5 More Sweethearts

Today, Friday, October 29, 2021, I am continuing to share the stories of my 12 sweethearts, as part of our exercise for reviewing and renewing our connections with these special 12 ones in our life, whom we have loved, for better and for worse, until death or the end of the relationship.

For this blog, I will share the sacred stories of 5 more sweet souls who who have blessed my life, for whom I am ever grateful. My goal is to remember and share not only the downside and downfalls involved with each of them, but more so to focus on and to give thanks for the many happy, uplifting, joyous, growth-filled times we had together. In this is my and your healing.

My Third Sweetie

Here is the humorous (I hope) story of my third sweet heart/sweetheart: her sweet name was Tamara. When she and I were in second grade, and I was about 7-8 years old, I became sweet on her, or as sweet as a boy of my age could be of any girl. She was cute, popular, energetic and loving, or so I thought.

Near the end of one wintry day at school, she, I and others in our classroom were in a large closet together where we children had hung up our winter coats and stored our scarves, hats, gloves and boots, which we were about to put on so that we could go outside and go home.

Well, to make a long story short, in this “romantic setting” I had the impulse to kiss her (who knows where that feeling came from). So, I took the plunge: I went over to her, put my arms around her, and kissed her flush on the mouth! Oh, joy of joys! My first kiss!

But to my dismay, it was not a big deal. Especially since Tamara had a head cold and runny nose, so when I kissed her, I got her “snot” on my lips and face. Yuck! Not exactly romantic, huh!? (I expect you now are smiling and laughing. I certainly am.)

And doubly compounding this whole sorry tale, she then screwed up her face, gave me the “look” and told me in no uncertain terms to never do that again! She didn’t like me. Can you imagine that? How could a girl not like me? Even back then, despite my somewhat closed heart from my previous year’s emotional trauma, I was a bit full of myself.

Photo Evidence

Check out below the three pictures of me, in the first, second and third grades, ages 6-8, from 1954-1956. You have to admit I was a pretty adorable, handsome kid; even a bit smug, don’t you think? Especially in 1954. And look how I matured and grew during those three years into a dimple-faced cutie that any young female would have to love. Ha! And yet Tamara seemed to think that I had “cooties’, if you know what I mean.

(You may or may not remember the cootie game, with a big bug being the cootie whose multiple legs and other parts of its body could be detached and then put back together. Kids who were not cool, hip, popular or part of the in-crowd, like farm boys and girls, had “cooties” — whereas we “sophisticated” kids in town (all of 5,000 people, mind you) did not. Kids can be so cruel to one another, not to mention teenagers, and lots of adults for that matter.)

 

And the story gets better. Many years later, when I was a sophomore or junior in high school, I was still sweet on Tamara (go figure). So, I got up my nerve, overcame my shyness and fear of rejection, dismissed the past, and bravely asked her out on a date. And guess what she did and said.

Like before, she screwed up her face in disgust, and rather nastily said she would never, ever have anything to do with me. What can I say — apparently, in her mind at least, I still had “cooties.” So much for my optimistic self-appraisal.

But I survived to see another day in the ongoing joys of male-female relationships. Moreover, as it turned out in later years, she wouldn’t be the only lady who up and left me. Yup, I would think in those later times, I still must have “cooties.” And who knows, maybe I did in ways that I did not understand during these difficult, yet humorous times.

Lessons Learned

About 50 years later, in 2002, my Dad was in in Dansville’s King’s Daughters Nursing Home, when I visited him. Low and behold, one of the other elders who lived there was Tamara’s mother! I thought to myself that maybe, just maybe, when I was there or in later trips there, Tamara might show up to visit her Mom. Then as a couple of mid-fifty-year-old adults, we could talk and reminisce about our fractured past (which she probably did not remember). And we could have a good laugh!

Maybe, I fantasized, I would even give her a peck on her lips or cheek. But alas, it was not to be — she never showed up. So, I was left to laugh at and by myself, even as I sent love to Tamara in my prayers. That love was my I Am kiss to her, right on her mouth,  and especially was directed to her heart-of-hearts (and no “snot” came back in return). Yes, my friends, all is well that ends well. So, keep hope alive. Keep the faith that love heals all.

