunteer.  Money wise he could only get the lowest jobs for lack of language  & age.  I think he was born in 1906, so arriving in America he was 43 but within ten years 53, so at 53 he was considered ‘over the hill.’  He showed me beautiful work he had done as a draftsman, applying to the city for a job in that field, but they turned him down.  In Newark he worked for a Lithuanian food manufacturer but mostly in this hat factory, which he told me was hard.  Later, moving to Brooklyn, New York, he worked as a custodian or janitor for a while before he got his final  job in the U.S. Post Office  {when someone addressed a letter with a destination that was so obscure no one knew what it was they came to him, & he knew.} In the end he retired with the Post Office pension & spent his last years in Spain – with his Puerto Rican wife in a Polish community {he spoke Polish fluently.} 

When Mom deserted him with Marius he continued to help us right up to the time they expelled me from school {to be explained elsewhere} & I had to move in with Dad to finish school.  He then told Mom he would no longer pay the mortgage {$160. a month money then, today is worth $$1,414.}  He let her know when I was on the bus on my way to New York – she flagged down the bus, haha, got on & told the driver to make me get off for family business – the driver said go talk to me – she did & I refused to get off.  {I had no idea she’d try to make me stay for money because she told everyone Dad contributed nothing.}  I will get into some of these ‘asides’ later, just wanted to make a point that Dad was below average in wages. 

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Were I not writing this book, I would never have thought of this – the reason why Mom hated Dad so much.  I could never figure it out, exactly.  I thought it was this or that, like she was tired of him or lost interest, but the hate was so strong nothing made sense.  But now I think I hit the nail on the head – it was money.  And for this reason, the fact that Dad stinted the family out of money, he was also partially responsible for my abuse.  We covered this already but I want to get more into it.  I figured out a way to know how much he cheated us of.

So here goes:  Dad was relatively poor  {he worked in a hat factory at night when we lived on Delancey St. & Van Buren St.} but we always lived decently – we were never hard up for food.  Marius equivalent of $240 a month I’m sure helped – it was when we lived in what to me seemed a ‘posh’ apartment on Van Buren St., next to the public library, in Newark.  This was on the third floor & it had at least 3 bedrooms because I know Marius had his room on the far end, my parents had a room next to that, I had a room that looked right into the child section of the library – they had a huge picture window – {my love of books started there & then, I was 7} which makes 3 bedrooms but where did my brother sleep?  Were there four bedrooms or did he sleep on the living room couch?  

The living room to me was gorgeous & reminded me of the mansion in Waccabuc, because it had a round wall, covered with multi windows.  We even had a parrot in a cage on a pedestal.

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The place had a space on the stairwell of the apt where Mom kept an airtight pantry for food – stuff that should be cold or cool, but there wasn’t enough room in the fridge.  This applied to holidays especially Christmas, as Mom would cook enough {special} food for a week.  I remember that stairwell smelling so great & feeling we were privileged to have it.  I think there was no 4th floor so it was private, just for us.   OK now that I told you all this let me get to the point.

I figure in today’s wages, 2021 minimum wage in most of New York is $12.50 an hour so the wage a week is $500.  Let’s say Dad earned that.  I channeled {mind read} where he told me he could have given TWICE or more what he gave, than what he did.  Then what did he give, what could he have given I asked, & what I got was that he gave – {when we were at the farm, Mom with Marius)  $20. a week or $80. a month when he could have, should have given $40. – 50. a week. 

In today’s money he gave us $194. a week or $776. a month.  That’s for a family of Mom with 4 kids, never mind the boyfriend who we don’t count.  The fourth child was in dispute, so I don’t know how she was factored, legally his however.  OK  now on a minimum wage job he earns in now money $2K a month, so he would have had 1,224. left over FOR HIMSELF.

Look at the disparity: $776. for 5 people {his family} vs $1,224. for ONE PERSON.

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Mom WAS NOT WORKING, but she worked all day doing the ‘homesteading’ – growing food, trying to sell it {didn’t work!}, canning & preserving the food for winter.

