Vol. 34 No. 24 - I AM the Witness

Vol. 34 No. 24 - I AM the Witness - June 16, 1991

I AM the Witness

In 1988, I was not yet a Keeper of the Flame but I was aware of the Teachings, as I had read some of The Summit Lighthouse publications. I was still very much a part of the world, working in the public relations field, which required a weekly commute by air to our main office in Honolulu.

On April 28, 1988, I boarded my plane early in Hilo, Hawaii, and sat near the back in my usual window seat. I made note of the aircraft number as I boarded. Having worked for the airline, I was familiar with each aircraft and its service record. This was an older Boeing 737 that had just undergone routine maintenance and been put back on the line that week.

The plane was full when we took off, but I was too busy working on some last minute meeting notes to pay much attention. Fifteen minutes into the flight there was a loud pop, which sounded much like the air going out of a big balloon. The notes I was working on flew out of my hands.

Without conscious awareness, I called out, “Mighty I AM!” Not seriously in the Teachings, I had never decreed or done a fiat in my life. I immediately dropped my head to my knees and waited for the flight attendant to make the standard emergency announcement.

No announcement. Annoyed at the lack of compliance with safety regulations, I looked up...and saw blue sky.

The entire top of the front third of the plane was gone–from behind the cockpit back to the wing, from the floorboard on one side of the plane to the floorboard on the other side. There was nothing but blue sky and sunshine pouring in. Opened up like a can of tuna!

I realized there was no safety announcement because there was no one and no means by which to make the announcement. One flight attendant had been sucked out of the plane when the fuselage peeled away. A second flight attendant was lying unconscious, trapped beneath the rubble behind the cockpit. And the third flight attendant was vainly trying to pull oxygen masks from what remained of the sagging overhead compartments. How fortunate that all of the passengers had their seat belts fastened!

I had no idea whether anyone was flying the plane. I thought to myself, “So this is what it’s like to die.” Then I realized that the adrenaline was not flowing, my life wasn’t flashing before my eyes...I wasn’t afraid.

I looked down at my hands folded calmly in my lap and a great sense of comfort surrounded me. In fact, a sense of peace seemed to pervade the entire plane. I knew we were going to be alright. I wasn’t too sure just how.

I still didn’t know if we had a flight crew but we seemed to be on course and were not plummeting toward earth. But we were at 14,000 feet with a good portion of the plane gone, and the forward passengers who had been sitting by the window now had nothing but open space between themselves and the ocean way down below.

Many of these passengers, by God’s grace, had passed out. Those of us in the rear of the plane just sat in our orange life vests and looked at the gaping hole. There was no hysteria. Many were holding the hands of those next to them. The roar of the rushing wind prevented lengthy conversation.

I do not remember experiencing any of the discomfort you would expect–such as freezing temperature, difficulty in breathing or pain in the ears. As we cruised at 345 mph, wind whipped debris through the cabin. Someone’s coffee had landed on my lap.

I glanced at the aisle and noticed the notebook I had been working on lying on the floor. I asked the man in the aisle seat to hand it to me. He looked at me as if to say, “Are you crazy? You’re never going to need that notebook again!” The same gentleman continually asked, “Is anyone flying this plane?”

We did land safely, thirteen minutes later, at Kahului Airport on Maui–thanks to the skill of a well-trained pilot with Archangel Michael at his side! Everyone involved in the National Transportation Safety Board’s investigation declared it a miracle that the plane had held together that long and that the flight attendant was the only fatality.

I have the editorial cartoon I clipped from the next morning’s paper. It showed two huge hands lowering the crippled plane through the clouds to the ground.

I am witness to the presence of Archangel Michael on Flight 243, his presence comforting me and bringing that plane and its passengers to safety. This was my introduction to Archangel Michael, and I didn’t really know who he was until I attended Summit University a year later.