What other learning lessons did I take out of this first of my several, somewhat comic love relationships with lovely, delightful but sometimes fickle females? Well, not all that much, for I was just seven or eight years old. But then again, in retrospect, this sacred bond, or lack thereof, with Tamara taught me early on that not everyone, male or female, was going to love me. But I could love each and every one of them.

Moreover, in personal love relationships, it is better to “look before we leap,” to first be a friend before we try to be a lover. For, if we leap first, we are likely to get some “snot” on our face, some “snotty” attitudes, feelings and soul shortcomings that emanate from our hoped-for loved one; which may “slime” us, aurically and physically. And who needs that!?

We can avoid this displeasure if, after looking and seeing the truth, we keep our right distance from those who do not love us; even as we love them from afar and try our best to be a friend. Forgive and be forgiven, be a friend to one and all — this is the goal. From loving friendship blooms the rose of healthy, personal, romantic relationships.

Trip the Light Fantastic

Now on to my next adventure in learning how to “dance” with my next, 4th sweetie: Her name was/is Pamela. She was my first, young-teenage crush, when I was 13-14 years old, with my hormones racing. (What a trip!)

Pamela lived with her grandmother across the street from me. My family had moved here when I was 7-8 years old, following Rosalie’s death. So Pam and I grew up together, not exactly the best formula for a budding romance of two teens. Pam was cute, had a warm, loving personality, and was one of the most popular girls in our 8th-grade class. Plus, it didn’t hurt that she had a beautiful body with “big boobs”, which of course I didn’t really notice (and if you believe that, you are a fool — ha!).

Not only was she beautiful and well-built but she also was athletic, and that made for a problem. She could run like a deer, much faster than me, so how in the world was I supposed to be her man, her loved one, her boyfriend?

Amazingly, however, Pam liked me enough that she invited me to go with her to the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance on November 13th, wherein girls are the ones to ask out the boys. Wow! Was I ever excited, thrilled, happy, in “puppy love.” (This dance tradition, followed in countries around the world, comes from the cartoon characters in L’il Abner by Any Clapp.)

But there was another problem: I didn’t know how to dance! Oh, I knew a few little steps in slow dancing, and I could jitterbug and jive. But that was it. Thankfully, my male friend who was a year older than me, did know how to slow dance, to trip the light fantastic. Imagine: He and I in my living room twirling around as he danced with and instructed me! Makes me laugh just to think of it.

So, off Pam and I went to the dance, and we had a great time. (Go to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZ9WKQmcX2k for the wonderful “Trip the Light Fantastic” YouTube song-video.)

I came home aglow, got and gave her a couple big kisses out on her porch until her grandmother mother flashed the inside light to signal that it was time for her to come into the house. I went home fantasizing about what a wonderful, romantic, enticing relationship we were going to have.

But, it was not to be. Ugh! This was my first and only “dance” with her, as in following days, months and years, she only dated upper classmen, who of course were taller, stronger, more virile and handsome than me and could run faster than her. Poor little ‘ole me, I was left behind to lick my wounds. Boohoo. Cooties galore. It felt like my whole world had ended. Talk about teenage angst! But I was a resilient young man — I got over it and Pam and I were still good friends, and we still are.

Atlantis Revisited

Fast forward to 15 years later, three or four years after my spiritual awakening, when I was in the first year of my psychiatry residency. In a vivid dream, I saw and recalled that in the days of Atlantis Pam had been my mistress!

I was a doctor/scientist, older than her, with fame and prestige and power of a sort, and I think I was married. Pam was gorgeous then and apparently fell under my sway, and we had us some fling that lasted however long. But here was the karma that now had out-pictured in my young life this time around, in my interactions with, and lusting after, Pam. My past sexual romp with her had been one reason why I had allowed myself to get off track in my Atlantean healing mission — that’s what happens when guys “think with their joint,” to use a slang phrase, instead of thinking and feeling with our head and heart, under the control of our I Am Self.

So, what I had meted out came back to me: Even as a 13-year-old, Pam somehow was guided to leave me behind and not repeat her past entrapment in my and her inappropriate, self-defeating, sexual desires.

