Welcome to doramagicworld.com, Beings of Earth

Actually, to be specific, I am addressing all Humans on the Earth, this Three-Dimensional World we live in, but having realized that  there are far more worlds and dimensions  than just our ordinary, mundane 3-Dimensional Earth, I have no problem with addressing humans of all worlds and all dimensions.  That’s where it gets a little strange for most people.  However I am inviting you, mostly 3D humans on Earth into my World of Magic, and  I am asking visitors to this site to set aside, temporarily, any preconceived beliefs that the Earth as you know it, is  the only world possessing humans. Of course, I am not just talking about human aliens on other planets, but those in other planes of being. Then, using your imagination, just accept for the short time you are here, that there may be many other worlds having humans. And by realizing that you can access them, through first initiating  this wonderful innate quality you have as a human being, Imagination.

Everyone has it, we all know and accept that artists, musicians other random individuals freely use this quality that we all have.  Don’t be alarmed if you think you have no imagination, I guarantee you, just by the fact that you are human, you do indeed possess that wonderful quality.  So even if you think you do not have an imagination, just imagine that you are now using it, and Voile! You are!

Perhaps now I may need to give you a little introduction of who I am.  Well, the world of magic always includes a little mystery, and so I reserve the right to maintain a little mystery about who I am.  With that said, let me just say that I am a woman of much experience in the worlds of magic, but not as much as I would like to have.  One thing about magic that you will find, once you have experienced it, is that it is a little bit addictive, and you will find that you want more and more, and that’s okay.  I assure you.  We as humans all have magic within us, and once you realize that,  and have experienced it  firsthand, you too will want more of it.  It is one of those qualities like imagination. Once you access it, you find it easier and more exciting each time you use it.

Magic is our Birthright! It is okay to desire magic in your life. It gives you a wonderful sense of empowerment, and as long as you do not use it to hurt another human, plant or animal, you will be okay. But you must use it responsibly, and you will find yourself growing spiritually more each day. But that gets us into another topic, of which I will say more later.

The whole world is full of magic! So when I invite you into my world, I do not mean that you have to leave your own comfy world, but just imagine that you are leaving your own mundane ordinary world, and like Alice, you find yourself entering a new world, in which I will be the guide, and show you how wonderful the world of magic can be. And if I have done my job, after you have followed me for a while, you will be able to close your eyes, sit back and relax, and find your way into your own wonderful world of magic.

Now that is enough for today, I am still new at this world of blogging, so I must do a little more research into how to make this world alive and entertaining for you.  So with that, I bid you Adieu! and hope to see you back for the next episode of exciting world of DoraMagicWorld!

doramagicworld For most of my life I have been interested in the paranormal. My interest began with wanting to know more about our paranormal abilities, such as telepathy, precognition, telekinesis, and such. Early on I began a search for information in orthodox Christianity, but became dissatisfied with what I found. A book I purchased at age 16 on Yoga led me to my interests in reincarnation and the concept of karma, and I explored that interest in a course on Eastern Religions in college. By age 30, I experienced my first divorce, and began to explore the world of Edgar Cayce, looking for answers to why my life did not seem to be taking the turns I had expected. At that time I started learning astrology, fascinated that the stars could tell us our destiny. After that I studied various occult philosophies and teachings such as Eckankar, the Rosicrucianism of Max Heindel. It was not until I reached the fat age of 50, that I was introduced into Hermeticism and joined an order of the Golden Dawn magic. By that age, I had already explored out of body traveling as revealed to us through the works of Robert Monroe. I tried have OBE’s on my own, until I finally learned of the Monroe Institute, and enrolled in several week long workshops there. However, I did not fully open up to the world of magic, until I began my initiations into magic in the Golden Dawn. All along I always sought to be more than human, as Robert Monroe suggested we could be, but underlying that was an intense desire to know the Truth and to connect with a growing concept of God, as I now knew to be the Creator or Source of All being. I began to see us humans as sparks coming from that Source, and I experienced that deep desire to return to my Creator, similar to that in the Buddhist teachings. However, I did not see us as losing our individuality, but returning to God, fully conscious of who we were, bringing all our experiences and knowledge and wisdom back to share with the Source. Here in this blog I plan to go back over much of what I have learned, especially as it relates to the world of magic. Join me each day that I posts my thoughts and ideas learned along the way, and perhaps you too will learn that you can connect to whatever deity it is that you believe in.

Published

April 30, 2016

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doramagicworld For most of my life I have been interested in the paranormal. My interest began with wanting to know more about our paranormal abilities, such as telepathy, precognition, telekinesis, and such. Early on I began a search for information in orthodox Christianity, but became dissatisfied with what I found. A book I purchased at age 16 on Yoga led me to my interests in reincarnation and the concept of karma, and I explored that interest in a course on Eastern Religions in college. By age 30, I experienced my first divorce, and began to explore the world of Edgar Cayce, looking for answers to why my life did not seem to be taking the turns I had expected. At that time I started learning astrology, fascinated that the stars could tell us our destiny. After that I studied various occult philosophies and teachings such as Eckankar, the Rosicrucianism of Max Heindel. It was not until I reached the fat age of 50, that I was introduced into Hermeticism and joined an order of the Golden Dawn magic. By that age, I had already explored out of body traveling as revealed to us through the works of Robert Monroe. I tried have OBE’s on my own, until I finally learned of the Monroe Institute, and enrolled in several week long workshops there. However, I did not fully open up to the world of magic, until I began my initiations into magic in the Golden Dawn. All along I always sought to be more than human, as Robert Monroe suggested we could be, but underlying that was an intense desire to know the Truth and to connect with a growing concept of God, as I now knew to be the Creator or Source of All being. I began to see us humans as sparks coming from that Source, and I experienced that deep desire to return to my Creator, similar to that in the Buddhist teachings. However, I did not see us as losing our individuality, but returning to God, fully conscious of who we were, bringing all our experiences and knowledge and wisdom back to share with the Source. Here in this blog I plan to go back over much of what I have learned, especially as it relates to the world of magic. Join me each day that I posts my thoughts and ideas learned along the way, and perhaps you too will learn that you can connect to whatever deity it is that you believe in.