Now I know Michael and many, many more of our ascended and angelic friends. And I praise God for the Ascended Masters’ Teachings and for our beloved Messenger, Mother, who has brought these Teachings to us.

And I praise God that I have the opportunity to share these blessed Teachings with other Lightbearers who have been searching–and for the opportunity to serve now on staff at the Royal Teton Ranch.

In God’s love and gratitude,

My first dictation was the Spirit of the Fourteen Ascended Masters Who Govern the Destiny of America. I was brand new to the Teachings. Barely two weeks before, a friend of my roommate from New York had called to tell us that Elizabeth Clare Prophet would be in our area and she thought we should check her out.

I remember we dug through a box of pamphlets in the attic and found one on The Summit Lighthouse. I had read it the year before and dismissed it as psychic. Somehow I didn’t want anything psychic.

On Helga’s word, we tried telephone information and found the new Washington, D.C., Teaching Center. It was a Sunday. We called and set up an appointment for noon the following day. My roommate and I met at the Teaching Center on our lunch hour and knocked at the door for our appointment.

A young woman named Sharon talked to us. She told us about the I AM Presence and the Chart of Your Divine Self. While she spoke, she had in her hand the Keepers of the Flame brochure. I couldn’t take my eyes from it! “The Keepers of the Flame” sounded like a fraternity, and I knew I was looking for some sort of brotherhood.

As she continued speaking, the brochure waved tantalizingly before my eyes. “...Tube of Light projected from your I AM Presence...” The brochure floated toward my chest. I reached for it. Sharon must not have seen me, for she pulled her hand back and said, “These rings of color are your own treasure in heaven, your perfect works...” The brochure again moved in a gentle gesture in my direction. I put out my hand for it. Away it went. She pointed to her heart and said something about a threefold flame.

I decided the next time I’d be ready. I know I squirmed in my chair, adjusted my position and poised myself for the next chance. I all but spit on my hands to make certain my grip would be sure. My eyes were glued on her hand and that brochure.

“...The violet flame as a spiraling sacred fire all around you...” She waved her hand, indicating a sea of violet flame in her aura. It brought the brochure within reach. My hand shot out. I had it!

I opened it in my lap, devouring bits and fragments as I flipped from page to page. As I came to the last page, Saint Germain’s pledge–I was reading frantically–Yes! Yes! This is it. This is my Brotherhood I’ve been looking for!

I think I became aware of a silence. I said, “Uh, uh, may I have this?”

Why, yes, of course I could, and she gave my roommate one too.

That night I read it from cover to cover. I decided to sleep on it before I signed the pledge. It was a pretty heavy promise. But in the morning I signed, thinking “I can keep my side of the bargain, and if you don’t keep your side, it’s your karma!” I popped it in the mail.

At the seminar The Greater Way of Freedom, I didn’t even know that I was already a Keeper of the Flame. There hadn’t been time for a return mail. I had never even heard a decree. Later I realized that it had never occurred to me to question decrees, to think them odd or unusual. They were just too fast for me, and even that didn’t bother me. I knew that with the repetition, I’d have them memorized in no time and not have to labor over trying to read and say the words.

What really struck me was that first dictation. I was going to make sure it was the real thing. I knew I could identify a fake.

We were instructed to sit up straight with our feet flat on the floor and our hands cupped in our laps. I did. We were instructed to meditate with our eyes closed. I didn’t. No way! I was going to see everything that was going on.

I don’t remember much of the meat of the dictation. I was gripped by the energy that descended through the Messenger. I felt like I was being carried in the talons of an eagle and then dropped abruptly when it was over. During the dictation I stared intently at the Messenger and began to see what I call “face changes.” I knew them to be glimpses of her past embodiments. I recognized what they were from Rosicrucian exercises I had participated in sometime earlier.

When the dictation was over and I finally recovered from the tremendous outpouring of light, I told Helga that I had seen the Messenger as different women. One image that particularly impressed me was that of an Egyptian woman who looked very much like the classic statue of Nefertiti. Only my vision showed her with long black tresses.