But in this lifetime, even with the above dream, it did not stop me from continuing to dream about and lust after her in my dreams for the next 20-25 years, until I finally could see and fully bless the Christ in her, to keep my eye single on that, and not on her breasts and other regenerative organs. Every time in those 25 years, when I allowed myself to get too charged up, too excited about my current work project, too tired to let down and relax, too upset, I would dream about having another romantic/sexual tryst with her. And wake up with my heart aching.

Past, Present, Future

But the point is that despite all this, I persisted. Time and again, I came back to seeing and calling forth the Christ in her. After all, in her fourth-dimensional light body, she has no “boobs” since they are only the physical, animal means/organs required to nurture a newborn. So, why in the world would we men lust after women’s breasts? Its insanity from a higher perspective. But then again, we here on Earth live in an “insane asylum.” But it doesn’t have to continue to be this way.

Lessons learned? Well, the obvious one is that our present life is predicated on, and is an opportunity to transmute, our past lives. There are very few so-called accidents. What we sow, we reap. As much as something hurts, we can pretty much be certain that we have hurt others in similar ways in the past. This is true whether we remember the past or not.

And the second lesson is that down through history, for millions of years, humanity has been a slave to his or her sexual desires and actions. In this lifetime, especially as we start in our ascent up the mountain to I Am consciousness, we are swimming in the murky, sexual waters in the bottom of the well, at the base of our spine, in our regenerative chakra. Transmuting these energies is a lifetime project, not some quick trip of saying a few affirmations and making a few visualizations. We continue to lust in our heart, even long after we no longer act upon our lusting impulses.

Amazingly, in my first major initiation of rebirth, when I had the above dream, I saw the genesis of what would take me so much time and energy to transmute and transform, and to rise above it during this entire incarnation. And I am still a work in progress, and will be as long as I live in a physical body. But Pam is now my spiritual friend, in all her delightful, feminine and light-filled ways; and from here on she always will be, if she so chooses to be so.

Judas is reborn as Iscariot is cleansed away, in mind, soul and body, right down to our genitals. Stay with it. Stay at it. Keep your sense of balance and humor as you do so. There’s lots to laugh and cry about along the way. So, tell your funny and sometimes sad story to someone. Who will nod his or her head, and tell you his or hers. And then, with this common comic relief, get on with the real business of birthing your light body!

Will I Am

The same night I dreamt about Pam in Atlantis, I had another impactful, far-reaching dream of that long ago time, which centered around my current high school classmate, William, who of course we called Bill. He was my fifth sweetie, if I can call him that.

I thought I was pretty intelligent, pretty smart and I guess I was to a degree. But when our whole class was tested, Bill had an IQ in the genius range. And I did not. He went on to become the class valedictorian and I was the salutatorian.

Bill’s gift to me was that he spared me from thinking I was the best of the best, that I was hot stuff, that I was smarter than and thereby better than anyone else. Due to his superior thinking ability, Bill had a big chip on his shoulder, it always felt like he was putting other people down, that he was “something else.” I had somewhat of a chip on my own shoulder due to my second place amongst 125 students who were in my senior class that graduated in 1964, but I was a lot more down home, one of the guys and gals, a friend and not a superior.

As testament to this, in my senior year, when our high school class voted for the President of the Student Council, they picked me in a landslide over him. I was the point guard of the basketball team; he sat on the bench because he was a ball hog. And still, most of the time, we were pretty good friends. He definitely had his good qualities. But he had a flaw.

Thy Will Be Done

So imagine my wonderment when I dreamt that in Atlantis he and I were fellow scientists and doctors, with my being older than him, and serving as his mentor and leader. He came to me and admitted that he had made a big mistake, that his selfishness had led him to run amok, that he had used computers to control people.

He asked me to forgive him, which I was hesitant to do, as I sensed intuitively and by his body language that he did not really feel repentant and remorseful, but that he had a hidden agenda. But, I thought, maybe I am getting this wrong, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to forgive him. Which I did, although not whole-heartedly.