Now what were Dad’s expenses.  I know of one because he told me what his rent was.  He lived with a Lithuanian roommate, {I remember him well, good guy, smoked a pipe, listened to shortwave radio a lot trying to get Lithuania!}  It was a two bedroom apt. going for – get this – $30. a month.  Dad paid for half & so he spent $15. a month on rent, not sure how much electric, gas & such cost, but it was not much on an apt. in Williamsburg, B’klyn, on South 2nd St.   Take out $15. for rent – HIS BIGGEST BILL – out of $1,224.  & you have $1,209. for himself for other bills & food.  He did not nor did he ever drive or have a car.

Now you see where in channeling I got from him that he could have sent us a lot more?  OK if he had sent us $40. a month or equivalent of $1,552. he would only have had the equivalent of $328. for himself.  But let’s go halfway, say instead of the bottom line, 20 a month or the top line 40-50 we go with $30. a month.  That would be today $1,167. a month.  That would leave him $833.

Try it from another angle.  You have a family of 6 people, the salary is $2,000.  Each person gets $333. a month.  So now you see how $833. a month for Dad alone should suffice more than enough, whereas we got cheated – if we are STILL HIS FAMILY WHICH WE WERE.  OK, she ‘did him dirty’ in a sense, but we are still his children, the man she is with makes very little money – minimum wage or less – you cannot expect this man to take care of your children, can you?  Because he can’t.  Maybe if he could he would, but he’s also working at one time two jobs plus the homestead, & we’re still in poverty.  THAT’S I NOW SEE THE MAIN REASON MOM HATED MY DAD & BECAUSE I ADORED HIM, THEREFORE HATED ME & USED ME AS HER WHIPPING POST.  She wanted to destroy HIM so I was marked for death.  Let me ask Dad:

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ME:   Dad, do you now see how you were partially responsible for the abuse I suffered?  Why could you not anticipate this?  Why did you not interview me as to why I wanted to kill myself {which I told you again & again.}

DAD:    Could have, should have – I sinned.  I already explained this.  About the money, about why I did not ask you any details, I even used you as a spy, which added to her hate.  I am now in Heaven & I can only say I gave you my brains, my honor, my study habits, my example.  I brought you to the Catholic Church, I gave you a good education with the Lithuanian School, the Catechism, the love of books.  I failed you in some major ways but please remember the good I did.  When we were together, you a child, I was warm, kind, supportive to you.  You learned what love was from me.

ME:   What about when we lived together in B’klyn?  You were not warm, supportive & kind to me then.  You hurt me several times.  Once you had the Lithuanian guys stay overnight with us – you did not even introduce me to them like you were ashamed of me, you did not even tell me they would be staying there.  I was so embarrassed.  Why did you do that?

DAD:   I admit I was not warm & kind as I should have been.  I felt put upon.  I felt sorry for myself.  I was still grieving about your Mom deserting me.  You reminded me of my grief.  And that incident I was mad at you for something but can’t recall what or else I can recall but you can’t pick it up.  Something to do with Lithuanians & their culture, I felt you weren’t respectful enough to it.

ME:   That would have been the time you could have found out about the abuse – I was now with you.  Didn’t you care what had happened to me?  I was a broken child, disheartened, demoralized, couldn’t you see it?  All you cared about was yourself?  Of course, my Lithuanian language was limited, I would not have been able to explain myself to you in proper terms, even if I understood myself what exactly had happened – which I didn’t, I just knew I was persecuted & hurt.

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DAD:   I was out of my element.  I did not know psychology or advanced child care or care giving.  I knew history, I knew mathematics, I new school subjects.  I knew how to teach, speak.  I had my abilities & defects.  Dealing with you I was defected, I did not cope.  You were mostly on your own, & you went on your own, did what you had to do, you had a destiny like no one else had in our family.  You met your destiny.  You needed terrible lessons, your Guru was pain.  You suffered on the Cross, you died, you rose again & met your fate.  Look how God chose you to give the message of Fatima in front of the White House.  It changed the destiny of mankind.  Because of you Gorbachev was elected with Perestroika.  Reagan was elected because of that speech.  And most of all, the half Lithuanian, half Polish Pope from behind the Iron Curtain.  All this led to the fall of Communism including in our country Lithuania, the end of the Cold War, & the threat of nuclear annihilation in a World War III scenario.  You were destined for this.  You were prepared by education &  pain.  You heard me speak again & again to our community about how we must be free of Communism.  You heard about Fatima from the Church, you suffered pain that made you strong.  All this had to happen for you to be chosen.