We all smiled wisely and went to look for something to eat.

Several weeks later I was at one of the regular services at the Teaching Center. I was keeping my pledge and daily finding out more about the Brotherhood. After the service or perhaps during a break, I spoke with Brewster, one of the lay ministers. He extended his heart to me, sharing his experiences in the Teachings and talking about Mother. During the conversation, he mentioned some of Mother’s past embodiments–including one as Nefertiti.

My mouth fell open. That’s what I had seen. I had seen her as Nefertiti! I had seen her past embodiments.

* * *

I was decreeing at the services at the Teaching Center and a bit at home. Twelve Michaels was a lot. I know Saint Germain has secretly guided my life on numerous occasions, but his maneuver here was breathtaking. He orchestrated a free trip to the 1976 Easter Class.

I had a business meeting I needed to attend in Palm Springs right after Easter. My company was flying me to Los Angeles. Almost accidentally I noticed that the Easter Class would be held in the same city. I had time to arrange for an earlier flight and a couple of vacation days.

At that class Mother talked about decrees. She said, “Don’t believe me. Try them for six months.” The Monday after the class I drove slowly to Palm Springs to my meeting. “Yes,” I thought, “I’ll try them for six months.”

That night after the meeting, while the rest of the people were at their dinners and cocktail parties, I took my decree book and walked out into the desert. I picked out a decree regimen based on what I knew was needed and on what I wanted to do. I knew you always started with the Tube of Light and Forgiveness and then did Michaels. So I decided I’d do the Tube of Light, decree 70.16 and Michaels daily. I knew you needed violet flame, so I chose 70.14 because it had a line about the elementals in it.

I really liked the elementals and felt I was doing the earth body a service by this decree. Of course, I did 7.07, “Set the Elementals Free!” too. I found one more decree that had a nice elemental line in it, “around every lifestream, every elemental, the earth and its atmosphere...” (7.11, the “Entity Decree”). I didn’t know about entities yet, and it wasn’t until I went to Summit University that I understood how my fondness for the elementals had tricked me into exorcising myself of entities by giving decree 7.11.

I did these decrees faithfully for the six months, later adding to my decree selection as my understanding grew.

* * *

Mother came to Washington again the following summer. It was July 1976. This visit was for a full conference, Higher Consciousness. Another significant thing happened.

I was still watching Mother’s every move. There were many things I was suffering from. I had been a “flaming liberal” but this religion was changing my values and my sense of responsibility. Liberal it was not.

I knew from the start that there was nothing I could do about the state of the world. I was one and alone. And yet I cared deeply. The Saint Germain Service solved that problem for me. I could do something, and that was the spiritual work for this country I love. I could work on the problems of the world. I could help the elementals, my new-found friends, tackle the environment. There was a way to fight.

So when Mother turned toward the altar and raised her hands for her invocation, I was not so very surprised to see a miniature world appear sitting in her left hand. (There was something in her right hand also, but I don’t quite remember what it was.) I’m a map person and this wasn’t a mere globe. It was the world. I began to see what you could do with visualizations while calling upon the Lord.

* * *

I was actually getting a pretty good decree momentum going, taking advantage of time on the road. I had driving time to and from work, and driving time on a long weekend commute to a farm I was running on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

One weekend I was on the tractor, doing some mowing with a bush blade. The bush blade attached to a drive shaft at the back of the tractor. The drive shaft of the mower, which turned the five-foot rotary blade, joined to the one of the tractor. I used a 1/4-inch steel bolt to secure the connection.

I had gotten into the habit of doing Michaels while I mowed. This was fortunate because this weekend I did something unbelievably dumb. A chain I carried on the back of the tractor slipped. I didn’t stop completely to fix it. I simply reached down behind me to pull it back up. My glove caught in that 1/4-inch-thick steel bolt. Although I had put in the clutch and was no longer moving, I was still in gear. The drive shaft was still spinning and the mower blade whirling.