And then came the kicker, his Iscariot underside emerged right out in the open. Once forgiven, he proceeded to tell me that he wanted to have a homosexual love affair with me! And he as much as said that he would be the dominant one in such a partnership, like almost he would be doing me a favor. His ugly superiority still shone within and about him.

As Judas tried to force Jesus to do what he, Judas, wanted him to do and be, hence for Jesus to be a physical king who by physical force if necessary would drive out the Romans from Israel, so did Bill in his Iscariot confusion wanted to establish his own mortal kingdom with me, according to his selfish rules and prescriptions. He was not being William, doing the spiritual will of his I Am Self. He was Bill, the mortal being who thought he was God’s gift to creation, who could tell me, his leader and teacher, what to do, despite his obvious, grievous errors.

Thus, asking me to forgive him was just his ploy to rope me into his sexual, same-sex desire and activity, his need to drag and put me down, and to be like he was underneath it all. I was totally stunned, thinking to myself, “You’ve got to be kidding.” But I did not say anything or rebuke him, say yes or no. And then I awoke, feeling disoriented and slimed.

Karmic Retribution

However, just a year or so later, my own Iscariot soul craziness surfaced when I did three full days of healing with the Mark-Age staff, without telling Mark and Yolanda about what was occurring or asking them as my teachers for their guidance and advice (which I covered in a previous blog). Following this, Nada-Yolanda received from Sananda that in Atlantis I had been a captain or leader many times in the Hierarchal chain of command, but my tendency was to go off on my own, do my own thing, get others to follow me and then not be available when the general or Hierarchal leader called upon me to help him or her.

In those ancient Atlantean days, in our Earth Temple focus, I and others had worked with sound in an attempt to heal other individuals and whole groups of people. We had what looked a bit like modern cell towers with their discs, which sent out various sounds that we hoped would resonate within and lift up people in our areas. But, we did not have sufficient control and mastery of this computerized, sophisticated sound experiment. As a result, not so much in my time, but in later generations of scientists/doctors who followed in my footsteps, much damage resulted. Rather than regenerate others, they were degenerated.

Here, then, was my above dream recall with William-Bill who apparently was amongst those who worked with or followed me. Utilizing advanced computers, he inadvertently used sound vibrations to control people, in the sense that the sound vibrations did not uplift but rather created dissonance in their lives. For this, he had asked me for forgiveness, but he still had not cleansed his soul. And I was left to deal with my own part in this past sorry drama and attempt to heal humanity. I had Bill’s and my karma to review, to reprogram, to forgive and to be forgiven as I rightly “spoke the word” that would resonate rightly in him, myself and all fellow healers and scientists.

“Falling back into bed” with Bill would not bring about any such healing. In the dream, homosexuality symbolically represents self-love, self-absorption, self-satisfaction that does not bring forth the desired fruits of healing, but only perpetuates and magnifies the problem. To use Ben Franklin’s pithy aphorism, if I laid down with dogs, I would get up with fleas.

Yes, I was to forgive William-Bill, but at the same time I was to rebuke him, not out of personal anger, but because I loved the Christ in him. No matter what he or I had done in those dark days of Atlantis, we were forgiven by Spirit, by the ascended masters, by our guardian angels. But we still had to do all the things in healing humanity that ought to be done by us. To one and all in the medical and scientific fields and professions, I was to lead the way as the Director of Healing Haven under Hilarion in rebirthing our light body on Earth, thereby sounding the new keynote for healing humanity.

Modern Day Correlations

We see the residue and repeating of past Atlantean attitudes and action in our current medical and scientific communities. In recent years, when I have dealt with my own physical and emotional health challenges, I have seen and consulted with numerous doctors, including psychiatrists, cardiologists, internal medicine specialists, an urologist and others, as well as psychological counselors. To a T, each one of them has been, and still is, blind to the reality that I am a child of God, and so are they and everyone else. This is the key point: this disavowal and discounting of our inherent spiritual nature, this disbelief that we are created in the image and likewise of our Father-Mother creator and therefore we have the power to heal all disease within ourselves and others. Without having the awareness that the I Am Self is the very core of all healing approaches, how in the world can doctors heal humanity?

