GHOST-HUNTERS : THE SPIRIT YOU SAVE, JUST MIGHT BE YOUR OWN…

GHOST-HUNTERS : THE GHOST YOU RESCUE, MIGHT BE YOUR OWN

 

GHOST-HUNTERS : BEYOND THIS PLACE, MONSTERS DWELL

by Paul Schroeder

The theory that consciousness ends with physical death, has never been proved, to me.
If one examines a plethora of diverse spiritual phenomena like, demonic possession, OBEs, NDEs, hauntings, poltergeists, reincarnation memories through regressive hypnosis, just to mention a few, the undeniable evidence looms as obvious as a trout in the milk.
We should all be born with lunch boxes for our stay here, in this school, is short, compared to the eternal spark of God within us that endures.
Children see ghosts and have paranormal experiences more so than adults because they are still close to the other side, having JUST crossed and because there’s evidence that children see a broader spectrum of light than adults , but to me, the most interesting and revealing aspects of listening to tapes of past life regressive hypnosis, is the time described by clients’ narratives of interactions and experiences,  IN- BETWEEN lifetimes…
 I try rescues, every so often, fifty concentration camp sites, all over Europe, where 2,000,000 Jewish children were turned into soap,  the most haunted places imaginable, exponentially more than any other global site where trapped souls lament.
Untold masses of tormented souls, in time’s layers, according to the transports where they were wholesale murdered, still suffer, above and around these sites.
Over 2,000,000 children were systematically slaughtered, children separated from their parents and families, in despair and horror and
 tossed alive into burning petrol pits by Ukrainian and Waffen S.S. hands.
\
Older children were dispatched by swinging them by the feet, headfirst into walls.
Focus,  on those frantic, horrified and trapped levels of ghosts, suspended in layers above those locales, and visualize  purple light and angels rescuing them.
These souls have suffered psychological/spiritual damage, that complicates spirit rescue;
 young souls,  in extreme fright, who perished at the hands of adults,
will not approach, or trust, any rescuing medium who is an adult.
Neither will such a fevered spirit who perished in flames, approach the “LIGHT”..
Millions of trapped  child souls, who died in terror and agony,  persist there in that same nightmarish state of mind.
Screams of children waft in the night air, audible to nearby villages, when meteorological conditions are perfect.
These murder sites are the most haunted sites, in the ghost realm, geographically.
Ghosthunters could care less:

They provoke, collect evidence and leave the scene in a moral turpitude, a  non- humaneness, towards trapped and stuck human souls, who suffer.

Dangers other than moral ones exist for  uninitiated amateurs who DO go “ghost-hunting”.
A “ghost box’,  fascinating as a doorway to the unseen, offers a dangerous opportunity for a masquerading  evil one to enter to feast on one’s energies,
 should powerful demonics, who often trap ghosts in a locale for feasting on their energies, also infest a  ‘haunted house’ and come into contact with ‘hunters’, who then become the ‘prey’.
 If you had either a loaded gun with a hair-trigger, or a ghost box,  the gun would be a safer tool to keep close,  for
 when one dabbles in the occult, it can fully open to one, and demons, more ubiquitous than imagined , drift in to feel tacit unspoken permission,
 to  feel that they own one, and make
one’s life and mind a nightmarish battleground.
Television shows create a sense of harmless fascination and fun with the Dark Side and deliver a false sense of safety within experimentation with the Occult Dark Side.
Ouija boards, commercially sold as novelty items, remain a threat unrecognized by the general public, viewing Ouija as “a board game,” like Monopoly or Scrabble, rather than  solid invitations (invocations) to Dark Force entities to approach , more directly.
Television shows with conjuring themes, like Witch Season, Witch Hunter, Charmed, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Ghost Whisperer, Bewitched, suggest to the viewing public that there is no real danger in witchcraft, wizardry and “ghost hunting”, but
 spiritual and psychological dangers can await the unwitting who have  received this
  false sense of safety.
 ‘Hunting’ might well open a door that one can’t close, again.
Predatory, negative, bullying entities exist : Devils (who can walk right into you), sinister Earthbound spirits, shadow people, demons,  and diabolical alien reptilians, who  often masquerade, as poltergeists or ghosts are phantoms who fill the air around us.
Which “Ghost Buster” can you successfully find in the Yellow Pages, at that point, because “what followed you home”, afterwards, was more than you were  prepared to deal with?(classic mind’s-eye broadcast image from a demonic)
When spiritual filth follows a ghost-hunter home, the symptoms can be uniform:
-Concurrent with psychic attacks, (negative ideations and bad dreams) is poltergeist phenomena; things move within immediate vision, knocks and tapping occur on the walls occur and a general heavy, unhappy, creepy atmosphere envelops the house and the moods of its occupants.
Electrical problems, sudden onset of flies and cockroaches, and nightmares, worst scenario dreams, horrify and prevail.

Pranks predominate.Objects disappear to return days later in strange places and there’s always a powerful sense of being watched by large eyes.

Those troubled by hauntings are
 in a dilemma, for having discarded church-based organized religions, long ago, and having put the Bible on the same shelf, as the Tooth Fairy, they find themselves bereft of spiritual guidance.
But God  has always been down a long hall, and somewhere else.
 