My wrist bent the steel bolt to a right angle and my glove slipped off. Had it not, I would have been wrapped around the drive shaft and eventually pulled into the mower blade. I still have that bolt, although I had to bend it out with a sledge hammer to unhook the mower. There’s no explanation for that bent bolt and my total safety except Archangel Michael.

* * *

During my first winter of the Teachings, I was at the farm one weekend cleaning up dead fall and stacking the wood piles for the winter. It was low country and when rain came the tree roots would stand in water. If there was wind with rain, trees fell right and left as the roots pulled right out.

I was out in a woods that edged a corn field behind the barn. I had two chain saws–one so large I almost had trouble handling it. I’d set it on a huge old oak trunk and basically hold it in place until it ate through. The other had a nice 24-inch blade and I used it for all the limb trimming and smaller tree trunks. I’d run one out of gas, let it cool before pouring more gas and oil into it, and then use the other.

This particular time I was out of gas and it was time to also utilize one of the sections I’d slabbed out of the tree for just pure sitting. My ears were ringing from the chain-saw noise, and it was a moment before I recognized what I was hearing. It was Michaels. Yes, definitely Michaels.

But I was alone and not doing Michaels. Not quite believing what I was hearing, I shortly realized it had to be the geese feeding on the corn the harvesters had missed in that corn field. I joined in and did the Michaels with them. Yes, the rhythm was perfect. The sentences were correct. Without a doubt, it was Michaels. I listened in amazement and felt overwhelming love and gratitude for these elemental legions. Then it was time to fill the saw and go back to work.

Later that same winter, on the marsh side of the property, I heard Seka, the dog, barking. I didn’t like the sound of it. So I dropped whatever I was doing and ran across the corn field, alternating slipping in the mud and sliding on the ice. I waded into the marsh to Seka. She was facing down a Canadian goose. He had his wings up and was hissing and striking at the dog. One wing was not right. I figured he had been crippled in the hunting season and had holed up in our marsh

to heal. Without thinking, I picked Seka up and threw her away from the goose and next picked up the goose.

I couldn’t recall who Saint Francis was in the excitement of the moment: Was it Kuthumi or was it Djwal Kul? I made calls to both of them. A full-grown, wild Canadian goose could have taken my eyes out, my nose off. But he simply kept hissing at the dog while I carried him, one hand under his breast and the other holding down his wings. I walked about a quarter of a mile to the river, waded in, and put him down. The goose swam off. About fifty yards out, he turned back to shore–and rather bobbed up and down with a duck of his head. You’re welcome, Brother Goose. Go in safety, and may God heal you.

* * *

Summit University came next. Yes, I was ready for it. And yes, I needed to know more. But somewhere inside of me there was the sense “If I sit at the feet of the Messenger for three months, I’ll know for sure whether this is really true or not.”

And Summit University was what Summit University is. It was wonderful. It was terrible. I spent the entire first day of class crying–tears I couldn’t stop just slid beneath my hand and trickled down my face. I knew it was a conversion experience. No, I wasn’t unhappy. In fact, I was delighted to be there.

My soul was finally realizing it might be able to peep through. And when it was over–having spent my three months at the feet of the Messenger, having tested and determined for sure that she was for real and the Teachings were for real–what could I do?

So I’m on staff, and I know that this is home. I love this Teaching, I love this Community, and I love the Messenger. And I know I have found the Brotherhood I was searching for. The urge to search that made me snatch the brochure from Sharon some sixteen years ago is gone. In its place is a sense of peace that all who know me say my life expresses. I see miracles every day, the workings of God in answer to my call–not always what I want or expect but obviously what my soul has earned or needs.

Words cannot express the depth of gratitude of my heart. Thank you, Saint Germain. Thank you, hosts of the Lord. Thank you, angels and elementals. Thank you, Mother.

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