Published

April 30, 2016

Post navigation

The Sister, Boyfriends, Vs. First Love

Ann was a late bloomer. Being birthed by two short parents, who were. both barely over five feet tall, being five foot two and five foot three, both being the shortest in their own families of average to tall.. That shot Ann’s possibility of being anything but vertically challenged herself.  She and her sister were just short of being five feet tall, but amazingly, by the time Ann was fifteen, she was pleasantly endowed in the right areas, no longer pleasantly plump, instead nicely proportioned, with muscular legs well toned from bicycling and roller skating. She had thick, dark hair, which she kept about shoulder length, while Elaine, once being so blond it was almost white, now had darkened into a dirty blond. Their mother had been a talented seamstress, and kept them in matching dresses, hats and gloves, giving them the  appearance of darling little sisters, who must surely be little angels.

Ann never really was jealous of Elaine’s blond hair, for her own dark hair made them a striking pair as children, and they were the center of attention, whenever their mother took them out and about in their latest outfits, that could have rivaled anything Shirley Temple sported. Now at fifteen and sixteen, they were as different as night and day, but no longer fought like cats and dogs as they often did, when left alone in the afternoons after school.

Fighting Resolved between the Sisters

That problem had been resolved, when one day after school, Elaine put on one of her finest temper tantrums, grabbing a wire clothes hanger from the closet, stretching it apart, as far as it would go, holding it between her hands and feet, while screaming at the top of her lungs. Ann was really fed up with these tantrums, and angry that’s why none of her clothes would remain on the hangers, no matter how she tried to bend them back in place. So Ann grabbed the hanger from her before Elaine could ruin another of her few remaining, intact hangers, and in retaliation, Elaine began punching and slapping Ann. Enough was enough, of this behavior she endured at least several times a week, so she grabbed Elaine in a vice grip around her head, and wacked her head up against the wall. Just one wack, not hard enough to leave a mark on the wall, or Elaine’s head, though not premeditated.

Oh, God, now she knew she had done it, for she was never to hit her sister back, her being the elder and more mature, and she was sure she would be in big trouble when their parents came home. She was sure the neighbors could hear Elaine screaming, and probably thought Ann was killing her younger sister. But a funny thing happened, as she released her hold on her sister’s head. Elaine staggered back, with such a look of awe and utter respect at Ann, and from that moment on, they never fought again. In fact, she was amazed that later that week, her mother gave up her den and sewing room, and moved Elaine’s bed out of their shared bedroom, and into a separate room from Ann.

Gone was the clutter Elaine left in her side of the room, no more Ann’s neat side next to Elaine’s uncleaned, cluttered side. Ann had always organized her dresser drawers and made her bed, preferring her things to be neat and orderly. Now at last, she could spread out, her parents gifting her with their full sized bed, and  dresser with a sit down vanity chair. Ann couldn’t believe her good fortune. She no longer had to hide in the closet when she wanted peace and quiet in her own room. No more being disturbed while doing her homework, or reading her favorite young adult novels.

Sadly, Ann had no idea, that her sister probably had mental problems, and in today’s world would be diagnosed with Attention Deficit Syndrome, with hyperactivity. Ever since one episode, in the old house in Riverside, where Elaine had begun seeing bugs everywhere, not just the cockroaches and brown spiders that lurked everywhere in the old house, but ants on the kitchen table, bugs in the refrigerator, in the food, on their clothes in the closet. Amazingly, her parents deemed these episodes worthy of taking her to a psychotherapist, who gave her some pills, and eventually Elaine claimed she no longer saw them. Secretly, Ann believed she just made it all up, for pity, because she was failing in school, and had even been disciplined for poor behavior at school. All she knew was, it worked, and no longer was Elaine forced into doing any kind of work, whether it be house chores, or school work, for she was deemed “nervous.” by the psychologist.

Now Ann was sixteen, finally allowed to date, although so far, none of the boys at school had asked her out. At this point, it didn’t bother her, for she wasn’t interested in the boys her age at school. Her memories of boys at school were not her favorite memories, except for a few select boys, but none of them asked her up to that point.

The Blond Bully, First Missed Kiss, Other Possibilities

There had been one boy, when she was about twelve or just turning thirteen, who followed her and Susan, and a new girl, Nina, who played together in a big ditch in back of Susan’s house. One day they decided they wanted to play school, after this irksome boy kept pestering them, so they retired to Ann’s house, and set up a play school house. Soon though, the other girls became bored with that, when Ann started giving them real school work. Wondering around to the front of the house, the boy showed up in the driveway, and started throwing rocks at the girls. This infuriated Ann, and rather than running away, she picked up a rather nice stone, and hefted it back at the boy. To her surprise, it hit him right between the eyes! Not hard enough to knock him out, but he got a funny look on his face, as if was seeing stars and little birdies circling his head. Then he ran away, never to be seen again.

Ann often wondered afterward, if this was the same boy who invited her to a birthday party at his house, when she was about fifteen. Ann didn’t recognize his name on the invitation, but thought it would be a good idea to check it out. She was curious as to who this boy was, and wasn’t opposed to making new friends. However, when she arrived at the house, she discovered it was a pool party, and most of the kids were happily playing in the water. Ann hoped no one would throw her in the pool, although she was wearing a shorts outfit, but no one paid her any attention, as she took off her shoes and dangled her feet in the water. After a while, she considered getting on her bike and going home, for no one had even welcomed her there or spoken to her. To her surprise, when she looked up, she realized all the kids had disappeared from the pool and were nowhere to be seen, when a tall blond haired boy sat down beside her, and without saying anything, leaned forward as if to kiss her.

Several things went through her mind, none of which was to kiss him back. Maybe if he had at least introduced himself, but he was far “too tall” for her, and abruptly, she arose grabbed her shoes and jumped on her bicycle, pedaling away as fast as she could, over the hill, coasting down, while realizing she had missed her chance at her first kiss. Damn it, she at least wanted to know the name of the boy who wanted to kiss her. She was fifteen, but wouldn’t have been allowed to date, even if he had asked her.