 Hopefully, if things stay spiritually pedestrian, and one runs into ghosts, during such  “hunts”, can one think how
 dreadful, it must be for them to have their house invaded by strangers, who cannot see or hear their distress or their ire, for the intrusion of their privacy, and the ignoring of their cries for help.
 The emotional chaos of a human ghost,  who dwells in the world of mind, is dreadful.
 Still human, it is now in its original spirit form: an electromagnetic conscious fog, comprised of memories and an identity .
A paranormal tool, that hears word for word what a ghost speaks, would tremendously assist ghost-hunters and trapped spirits:
A parabolic directional microphone, with earphone headset, will pick up voices  magnified,  to allow a direct two-way conversation.
This is a wondrous tool for giving a ghost guidance, and insight into its plight, and to assist it in a much needed means out of its predicament.
EVPs are normally examined and discovered long after the haunt locale is left behind, but a parabolic directional microphone allows real time interactions for
ghostly voices as sounds are heard in real time.
Ghost “hunting”  bypasses the higher purpose of spirit rescue , for the untrained ‘hunters” care only about ‘evidence gathering’,  and feel no
moral responsibility,  to rescue a trapped human ‘spirit’ always in extreme distress .
All ‘hunters’ make spiritually-trapped souls, hunting- game, their ‘prey’, and that goes double for ‘hunting’ ghosts because
too many EVPs are heart-wrenching direct requests, ” for help.”
The directional, parabolic microphone with headset earphones, bypasses the need for a “medium”, and can also discern the graveled croaking of a demonic;
(some who charge much money, and  masquerade as “mediums”, are indeed,
 “mediums”,  because anything, well done, is rare.)

The enlightened approach of a ghost hunter  must be the same as one  who enters a cave to find and  rescue a trapped child: a
humanitarian, ghost-humane stance.
We get a sure ride to Earth from Heaven, at birth, but sadly no guarantees for a safe return trip home, at  our death.
One’s destiny chooses one, and the only important days in one’s life, are the day that one is born, and the day that one knows, why.
  Should we, at physical death, find ourselves  trapped, stuck in ghostly form, we would loathe to be seen as sport, by “ghost-hunters”,  who observe evidence of our sad presence, like the enjoyment of a crowd, who applaud animals sorely abused, by rodeos and by circuses.
Ghost-Hunters, seem to ignore or not remember that ghosts are stuck, lost souls, trapped between worlds, and as a “hunter”,  and coincidentally ALSO a spirit, they are uniquely positioned to assist ghosts’ rescue, as service, to ‘The Other Side’ and perhaps more importantly realize that the soul that they rescue might be their own.
Advertisements

GHOST-HUNTERS : BEYOND THIS PLACE, MONSTERS DWELL

GHOST-HUNTERS : BEYOND THIS PLACE, MONSTERS DWELL

by Paul Schroeder

The theory that consciousness ends with physical death, has never been proved, to me.
If one examines a plethora of diverse spiritual phenomena like, demonic possession, OBEs, NDEs, hauntings, poltergeists, reincarnation memories through regressive hypnosis, just to mention a few, the undeniable evidence looms as obvious as a trout in the milk.
We should all be born with lunch boxes for our stay here, in this school, is short, compared to the eternal spark of God within us that endures.
Children see ghosts and have paranormal experiences more so than adults because they are still close to the other side, having JUST crossed and because there’s evidence that children see a broader spectrum of light than adults , but to me, the most interesting and revealing aspects of listening to tapes of past life regressive hypnosis, is the time described by clients’ narratives of interactions and experiences,  IN- BETWEEN lifetimes…
 I try rescues, every so often, fifty concentration camp sites, all over Europe, where 2,000,000 Jewish children were turned into soap,  the most haunted places imaginable, exponentially more than any other global site where trapped souls lament.
Untold masses of tormented souls, in time’s layers, according to the transports where they were wholesale murdered, still suffer, above and around these sites.
Over 2,000,000 children were systematically slaughtered, children separated from their parents and families, in despair and horror and
 tossed alive into burning petrol pits by Ukrainian and Waffen S.S. hands.
Older children were dispatched by swinging them by the feet, headfirst into walls.
Focus,  on those frantic, horrified and trapped levels of ghosts, suspended in layers above those locales, and visualize  purple light and angels rescuing them.
These souls have suffered psychological/spiritual damage, that complicates spirit rescue;
 young souls,  in extreme fright, who perished at the hands of adults,
will not approach, or trust, any rescuing medium who is an adult.
Neither will such a fevered spirit who perished in flames, approach the “LIGHT”..
Millions of trapped  child souls, who died in terror and agony,  persist there in that same nightmarish state of mind.
Screams of children waft in the night air, audible to nearby villages, when meteorological conditions are perfect.
These murder sites are the most haunted sites, in the ghost realm, geographically.
Ghosthunters could care less:

They provoke, collect evidence and leave the scene in a moral turpitude, a  non- humaneness, towards trapped and stuck human souls, who suffer.