ME:   You present a compelling argument against my complaints & in your favor.  You reminded me of the big picture.  Yes, I had to suffer, yes I had to have psychological death take me down, yes, I had to rise again – And that many times, over & over I died this way, that way, rising again to do the things God made me do, & still doing them.  Thanks for showing me Dad, your abandonment & neglect of me now doesn’t seem bad, like it was meant to be.  I should thank you, haha.

to be continued

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College of God & Love, College of Matriarchal Love, Core Tenets, Uncategorized



We Need To Do Both -



If you are confused about how to save America, you are NOT alone.  To fix this country we need to get out of this nasty rut we are stuck in ASAP.  And to do this, we need to not only reopen the country by ending the lockdowns and restrictions OR only firehose the economy with federal money, we need to do BOTH.  

Yesterday.  In fact, yesterday is not soon enough!

If we keep these restrictions for any longer while hoping to just paper over the massive holes in our economy and society with newly printed money, that will not work in the long run, as we will just keep on damaging the economy and society.  Likewise, if we attempt to reopen with a bang without injecting federal dollars into the economy, it will be a big disappointment since the damage is done and has not been repaired.  Either way, it is like pushing on a string–or like pushing an elephant up the stairs.

As we have already noted in a previous article, we can effectively end the pandemic in ONE WEEK tops without lockdowns, masks, or vaccines, full stop.  Simply send everyone an Indian-style $2 Ziverdo kit (Zinc, Ivermectin, and Doxycycline), and as Karl Denninger notes, the Doxycycline is optional and can be substituted with Vitamins C and D (and if we had our way, also add Niacin, Thiamine, and Quercetin as well).  And for the few severe or critical cases that still occur despite this, there is always the MATH+ Protocol (and even cheap steroid inhalers) to fall back on.  In fact, early use of steroid inhalers seems to reduce the number of severe cases by 90%!  Problem solved.

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(In India, adding Vitamin D to the Ziverdo Triple Therapy mix is also known as Quadruple Therapy.)

Oh and by the way, did you know that we are basically at the holy grail of herd immunity in the USA (if not also globally on average) already?  Why else would virus cases be plummeting starting weeks before fully vaccinating a significant chunk of the population, in the middle of winter, even in states and countries with little to no restrictions?  Even with those supposedly scary new mutant strains allegedly running rampant for weeks, no less.  If it can’t be due to seasonality, vaccines, or restrictions, then it MUST be due to naturally acquired herd immunity.   Too bad we had to climb a mountain of corpses to get there thanks to the incompetence and malfeasance of our “leaders” who suppressed the treatments and prophylaxis that actually work while throwing the wisdom of the ages out the window like so much garbage.  And that’s to say nothing of all the collateral damage deaths caused by the lockdowns and panic.

(NOTE:  The sharp decrease in cases predates the reduction in the PCR test cycle threshold in many places, and was in fact followed by decreases in hospitalizations and deaths, so it can’t be entirely due to sleight of hand unless one concedes that all of the data were nearly 100% false from the very start.  Either way, the case for restrictions crumbles.)

Thus, no reason not to end all restrictions and open up right away, full stop.  That is, no more restrictions than we had a year ago in February 2020, other than those that individuals and businesses voluntarily choose to put on themselves.  But again, the damage is already done at this point, even if we don’t do any further damage going forward.  We must then do the Herculean task of healing the existing damage done.  Fortunately, the federal government has just the technology to do that–the printing press, or its more modern equivalent, a computer with a keyboard.  Money is simply an accounting entry these days, so make the entry and be done with it.  Yesterday. 

(And before anyone predictably cries “inflation!”, the truth is that deflation is actually a much, much bigger risk nowadays in the age of secular stagnation.)