Moreover, such doctors rather self-righteously and smugly think they are God’s gift to humanity, that they and their ways are superior to any other alternative, integrative, holistic approach or concepts of healing. Mind you, all my doctors, and most doctors, are good, kind, caring, devoted people, with good hearts. But their belief system betrays their dark feelings and hostile ideas. They remind me of the Pharisees of Jesus’ day who thought that they had the whole truth, were self-righteous and smug, and resisted and rebelled against Christ Jesus’ teachings and demonstrations; and even managed to have him put to death.

Furthermore, all my men doctors, especially, have wanted me to “craw into bed” with them, in other words to believe and do as they do. Particularly if I mention anything about spiritual healing and all the scientific documentation that proves it, they look at me and basically say, “Boy, you have lost your mind.” Yes, my inner self replies and says, I have lost most of my mortal mind and for that I give thanks unto Spirit! May you lose your little, selfish, self-enclosed mind as well. And, I love you! But I am not about to lie down with you and get up with your fleas.

Hail to the Christ in Thee

So, what are we as clients and patients to do in dealing with our docs? First and foremost, in our prayers and projections, we are to see and call forth the Christ in them. Yes, it would be nice if such physicians were open to our information about nutrition, vitamins, herbs, chiropractic, massage and other such physical approaches. But, as helpful as that would be, it would not bring about the core cracking of their thought patterns about the spiritual nature of our common heritage as sons and daughters of the Living, ever Powerful, Healing God. So this should be the right way that we speak the word from our own tower of power, via our own computer, our cerebrum: Hail to the Christ in thee! All the other changes will come from this first, most powerful step!

Meanwhile, we do our best to benefit from all the best that current conventional medicine has to offer. We take medications when appropriate, we undergo surgery when required, we may even undergo chemotherapy and radiation if we should develop cancer; even however as we eat well, take vitamins and other supplements, exercise, speak the word, visualize our healing and listen to the still voice within us as to how to proceed in our healing.

Beloved Spirit, You are our Primary Physician, Who alone knows the best pathway for us to follow in healing our mind, body and soul. We follow you first and foremost, and then the recommendations of doctors that align with Your input to us. So be it!

Cause and Effect

Let’s remember too that we may well have known these docs in past lives, going back to Atlantis and even Lemuria. What goes around, comes around. In some way, to some degree, we may have contributed to the selfish darkness that led to the decrystallization, downfall and destruction of Atlantis. We, too, may have some fleas that have carried over from that ancient civilization, which still are biting us and drawing blood, which may hop onto others. Let’s make sure we have destroyed the fleas on our body before we fixate on removing the fleas from others. Steady as she goes!

As to actual, physical homosexuality, it no doubt was as prevalent in Atlantis as it is now. It carried over into the Roman Empire and ancient Greece. But it originates all the way back, 26 million years ago, to when a segment of mankind lusted after the flesh of the third dimension, had sex, so to speak, with animals, and took on animal, third-dimensional bodies. With that vast history in mind, we are to be ever vigilant and careful about how we judge current homosexuals and our own homosexual feelings, if we have or acknowledge such. Homosexuals are first and foremost children of God, who one day will rise up from the ashes of mortality into immortal consciousness, who will worship our Father-Mother Creator who Pro-creates the Son of man. Let’s see that rebirth in one and all, regardless of anyone’s current sexual orientation.

Can’t Buy Me Love

Now, on to my sweetie #6: Her name was Susan (not her real name), and I dated her and her alone throughout most of my junior year of high school, lapping over into my senior year. She was a year younger and a grade below me, hence I now was the older, more desirable and romantic guy rather than the younger one. And we had a loving, “hot and heavy” romance. But, thank God, I never slept with her, although the opportunity was there. Somehow, my moral foundation and integrity remained intact, despite my abundant hormones.

Once again, however, this romance ended somewhat disastrously, at least according to my mortal mind and feelings. She learned that a rich boy in a nearby town, my age or a year younger, wanted to date her. I thought the guy was a “jerk” who was uppity and full of himself, but Gail was intrigued by his possibly loving her. He was rich — my father had worked for a time in his father’s furniture factory. I was poor — my father was then the head janitor of the local grade school.