Dangers other than moral ones exist for  uninitiated amateurs who DO go “ghost-hunting”.
A “ghost box’,  fascinating as a doorway to the unseen, offers a dangerous opportunity for a masquerading  evil one to enter to feast on one’s energies,
 should powerful demonics, who often trap ghosts in a locale for feasting on their energies, also infest a  ‘haunted house’ and come into contact with ‘hunters’, who then become the ‘prey’.
 If you had either a loaded gun with a hair-trigger, or a ghost box,  the gun would be a safer tool to keep close,  for
 when one dabbles in the occult, it can fully open to one, and demons, more ubiquitous than imagined , drift in to feel tacit unspoken permission,
 to  feel that they own one, and make
one’s life and mind a nightmarish battleground.
Television shows create a sense of harmless fascination and fun with the Dark Side and deliver a false sense of safety within experimentation with the Occult Dark Side.
Ouija boards, commercially sold as novelty items, remain a threat unrecognized by the general public, viewing Ouija as “a board game,” like Monopoly or Scrabble, rather than  solid invitations (invocations) to Dark Force entities to approach , more directly.
Television shows with conjuring themes, like Witch Season, Witch Hunter, Charmed, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Ghost Whisperer, Bewitched, suggest to the viewing public that there is no real danger in witchcraft, wizardry and “ghost hunting”, but
 spiritual and psychological dangers can await the unwitting who have  received this
  false sense of safety.
 ‘Hunting’ might  open a door that one  can’t close, again.
Predatory, negative, bullying entities exist : Devils (who can walk right into you), sinister Earthbound spirits, shadow people, demons,  and diabolical alien reptilians, who  often masquerade, as poltergeists or ghosts are phantoms who fill the air around us.
Which “Ghost Buster” can you successfully find in the Yellow Pages, at that point, because “what followed you home”, afterwards, was more than you were  prepared to deal with?
When spiritual filth follows a ghost-hunter home, the symptoms can be uniform:
-Concurrent with psychic attacks, (negative ideations and bad dreams) is poltergeist phenomena; things move within immediate vision, knocks and tapping occur on the walls occur and a general heavy, unhappy, creepy atmosphere envelops the house and the moods of its occupants.
Electrical problems, sudden onset of flies and cockroaches, and nightmares, worst scenario dreams, horrify and prevail.

Pranks predominate.Objects disappear to return days later in strange places and there’s always a powerful sense of being watched by large eyes.

Those troubled by hauntings are in a dilemma, for having discarded church-based organized religions, long ago, and having put the Bible on the same shelf, as the Tooth Fairy, they find themselves bereft of spiritual guidance.
But God  has always been down a long hall, and somewhere else.
 
 Hopefully, if things stay spiritually pedestrian, and one runs into ghosts, during such  “hunts”, can one think how
 dreadful, it must be for them to have their house invaded by strangers, who cannot see or hear their distress or their ire, for the intrusion of their privacy, and the ignoring of their cries for help.
 The emotional chaos of a human ghost,  who dwells in the world of mind, is dreadful.
 Still human, it is now in its original spirit form: an electromagnetic conscious fog, comprised of memories and an identity .
A paranormal tool, that hears word for word what a ghost speaks, would tremendously assist ghost-hunters and trapped spirits:
A parabolic directional microphone, with earphone headset, will pick up voices  magnified,  to allow a direct two-way conversation.
This is a wondrous tool for giving a ghost guidance, and insight into its plight, and to assist it in a much needed means out of its predicament.
EVPs are normally examined and discovered long after the haunt locale is left behind, but a parabolic directional microphone allows real time interactions for
ghostly voices as sounds are heard in real time.
Ghost “hunting”  bypasses the higher purpose of spirit rescue , for the untrained ‘hunters” care only about ‘evidence gathering’,  and feel no
moral responsibility,  to rescue a trapped human ‘spirit’ always in extreme distress .
All ‘hunters’ make game their ‘prey’, and that goes double for ‘hunting’ ghosts..
Many EVPs are heart-wrenching direct requests for help.
The directional, parabolic microphone with headset earphones, bypasses the need for a “medium”, and can also discern the graveled croaking of a demonic;
(some who charge much money, and  masqueradeas “mediums”, are indeed,
 “mediums”,  because anything, well done, is rare.)

The enlightened approach of a ghost hunter  must be the same as one  who enters a cave to find and  rescue a trapped child: a
humanitarian, ghost-humane stance.
We get a sure ride to Earth from Heaven, at birth, but sadly no guarantees for a safe return trip home, at  our death.
One’s destiny chooses one, and the only important days in one’s life, are the day that one is born, and the day that one knows, why.
  Should we, at physical death, find ourselves  trapped, stuck in ghostly form, we would loathe to be seen as sport, by “ghost-hunters”,  who observe evidence of our sad presence, like the enjoyment of a crowd, who applaud animals sorely abused, by rodeos and by circuses.
Ghost-Hunters, remember that ghosts are stuck, lost souls, trapped between worlds, and as a “hunter”,  and coincidentally ALSO a spirit, you are uniquely positioned to assist their rescue, as service, to ‘The Other Side’ and perhaps more importantly also rescue yourselves …

GHOST RESCUE

GHOST RESCUE:

THE NEW WAY TO DEAL WITH “SHADOW PEOPLE”

By Paul Schroeder

(Copyright 2016, Paul Schroeder – All Rights Reserved)
<Edited by Robert D. Morningstar>
*******

Sometimes, after abductions, the inter-dimensional door, left open, invites in the “gangster fringe” element of the spirit world.

I have heard astonishing things most unverifiable about Heaven, from ribald odd psychic mediums:

Too heavy smokers retain visibly black lungs, the vain- cosmetic- surgery- addicted, sport disfigured countenances, those too rich, ornate and gaudy, appear homely and threadbare.

According to some psychics, there is an inverse relationship between our aspects, after death, in transition, in an astral world, that mirrors and reflect our damages, foolishness and wrong values, from one’s  life most recently departed.

Who could foresee or imagine such instant spiritually blatant karma-ricochets ?

To skeptics or to the religiously programmed, I assert that the theory that consciousness ends with physical death, has never been proved, to me.

