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



Why We Still Need A Universal Basic Income Guarantee For All Now More

Than Ever

from AJAX the GREAT – Another good one


Comments from Guru Rasa Von Werder in CAPS


I have repeatedly noted before why any serious proposal for a pragmatic utopia would require some sort of unconditional Universal Basic Income (UBI) Guarantee for all. At least as long as we still have a monetary system, of course, and it will be quite some time before money can be phased out completely. And in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, the lockdowns, and their grisly social and economic aftermath, it is more crucial now than ever before.

To wit:

First and foremost, “It’s payback time for Women”. Recently, a Woman named Judith Shulevitz wrote an op-ed titled thusly, arguing in favor of a Universal Basic Income Guarantee for all. Her feminist argument for a UBI, which I agree 100% with, was that such a thing would provide long-overdue compensation for Women’s unpaid work (i.e. housework and caregiving) that society currently takes for granted and considers a “free resource” for the taking. As the saying goes, there are two kinds of work that Women do: underpaid, and unpaid. While that is true for some men as well, it is overwhelmingly true for Women.



Thus, her argument makes a great deal of sense overall, and I agree. It is indeed LONG overdue. And it applies a fortiori now in light of the fact that Women got the worst deal of all from the lockdown-induced job losses, the often triple burden for Mothers at home, the gnawing forced isolation from the support system of other Women, and the increased exposure to domestic violence during lockdown. Lockdown is patriarchy on crack, basically.



Men are becoming increasingly redundant in the long run due to technology, globalization, and the overall ascendancy of Women. When men are no longer artificially propped up, they will fall–and the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And this will only increase in the near future. This is a potential ticking time-bomb that must be defused sooner rather than later. Men become extremely dangerous creatures under either of two conditions: 1) when they have too much power relative to Women, and/or 2) when they are desperate for money. Ever see the 1996 film Fargo?

From Ajax the Great:   As for the the reference to the 1996 film Fargo, the plot of that movie is as follows:  a man in Minnesota becomes desperate for money, and he basically hires a hitman (who he meets sub rosa in Fargo) to have his wife kidnapped for ransom (i.e from his rich in-laws) and have that ransom money then funneled to himself with the hitman taking a cut of it.  The plan was that his wife was supposed to be left unharmed, but the plan is horribly and fatally botched, one thing leads to another, and long story short, six people are ultimately killed as a result of his massive debacle including her.  (The reference I made was an illustration of just how dangerous men can be, especially towards Women, when they are desperate for money.  And that desperation is of course a result of the artificial scarcity imposed by the demonic patriarchy.)

Indeed, a Universal Basic Income is one of the best ways to tackle the second one. Again, it only applies a fortiori now.

A UBI is far more efficient in theory and practice than much of what currently passes for a social safety net these days, and would have far less bureaucracy. No means tests, no discrimination, no playing God. It’s simply a basic human right, period. And it would be far less costly in the long run.

As Buckminster Fuller famously noted, there are more than enough resources for everyone to live like a millionaire with today’s technology. And he said this back in the 1970s, mind you. And the specious notion that everybody and their mother must “work for a living” is not only outdated, but is also seriously classist, ableist, and ageist, and by extension indirectly sexist and racist as well.

Poverty is a razor-sharp, double-edged sword, spiritually speaking. Being attached to riches is clearly counter to spirituality, but then again, so is being attached to poverty. Either way, it’s the *attachment* that is the problem. And poverty today is largely if not entirely man-made via artificial scarcity.


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We would all be better off on balance, spiritually and otherwise, if material poverty were eradicated–and a UBI is the most efficient way to do so. As William Bond (and others) noted, with today’s technology that is certainly doable, but for the greed of the oligarchs at the top who control the system. And that in turn is a result of patriarchy, given how men tend to see war and scarcity as inevitable, so they create a self-fulfilling prophecy as a result.



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With an unconditional UBI instead of means testing or other conditions, gone will be the perverse incentives that exist under the current system that trap too many people in poverty today.

Negative liberty and positive liberty are NOT opposites, but rather two sides of the same coin. Indeed, one cannot be truly free if one is systematically denied the basic necessities of life. And truly no one is free when others are oppressed in any way.