She wondered about him, for he did look familiar, but not from one of her classes, but from a memory of a blond, curly headed boy, whom she had seen riding past their house as far back as the old Riverside house, although quite a younger version. And there was another curly, blond-haired boy who had found the same pond where she and Susan had played, who had tried to bully them away from. She had shouted at him, that her father was a lawyer, who would sue him for chasing them away.  He looked surprised, for everyone knew Ann’s father was a truck driver, and the big red truck with Corby’s and other whiskey advertising was proof of it.

And one other boy, when she was in the fifth grade, who was placed in the same group as she to work on a paper together. He had been quite insulting to her, when Ann took charge of the group, and had assigned each of them to write a paragraph, and bring it back to her the next day. He had obviously been quite impressed when she gathered all their paragraphs together, and actually typed them out that night, on an old Royal typewriter her Aunt Evelyn had given her. Then there was the bully that had plagued her and her friends, whom she had hit between his eyes with one of his own stones? Could these all be the same boy? Teddy had been the boy from the fifth grade. But she quickly forgot all about him, when he no longer appeared in her life.

Sixteen at Last, But Who to Date? Jimmy, Johnny or Gene?

Time passed. She turned sixteen, and could officially date but no one at school asked her out, although she had attended a dance once on her own. She longed to meet someone, and found herself begging Mama to let her use the family car on Friday nights, so she and her friends would go to the Roller Rink, out on Old Hendricks Rd, just before the Main Street Bridge. Daddy had bought her her own semi-professional roller skates, and even loosened the front wheels just enough to allow her to ease right or left, with just the lean of her body. Mama even made her a skating skirt of bright red and white stripes, so she felt quite attractive, if only she wasn’t bothered with those pesky pimples. She probably had acme, but didn’t want to admit that was probably why no one asked her out.

However, this one particular night, she was feeling good, playful, and tired of being a wallflower, and no recent break-outs, to her delights.. Then she saw him, and was instantly sure she had found her one true love. His name was Gene Watson, she was to find out, after skating up beside him. She had never flirted with a boy, but she was determined to get his attention, one way or the other. Ann put on her best smile, and asked him if he came there often, in a fake French accent. He answered, looking a little hesitant, “No, but maybe I should.” Then skated out into the rink.

 Ann frowned, but still determined not to give up, she followed him, and quickly caught up, skating past him, to show him her skill on skates. He wasn’t bad himself, and after a few turns around the rink, he headed for the side rails again. Ann persisted with her fake French accent, which sounded cute to her sixteen year old ears.  She was a little put off he didn’t ask her to couple skate, when the organ music turned to a slow romantic tune, but she persisted in trying to get his interest, and finally he offered to buy her a coke.

She then learned he was nineteen, and stationed at Mayport, on the aircraft carrier Roosevelt. It never occurred to her that he may have thought he was too old for her, but eventually he asked her for her phone number, and they skated the last Sweetheart’s song together, and said Goodnight.

First True Love

Ann didn’t know anything about him, but when he called the next weekend, he asked her out for her first date. The long awaited first date was the most magical of experiences Ann had ever known. He took her go the Boardwalk at Jacksonville Beach, they had dog’s-on-a-stick and drank Coca cola, holding hands as they walked along. At one point, he and she posed for pictures together, of which he gave her half the prints. But best of all, she got her first kiss, which was well worth the wait. Never before had she felt the stirrings these passionate kisses stirred in her. She finally knew what French kisses meant, as they explored each other, lips, mouth and soul. Her heart she gladly gave to him, and they spent time together that summer, when he visited her at her family’s home. Then sadly, he left for a six month cruise, with no promises of if or when he would return.

Ann was heart-broken, and could think of nothing but the feelings he stirred in her when they kissed. She wrote her first poem about the strange boy from Ohio, who had stolen her heart, and confided in her a strange event he told her happened while growing up in Ohio. She wondered at what had happened, to cause such a strange, almost paranormal memory.

Jimmy, Football and Nancy

It was during the time that Gene was out at sea, that she met Danny the Limbo Stick dancer, a romance that was off and on over the coming year, and Ann met another Navy man, Jimmy. He was okay to fill in the time with, and he was a football fan. Ann knew nothing about the game, although he taught her enough that she could follow along when he took her to a couple of games at her high school. She really thought the game was barbaric, knowing that sometimes the boys really did get hurt.  She did enjoy the festivities during the halftime, but not enough to thoroughly love the game as he did.

Eventually, she introduced Jimmy to a friend at school, Nancy, who loved football. They hit it right off, but Nancy had a step-father who was really controlling, and tried to prevent them from seeing each other, after he had Jimmy “investigated” and found out he was from a lower middle-class family in Tennessee. Ann figured the real reason he interfered was that he wanted to keep Nancy for himself. Nancy admitted to  Ann that he had used her for his own sexual purposes for years, while Nancy’s mother either didn’t really know, or didn’t care. Nancy and Jimmy planned on running away together, but Ann lost track of her friend after that school year. However, she often wondered if they had ever managed to be together.

Johnny the Woman Killer

Another boyfriend that came around was named Johnny, tall, dark and handsome, as the saying goes. Yes, he was a sailor also, older, and never indicated he was interested in Ann, beyond than making out in his old car. Ann knew these boys were not whom she was looking for, but she went through such periods of loneliness, longing for what, she had no idea, that when one of them showed up at her door, she went with out him. Johnny and his friend took her and Susan on a few wild adventures, making out in his friends Volvo, and some sometimes borrowing another friend’s car, but seldom. If there was ever someone Ann wished she could delete from her list of young men, it would be Johnny, and Danny too. Secretly, Ann believed she was wild and hot-blooded, like her her Aunt Millie, who ended up with five children, but who amazingly, stayed married to her husband until he died of a heart attack in his fifties. Sadly, she lost a son, my cousin Roland, due to leukemia taking his life before he was thirty.