If one examines diverse spiritual phenomena: demonic possession, OBEs, NDEs, hauntings, poltergeists, reincarnation memories through regressive hypnosis, just to mention a few, the undeniable evidence of a spiritual reality looms as obvious as a trout in the milk.

We should all be born with lunch boxes for our stay here, in this school, is short, compared to the eternal spark of God within us that endures.

We step out of our body when we physically die , just as we do step out of our cars and our clothing, and we are no more our bodies than we are our cars or clothing.

Psychics and mediums well know this.

Our spirits, if not stolen by demons or reptilian aliens, or stuck, Earthbound,  move on to one of the very many varied realms of Heaven.


Spirits in beginning transition,  vulnerable to being stolen by reptilian aliens to be recycled, or garnered by demons who collect souls like children do marbles, will often  linger to stay close to us.
Since only our ‘clothing’, or our body’s external shell is buried,
visiting a cemetery is moot, because the loving spirits of our dead  travel with us there, and return from there, with us.

But, Earthbound sinister dark souls, and inhuman diabolical spirits, will persist within cemeteries.

Pregnant mothers are restricted from attending cemeteries by many religions, to offer protection to the unborn, from  opportunistic sinister spirits.
Certain minerals in stones, such as ferrous, jasper, tourmaline and quartz,  carried by some sensitives, can assist, and

can act as a deterrent.

I have also gleaned that The “LIGHT”, into which we enter, to ‘cross over’, at physical death, is not outward and external, but emanates from WITHIN us, at death, a detail overlooked and  unrecognized .

But, what about trapped ghosts?   In our natural spirit state we are ghosts:  fogs of electromagnetic energy ,with memory and a sense of identity.

Ghost-hunters need a glimmer  that spirits who they document,  SHOULD BE rescued; this lack of moral recognition, risks  “depraved indifference”, a  moral crime.

Circus or rodeo’s audiences applause,  watching  abused animals hard- beaten- perform postures unnatural to their natures , is  similarly a ‘depraved indifference’.

Circus and rodeo  lovers, like ghost-  hunters, return to their cars to  leave a chunk of their spiritual evolution, behind..

We get a sure ride to Earth, from Heaven, at birth, but no guarantees for a safe return trip home.

When my psychic prowess began to sputter on, I initially was aware of so many ghosts afoot everywhere, that it made me doubt Heaven’s very existence.

1957 - Year of the Cock <br /> Computer Generated Phot... <br /> Manimals <br /> 1993 <br />
1946 - Year... <br /> Computer Ge... <br /> Manimals <br /> 1993 <br />

1959 - Year... <br /> Computer Ge... <br /> Manimals <br /> 1993 <br /> (Daniel Lee graphics)

Trapped human spirits are ‘provoked’ by ghost-hunters to elicit evidences, and are  seen as sport, like an animal abused at a rodeo or circuses.

With ghosts, I think of the chrysalis that never emerges, the cocoon frozen and dead,  a human spirit lost in anguish between life and death;.

My heart breaks and I am sullen for the unfairness of  God’s promise gone unkempt, the return dream of Heaven, deferred.

How and when did I learn that an unseen world exists all around us?

Picture - A Buddhist and Hindu temple Wat Rong Khun in Chiang Rai, Thailand  Also known as the White Temple  It was designed by Chalermchai Kositpipat. Fotosearch - Search Stock Photography, Photos, Prints, Images, and Photo Clipart

It blossomed

The feeling of unseen human hands and their undeniable touches on my arms, back and shoulders, with concurrent accompanying psychic disturbances  increased.

I  feel symptoms of a lost soul/ ghost, who jumps on me, and an energy connection is felt, in that my skin burns and buzzes where I am  touched and connection are made..

Sometimes that awareness crashes crystal clear:
Medusa HeadI recently had a very “odd in- your- face” encounter with a “Shadow Person.”

Sitting at my computer, writing long into the wee hours, the screen’s glow the only illumination in the room, I slowly became aware of a gradual peripheral movement alongside my right cheek, that moved forward into view, to emerge directly facing me.

A black silhouette of a face, illuminated by the neon glow of the computer screen, a side view of a profile of a slim young man, emerged which then quickly turned, to face me straight on.

A full second before I loudly exclaimed and shouted, an involuntary reaction, I could see a slim, thin human face darker than the room’s darkness, fully facing me.

As I have purposefully unlearned fear, the shout was instinctive and only awe surfaced.

But it was a “Shadow Person” up close and intimate.

At one time, in order to block these experiences, knowing that some medications did change brain chemistry to the extent,  to simply put one beyond the reach of such creatures, I tried antihistamines and did indeed manage to stop it all, temporarily.  I had read that on the Internet and just wanting to feel normal, again, tried it on myself.

I don’t know how it works but it works … temporarily.

But, one can’t live on Benedryll.

Other medications have specifically been developed for people who are troubled by ‘seeing things’, ‘hearing things’ and ‘feeling things’ and these were

pharmacologically designed because modern medicine makes no differentiation, no distinctions between spiritual dysfunctions and psychological dysfunctions.

A modern clinician  unversed in such spiritual truths, perceives a child patient who experiences these phenomena as more psychotic than  psychic, certainly not ever a young ‘sensitive’, who has not yet learned how, but must, to  close his energies, to such entities… 

I was told by others early on that what I was going through was a blessing.   I did not accept that at the time.   It has been a tough learning experience for both me and the unseen world.