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The recent paltry stimulus is just barely scratching the surface of what is needed.  We will need an ongoing Universal Basic Income for all (at least $2000/month per adult and $1000/month per child for the first three months, followed by at least half those amounts per month thereafter). We will need single-payer Medicare For All. We will need to expand Social Security.  We will need to increase funding for schools.  We will need free higher education as well.  We will need a Green New Deal to create millions of good jobs while saving the Earth at the same time.  And we will ultimately need some sort of debt jubilee as well.  Seriously, now is NOT the time to be pikers!

So what are we waiting for?

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College of God & Love, College of Matriarchal Love, Core Tenets, Uncategorized

Chapter 8 Miscellaneous Anecdotes


Chapter 8 Miscellaneous Anecdotes – Sundry Cruelties


Theatrical name for him: Sir Lancelot, because he was a good Knight but flawed


ME: Dad, when you & Mom separated, we lived on the farm, Marius was with us, you stayed in B’klyn to work. The ‘wisdom’ was that you would join us eventually & we would have a homestead of sorts – one sweet dream was you would set up a Lithuanian Boy Scouts Camp Center in our woods. {Dad had been a Boy Scout leader when we were in Germany, not sure about when we were in Lithuania. He took Boy Scouts on a trip to Paris, that’s all I know.}

I have a few questions. (1) Did Mom really intend to have you come live with us at the farm or was she pulling your leg to make sure you sent money, & that, enough of it. And (2) Why did you sue Marius for ‘alienation of affection? What did you hope to get out of it & (3) Why did you not send more money, did you deliberately send less than you could/should have out of revenge & selfishness – to abandon us to a poverty where Mom sometimes had to borrow money for food.

DAD: She never intended for me to come live with you, but she pretended she did to keep my hopes up & to get continued support for the family. She was done with me, in her mind, she had stopped loving me long ago & now she had a new man – but she was a good con artist she convinced me they weren’t having sex, & that I would be welcomed back with open arms when the time came. All this was a hoax carried on for a year.
If it hadn’t been for me getting a $500. {today $4,898.} loan from the priest, she couldn’t have had this property.

Yes, I did hope to set up a Boy Scout Camp there, yes, I did hope to be a homesteader like the old days in Lithuania. Where there was a will there would be a way, although it wouldn’t be easy. Had your Mom wanted me back I could have worked at Brockway Glass, just as she did later, yes, a minimum wage job – but there could have been survival. That homestead was too difficult for two people, but with three it was possible.

But of course, your Mom didn’t want me back, she hated me. She just wanted money. Yes, it was for the family, not just her, but once I knew she for sure didn’t love me & didn’t want me back I was deeply hurt, emotional & somewhat revengeful.

ME: How could you have been so gullible that she was not having sex with this man, with whom she already had had a child?

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DAD: On some level I knew she was lying but pretended to myself I believed her, & I just wanted to come back, live with her, {even though another man was around & she might sneak off & have sex with him} have the creature comforts she gave, have my family, do the homestead bit that I also loved – I had dreams. Yes, I was a fool in love, yes, she deceived me, yes, I fell for it, yes, I loved her & not you, yes, I abandoned you my daughter, yes, I was wrong.

ME: It would have been awfully complicated to have a woman living with two husbands, deceiving the original one, it sounds like a joke. Imagine juggling something like that. OK, now to the next question, # (2).

DAD: That lawsuit was simply to vent my rage or bile on them, there was nothing more to get out of it. I could get no money, he could not be put in jail. The only thing viable would be that for both of them, it would be an unpleasant surprise & they would spend some days or weeks in discomfort wondering what would happen. They would have an unpleasant day in court, that would be my revenge.

ME: An idiotic move on your part, I say. And here I was begging you to take me, you didn’t care, you rejected me, but you take them to court for this nonsense.
{PS The year this was either 1955 or ’56, I was around ten – did not have the slightest idea what was going on. The Judge’s name was BRODY in Freehold, N.J. I recall vividly sitting in the court, all us kids were there, & Marius repeating over & over, ‘It’s all my fault,’ & Judge Brody kept saying ‘What’s your fault” hoping he’d ‘incriminate’ himself I suppose – but Marius spoke bad English & couldn’t defend himself – I don’t know if what he was accused of was even a crime. I pieced together what the lawsuit was as I got older.}

Now to question (3). I could have/should have sent you more money – more than twice what I did. Why I did not is the usual – selfishness & revenge. Here she had a new man, yes, I knew they were struggling, so of course I sent some money, but just enough to say I was helping, not a cent more. She was enraged but she could do nothing to me, & so she took it out on you – my pet, you adored me, you were the target.