Ann knew that Johnny was not the one for her, but he persistently showed up, and though he took her on no “real” dates, she was lonely, and perhaps if he had treated her with more respect, she might have ended up with him. That she had all these boyfriends during the summers and week-ends, she was not proud of flitting from one to another, and wanted nothing more but Gene to return. At least he had taken her on some real dates, including dinner at what was a nice restaurant, the Derby House, after her graduation. Unfortunately, the car he had borrowed blew its radiator on their way home from the restaurant, ruining their plans for the rest of the evening. Shortly, after that, Gene left for a six month cruise in the Mediterranean, and Ann met Tony.

Afterwards she met her to-be-husband, an attractive young man of Italian lineage, at the EM (Enlisted Men’s) Club at Mayport. By this time, she had graduated from High School, to find out her parent’s had made no plans to help her through college. What she didn’t know, was a series of events that led up to them having to sell their house in Arlington, and start over in an older house in Southside. But that a year or so after she and Anthony were married. However, she could not understand why they had not saved a penny towards her education, but her mother explained they were not “rich,” like Uncle Frankie, who had sent both my cousins to Universities in Florida, even though they were just average students. What she told Ann was that, anyway, it would be a waste of money to send a girl to college, for she would just get married , and then have babies. No wonder they never stopped her from seeing these older Navy men.

After her graduation, Ann’s mother, more or less, expected her to just get a job and get out, unless she found someone to marry. To their credit, they did let her remain at home for a year, after working for the IRS for a year, for which her father refused to take any money, though she offered to pay them rent. They just said, save your money, then bought her a hope chest, and said, “Fill it with things you’ll need.” And indeed, Ann spent her money buying pots and pans, silverware, and other odds and ends needed to start a new home.

Ann never forgot Gene Watson, and she knew Tony was not the right man,  but even when Gene and Johnny  both showed up just a month before the fated wedding, she gave Johnny the cold shoulder when he said “I know you can’t love this man.” And to Gene she said, ” I would have waited for you forever, if only you had asked me to wait for you.”  What she wanted, was for him to take her in his arms, and say, “I love you, please don’t marry this other man.” But he didn’t , he just walked over to his motorcycle, upon which he had just asked her to go for a ride, and rode away. So it seemed to her, she had no alternative but to go through with the marriage. Though if she had known how to get in touch with Gene, she might have broken the engagement, and gone seeking her true love.

None of this may seem magical to my readers, but looking back on my life, it appears that all my disappointments, both in finding my real true love, and of not attending college, just kept piling up, forcing me to think, and to wonder why I seemed to be denied my heart’s desires, and that is what triggered this deep urge to understand why my life turned out this way. My brief introduction into Christianity did not offer me answers, so I stored them aside, waiting for the moments when some mysterious force would take over my life, and guide me to some serious revelations that would help me solve this great mystery.

Other Fond Memories of School, Sisterly Love, First Friends, Introduction to Cayce Teachings

Looking back on my early life, I can say things seemed pretty normal to me, and I can’t say I lived much different from any other kid in my neighborhood, but I never felt like I fit in with the majority of students that attended the elementary school I found myself walking to everyday. Perhaps it was because of always being the shortest kid, and being shy at the same time, but i was never bullied or mistreated. I was a quiet kid, I did my lessons and followed the rules, and as long as I wasn’t the center of attention, and stayed out of trouble, I was happy, and chugged along just fine.

By the time I entered Terry Parker in the seventh grade, I began to realize I was not among the usual of students, and I found myself in the more progressive of classes. I loved math, history, and even my English classes, and by the time I was in the tenth grade, I was invited into the National Honor Society. My parents, being only educated to the eighth grade, really had no concept that I was in any way exceptional and deserving of anything special. If they were proud of my accomplishments, they never said so, just signing my report cards with no comments to me or my teachers. I do remember one time, before we moved to Arlington, my mother was called into school to pick up my sister, who had been spanked for bad behavior, when she was just in the second grade. Not long after this incident my mother rather scathingly said to me, “If you are so smart, why don’t you help your sister with her school work?” Which turned out much easier said than done. I remember the two of us lying on the floor, with her assignments spread out, and me trying to explain some simple mathematics to her. Of course, she had not learned even how to count properly, and was very resistant to me trying to drill her on her multiplication tables, and how to add and subtract simple numbers. It lasted about ten minutes before she went into a rage and began to throw papers and pencils everywhere, calling me all sorts of nasty names, punctuated by slaps and punches to my body.

Guardian Angels Watching Over Us

From that point on, it seemed my sister and I had no interactions without it ending in a fight, in which she was the one throwing the punches, so to speak. Mostly, I decided she was on her own, when it came to school work, because I preferred spending my time alone with my school work, or playing outside with a certain Boy Scout friend who lived down the street.

First Male Friend

The Riverside area we lived in was mostly an older, more settled area, and finding a friend my age was not an easy matter. The friend whose name was Paul, was about the same age as me then, about ten, who was kind and gentle, and we spent many hours together playing with his small model race cars, or playing hide and seek, or other games children play together. He even invited me to one of his boy scout retreats, and I had my first and only experience camping out with a Boy Scout troupe. That my parents allowed me to go still amazes me, but I suspect the boy’s mother extended the invitation to my parents, for she must have assured them I would not be sleeping in the boy’s tent.

Later that relationship ended tragically for us both, when I asked Paul if he would like to listen to my records, all children’s tunes on my little record player. Daddy came home and found us, sitting on the floor in mine and my sister’s bedroom, with my records all around us, listening to music, and singing along happily to all the favorite tunes of children of that day, For no reason, to me, Daddy went into a rage and grabbed the boy by his ear, and dragged him downstairs and out the front door, while my aunt’s dog Lucky barked and howled, at Paul or my Dad, I don’t know. All I know was that we were doing nothing wrong, and now Paul would probably never be my friend after that. Actually,the next day I went down the street and knocked on their door, but no one answered, and I finally gave up, heart sick that Paul had been treated so poorly, and now I had lost my only friend.