I once advised a spirit whose hand rested heavily on my right shoulder -I could feel the weight and span of fingers- to “cross over to the other side”-  meaning that other dimension that we all come from and go to, ‘Heaven’.

  After just a few seconds, it obliged my request, by crossing over to my left side, and  good naturedly resting its hand, THERE, on my shoulder..

I deduced that rather than having a rarefied sense of humor,  it likely had no idea whatsoever, what I was referring to…

Another major problem for psychic sensitives, is that of all the spiritual energies, unseen, out there, many are NOT human; some are reptilian alien.

When a demon or juvenile reptilian cruises in, for what turns out to be an extended visit, an onset of the most awful nightmares, unlike any one can imagine, vivid and terrifying, ensue.

Such brilliant diabolical entities refuse rescue and delight in tormenting humans; nothing else except unholy ones could do such violence to mere dreams.
Scary blood with an evil halloween vampire character splattered and dripping on a white background as a spooky symbol of danger and fear as paranormal fantasy icon  Stock Photo - 21743139

During such sieges, in spiritual crises, I have had to neatly discard any classic pedestrian Freudian or Jungian explanations as misguided and moot, and instead  to seek metaphysical approaches that do, after a fashion, work.

In self defense,  with heightened empathy for an energy who jumps upon me, I counsel with love and compassion, as one would a lost traveler or lost child.  It could well be you, or me, so lost.

I used to dismiss an unseen touch as though it were a fly at my mustache, or treat it with the disgust or shock that a ghost often elicits.

Then I tried to openly complain to the spirit, that phantoms DO-  fill -the- air – around us, and that although we all come from God, one way or another, some of us  fight  hard,  to return to God.

I relay this to the unseen intelligence touching me, with a lack of fear and with  pathos, as much sympathy as I can muster.

All the while, I am fully aware that it could likely be psychically dangerous, as deeply disturbed as it had been, in its body.

If it ever HAD a body..

If it’s “sticky”, and persistent , I surround myself in a three-feet-around-me violet cloud of love, to dissuade it, in a fashion..

The worst, most predatory and harmful negative energies ‘out there’, for a sensitive to sense, are juvenile reptilians and small dark grey aliens. They come on like gang-busters,  insistently stubborn and ‘hungry’ for my energies.

When such  painful burning touches apprise me that connections between my energies and dark energies are continuing,  a spritz of incensed holy water mixed with tea tree and camphor essential oils from a plant misting bottle clears the attachment feeling and the onset of mild psychic attack.

I tell spirits who touch me more gently, them that it’s sad and  ironic that God has sent them to me for help,  for I myself, spiritually, am  so often  helplessly lost.

I  tell them that touching people for energy, stealing energy from people,  traps them here, between worlds, where they are subject to bullying or worse, theft, by astral – fierce-predators, afoot.

I ask them to reach higher into their own dimension,  to  ask for angelic help as I do the same, in mine.  I remind them that since they didn’t die when they left their body, that they cannot  die, and insist that they not steal human energy; humans look  like bright porch lights to them.  Some do not listen, because they still feel so, ‘alive’, though not in their physical body.

The retort I have more than once heard in my skull was:

“How do I know, that YOU’RE not dead!?”

Some, however, do listen.

I ask   rescue beings of light to work to bring  a neighbor, a lover, a child, a former pet, a parent, a friend, a schoolmate, ANYONE, SOMEONE whom they can trust, to bring them over, to the Other Side.

I try not to surround them in a white light , for negative-thought-beings can feast on white light, which is why they go initially quiescent, only to come on, again, later,  like gang-busters.

Visualized purple light, used for self-defense, can also  ‘wash off and cleanse’ the external blackness surrounding a dark spirit, who is half- willing to be rescued.

Such a ‘wash’ of purple light onto such  creatures couched in blackness, always soon reveals a tiny, faint pearl- like light within the dark one,  my proof to it, of God’s creation of it.

Then, ONLY THEN,  bereft of its outer shell of darkness,  and meanness will I send it into a tower of white light, which contains the hidden full color spectrum with gradations of each color  a different dimension of (earned) Heaven.

Some dark spirits can only freely go into red light, or orange light, to find their rightful place, towards their next perfection; all varied colored spiritual destinations, not unlike a rainbow, are contained  hidden within white light.

However, this cleansing and rescue is best and more safely done within a circle of minds, with a psychic-medium also in attendance.    Creative metaphysics, towards rescues, using just one human mind can be dangerous  as some entities/energies out there, are quite amazingly nasty, brilliant and diabolical. Self-defense evolved into a changed outlook:

I pray FOR them, instead of for my relief FROM them.

It raises their vibrations and moves them out of the darkness and is appreciated by them and by others, and is considered,”service to the other side’.

I also try to goad them into the finer purpose, of helping me:

I ask them to leave as ‘ Earthbound’ spirits,  travel to the Christ light, and RETURN to me, as cleansed spirits to assist me in others’ rescue.

What usually appeals to  ‘holdouts’,  is  reminding them that nobody  has spoken to them, or  paid any attention to them, for a  long time, except for me.   With a more humane stance, rarely do they attack with projected telepathic/psychic attacks, in nightmares, or sinister poltergeist machinations . I have bought some peace and I have done some service to the Other Side.

Ghost-hunters are the front line in this real endeavor, the rescue of ghosts, for in spiritually rescuing others, they can spiritually rescue themselves.

TALKING TO HEAVEN, BUT LOST IN TRANSLATION

TALKING TO HEAVEN, BUT, LOST IN TRANSLATION

by Paul Schroeder

Translation trip- ups, are screw-ups, mistakes that can alter reality.

