Short
Excerpt from my book "Spirituality Not For
Sale"
How
can entities (disembodied spirits) affect our
bodies, emotions and lives? There are many ways
in which one can be harmed by the presence of
possessing spirits. Among people with whom I was
honored to work with, I have seen cases in which
a client was diagnosed with cancer.
During the sessions I
discovered entities in that client. The sessions
revealed that the entities in this client were
projecting their illnesses (cancer) from their
life onto their host. Shortly after the successful
releasement, the client went for several medical
tests. To the clients joy and surprise these medical
tests did not reveal any trace of cancerous cells.
Obesity,
substance abuse, depression, apathy, phobias,
fears and negative emotional changes in clients
have been discovered to be the work of attached
entities. On occasion, entity attachment would
explain problematic relationships and associations,
with places, people and events. Sometimes by releasing
these entities the effects can be alleviated almost
immediately. After the sessions people would report
a sudden feeling of lightness, extra space inside
their chests, and a sense of joy and peace.
Are
your problems and difficulties caused by entities
or something else? There are no rules or quick
explanations but this might be a great possibility.
There is no need for anybody to endure suffering.
There is a way for each of us to heal and find
the right places and people in our lives Let’s
not settle for pain and despair, but rather lead
lives of wellness and happiness.
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Excerpt from "Healing Life's Broken
Dreams - a son's tragedy, a mother's grief,
a miracle of recovery" by Patricia
Forbes.
Prologue
November 23, 1998
"It's only when we truly know and
understand that we have a lim-ited time
on earth—and that we have no way
of knowing when ourtime is up—that
we will begin to live each day to the
fullest, as if it was the only one we
had."
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
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There
was no premonition; no waking dream. Far from it
that day started out like any other Monday. I woke
up wishing I could add one more day to the week-end
and sleep in. My alarm went off at 5:00 AM, my usual
time to run. It was cold and windy, a typical New
England day.
I
dragged myself out of bed, slipped into my running
clothes, ran for two miles, and came home to my
usual routine of grabbing a cup of coffee, taking
a shower, washing my hair, putting on my makeup,
and dressing for work.
Like
I said, it was a day like all the rest.
Except it wasn't.
That
day I was taking two classes for my job, and, unlike
most days, where I was running around to gain time,
I actually had a little time to spare before going
to work, so I did some laundry and picked up the
house a little bit. While I drove to Marlboro, where
I would be attending class that day, I suddenly
remembered
that I hadn't told my son, Louis, that I would be
late coming home, and I made a mental note to call
him sometime that morning.
I
was feeling very anxious that day, the first small
inkling that something was not quite right in the
universe. It wasn't exactly doom and gloom. Not
yet, any-way. In fact, I couldn't explain the feeling,
but I just didn't feel like myself. I put the radio
on and tried to get in a better mood and feel more
relaxed, but I just
couldn't shake the feeling deep in the pit of my
stomach.
Once
I got to class, the day went by quickly, but on
the way home I remembered that I still hadn't called
my son. It might not seem like such a big deal,
but we talked on the phone at least once a day.
No
matter where he was or what he was doing, Louis
would always call just to say hi, or if he needed
something. We had been alone so long that we had
become very close and extremely protective of each
other.
We'd
weathered a lot over the years: the terrible twos,
the darling fours, his awkward preteens, and the
rebellious teen years; but now Louis was twenty-one
and had just started working for a small construction
company.
He seemed fairly happy.
Like
I said, it was just a regular old Monday. After
class, as on most workdays,
I went directly to
the gym and did my usual workout of weights and
cardio. I spent some time talking to a few friends,
and left the gym to go home.Leaving
the gym, the undercurrent that I had sensed all
day remained. It was there, slow and steady, flying
just below my radar but popping up from time to
time to make me feel awkward, unbalanced, and anxious.
I still had a very
uneasy feeling that something wasn't right.
I finally got home
at 6:30, and as I started walking up the stairs,
I saw my caller ID flashing next to the phone. I
checked the numbers; all of them were anonymous,
but I knew one of them had to be Louis checking
in and wondering why I wasn't home at 5:00 and most
likely mad that he didn't know where I
was.
I retrieved the messages,
only to find that there were four, all from Louis,
starting from 5:00 and going until 6:15. He hadn't
left a call-back number, just messages telling me
he would call back, so I took a shower, read the
paper, and went through the mail.
It wasn't easy; I
was restless. The uneasy feeling wouldn't go away.
I couldn't put my finger on it, which only made
it all the more frustrating. I tried filling my
time to drive it away. Still, there it lurked, just
out of sight.
At 7:30 that fateful
Monday night, Louis finally called back. He asked
the usual questions; where I had been, why I was
late, and so on. 1 told him I was sorry I had forgotten
to call him, and let it go.
He was a good boy
and a protective son, but sometimes it irritated
me when he was like this. I used to feel like I
was talking to a boyfriend and not my son, but then
I flipped the script onto myself. I had to admit
that I acted the same way when I couldn't reach
him for one reason or another, so how could I complain?
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