Yes, I could have interviewed you to find out how she treated you, but I didn’t. And so, I had no idea how cruel she was & later they, were to you. Yes, I could have found out, but finding out would have made me more culpable, that I was guilty of not taking you. So I stayed ignorant of the cruelty to protect myself.
Yes, I sound like a despicable man now instead of the Saint & angel you thought me to be. I was neither, just an ordinary man who was kinder & nobler than most, but I had my faults. It took you a while to take me off the pedestal.

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ME: Now I will interview Marius Bernotas {Mom’s lover},
MARIUS BERNOTAS – channeling him

Theatrical name for him: SANCHO PANZA a farmer who was squire to Don Quixote. {internet:} “Don Quixote is the one who dreamed the impossible dream, while he was so near to reality, which is Sancho. Sancho Panza jeopardizes himself when he leaves reality. He loses his identity by following Don Quixote. … During their adventures, Sancho gets caught up in the madness entirely.”
I call him this because I recall at the age of 6 going with Dad to call on Marius, who was living in a nice apt. Dad offered him to come live with us for $6 a week, room & board & Marius accepted. {this was 1951 – $240 a month today’s money.} Dad was a fool, so was Marius, just like Don Quixote & Sancho Panza, both fools following an impossible, mad dream, living with a woman who was a con artist, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary, just a man renting a room.

ME: Marius I have a few questions. I know you were a friend of the family before we visited you with the offer. Nevertheless, (1) why did you accept the ‘room & board’ deal when Dad presented it to you. Did you not sense there could be trouble? Were you already having sex with Mom? (2) The Priest – I was told Mom by a lady of the Church – many years later – that Mom had an affair with him & then she switched to you. Why did she want you? (3) Why did you take out your cruelty on pregnant animals, the poor cat Mitzi & the poor pregnant cow? I might have other questions after these.

MARIUS (Sancho Panza): I did not anticipate what I was getting into, how miserable, complicated & ugly it would get. I was an ignorant fool falling into the trap of a devious woman. If I had been left alone my life would have been easier. I got involved with her for a squirt from my penis.

(2) Her affair with the Priest: I was not aware of the details, & I heard rumors, mostly from her getting upset when the priest supposedly denounced her from the pulpit. He was probably giving a sermon on adultery & she was guilty so she assumed it was about her. Even if he said nothing, the dye was cast, word travels fast, everyone knew about it, it was time to get out of town.

What did she want with me? The car. I had a license & car, Dad did not & never would. She used me for herself & the family for everything needing a car. I took you to the beach, to Deer Park {which you adored-we went many times-it was a lake & had a flock of deer} & Lake Hopatcong {you did not like that, filled with rocks}. And you loved it when we went many nights a week – while your Dad worked at the hat factory – took a bag of delicious sandwiches, randomly found a place to park & ate, just to get out of the house.

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(3) My cruelty to animals: I had to take out my anger on someone or something, so the animals were an easy target. Yes when Mitzi had a big belly I kicked her with all my might & all her babies were still born. You nursed her in a room in the barn for weeks, she almost died.

And yes, you watched me when I brought the pregnant cow back from the field, she didn’t obey me right away, I took the chain & beat her on her belly, & to make it worse, I picked up an iron bar & beat her belly with it. You were cringing but you were 9 years old.

And yes, you heard the cow moo-mooing in the barn at night, you left the house to check on her & I had tethered her so she could not move off the rope but one foot, all night. You tried to figure out how to remove the rope but I had it tied so many ways, so tight, so hard, you could not get it off. You brought her pieces & fruits to help relieve her discomfort.

ME: What kind of pleasure did it give you to kill the babies of Mitzi & to hurt that poor cow? What kind of a vile fukking scum were you?