 

President Carter visited Poland, in 1977.

 

Through an inexperienced translator, Carter said,” for your desires in the future”, which instead was wrongly translated as,”your lusts for the future”, and said,
“When I left the United States”, which came out as,”when I abandoned the United States”, mistakes that the press found amusing.
Nikita Khrushchev, gave a speech, at the U.N., during the Cold War, in which he said a phrase, interpreted wrongly in Russian,” We will bury you!”,
which gave cause for alarm to NSA and CIA, when the more accurate meaning was actually,
“We will outlast you!”

 One’s personal destiny, much like history, is also affected by such screw-ups in translation.

 

I had the same interpretive conundrum trying  futilely to communicate with angelic beings, spirit helpers and my Higher Self,

for I desperately needed spiritual help, protection against untoward, unpleasant and unwanted paranormal experiences.

 

 I felt that perhaps I could also be able to assist myself, because I  knew fully well that

the human mind, in itself, has Godlike  powers, to alter reality.

The mind, the conscious soul, by sheer force of  will, is able to  alter our  predetermined and programmed  ‘reality’,

 our life- scenarios,  pre-arranged in a blueprint.

 

This blueprint,  carefully pre-planned by us, our spirit helpers, and guides,  before our birth, is for spiritual learning, within this school, that we call, “Earth”..

 

But the more that I fervently prayed, with angst, to Heaven to  cease and desist paranormal untoward horrid experiences , the more things got worse.

 

 I had close encounter sightings of overhead UFOs and  then suffered subsequent abductions by, brilliantly diabolical reptilians, who imposed vivid, nightmares.

My prayers, I thought, all my life heard and responded to,  now failed to elicit  spiritual help.

 

My mind also failed to translate its power to tell ‘reality’,  to stop paranormal encounters that loomed as dreadful.

I discovered that fearful pleading to Heaven for respite and relief did NOT mean that one had the language to effectively communicate.

 

Why did things get worse, after  desperately fervent prayer?

 

Why were my experiences worsening and  my intense requests lost, in translation?

 

I felt an electric mortal terror of  persistent , nighttime bedroom alien critters.

 

After abductions, I felt harmed, threatened and  wounded.

 My fervent prayers to Heaven’s Hosts for  protective relief  were ignored.

 

I needed access to a more correct language, to reach Heaven’s ears, the spiritual software in spirituality to reprogram my blueprint, while still submerged  in life’s midstream .

But instead,  my  suffering  expressed in focused prayers, made all Hell break loose:

 

Ghosts, demons, shadow people, poltergeist phenomena, dreadful , vivid nightmares, Out of Body Experiences, and aliens in overhead craft who abducted me.

 

  I was flirting with an onslaught of inter dimensional bleed-throughs,  and face to face with The Beast of Madness.​

I  agonized over my thwarted  spiritual rights  to demand cessation, seek

balance, grounding and  protection, from my angels, my guides, God and my Higher Self.

 But, the more that I worried, petitioned and implored, in despair, to Heaven, to end  bizarre encounters, the more that unholy creatures carrying butter knives, pranced naked, into my bedroom’s nightmares.

 

The uninvited fully devoured me, at night.

Why does the buttered slice of bread always fall butter side down?

It’s not the weight of the butter.
I herein share a mystic’s revelation,  that took me ten years to discover.

Fearful worrying,  negative energy, manifests those very things, that keep you up at night, worrying about.

Since your energy goes where your attention goes, chronic fearful worry, only brings more wolves, to all of your doors.

Though we are not ever alone in this life, we may as well be, for our Higher Self, spirit helpers, angels and spirit guides, do NOT use the King’s English, in the same way as we do.
Communication from you to them  is interpreted,

not by  words, but by the inner focus of the mind’s emotional energy.

 

It’s a translation problem, that makes things that you desperately seek cessation from, to continue to manifest in your direct path.
Lost in translation, the spirit world  naturally and wrongly  assumes, that  horrid events, are precisely what you are asking for: praying for relief from ‘wolves at the door’, counter-intuitively, only brings MORE ‘wolves to the door’.
Like trying to avoid a dangerous road obstruction, just ahead, in front of you, while you are driving, your  fearful focused gaze directed at it, only helps you, to hit it.

The translation software apparatus that works  requires that  you never despair, or resign yourself to grief.

 

Like a weary survivor lost at sea, tired of swimming , in terror, that he will drown, who decides to end his suffering agony, by

 inhaling a merciful  lungful of water, exemplifies how  negative fear and worry bring about ruination.

 

The  spiritual translation software instead  requires the  swimmer to relax and float, expectantly grateful,
with relief , certain of a wondrous rescue.
However counter-intuitive this may feel, then spiritual help will begin on its way.
 The  translation- language, to reach  those, ‘behind one’s curtains’,  requires one  to

 feel GRATEFUL, THANKFUL, and JOYFUL, as though full relief  has already been afforded you.

 

This  translation program,  however oblique and counter-intuitive, is an emotional software language  which works.
                                   Program translation RULE
Stay positive.
Simpsons Fox cartoon
Shift  from the negative
unhappiness expressed in :
“Oh, MY DEAR God!,  I beg you, PLEASE help me with——–!”,
to:
“THANK YOU, GOD, for your wondrous help in successfully keeping all traces of——– forever far away from me!”,
 an inner emotional stance of THANKFULNESS, APPRECIATION, GRATITUDE and RELIEF,

AS THOUGH WHAT YOU DESPERATELY SOUGHT ,  from Heaven,

HAD ALREADY  BEEN DELIVERED TO YOU…

  Like magic,  I was finally able to communicate passed translation bottlenecks, using  emotional relief and deep gratitude, regarding my travails.