First Female Friend

Sometime after that, when I was approaching eleven, I met a sweet girl who lived just a block away, in one of the houses along the river front. The girl and I, I don’t remember her name now, were instantly good friends, and she shared her afternoons with me, when she didn’t have art or music lessons, from then on, until one day she invited me to her birthday party at her family’s house at Jacksonville Beach. She had shown me how differently some people lived, different from my poor family, for their house was so elegantly decorated, but we had so much in common, being good students with many like interests, and I found her an interesting and fun person to be with. My mother told me I had to ask Daddy if I wanted permission to go, but I was terrified to ask him anything, so I went to my Aunt Frances, somehow thinking I could bypass my parent’s permission, if I could get her to say it would be okay. Well, she said she didn’t see anything wrong with it, but it was up to me if I wanted to go without their permission. So happily, when the day came, I showed up at my friend’s house, and piled into the van with a few other neighborhood kids, and happily set upon what to me was nothing less than another magical experience. I had never had a birthday party myself, didn’t even have a present for the girl, but she didn’t seem to mind, and I had a wonderful time, little suspecting what awaited me when I returned home about 10 p.m. that night, when I proudly showed up with a couple of prizes I had won in games at the party.

Immediately, I was sent to my room, and to my horror found my sister in bed, still crying from all the bruises she had obtained from Daddy’s big black belt that we both dreaded with righteous fear, she, who had nothing to do with my shenanigans, and who knew nothing about my whereabouts. For once, my sister and I were joined in mutual understanding, that this punishment of her was not fair at all, and so unkind. Why my Dad seemed like such a good guy to all the rest of the family and to his friends, was a total mystery to me, although I knew he had his moments of kindness, and I truly treasured those few times when he would sit me on his lap, and tell me how much he loved me, once even asking me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was about five years old that particular time. Apparently that love did not extend to trust, something I found utterly missing in my life, on his part, and now on mine.

Happy Days Begin as New Friends Made

Shortly after that, we moved to our new house in Arlington, and a much happier period in my life began. It seemed I always had friends, from that time on, but mostly just a few close friends, who either lived on the same block, or a few friends from my classes at school, who lived close enough that we could ride our bikes to one another’s houses after school. Probably my best friend from school was Janet S. whose mother was from Sidney, Australia, a lovely lady that served me and Janet coffee in the morning, after spending the night over, with a few pastries for breakfast. For some reason, my father nor my mother seemed to mind me spending the night over at special friend’s houses, as long as it was not on a school night. That seems strange to me now that I think about it, that they would even make that restriction, when I never gave them any trouble about my grades or my school work, and never got into any kind of trouble at school. But parents must be parents, and mine certainly felt they had to restrict my sleeping over with girl friends.

Friends in Neighborhood, Introduction to Cayce and Tarot

Janet was probably my best friend, besides Cindy , and she remained my friend throughout the seventh grade through to even many years after we graduated from High School. She was also a good student, and never got into trouble, and we used to read books to each other, on those times when she happened back in Jacksonville, after getting married to a Navy guy herself. She always seemed to enjoy having me read her Tarot cards, as one of the rituals, we did for each other, on those times she was able to visit her family in Jacksonville. My friend Susan, the one who lived across the street, married one of the brothers who lived down the street, whom I will call David, and perhaps he was the one who introduced her to the Tarot. I’m not sure, for she was the one who brought me my first book on Edgar Cayce, when I lost my first baby, after falling down the steep stairs in the old house we lived in, with his parents and brother and sisters, after he was discharged from the Navy. I was only six months along in my pregnancy, and was taken to a Woman’s Hospital in Boston, where they tried to stop the contractions, but after twenty-four hours, I finally lost consciousness, and when I woke up, was told the baby had not made it. While I spent a few days recuperating, I tried reading the Edgar Cayce book, but it was very difficult reading for me, at the time, trying to understand what this all-knowing voice was saying, that came out of Cayce’s mouth, after putting himself in a trance. For that reason, he was called the “Sleeping Prophet.” So, I had to wait until I was around 29 before I came back across the teachings of this enigmatic man. It seems that at many junctures in my life, I was introduced to elements of what I call the Occult, and it took me many years to finally be able to piece all this together, into a kind of life philosophy I could use to guide my beliefs, and my life. Susan later gave me my first Tarot Deck, along with an elegantly illustrated book, that explained what all the Tarot cards meant, and how to interpret them in a spread.

Janet and I were both intrigued by the readings, even though we both relied solely on the interpretations given in the book. Non the less, the readings always seemed to hit right on, on what was occurring in our lives, and seemed to also hit on a hidden side to the lessons our life experiences were giving us. Sadly, to me, even that long-lived friendship finally came to an end, when Janice wrote me a letter, saying that she had found Jesus, and no longer wanted to risk her soul by associating with me, or with those Devil cards. I think this was around the time I had been studying astrology, and I was really getting deeper in the Rabbit hole of occultism. I still missed our yearly or so visits, and I never heard from her again.

Susan’s and my friendship had never been that close,but I realize now I owe her a lot, introducing me to Edgar Cayce and the Tarot, and once I graduated from high school, and found out my parents had no intention of sending me to college, or even helping me, once I graduated. So I took some night courses to learn how to use a typewriter, and found myself looking for a desk job, something I definitely had wanted none of, but I found I had little choice in the matter. I did manage to take a Civil Service test, and got a GS rating as a clerk-typist, but my typing was atrocious, so I finally landed a job as a mail clerk at the Internal Revenue building in downtown Jacksonville,where I worked until I met Richie, my first husband, a sailor who had served a short time on the aircraft Roosevelt at Mayport near Jacksonville.