MARIUS: Yes I was a vile scum. It relieved my anger, the way people lash out at someone, curse them out, beat them up, strangle, stab or kill them to relieve their own anger or hate, it was like that. Yes, I was a lowlife.

You ask did I want to kill my own child that was in your Mom’s womb? I wanted to get rid of the trouble it brought me, I was in a rage about how life turned a bad road after I got your Mom pregnant, like all Hell broke loose, & I was responsible for the farm halfway, & it was incredibly difficult to run things. I was exhausted, working regular jobs, two jobs once, & running the homestead.

ME: What about after that altercation where you were sent to live in the room behind the garage. I can still hear your piano reverberating in the winter, with the snow outside, you playing Church music, sounding like Bach’s Toccata in D {haha} & me bringing you your dinner from the house – enough for 3 men. You would give me $5 bucks {$48.80 today} to give Mom, a huge amount for that day. I felt so sorry for you with just an electric heater. I saw you cooking some soup on a hot plate still in the can. You must have been miserable. How did you feel at that time?

MARIUS: Like a miserable failure lowlife who got what he deserved. That is why I stood outside the windows crying,
“Let me see the infant, the infant, the infant,”
but Mom was too scared to let me into the house after I chased someone with a knife. {It was a female who lived with us who kept harassing him mercilessly & he snapped.}

ME: Would you have stabbed that lady had you caught her?

MARIUS: There is no telling what I might have done in my state. I was not getting enough sleep & she could have driven a saint insane.

ME: How about the time you all were drinking for Christmas. You had the baby in your lap. My Dad came to get her & said,
“Give me my child,”
And you said it was your child. He asked again but you would not give up the child – {it was time to be nursed.}
And Uncle Henry, {Paul Bunyan}, came into the kitchen where you were, & beat you up so badly, I recall you being under the table & chairs, & the day after when you came home from work I have never seen a face so black & blue & puffed out, it was scary. How did that affect you? Didn’t you want to leave our premises?

MARIUS: We were all drunk for Christmas. Yes, it was upsetting but your Mom persuaded me to stay.

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I was ten years old.  For some reason I was sleeping on the pullout couch in the living room – I guess Dad had been there the night before – I would beg to sleep with him.

  This room was fairly comfortable because we had a standup stove for wood or coal {we used coal} in it.  The kitchen had an iron stove where we used wood or coal that we did our cooking & baking.  The downstairs wasn’t too bad, except for the bathroom, which always had the door closed with no heat.  We also had no hot water, so if you want to know how that feels, it’s MISERABLE.  Try bathing without hot water in winter.  Upstairs where the kids bedrooms were was coldest, my room being the farthest, was the worst.  Under the feather covers it was fine, but when you had to get up or out, brrrrrrrhhhhh.

So now I am lying in that foldout couch in the living room & Mom is in the kitchen, where the table is far to the other end, by the back door.  She & my brother & other members of the family were sitting at this table talking & for some reason they thought I was asleep & couldn’t hear – but I was not & heard every word.

It began with a harangue about how evil & uncontrollable I was – the manipulation begins.  During some part of it I begin to cry, then sob, stifling myself so they won’t hear me.  It becomes unbearable because EVERY WORD IS A LIE.  At the end of this speech she says to the others that since I am UNCONTROLLABLE she NEEDS THEIR HELP.  I can hear them even now agreeing with all their hearts that they will help Mom CONTROL ME & this was the beginning of OPEN SEASON ON RASA – from this day on not only Mom but her lieutenants abused ‘evil me.’  Think now, what could I have done at age 10 to deserve such punishment?  My transgression?  I loved my Dad.

I will channel my evil brother, Jimmy, & ask him, why did you agree to that pact to abuse me?  You didn’t have to.  My theatrical name for him is Rigoletto because he was a clown & a fool whose workings backfired on him.

JIM (RIGOLETTO):   You were nothing to me, not important.  Mom was important because she could bestow favors upon me, do nice things, love me more.  Whether you loved me or not didn’t matter, you could despise me but you couldn’t do anything to me, you had no power.  So hurting you to please Mom was easy.

JIM:   Did you never feel you sinned by persecuting an innocent person?  After all, we all went to Church, Catechism, & you were an altar boy.  You heard the Word of God.  Did you not feel ashamed for being as you were?