 

Rather than send  more wolves, Heaven instead began to perfect a remedy for me.

A spiritual technophobe, slow to learn,  it took me ten years to figure this out.
A prayer request using RELIEF combined with GRATEFULNESS,   gains and re-adjusts ‘the ear’ of our Higher Selves, angels and spirit helpers, who manifest reality for us,  according to the emotional energy focus, of our heart and  mind.
.

Paranormal inter- dimensional untoward bleed-through experiences  have  diminished, in ferocity and incidence, as a direct result of this ‘language’ software shift in demeanor, to

lend a new meaning, to the expression, “from your lips to God’s ears” .
Image may contain: sky, plant, tree and outdoor
God is real, but down a long hall, and somewhere else other than organized religions’ (and the Bible’s ) wrongheadedness, because in Heaven, there is NO ‘religion’…

MILITARY COMBAT MEMORY OF MY FATHER


COMBAT AND MILITARY MEMORY OF MY FATHER : I COULD HAVE TOLD HIM THAT I LOVED HIM

Combat and Military Memory of my Father: I Could Have Told Him That I Loved Him
by Paul Schroeder
My father parachuted into Germany and was captured that same week; he and his Screaming Eagles company buddies were holed up in a farmhouse armed with machine guns when a Tiger Tank rolled up to it and put its muzzle into a window and fired.
He recalled his ferocious gnawing hunger and told me that at the prisoner of war camp at night, when he slept, mice would creep into his buttoned shirt vest pocket to steal the few crumbs of bread he had hidden there before he could awaken and slap his pocket.
He weighed eighty-eight pounds when he was liberated.
At another time, on a work detail outside and beyond the barbed wire fence, he saw a skeletal group of Jews, literally walking skeletons, and in abject pity he threw a piece of his bread over a fence to them, which they all frantically scrambled for.
The supervising German sergeant of those doomed Jews saw him do this and walked over to him and put a Luger into my father’s mouth and pulled the trigger.
The gun misfired.
Twice.
His mind and lifelong emotional mental state were never the same after that incident, and for the rest of his life he remained tortured, an unhappy and mostly unpleasant man.
He would, many years later, angrily retrieve moldy bread and brown wilted lettuce from the trash, raging about ,’wasted food’, and we all learned that for our peace of mind, food garbage had to be thrown into the incinerator, long before he came home, from work.
He told me that he witnessed the killings of women who had assisted anti-Nazi resistance fighters, women who were hung from piano wires in a slow strangulation that delighted and entertained the German Waffen S.S.
But he seemed calm telling me that it took some over an hour to die, in this fashion, from this form of German murder, for the the slimmest, most lightweight women who were hanged, struggled longer against their nooses.
The prisoner of war camp’s confinement had chafed his soul.
Even long after the war he could escape the inglorious restraints and confinements of marriage and work , to seek the open ocean to fish for striped bass and bluefish.
He loved fishing more than anything or anyone, in his life, and ached for fishing, to be free and alone on a landscape of waves, with only gulls for company.
He spent all of his spare time, nights and weekends, alone on the open Atlantic ocean, a peaceful landscape of land escape, far from dangerous and murderous distant coastlines.
When he thought that I was old enough to be of assistance to him, he brought me into his escapist world of fishing solitude, and far out on the waters of the Atlantic, far from any constricting shore, told me his memories, of a horrific war. .
When I was young, eight, nine and ten years of age, my father woke me every Friday night at 2:00 A.M. and by three fifteen A.M. we were out in the waters of Long Island, in his boat, fishing for striped bass and bluefish until the sun came up and fish stopped feeding and taking lures.
We watched the gulls; wherever they were raucous and feeding, we caught many large fish, as schools were underneath, forcing the bait to the surface, which attracted the birds. It was a foolproof technique.
After the sun came up, we sat and jigged the bottom for fluke and flounders, languid bottom feeders, while we sat under the shade of the Marine Parkway Bridge.
Bereft of the engine’s roar and the slap of the waves against a speeding hull, we sat, and he would speak to me of the horrors he had seen.
Every weekend of my youth was spent this way, catching large fish.
I was agog and seasick for days afterwards.
The pitched sickness of the waves, the sharp sour stink of fish, the stench of gasoline from the engine, the foul pungent odor of the, ‘piss-can’ and his poignant recollections of the horrors that he had seen during the war, combined to make me deathly ill, each time that we fished together..
I envisioned deep trenches in the furrows of the waves, filled with sobbing, and doomed families of Jews, as German Waffen S.S. driven bulldozers, pushed tons of soil atop them, to bury them, alive.
Once, after listening to such tales, told in his low, monotone voice, I eventually noticed that each time I netted and landed a fish into the boat, the water would swirl and splash a few seconds afterwards, and I asked my father the cause of this bizarre occurrence.
He blithely told me, casting a lure from the boat, that the fish’s mate would break the water, seeking his lost mate, following after, in a futile search.
In that moment, with the boat at my feet filled with flopping fish, jaws gaping in airy suffocation, the horrors in his stories resurfaced:
dead children in the streets, who resembled dolls, their jaws and eyes open,
skeletal Jews with pleading eyes,
children murdered before their parents’ eyes,
of a Waffen S.S. who used his machine pistol to separate a close knit family, and of their wails of separation, which years later, would ring in my father’s head.
I suddenly realized, in horror, that each swirl and splash of water, after I had pulled one fish into the boat, was a mate and thus a broken heart, that fish were individuals, with feelings, and not just mere products!