Magical Things to Come

In my next segment, perhaps I will deal with that nine year marriage, and how events finally led me to start searching for answers more seriously, and how I found myself hooked by what I prefer to call philosophies and different teachings, that give us a lot different view of the mystery of life from that which we are spoon-fed by various religions, especially Christianity. Not that I would tell anyone that it has no value, no, not at all. But we all have to decide what it best for ourselves. Actually, the Cayce teachings keep bringing me back around to Christianity, but which his readings give a little bit different perspective than to what we are told Jesus taught. I’ll try to explain it all, in a way, I hope will not offend anyone, but I would like to forewarn you, that what I have discovered as truth, may not be to your liking at all. Free will is our greatest gift from the Creator, and our mind is the next greatest gift, in my opinion, and I encourage you all to investigate all these things I plan to tell you about, and come to your own conclusions.

Introduction to Religion

I have no idea why or how I became so interested in religion, then spirituality, and eventually the occult, which means the “hidden,” that truth that one has to actually look for, in order to find. For as he Bible says, “Seek and you shall find, knock and it shall be opened to you.” I just know I always had a curious mind, and I asked a lot of questions that my Sunday School teachers couldn’t seem to answer, so as I grew up, I just learned my own ways of looking for the answers, and what I found, didn’t always agree with what I learned in school, or in Sunday school.

I only remember attending Sunday School one or two times at the Lutheran church in Riverside, where my sister and I were baptized, when I was about five years old. A somewhat stern, middle-aged woman informed the class that unless you believed in Jesus, there was no way you could get into Heaven, but that just didn’t seem fair to me, for what about all those people all over the world who had never heard of him? My question didn’t seem to disturb the woman at all, but when I persisted in asking what happened to those people in countries where too many people had no way of learning about him, she got quite annoyed with me, and I now I realize she just didn’t know what would happen to them. But it continued to bother me.

I remember attending church with my mother and Aunt Frances one Easter Sunday. Usually the minister, Pastor Lorberg, was a calm, serene speaker who never raised his voice in the pulpit, but according to my Aunt, was prone to become quite animated and excited on Easter, when he found his little Church filled to capacity. My sister seemed quite amused at his antics on this day, and had to be shushed several times, when she began to giggle uncontrollably. She was only three years old. His sermon on Easter Sundays always had the same theme, why so many people flocked to church on that sacred day, but then forgot all about it the rest of the year. I noted that on this day, my father did not attend, and when I asked him why, he told me quite seriously, that he didn’t want to be responsible for the Church falling down on all those people when he walked in.

Even though my parents didn’t attend regularly, apparently the church kept up with the children, and visited the parents, to try to get the children baptized and into Confirmation classes at the appropriate age. I attended the classes after the Pastor at the church in Arlington tracked my family down, and invited me to attend the classes. I do remember the day, Pastor Lorberg visited out family in the Riverside home, and his main concern was getting my sister and me into Confirmation Classes, when we became twelve years old. That visit was marked by my Dad’s parakeet, Pete, deciding to show off his speaking skills, and just as my Daddy had trained him, he began prancing in front of his little mirror in his cage, and reciting with all his fervor, “I’m a pretty little boy, yes, I am, God damn it, Yes, I am, god damn it. Say Corby’s. ” The look on Pastor’s face was of shock, not humor, and I wonder if it was just because the little green bird spoke so clearly, or at what he said. Once Pete got going, there was no telling what other little tidbits my father had taught him that might come out, but the Pastor left not long after that.

Later after that, after we had moved to our new house, we received another visit from Pastor Gerkin, from the Arlington Lutheran Church, who followed up on getting me and my sister schooled in the teachings of the Lutheran Church. I wasn’t forced into it, indeed I looked forward to attending, while my sister had no interest, and what she didn’t want to do, she didn’t do. I really never even thought about why she didn’t attend, but she was a year and a half younger than I. Now in looking back, I wonder about why she seemed to get away with it, but this is about my experiences, so I’ll just stick to what I know. I noted that he made no inquiries into the little parakeet Pete, but sadly, Pete had flown away, when someone left the back door open, and though we called and called his name, he never returned home.

Pastor Gerkin was a fiery speaker in the pulpit, and he was a demanding teacher, but he was the first person I could call a Mentor, for he took a liking to me, and he didn’t mind answering my questions. I am very grateful to him to this day, for the first time, Christianity was explained to me, from Martin Luther’s point of view, of course. So I biked to the little church every Saturday, studied my lessons, and memorized verses from the Bible. I learned a lot of information about how Luther rebelled from certain practices in the Roman Catholic Church, and how the Protestant reformation got its beginning. It was all fascinating, to my young, eager-to-learn mind.

Unfortunately, I got myself in trouble later, when I became interested in a young Catholic boy, I’ll just call Kenneth, and began sending him letters about all the faults of the Roman Catholic Church. I wanted to remain anonymous, but I also assumed the lad would be so grateful for revealing this to him, I used my aunt’s last name and address, so he could get back to me. I was devastated when my Aunt called me one day, for the boy’s mother had called my Aunt and let her know she did not appreciate my efforts, and I got my first lesson in not meddling in other people’s beliefs. Pastor Gerkin had no idea his fiery debacles against the Catholic Church had had such an effect on me. I am still grateful to my aunt Frances for her discreet way of handling the situation. However, I cried and cried with embarrassment for weeks after that. I doubt the boy had any idea who the guilty person had been. I’ll never forget the young man, who was a year past me in school, and whom I mooned over for the next year or two. I guess you could say he was my first love, not real love but a very painful crush. I was thirteen, and thought I’d never fall in love again.

It was about that time when Cindy’s family moved in across the street from me, sometime during the end of the summer, and I had my first really close friend. We hung out the rest of the summer, and stuck together until she graduated from high school a year before me. We did everything together, that is, that she was allowed to do, and as it turned out, she was a born again Christian, and I got a taste of what it was like to have someone tell me my religion was all wrong. She pestered me to death about going to Church with her, although she refused to visit my church. I couldn’t understand why she considered me “unsaved,” and we had many discussions about it, for didn’t I believe in Jesus? I gave in and went to her church a few times, but honestly, the Baptist way of doing things, just didn’t seem like true worship to me, for the Lutheran Church just seemed more orderly and dignified, actually not being too different from the Catholic Church, except the service was all in English, although I did not know it then. There was a certain order to things, when a verse from the Bible was read, when songs were sung, prayers were said, and the Nicene Creed was recited by the congregation. In her church, to me, things just seemed so haphazard, and that people spoke out, usually, just an “Amen” seemed rude to me, and I just didn’t agree with her definition of what it meant to be saved.