JIM:   Your experience of religion was not my experience.  I did not take it seriously, certainly not at that time.  When I grew up, as an adult with family, when I mended some of my ways & experienced life, I thought about it a bit more.  But until I was middle aged, God was not a big deal to me, or God’s ways, or God’s love, except to get the love that I wanted out of Mom.

ME:   You revolt me.  Despicable.  You were really lucky you made it to Heaven, albeit to the lowest place, with Mom.  Even talking to you now is unpleasant.  You were a weakling & a coward, a fake & a charlatan, the way you treated me at school, pretending you didn’t know me when we passed each other in the hall.  Are you going to tell me now you were a good guy?

JIM:   I was not a good guy, I admit.  I like your name for me, the clown/fool.  Remember in the play Mom produced for our Church, I had a foolish part.  I was a crow, & my only job was to say, ‘Crang, crang, bus maitos, crang crang, bus maitos’ which means ‘Caw, caw, there will be karma, caw, caw, there will be karma.’  It was a part any moron could place, the rest of the kids had respectable parts, some had intelligent speaking roles, but my role was moronic you thought – befitting me.

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ME:   OK enough from you, fly away black crow.  And I apologize to the crows.

to be continued  ……………………………………………………………………………………






I see this guy long ago I was infatuated with – handsome – & then he turns from himself into a fat black, gruff, course-furred bear.

I’m in a park & I recognize where this man is because I hear him talking to a male on my left back, from that, I track his voice.  He is walking down an area of this park, on the lawn, & he’s probably 50′ or so away from that man.  Then I just walk to where I can see him & he is the bear as described.

I don’t dare approach him because he will run.  I sit down on my behind on the lawn.  He turned around maybe in a circle from behind the bushes, & walked back my way on not a formal path, but an opening.

I decide to speak to him & I say – without taking one step forward 

“Maybe we could do lunch one day…..or dinner.”

He says,

“Maybe I could see you.”

The two points here are (1) his misery & (2) My need to stay away from him because the minute I walk toward him he’ll run with fear – like a wild animal.

I can feel his misery, like a wounded animal & the blackness of his coat & the roughness of it also tell me he’s suffering.

When I first saw him as this handsome man, he felt like a celebrity – a special man – then he wasn’t special any more & turned to this……………………………….. 

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MEANING:   This is your ex lover who is now suffering greatly because of your parting.

A BEAR usually means SUFFERING:   “Bull market, bear market” is good market, bad market.

The BLACKNESS of his fur is also DEPRESSION.

The WAY HE’S WALKING – you did not mention it in the dream, is like a man hunched over, & this walk is also HOPELESSNESS, BEING DEFEATED.

What is his FEAR?  What is he afraid of if you approach him?   Need help from Mother God here.  I know it is counter-productive to openly chase a man, it shows anxiety & gives them GREAT FRIGHT.  It MAKES THEM RUN BY SOME SORT OF ANIMAL INSTINCT.  Is this the normal state of a man reacting to being chased or something else?

Mother God:   He is SICK & confused.  He wants you to chase him even though he’s afraid – like the song says, “You don’t want me but you want me to go on loving you” except that he wants you.

He’s afraid of you because of all that you represent – mostly wanting to get him off drugs onto the path of God, being a straight shooter instead of a crooked delinquent.  And so he’s full of conflicts inside where you’re concerned.

But he doesn’t have the COURAGE to begin a RELATIONSHIP with you.  In this dream he says I WANT TO SEE YOU which means the same ‘ole see you in private, at your apt, for sex.  You suggested lunch or dinner.  That would be a normal relationship, a good start, but he isn’t ready for that – that’s why he’s not calling you.

You must wait for the time that he summons the will to call you & begin the normal, decent relationship.

When you first got together you treated him like a celebrity & he felt very special – because you are one.  So this famous lady is chasing me, looking on me like a big deal, so, she must know I am a big deal, so I can puff myself up like a peacock.

Now suddenly the lady doesn’t want to see me any more.  I’m not a peacock, what am I?  Just like any ordinary guy?  This is a letdown.  I am deflated, depressed & demoralized.

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