Inequality, at least when it is as extreme as it is today, is profoundly toxic to society and makes the looming problems/crises of climate change and ecological overshoot that much more difficult to solve. This is over and above the effects of poverty alone. And a UBI can dramatically reduce both socio-economic inequality as well as absolute material poverty. (And when funded by an Alaska-style tax on fossil fuels, it can also double as a Steve Stoft or James Hansen-style carbon tax-and-dividend as well.)

We consume and waste a ludicrous amount of (mostly fossil-fuel) energy in the so-called “developed” world, and much of that wasteful consumption can be curtailed simply by making it so no one has to “work for a living” unless one really wants to. Just think of all the energy spent (and commuting to and from) unnecessary work at a job you hate, to buy stuff you don’t need, to impress people you don’t even like. A UBI could thus greatly reduce our carbon and overall ecological footprint in the long run.

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And finally, one should keep in mind that, as Carol Brouillet has noted, the literal and original meaning of the word “community” is “free sharing of gifts”. What we currently have now under patriarchy/kyriarchy is more of a pseudo-community in that regard. And that needs to change. Yesterday. The exchange economy of capitialist patriarchy has failed us, and we need to rediscover and re-create the gift economy in its place. A UBI will make the transition much smoother and more peaceful that it would otherwise be. (Some ultra-purist radfems may disagree of course, but they are in the minority even among the radical feminist community.)

Perhaps Bucky’s other prediction, that Women would take over the world, is a prerequisite for his vision to be fulfilled? Honestly, it can’t happen soon enough!

In other words, it would be a win-win-win situation for literally everyone but the 0.01% oligarchs at the top. So why aren’t we doing this yesterday? Because that would make far too much sense. To quote Buckminster Fuller:

We should do away with the absolutely specious notion that everybody has to earn a living. It is a fact today that one in ten thousand of us can make a technological breakthrough capable of supporting all the rest. The youth of today are absolutely right in recognizing this nonsense of earning a living. We keep inventing jobs because of this false idea that everybody has to be employed at some kind of drudgery because, according to Malthusian Darwinian theory he must justify his right to exist. So we have inspectors of inspectors and people making instruments for inspectors to inspect inspectors. The true business of people should be to go back to school and think about whatever it was they were thinking about before somebody came along and told them they had to earn a living.

In fact, one could argue that two of the most toxic, outdated, and specious ideas ever conceived by the patriarchy (aside from the central doctrine of male supremacy itself and the entire “dominator” model, of course) are that “everybody and their mother must work for a living” and that “everybody must procreate.” And both are now literally KILLING this very planet that gives us life. Thus, on balance, a Universal Basic Income Guarantee for all is a good idea regardless. Again, it’s a win-win-win situation for everyone but the oligarchs. And the only real arguments against it are paternalistic and/or sadistic ones, which really means there are no good arguments against it in a free and civilized society.

So what are we waiting for? Let the planetary healing begin! 

 from AJAX the GREAT – A possible reincarnation of Buckminster Fuller


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The Best Roadmap Out Of Lockdown: Cold Turkey

   Another good one from Ajax the Great



As we have noted in our previous articles, particularly “Case Closed: Lockdowns Don’t Work“, “The Difference Between Naive And Stupid“, “How To End The Pandemic In ONE WEEK Without Lockdowns, Masks, Or Vaccines“, and “We Need To Do Both“, the True Spirit of America Party (TSAP) has never really been a fan of lockdowns and related restrictions, and only for a few months (April-August 2020) grudgingly supported mask mandates (with nuance) as an alternative to lockdowns.  We have, alas, learned the hard way that not only do these restrictions not work very well if at all, but they are in fact worse than useless, doing more harm than good.  

There is nothing “woke” or progressive about these fundamentally illiberal and authoritarian policies, and anyone who still supports them now, a year later, cannot honestly identify as such.  There is nothing even remotely communitarian about these socially corrosive measures, and certainly not the least bit libertarian either.  Nor is there anything particularly conservative about tossing the hard-won wisdom of the ages out the window like so much garbage and instead knee-jerkedly going full medieval-and-Orwellian-dystopian-hybrid.  Thus, the only leaders who honestly support these policies for even one more day are technocrats, oligarchs, authoritarians, or all of the above.  And their followers and lackeys are either stupid, ignorant, insane, brainwashed, and/or corrupt.  Sorry, but the truth hurts.