Finally, we had one big argument, which almost broke up our friendship. We finally agreed we just wouldn’t talk about our religion anymore, but it still irked me that she was determined I was doomed to hell, because I wasn’t “saved” in her church.Today, I still don’t agree, even today with the way certain religions interpret the Bible, but then, perhaps that’s why there are so many different ways to find God. One day, we will have a better way and perhaps people will be more united in their ways, but for now, everyone has to find the way they can feel comfortable, and we need to be more tolerant of each other’s beliefs. Tolerance is the key. Universal Love for the Creator, or whatever view of that Deity, and Love for each other. What I like is the verse where Jesus said, “I have have not come to replace the Law, but to give you a higher Law, that is to love the Lord God with all your soul and your mind, and to love your neighbor as yourself. ” Sorry, I can’t remember the verse in the Bible, but I know it’s there.

What does all this have to do with Magic? Well, a lot more than you would suspect, but first let me explain what I mean by Magic, and I say this with a Capital M, for a reason, for I’m not talking about the kind of magic, where the magician comes out in a tuxedo and cape, pulls a bunny out of a hat, then continues by appearing to “saw” his beautiful assistant into pieces. As far as I know, that is just all illusion of some kind, of which I don’t know a single whit. What I’m talking about is what you might call High Magic, in which the magician in training begins a series of initiations into certain mysteries that have been passed down since the days of ancient Egypt, and has been preserved over the years, in certain Mystery Cults, either through word of mouth, and finally after publishing these mysteries in sacred books that are no longer kept secret from those not initiated into these mysteries.

One thing you must understand is that when a new initiate is taken into an Order, that initiate has to take vows not to reveal certain things about this Order to anyone other than those who are fellow brothers and sisters of that Order. Wowsa! I do not mean to tell you that everything about that Order is secret, for if no one knows the Order is there, how are they to add to their membership? Of course, back before the days of printing, that may not have been a problem, for teachers in the Order naturally had to limit the number of people admitted into the Order. Nowadays, from what I observed, the Orders I am familiar with, are pretty much run like a business, but with certain restrictions as to the ethical behavior of their members. Also, the Order has to take certain precautions about the privacy of its members.

As to what material is taught in that Order is really not much of a secret, for there are now a host of books on the subject that anyone on the street can pick up from a variety of publishers. In this sense, what is taught in these Orders is pretty much in the public domain. Even other sister or brother organizations, like the Free Masons, now have their material published for all to see. However, as the initiate works and makes his or her way up the Tree of Life, certain secrets are revealed to its members, which are best kept from those who have not prepared themselves for practicing this kind of magic. Also any legitimate Order will provide mentors, or proctors to those who seriously apply themselves to learning how to manipulate the world around them. The result for the initiate can be quite startling to the candidate, if he or she has not applied themselves diligently.

However, the purpose of this blog, is not to teach you magic, but to share with you some of my wonderful experiences, and relevant information I have learned about the way things operate in our world, as well as revealing a mundane record of many of my sometimes embarrassing, or humorous happenings I attracted into my life. Perhaps one day I will attempt to publish another book, Part 1 of my autobiography, of which the time may be due to reveal to the world. It depends on the reception I receive from the publishing of this blog. I am just in the learning-as-I-go-along phase of this enterprise, so I ask your patience and understanding of any mistakes I may make.

More on Family and Relatives

Overall, growing up in a new suburb for the middle class in Jacksonville, in the 1950’s and 1960’s, was a wonderful experience for me, and I have so many great memories, especially about my cousins, my aunt’s and uncles, my grandparents, and how we all managed to spend time with each other on Holidays, and Sundays, which were huge for visits and outings. Jacksonville was at one time the largest city in the U.S., at least in land mass, but my family took turns visiting each other. I guess I can thank my Dad for that, for he was really big on keeping in touch with our family members. Many Sundays, Daddy would load us in the car, sometimes with food and gifts for outings, or just sitting and visiting with my grandmother, my Dad’s mother, who was the sweetest and wisest woman in the world, to my young inexperienced mind. My sister and Mom also made the trip way out Main Street, past the old airport, but we made that long hour long trip with no complaint.

Other times we drove to Mandarin, more to the south of Jacksonville, to visit with my Dad’s uncle Frank and Aunt Marilyn, both grand role models, for all the kids, myself, my sister Elaine, my cousins Angela and Robbie, one and two years older than myself.. Easter was a great day to visit with them for Frank and Marilyn always hosted an Easter egg hunt, and kids just swarmed over their large property they had bought up when the prices were still dirt cheap. I remember being the one to find the “golden” egg, hidden in Uncle Frank’s Texan style boot, which won me a big fat five dollar bill. I still remember his silly grin, when I started sniffing around him, thinking he was just oozing a big clue, if I could just figure it out. Finally, looking up at him, with my hands on my hips, I finally glanced down and spotted it in his boot. It was a reward for my detective snooping, but I was just two slow to find many of the other eggs, and a little shy to take off running like all the other kids, mostly children of members of the little country church, right next to Frank’s eighty-eight acres in Mandarin.

Even though Uncle Frank was my Dad’s uncle, they were quite close in age, apparently had developed quite a friendship over the years. Frank was well known in his community, quite the kidder, and a Free Mason to boot. My Aunt and Uncle came from the same humble roots as the rest of our family, but they were hard working, honest folk, who lived in a very poor neighborhood in downtown Jacksonville, but saved their money by living rent free in an old house on Schofield Street, until they were able to purchase their eighty-eight acres, and begin to build their dream house. They loved family and children, and Marilyn had no qualms about correcting any of the behavior of the children visiting their home. I always loved my visits there, even though Angie and I often were tasked with helping with food preparation and washing dishes. Everything was done in a spirit of community, love and family, and I miss those early days with them, and my family.