Through others, I eventually learned what was going on behind the scenes, that Susan was contemplating breaking up with me and then taking up with the “Jerk.” Well, when I confronted her about this, she admitted it was true. Boy, was I ever angry! How could she be so stupid?

I told her in no uncertain terms that if she was feeling this way, then that was the end of her and me. If she did not love me, poor boy that I was but such a good guy, she could go straight to hell! And I stormed out of her house where we were at the time. And never talked with her again in my senior year.

Hey, there were other fish in the ocean, and by this time, I knew enough to believe that some new lovely lady soon would come into my life. But as the old Neal Sedaka song lamented, “Breaking Up is Hard to Do.” (No, I will not give you the URL to that song on YouTube, but you can check it out yourself, if you want to.)

But, what I will give you is the URL for the fabulous, heart-throbbing, have-to-dance YouTube video of one my favorite songs by the Beatles, my favorite music group of those days: “Can’t Buy Me Love.” It was released about the time that I left Susan (or she left me), and I thought several times about buying the 45 record and giving it to Susan. This song said it all. So, check it out, dance a bit and have some fun. And then read my following last love story for this blog.                             https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=srwxJUXPHvE

Lessons learned: I guess I don’t need to repeat the first lesson, but here it is anyway: We are not universally loved, for whatever reason. Second, sex does not a solid, unbreakable relationship make. Third, we never do quite know what to expect in any relationship, but we can always find a new way to love one another, to forgive and move forward, which is what I did after my tantrum. And fourth, it will all work itself out, for God is good, and all is in divine order. We break up and make up, and move on up to higher and better things, wiser and more loving.

Thank You/you, sweet Susan. I will always remember all the good that we shared, even as the bad and the ugly fades from view. I still love You/you!

The Immaculate Conception

Charlene (not her actual name) was the love of my life in my senior year in high school. And what a trip it was to complete years 2-12, and then to graduate and go to college that coming fall.

For a couple years, I had had my eye on Charlene, even while I dated Susan — boys will be boys. But the problem was that she was dating one of my good friends, Larry (name made up), who was a year older than me. And it was a rather passionate romance, so much so in fact that Charlene’s parents forbade her from seeing him.

In my wacky mind, despite my friendship with Larry, I somehow got the idea that Charlene was now free to date other guys, like me for example. One day, I talked this over with another one of my friends, Thomas, and he egged me on: “So why not called her and ask her out.” As it turned out, our Senior Ball was coming up and I did not have a date. So, on a double dare from Thomas, I called and asked her if she would go with me, and she immediately said yes.

We had a great time at the dance, but afterwards, when we were in a car with another couple and they were making out, Charlene only allowed me to briefly kiss her once on the lips. What in the world is this all about, I asked myself. (Did I still have “cooties.”) And after taking her home, I decided not to date her again, of course supposing that she might actually want to do so. And I never talked with her again. Enough already.

Skip forward 2-3 months, and floating around the high school corridors was the gossip that Charlene was pregnant! And guess who people thought was the father? Me! Eiii.

A week or so later, my Mom sidled up to me and said, “Bob, I hear that Charlene is pregnant. Tell me, do you know anything about this?” (She would never ask me straight out if I was the father; and I never talked about my love life with her.)

And I said, “Aw, Ma, it wasn’t me. And if she is pregnant via me, it would have to be an immaculate conception.” My Mom actually laughed at my ill attempt at humor and a big smile flashed across her whole face. But, I did not tell her that my former friend Larry was the father or any of those details.

And life moved on. And later, I would have this great story to tell, with all its teenage pathos. Thank you, Charlene. I want to give You/you a big light-body kiss! And I have and I will. Ain’t life and love grand!? Yes, it is!!! Is it not better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all?

The Future is Now

Believe it or not, I started dating in the remaining months of the school year and through the summer the young lady whom I loved the most of all my high school sweethearts. But that warm-hearted story will have to wait for my next blog in 2-3 days, when I share the sacred stories of the remaining 5 of my 12 loves. But as a preview, I can tell you that she did not leave me. Finally!

 

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