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As our British friends across the pond have noted on the site Lockdown Sceptics, a study of 170 countries found that the correlation between a country’s Government Stringency Index and the COVID case and death rates is in fact the opposite of what it would be if these policies actually worked.  That is, the greater the stringency, the worse the case and death rates on average.  And given how it is non-linear in that the perverse correlation particularly with deaths is strongest with stringency scores above 60/100, then logically the best (or least-worst) “roadmap” out of lockdown is to simply go “cold turkey” and end all (or practically all) restrictions right away, full stop.

Yes, really.  And here is how to do it, folks:  Simply set a “quit date” no more than a week or two in the future, and commit to that date no matter what.  Remember, these policies are generally worse than useless, even for the sacred cow of travel restrictions (except perhaps during a very narrow window at the very beginning of the pandemic, and that train has long since left the station), and there is currently no imminent threat of overwhelmed hospitals anywhere now.  The worst is basically over in most places, in other words.  Thus, on that quit date, and not a single day later, any and all pandemic-related restrictions imposed after February 2020 shall lapse and become null and void immediately and in full, period.


Should exceptions be made?  Perhaps a “Rule of 500″ or some even larger number could exist for very large gatherings lacking numbered seats for a little while longer.  Enhanced hygiene, ventilation, and perhaps temperature checks in some places would likely still be de rigeur as well for a while.  Enhanced precautions in hospitals and nursing homes would likely remain to some extent as well for a while too, as is the case in Florida currently.  But the overbearing, omnipresent, and almost entirely unprecedented restrictions that would have been utterly unthinkable a year ago in February 2020 would nonetheless be gone for good, never to be reimposed again.

Public schools, and in fact any schools receiving federal and/or state funding, will be required to reopen for full in-person instruction no later then the Monday following the quit date, or else have such funding immediately and indefinitely revoked until they do.  And they must remain fully open except for very brief closures (no more than two weeks at a time, if even that) if and only if they actually experience bona fide school-related outbreaks and/or they are located in a severe bona fide local “red zone”.

And of course, individuals and businesses would still be free to voluntarily put as many restrictions as they wish on themselves going forward, just like they always were.  After all, each person’s own definition of acceptable risk and their calculus of cost vs. benefit will be different.  But no longer would anyone be able to use the inherently coercive power of government to force others to do so against their will anymore.

That means that the powers that be will have to (gasp!) use education and persuasion instead of coercion and (gasp!) stop treating adults like children.

As for the supposedly scary new mutant strains of the virus, if anything that is a stronger argument against lockdowns and related restrictions, since these restrictions would actually be more likely to concentrate and incubate these strains (which will inevitably escape and spread further), when it would really be better to dilute, dilute, dilute them instead.  Note that Florida, who basically went cold turkey as of September 25, 2020, and even hosted the 2021 Super Bowl, has still seen cases, hospitalizations, and deaths plummet since January nonetheless.  And their cumulative death rate has been better than the national average and most lockdown states as well.

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Furthermore, since we know that the virus is seasonal and most likely endemic now, that implies that if we don’t want to get slammed yet again next winter, it would logically be best NOT to artificially suppress it during the spring and summer.  That is in fact when we should be building up our immune systems through the inevitable natural exposures, not mollycoddling and overprotecting them with extraordinary (and ultimately futile) measures, nor should we be wrecking them with the unholy lockdown trinity of anxiety, isolation, and vitamin deprivation.  The same goes for seasonal flu as well, which may come back with a vengeance next winter after being temporarily displaced by COVID.

And yes, we still need a robust COVID relief package yesterday, even more robust than the paltry one still being debated now.  Even the most arch-conservative or hardcore libertarian can understand that the Takings Clause of the US Constitution would logically require the government to compensate We the People for any losses (both direct and indirect) resulting from these government-imposed lockdowns and restrictions.  And while nearly all of the restrictions were imposed by state and local governments, the fact remains that the federal government (including even 45 himself at first) effectively green-lighted such restrictions, and furthermore they, unlike our now largely bankrupt state and local governments, have the power to simply print the money as needed.

