Monday, April 27, 2015

There are only two words that we need to change the world: yes and no, and for both we need to be brave

This month, this post, Evolving Beings: The Two Most PowerfulWords to Create Change, has had the most visits. I’m not certain what’s caused the interest, but I’m grateful to readers for visiting. I’m also curious about whether visitors clicked on the link to read the full article on EvolvingBeings. I’m sharing the complete introduction and slightly edited article again.

This is how I introduced the article:

I’ve another guest post at Evolving Beings. Parts of the story are about passing spirits into the light. I’m always cautious sharing these experiences because of the physicality of my experience; it’s very real for me, but it’s also potentially harmful to the integrity of my healing work. I choose to be brave, and it’s these experiences that have enabled me to be a healer.

I’d also like to share that I had a jaguar in my home last night. I heard the padding of its paws on the floorboards first, and then a low growl. When you can feel warm breath on your arm it’s easy to believe that this is real. The jaguar rubbed its face against me and then flopped down beside me.

The Two Most Powerful Words to Create Change

Jesus is standing beside me. “I’m always here, brother.”

I enjoy his company, he encourages me to write, and teaches me how to work with spirit.

“Is that nice?” He’s talking about the beer I’m drinking. He’s closed his eyes, tilted his head to the side and is listening to my son in the shower. I don’t reply.

Gegu, my angelic-guide, is sitting cross-legged on the floor, and he smiles at my uncle Harry, who’s also a ghost, when he appears.

The television is too loud and I’m feeling agitated. Uncle Harry touches my shoulder and I begin to relax, “What are you writing about?”

“I’m not sure,” and it’s always this way; I never write what I think I’m going to.

Two years ago my friend Jane texted me and asked for a hug. I texted back, “sit still and relax, I’m coming.” I lay on the floor and left my body. This was something Jesus had shown me, and the first time I’d tried to do it.

Everything was surprisingly clear: my body was on the floor, but I was standing in the hallway. I walked towards my back door, and, wondering how I was going to get outside, I hesitated. Then I blinked, and I was standing in Jane’s front yard. Jane sat in a recliner on her front porch. I ran three steps, jumped, and floated into her lap. I kissed Jane’s neck, bit her ear, and hugged her.

Jane was only expecting to feel a warm tingling. Beep! “Holly molly, that was awesome!”

She felt everything, and the sensations were so intense she became aroused.

If we have faith, anything is possible.

“You were playing, my son, and this is not why we taught you this.”

Gegu’s right. It’s an example of what’s possible. As easily as I can slide from my body, I can heal. By thinking about a surgeon, one can appear. We can create change. Is it that easy?

“It’s as hard as you make it, my son.”

We need to simplify. There are only two words that we need to change the world: yes, and no, and for both we need to be brave. If you’re not happy, then you haven’t been using these words.

Mitch is a US ranger, he died in Iraq, and he visits all the time. I call him Mitch from Oregon, and he’s just put his hands on my shoulders. I can see his four year old daughter: blonde hair, pretty smile, she’s running, I’m chasing her, and she’s looking over her shoulder. She’s laughing, a dog is barking, and then there’s an explosion. Something thumps into my chest, I can’t move my limbs, I’m being dragged . . . Mitch’s death and his memories are entwined, and play over and over again whenever he is near. “I need you.”

I know.

I’ve watched Mitch walk into the light many times, but he keeps returning. Uncle Harry embraces Mitch, and then steps back to make room for a US marine and two Iraqi children. “Help us.”
The images are terrible, the pain and fear is amplified, and it feels like my chest is being crushed. I can’t breathe. I’m choking.

“Be brave, my son.” Gegu is always near.

Jesus crouches down beside the children. It feels like my heart has stopped beating. “Will you do it?”

Yes. Jesus knows I have to experience the deaths, the fear, the confusion, and the longing to return home. I slide—the images are too violent to share.

The light is everywhere. I’m the light. The feeling of freedom and peace is as painful as the fear and dying. I don’t return to my body for a long time. I’m nowhere. I’m naked, on all fours, vomiting up fear . . . is it real?

Mitch, Gegu, Uncle Harry, and Jesus stay with me until I stop shaking. There’s no time here. Mitch helps me up. He hugs me, and I can smell dust, sweat, burnt fibre, blood, and strawberry scented lip balm. “Thank you.”

I know what we’re responsible for. Can we stop this now? I want someone to say no, no more.

Each one of us is vibrating at something, an infinite number of frequencies that co-exist and co-create. Individuals, families, generations, communities, and countries all have a unique vibration. This is what limits change, but it doesn’t have to. It’s this that healing influences and changes.

Jane loves me, and although we chose not to be in a sexual relationship, we’re both attracted to each other. A frequency in her vibration is, I’d like to have sex with Simon, and that’s why she had a sexual response. Social and moral restraints prevent her from expressing this, but perhaps that vibration is counter-productive to her happiness. It’s not that we need to have sex, but Jane longs to express fully that she’d like too.

Yes I’d like to, but no, I can’t. That’s conflict, and over time indecision will be the dominant frequency. Yes, or no, not maybe and denial.

Mitch vibrates at, I want to save everyone, and that’s why, even in spirit, he fights the good fight. He keeps returning and brings spirits to me that haven’t gone into the light. One of his frequencies is, I am a US ranger, so he primarily brings soldiers to me, but he doesn’t discriminate. He also brings Taliban fighters, Muslim extremists, and civilians who have died in conflict.

Change is restricted or enhanced by what we’re vibrating at. You can adjust this frequency by knowing your self, and being decisive. The two most powerful words you can use are yes and no.

For Mitch’s sake, can we stop this now?


“I’d not have thought war would be adopted by so many to solve so little.” ~ unknown spirit.


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