My parents had it a lot harder, for no one offered them a place where they could save their money, but they both worked hard to support their family, and I don’t remember feeling deprived of anything. At Christmas, we put up our tree together, and my sister and I always seemed to get the things we asked for, whether it be dolls or bikes, but this was before the time of computerized games, gadgets, or devices. I spent a great deal of time outside, after school, until I became old enough to start helping with chores around the house. Still I had plenty of time to spend with friends, or riding my English bike my Dad procured for me when I was about thirteen. I was able to explore all of Arlington on that bike, from University Bvd, which ran along the St. John’s River, where I discovered a library run by the Woman’s Club, all the way down Merrill Rd to Fort Caroline Road, which had some huge hills, quite a challenge to bicycle up, but so much fun to coast down. Of course, I also biked over the hill on Cesery Blvd, right where it joined two roads, coming from our house on Oak Summit Dr. That hill was really hard to petal up, but what a ride coasting down! I guess I was a bit of a Tomboy, but I loved being outside, executing a few cartwheels, and such, as well as riding my bike, just exploring everything in my neck of the woods.

My Mom came from a big family of thirteen children, one, my Aunt Matilda, was adopted into the family, who later married my mother’s brother, nicknamed Bootsie. He was the artist and inventor of the family, a left-handed genius I once played a game or two of chess with, and bested him at. I really regret that I didn’t challenge him to more games, for he loved that so, and he died only in his fifties, of kidney disease. He worked for a canning company, for whom he designed their machines for sealing the cans once they were filled with whatever those cans would hold. Another Uncle who is now deceased was Knocker. Where they got these nicknames, I guess I’ll never know. Then there was J.W., a rather course and rude man, who worked at the shipyards, where he and my grandfather worked as welders during WWII which then became their career.

Photo by Movidagrafica Barcelona on Pexels.com

My grandfather, known to his friends as Shep, short for his surname of Shepherd, was quite a colorful character. The family story goes, he used to sit in his rocking chair on the porch of the Old house on Walnut Street, where they lived when my Mom first met my Dad. The story continues that when Daddy came courting, and finally managed to ask for Mama’s hand in marriage, he stared at the crazy man, with his shotgun on his knees, and finally stammered out his request, but surprisingly, old Shep, just laughed, and said, “Hell yes, and while you’re at it, find a husband for Francis and, Mildred, and Mattie too.” Then he handed him a cigar, for I suspect I was already on the way here. I never could get Mama to give me her anniversary date, but I only wanted to know how many years they were married, when I asked her, sometime in my teens.

I hope all these stories of my colorful family are not too boring, but looking around at all the broken homes kids have to endure these days, I realize what a treasure these memories are, and of being raised in the fifties, for me, was really magical, and set the stage for me to begin to explore the more esoteric side of life, which I can say pretty well, began when I picked up a paperback book just entitled Yoga, by Ernest Wood, in which I was introduced to the twin laws of Reincarnation and Karma, which I will explain to you later.

My parents were not religious at all, although my mother had been raised Lutheran, and I do remember her taking my sister and me to Sunday School, when I was about five, at a Lutheran church in Riverside, another subdivision of Jacksonville, one of the older, more settled areas that was once an area of prime real estate. We were both baptized the Lutheran way of pouring the water over the forehead, while bending over the sacred fountain, at about the ages of five and six. To Lutherans, baby and child baptism are considered the norm, while parents or a godparent, take the vows for the child, until they can be schooled in the faith during Confirmation classes. These classes are held on Saturdays, from the age of twelve, for a period of two years. All this was a great mystery to me at the time, for nothing was explained to me, except “You will be baptized.” And that was that.

When I was about eight or nine, my family moved to a big house in Riverside, which my parents, my Aunt Francis and Uncle Sheron, and grandfather all rented together. The house was only a block away from where the St. John’s River passed by, and I was fascinated with the huge house, but dismayed at the huge cock roaches and brown spiders that seem to lurk everywhere. This was just a part of life for the working class, for they assumed that debugging the house by placing a huge tent over it to fumigate the bugs away, was just too expensive. And ants, which I remember my Aunt used to pour scalding hot water over all the counters, after washing the dishes each night. My Aunt Francis was another colorful character from my mother’s tribe, and I loved her dearly. She was a beautiful woman, wearing her dark hair long, when I was a child, but later, after she became a bookkeeper, she cut her hair in the shorter style. I remember her taking such pleasure as roaches and ants alike were scalded to death as she screamed, “Take that, you little piss-ants, take that”, then swept the carcasses out the backdoor, until the following night, when the ritual began all over again.

My Friend’s House on the River

When I finally obtained my first home , being married to a sailor, who rented a very small trailer for us in Key West, where he was stationed in 1964. I informed him after a week there, that no matter what it cost, we had to get the trailer sprayed for bugs, as soon as I got a job there. I was able to get a temporary job for about three months, with the civil service rating I had obtained, after working for the Internal Revenue, for a year after graduating high school. All this is part of another story, about my misbegotten first marriage, which will be for another time.

So you pretty much have an idea of the environment in which I grew up, but there are many other parts that relate to how I was able to finally discover how relevant magic can be in our lives, and how one discovery led me to another that finally led me to practicing magic, along with strong spiritual and philosophical beliefs, no “knowings” that can affect everything in one’s life.

In coming segments, I would like to get into spiritual principles I have found common to just about every religion and spiritual philosophy I have spent my life studying, and which I would like to share with my readers, and leave to posterity, that I hope will be of value. This blog is not meant to tear down anyone’s beliefs, for I know getting into the dogma of different religions can be quite tricky. Everyone has the right to believe and follow a faith of their choosing, but for those interested in the subject of magic, I hope these words will be inspiring, and help you put together pieces of a puzzle we all once knew and practiced in remote years in the past, and for which we are at a new door of awakening and understanding.