So what are we waiting for?  To paraphrase President Ronald Reagan, “Mr. Biden, tear down this plexiglass!”

MARCH UPDATE:  Looks like no sooner did we post this than several states (16 already, and growing) are now abandoning this whole ship of fools and doing what Florida already did back in September and South Dakota already did last May–going cold turkey (or nearly so) later this month if not already.  Once the first cracks and fissures in the facade appeared, it was only a matter of time.  The lockdown zealots and technocrats are probably having a collective heart attack right now, or at least soiling their trousers, but tough noodles for them!  They’ve already had their proverbial day in the sun for a whole year now (that was only supposed to be two or three weeks to “flatten the curve”, remember?) and now it’s long past time to start actually living again as humans qua humans.  To the wretched New Abnormal we say, “Good riddance!”  And may a century of liberty follow after we all say, “Never Again!” and really mean it.


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An Article on Untouchables

India’s “Untouchables” Face Violence, Discrimination


from Rasa Von Werder: There is a parallel between the ‘Untouchables’ of India & the various versions of the poor in the Western World. It is Patriarchy that creates the ‘lower classes,’ the downtrodden, poorest of the poor, those who take the most menial & dirty jobs, those who walk the streets selling adult therapy, – the people who are looked down upon, hated, sneered at, laughed at & USED by those of a ‘higher standing.’

To put a person in a position like that means exactly what I said – that they can be USED. Used for what? Whatever the privileged desire. Sometimes scapegoats, sometimes cheap labor, sometimes therapy, always cheaper than they can get elsewhere.

The Patriarchy wants subjects for EXPLOITATION.

In Matriarchy there was no such class. The poorest lived similar to the Leaders or Queens. It was a social order of LOVE. When women rule the family & the world, people are equal, everyone deserves the same chance. It’s not a dog-eat dog or rat race world, it’s a world of Mothers & children, all people, animals & nature are the children of woman, women see themselves as stewards, not as slave masters. Women do not in general look for others to enslave, use up, exploit, they are not in COMPETITION but in COOPERATION with others. Women never created violence & wars {except in cases of Patriarchy where they had to defend themselves.}

Please understand the untouchables to be a PATRIARCHAL PHENOMENA manifested in all cultures by men to use up & exploit other creatures………{end Rasa comment}


More than 160 million people in India are considered “Untouchable”—people tainted by their birth into a caste system that deems them impure, less than human.




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More than 160 million people in India are considered “Untouchable”—people tainted by their birth into a caste system that deems them impure, less than human.

Human rights abuses against these people, known as Dalits, are legion. A random sampling of headlines in mainstream Indian newspapers tells their story: “Dalit boy beaten to death for plucking flowers”; “Dalit tortured by cops for three days”; “Dalit ‘witch’ paraded naked in Bihar”; “Dalit killed in lock-up at Kurnool”; “7 Dalits burnt alive in caste clash”; “5 Dalits lynched in Haryana”; “Dalit woman gang-raped, paraded naked”; “Police egged on mob to lynch Dalits”.

“Dalits are not allowed to drink from the same wells, attend the same temples, wear shoes in the presence of an upper caste, or drink from the same cups in tea stalls,” said Smita Narula, a senior researcher with Human Rights Watch, and author of Broken People: Caste Violence Against India’s “Untouchables.” Human Rights Watch is a worldwide activist organization based in New York.

India’s Untouchables are relegated to the lowest jobs, and live in constant fear of being publicly humiliated, paraded naked, beaten, and raped with impunity by upper-caste Hindus seeking to keep them in their place. Merely walking through an upper-caste neighborhood is a life-threatening offense.

Nearly 90 percent of all the poor Indians and 95 percent of all the illiterate Indians are Dalits, according to figures presented at the International Dalit Conference that took place May 16 to 18 in Vancouver, Canada.

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Crime Against Dalits

Statistics compiled by India’s National Crime Records Bureau indicate that in the year 2000, the last year for which figures are available, 25,455 crimes were committed against Dalits. Every hour two Dalits are assaulted; every day three Dalit women are raped, two Dalits are murdered, and two Dalit homes are torched.