The horror of fish, dead and dying at my feet, of loved ones’ final, forceful separation, in a frozen moment, broke my young heart, and I found and resolved, that I could no longer bear to catch, or to ever again, eat fish.
Recalling these memories is not a freeing and therapeutic catharsis, instead I feel a sad nostalgia, a morbid whimsy .
As a writer, it is difficult to capture the strained, forced familiarity of families’ troubled interactions, governed by fruits of traumas, into words.
I have carefully locked the vault door against the worst recollections, the horrors of living with him; he had absorbed the repeated brutality of his experiences.
Throughout life, he radiated the same heavy-handed violence to those all around him, using fists, where a word, instead, might suffice.
Those recollections, if unlocked behind my mind’s protective vault doors, would make these experiences, herein, pale, by comparison.
When I can hazard to open those vault doors, doors made of three feet of steel, therapeutic and freeing might then ensue.
Debriefing combat troops, is still nonexistent; one arrives fresh from combat to San Diego Airport or Kennedy International Airport.
The injuries that our most recent troops have sustained in Iraq and Afghanistan, unseen and unmeasured injuries, are deep and painful scars on their souls;
many, after drug and alcohol addiction fails to assuage their grief, take their own lives, in suicides suffering from combat angst beyond words.
I recall General Patton coming under criticism for slapping the face of and calling a coward, a young soldier, in a field hospital, who was trembling, with severe shell shock.
Even the military fails to understand what happens to America’s young men who have been taught all of their lives,”Thou shalt not kill”, after they are trained to be killing machines and then aptly fill the job description for a tour of duty.
Americans must unite to reluctantly resolve to fight a broader world war with ISIS, for though America does NOT want war, WAR wants America.
America, is NOT at war, for America is busy shopping in malls; our military, however, IS at war.
Their souls are forever tainted, degraded and crippled by official legal murders.
How is one to understand?
Rather than wrongly judging that my father wallowed in these memories, he instead was surely drowning, within a deeper struggle, far removed from self pity.
Though he never once told me, within the recollections of the circle of my life, that he loved me, I found that I instead should have told him then, and often, that I loved him .
EPILOGUE:
Just before he died, at eighty-four, after a lifetime of no contact with him, I visited him at the Saint Albans Veterans Hospital Facility.
How I learned that he was there, is a paranormal story beyond belief, but one reserved for another time.
Even after a stroke and a heart attack, confined to a wheelchair, his bristling aggression and smoldering anger had still radiated.
He had angrily cursed God, when I did mention God, to him; he had repeatedly cursed God, saying that there was no God and as proof, offered me what he had seen, of the long ago mass murders of Jewish infants and children, by Ukrainians and Nazi Waffen S.S. troops.
He had repeated that because of raw evil allowed to run rampant, he was thus an atheist, one who didn’t believe a single word about God and then, he had openly cursed God, again.
I had chided him by saying that although God WAS all loving, that even God, might get annoyed, to be cursed so.
As for wholesale murder of innocents I reminded him:
‘Church taught hatred of Jews, as murderers of Jesus Christ, fueled the Holocaust, the Inquisition, pogroms, ghettos, and rabid antisemitism and NOBODY hates the Church, more than Jews, nobody…’
Slowly, I had realized a more positive note, an element of rescue,  a spiritual coup de’ grace:
I had been driven by unseen forces, after twenty-five years of no contact,  to bring along to his bedside, a spiritual message to deliver to him.
I said that he was wrong; that the proof of God only seemed so invisible because it was too merged within our consciousness and within everything all around us, to be too easily detected.
I had told him that I had, over years of learning, away from him, become psychic enough to glean more:
that we are NOT people, having spiritual/ paranormal experiences, but are  undying spirits, within a DNA nanotech-contrived housing, instead, having human experiences.
That we ‘step out of’ our bodies at death, as we do our cars and our clothing, in physical life.
And we are no more our bodies, I had said, than we are our clothing, or our vehicles.
I had assured him that I had learned that our consciousness actually reincarnated often, to learn spiritual lessons, that God gives us many lifetimes to refine our souls and to learn lessons that we set out for ourselves.
With some pride, I had reminded him that his lifetime’s recollections of horrid war experiences, revealed a braver and nobler inner spirit, than most, to have chosen such harsh and horrid lessons.
He quietly listened, with no vague inkling of acceptance.
A week later, preparing to visit him, again, I got a phone call from the hospital that he had passed in the night from a second and final heart attack.
Some months later, while I was playing my bass guitar, (playing music, much like sleep, or hypnotic television watching seems to suppress my left brain’s blocking aspect, and paranormal experiences occur) in my living room, his face suddenly loomed into my mind’s eye and I suddenly felt his closeness.
Instead of an accompanying sad heaviness, his energy radiated a youthful joyous presence.
Stunned, I psychically acknowledged him, with love, but also with great worry; I cautiously admonished him for hazarding to linger so on this plane, and asked him to quickly jump into the Light.
His accompanying joy, a mixture of freedom from worry, from bed-worn immobility, from war-time sadness, with an element of love and thanks, thrilled me.
Perhaps, I had I had been sought to deliver that message, to him, in much needed time.