No one believes these numbers are anywhere close to the reality of crimes committed against Dalits. Because the police, village councils, and government officials often support the caste system, which is based on the religious teachings of Hinduism, many crimes go unreported due to fear of reprisal, intimidation by police, inability to pay bribes demanded by police, or simply the knowledge that the police will do nothing.

“There have been large-scale abuses by the police, acting in collusion with upper castes, including raids, beatings in custody, failure to charge offenders or investigate reported crimes,” said Narula.

That same year, 68,160 complaints were filed against the police for activities ranging from murder, torture, and collusion in acts of atrocity, to refusal to file a complaint. Sixty two percent of the cases were dismissed as unsubstantiated; 26 police officers were convicted in court.

Despite the fact that untouchability was officially banned when India adopted its constitution in 1950, discrimination against Dalits remained so pervasive that in 1989 the government passed legislation known as The Prevention of Atrocities Act. The act specifically made it illegal to parade people naked through the streets, force them to eat feces, take away their land, foul their water, interfere with their right to vote, and burn down their homes.

Since then, the violence has escalated, largely as a result of the emergence of a grassroots human rights movement among Dalits to demand their rights and resist the dictates of untouchability, said Narula.

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Lack of Enforcement, Not Laws


Enforcement of laws designed to protect Dalits is lax if not non-existent in many regions of India. The practice of untouchability is strongest in rural areas, where 80 percent of the country’s population resides. There, the underlying religious principles of Hinduism dominate.

Hindus believe a person is born into one of four castes based on karma and “purity”—how he or she lived their past lives. Those born as Brahmans are priests and teachers; Kshatriyas are rulers and soldiers; Vaisyas are merchants and traders; and Sudras are laborers. Within the four castes, there are thousands of sub-castes, defined by profession, region, dialect, and other factors.

Untouchables are literally outcastes; a fifth group that is so unworthy it doesn’t fall within the caste system.

Although based on religious principles practiced for some 1,500 years, the system persists today for economic as much as religious reasons.

Because they are considered impure from birth, Untouchables perform jobs that are traditionally considered “unclean” or exceedingly menial, and for very little pay. One million Dalits work as manual scavengers, cleaning latrines and sewers by hand and clearing away dead animals. Millions more are agricultural workers trapped in an inescapable cycle of extreme poverty, illiteracy, and oppression.

Although illegal, 40 million people in India, most of them Dalits, are bonded workers, many working to pay off debts that were incurred generations ago, according to a report by Human Rights Watch published in 1999. These people, 15 million of whom are children, work under slave-like conditions hauling rocks, or working in fields or factories for less than U.S. $1 day.

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Crimes Against Women


Dalit women are particularly hard hit. They are frequently raped or beaten as a means of reprisal against male relatives who are thought to have committed some act worthy of upper-caste vengeance. They are also subject to arrest if they have male relatives hiding from the authorities.

A case reported in 1999 illustrates the toxic mix of gender and caste.

A 42-year-old Dalit woman was gang-raped and then burnt alive after she, her husband, and two sons had been held in captivity and tortured for eight days. Her crime? Another son had eloped with the daughter of the higher-caste family doing the torturing. The local police knew the Dalit family was being held, but did nothing because of the higher-caste family’s local influence.

There is very little recourse available to victims.

A report released by Amnesty International in 2001 found an “extremely high” number of sexual assaults on Dalit women, frequently perpetrated by landlords, upper-caste villagers, and police officers. The study estimates that only about 5 percent of attacks are registered, and that police officers dismissed at least 30 percent of rape complaints as false.

The study also found that the police routinely demand bribes, intimidate witnesses, cover up evidence, and beat up the women’s husbands. Little or nothing is done to prevent attacks on rape victims by gangs of upper-caste villagers seeking to prevent a case from being pursued. Sometimes the policemen even join in, the study suggests. Rape victims have also been murdered. Such crimes often go unpunished.

Thousands of pre-teen Dalit girls are forced into prostitution under cover of a religious practice known as devadasis, which means “female servant of god.” The girls are dedicated or “married” to a deity or a temple. Once dedicated, they are unable to marry, forced to have sex with upper-caste community members, and eventually sold to an urban brothel.

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Resistance and Progress


Within India, grassroots efforts to change are emerging, despite retaliation and intimidation by local officials and upper-caste villagers. In some states, caste conflict has escalated to caste warfare, and militia-like vigilante groups have conducted raids on villages, burning homes, raping, and massacring the people. These raids are sometimes conducted with the tacit approval of the police.

In the province Bihar, local Dalits are retaliating, committing atrocities also. Non-aligned Dalits are frequently caught in the middle, victims of both groups.

“There is a growing grassroots movement of activists, trade unions, and other NGOs that are organizing to democratically and peacefully demand their rights, higher wages, and more equitable land distribution,” said Narula. “There has been progress in terms of building a human rights movement within India, and in drawing international attention to the issue.”

In August 2002, the UN Committee for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (UN CERD) approved a resolution condemning caste or descent-based discrimination.

“But at the national level, very little is being done to implement or enforce the laws,” said Narula……………………………………

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2-28-21-Small White Creature-My Big Swim

I was in this large white building, huge, like a mausoleum or monument, but people live here.  The front had columns – I see the building vaguely, the most striking thing is it’s largeness, it’s whiteness, & that in front it has about 5 or so steps across most of the building like you would see in an institution-type building.

*(MAUSOLEUM:   This is the FEAR OF DEATH both myself & my lady friend have, as she got breast cancer.  I’m helping her through PRAYER – the LEAP OF FAITH which I am GOOD AT – which I can demonstrate, that my faith is greater than that of most people.

The BUILDING BEING WHITE shows that GOOD wilL come out of this, it is of God, not the devil.)*

Beyond this place, in front, are wonderful gardens, soft bushes, a long stretch of them, with paths.

*(WONDERFUL GARDENS, BUSHES:   Gardens represent POSITIVE THINGS; CULTURE, LIFE, PROJECTS, HAPPINESS.  This huge place we are in looks onward to these things, which we wish for.)*

I’m inside the building, it’s has I sense 4 floors, but feels higher, more like 6 to 8 floors, we are near the top.  I’m looking out the window & to the right of me is a female looking out, she’s about 30-40′ to my right.

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*(HEIGHT OF BUILDING, HUGENESS:   HEIGHT is often something SCARY.  Some people fear high bridges or going high in an elevator, they dream of this.  Being ‘high up’ is  far from solid earth, where we’re safe, we leave the familiar & that which grounds us.

My friend & I are both experiencing the fear her cancer might go badly, we’re praying against it together daily.)* 

She’s upset because her child is gone, he either fell off into the courtyard or wandered off into this garden.  I will find him.

*(HER CHILD IS GONE EITHER FELL OR WANDERED OFF – I WILL FIND HIM:   Her child is her vulnerable, small, dependent self, where she’s separated from her Powerful Self – the God Self – & I will help her get back to her God Self by prayer.)*

I want to demonstrate to her how I can leap & fly without getting the slightest bit hurt, I land softly, & I jump out in an arc hundreds of feet beyond the building, where I begin my search.  {A thought comes to me that I could draw a crowd, announce to people I will be jumping off great heights, they can watch, make a show of it.  I’m proud of my being able to jump from great heights & landing super soft.}

*(PROUD OF MY ABILITY TO LEAP FROM HIGH PLACES & LAND SOFTLY:  Proud of having strong faith, where calling on God, instead of evil happening, there’s a soft landing or good outcome.)*

As I figure out where the child might have wandered, I know by knowing small creature’s behavior, that they’re afraid of wandering too far from what is familiar, so I get closer & closer to the building.  I picture him walking off, then going back right to the building time & time again.

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*(CHILD WANDERED OFF:   This is the CHILD GOD within the lady friend, she wants to make sure this child does not perish, I am helping.  The child is the HUMBLE SELF, small, vulnerable, knows it is dependent on its parent which in this case, is God Almighty.)*

Along the way I see young white groups of chickens here & there, fully feathered but not mature.

*(YOUNG WHITE CHICKENS:  Could symbolize fear.  We are trying to grow up, be mature souls, not be afraid.  We are growing ‘in God’.)*

I think he didn’t go far, I must get closer to the building & I do, when right in front of the buildign I see him standing on the landing with his back against the wall, his little arms up so the elbows are straight up, you see the underarms.  He doesn’t seem human, but like some sort of a white animal with either feathers or fur, he stands only a foot & a half tall, tiny.

*(AGAINST THE WALL, LITTLE ARMS UP:   This is like the police saying, ‘hands up’ & the citizen pops them up fast, afraid of getting shot.  It is my lady friend fearing for her life, AGAINST THE WALL is also HELPLESS.  ‘Where do I go from here?’

Her CHILD or PET is not like ‘human’ but has feathers or fur, all white.  This is the human INSTINCT TO SURVIVAL, after all, we are animals.  We revert back to our ANIMAL NATURE when all the fronts are gone.  She’s been stripped of human fronts, now facing survival mode.  The ALL WHITE is a constant theme, that something GOOD will come out of this.)*

I then joyfully tell the lady friend that I found him right here.

I wake up & see more scenes after that.  I see two buns with hamburgers ready to be served the small creature & hear someone say,


*(HAMBURGER BUNS:   This is MEAT being served, which is mature food,  SUFFERING – as differentiating from candy & cake, given to baby Christians, this is the MEAT OF SUFFERING.  In the next place it says TROUBLE, & so, I conclude this has something to do with my friend’s TWO TUMORS in her breast.  It could be saying these tumors are trouble or a nuisance but it might also say there will be trouble with them.  I hope not.)*

I see some kind of brown see-trough blobs in the air with black spikes through them but can’t explain details.

*(These BROWN SEE-THROUGH BLOBS could also be the tumors, with BLACK SPIKES, the black spikes could be a good sign, killing the tumors.)*

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I’m standing in front of a huge lake & beyond it is an island.  There’s a group of people to my right watching me & thinking about getting to this island.

*(HUGE LAKE I DECIDE TO SWIM ACROSS, ALTHOUGH I CAN’T SWIM:   This is my LIFE, like the ‘ocean of life,’ ‘river of life,’  what I must cross, but this says I can’t swim which means I CANNOT DO IT ALONE, but some other Power takes over me & gets me to the ‘island’ which turns out to be WHERE I AM TODAY, a place of safety, security & success.  Faith in God, God’s Power, got me where I am.)*

I ponder about it.  I can’t swim.  But something makes me JUMP IN & head for it – where I got the confidence, I have no idea.

*(I CAN’T SWIM, BUT I DO:   This is getting somewhere BY FAITH.  Human power cannot do it – but by faith I try to get somewhere, & the Power of God takes over.)*

As I head toward it, even though I’m not doing much, some Power makes me move forward a if I’m swimming.  At one point my right arm goes limp & just hangs under me in the water, but moving my left arm I keep going forward.

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Amazingly, I reach the island, which is like at least quarter mile from the shore.  I stand up, & walk over it, & before I know it, I’m in MY OWN BACK YARD.  All is green, I’m at the bottom yard.  It’s more ‘ornate’ in landscaping than my own yard – prettier, more scenic like a park.  This was not an island, it’s the MAINLAND!  So I am safe & don’t have to swim back anywhere.

*(MAINLAND, NOT AN ISLAND, I GOT THERE SAFELY:   This is getting to a goal, like the RIGHT PLACE WITH GOD, HEAVEN, or a Heavenly place.  God got me there by faith.)*

The tone of the water is not blue or green, it’s BROWN.  It’s not muddy, dirty or anything, if you took a bucket of it it would be pure see-through, but like a large body of water looking blue when all of it is together, this looks brown.

*(BROWN WATER:   Brown is SUFFERING.  This CHALLENGE of moving across a large expanse of water but not with human ability, is a challenge.  By faith, I jumped in & God got me not to an island or isolated place, but to HOME which is GOD, the HEART, or the CENTER OF ONE’S BEING.

This could be a prediction of ALL GOING WELL for my lady friend, she will be healed of the cancer & live to her proper age.)*

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




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





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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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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