My Story…as a Believer*

I was born into a family of nominal Christians, known as Methodists. The Bible sat on the bookshelf. My Father only prayed before dinner at Christmas and Easter.

I was quite talented, performing in singing, dancing and playing the piano from the time I was three. At the end of a recital performance when I was four, I saw a dark angel, an extraordinary being, which appeared to be standing behind my Mother. My first thought was that it must be my Father, but then I saw that my father was kneeling in the aisle of the auditorium, taking a photo. The air around the figure was an intense combination of white and black, vibrating. It was quite handsome; it’s eyes, however, were sullen red coals. I was shocked, and frightened at this vision. Then I noticed that the same glints of red also came through my Mother’s eyes. Later, I named the apparition “Lermontov” after Anton Wallbrook, who played the role of the dictatorial ballet manager in a movie called The Red Shoes. He had a resemblance to this entity. (Much later, in 2011, I went back to the Klein Auditorium in Bridgeport, CT. I laid hands on its doors and rebuked the enemy I had seen there.)

As a result of my encounter, I felt I had no choice but to hide the fulness of the gifts given to me until I was old enough to take responsibility for them. Unfortunately, that was not a good choice. However, as a result, I had what I thought of as a ‘typical’ childhood, though in a dysfunctional family. Nothing could have been further from the truth. There was more going on.

In fact, by the time I was three years old I had accepted the fact that nothing in the family was as it seemed or as I was being told. I became aware, after World War II ended in Europe on my third birthday, May 8, that I may have been caused to consume substances of some sort without my knowledge or consent. To say the least, this was a difficult reality to deal with. At the same time, however, whatever malevolence may have been swirling around, I was still able to keep on going.

When family came to visit, there seemed to be a lot of whispering and conspiring of some sort. In what was quickly apparent was utter hypocrisy, my family did attend church regularly and the church was a significant part of our lives. But my parents quarreled all the way to church, then put on happy faces for their friends and the minister. They also argued all the way home. My Mother wailed in a false soprano and my Father was tone deaf. Church may have been mandatory but it was not enjoyable.

This was, as could be expected, a superficial environment. Ironically, the church was stunningly beautiful and had a full pipe organ, so every Sunday I was treated to Bach’s Toccata and Fugues. They also had paid soloists in the choir, so the lovely hymns were exquisitely-sung. At Christmastime they performed the Messiah. My love and reverence for the music of Bach and Handel started there…

At seven, after performing the Waltz of the Flowers on toe…the youngest one in the class, my Mother abruptly pulled me out of ballet, claiming now it was my sister’s turn. She didn’t like ballet. She also refused the horse riding lessons I had begged for. Instead, my Mother insisted that I study art. I was, however, allowed to learn the instrument of my choice…the flute. That puzzled me at the time. Later it became evident that the toxic substances that I was consuming without my knowledge or permission had something to do with the flute. In addition, there was ongoing negative programming aimed at discouraging me that was extremely distressing. Sometimes my Mother would just rage at me for no reason. I did my best to keep a good attitude, though my Father did nothing to help, or was unabl to. Though it seemed I could hear the dark angel at night above our house, I was surprised that the energy of the flute was calming and seemed to be protecting me. How could this be possible, I wondered? I was, however, at heart, quite frightened. How could a loving God put a child into a situation like this? I wondered.

I knew the sound of the music of Wolfgang Mozart before I ever heard his name. It had a unique quality, a superior beauty. It was the music of life. I knew I had a connection to him, but I also felt he had left everything in a terrible mess. How was I supposed to carry on for him, I wondered? Surrounded by evil on every side? I tried to tell those I trusted what I thought was happening, but they looked the other way. They may not have understood. I kept hoping that if I just survived long enough to live on my own the torture would stop and I would be able to move forward. It did not occur to me that my Mother could be brought to justice and sent to prison. I just wanted the attacks to stop.

Then, a series of events turned things upside down. My Father almost died by suicide not long after I left home in my freshman year in college. I was horrified, and came to believe that the church had failed him, and God had failed him. I decided I could have no longer have faith in that God. At that time I had no understanding that Yeshua was taking the family apart because of what had been happening to me behind the scenes. God was rescuing me from the horror, but I could not see that. I unfortunately and foolishly stopped playing the flute. That summer, after my Mother returned from visiting my Father in the hospital, it felt like she tried to put a curse on me. The air around her turned white and black, and as she spoke, three black frogs came out of her mouth. It was quite terrifying to see.

After I graduated with honors from college, my Mother kicked me out of her house because I had found a job in New York City rather than in Fairfield. It dawned on me that the reason for sending me to college was not to gain an education, but only to find a rich man to marry. That agenda had failed miserably. Again, this was God rescuing me from further abuse in that house. At the time I had no idea of this. The experience was quite traumatic. Had I stayed, I can only surmise that the poisoning would have started again.

I then met a man at the place where I worked whom I considered a knight in shining armor, as he had sympathy for my plight and took care of me. We married and moved from New York to San Francisco. I looked at different kinds of religions, read new age books, briefly became a Rosicrucian, and came to think that Yeshua was one of the great prophets, but not the Messiah. But when I became pregnant with our first child, I had a terrible sense of unworthiness that I did not deserve to be a mother because I was not saved. But this was 1969, and I did not know how to be saved. So I read the Bible every night. I went to a Catholic church. I prayed the rosary.

When our first child was six weeks old, we moved to Boston, still gravely convicted that I did not deserve to be a mother. I fell into a post-partum depression and went into a hospital for help. While there, they did some tests and I then found out, to my astonishment, that I was expecting again. How could God be so good to me? I asked. I was rebellious and unworthy. I could not believe this miracle, that God would bless me with not just one child, but two!

As I sat in the sunlight, on the veranda of the lovely house where I was staying, with the Bible in my hands, I heard a voice in my head, repeating the scripture, “And who do you say that I am?” “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God,” said Peter. I knew that God was speaking to me. I knew I was saved. I was giddy with rejoicing. When I went back to my room, a roommate named Edith commented on how nice the new shoes were that I was wearing. “Here you go!” I said, and gave them to her.

When I returned home I began to play the flute again. I promised God that, no matter what, I would play it every day… The only saved person I knew of was Saul/Paul, and I took his example to heart. I decided I did not just want to be a Christian, I wanted to be a disciple — to give back what had been given to me. But I returned to a Methodist Church, but because its teachings were so shallow, I learned nothing about the Word. I did not know there was such a thing as spiritual warfare either. So, while I knew in my heart I played the Zauberflote, with a gift of goodness and protection, I was puzzled to see my birth family seem to go out of their way to treat my children as though they belonged to them and not to me. I quickly became concerned that there was some sort of ulterior motive going on, but I had no comprehension of what that might be.

We moved to Minnesota and joined the Good Samaritan Methodist Church. My husband had a serious drinking problem and at times become violent. When he assaulted me after our daughter was born I vowed that she would never have to live as I had, and left him. We divorced shortly after that.

I then began to study the flute seriously, with Sid Zeitlin at the Minnesota Orchestra, and later as a flute performance major at the UofM. But some strange things happened there that didn’t make sense and were quite overwhelming. I did not ask Yeshua if I should back away from the Minnesota Orchestra. In hindsight, I wish I had. I then met an orchestra bass player, who seemed like another prince charming. He pressured me to marry him, but I said I could only marry someone who was saved. Then he said he had watched Billy Graham and had become saved. He declared that he loved my three children. We did marry, and he later adopted my children, as my first husband had refused to pay for their care.

However, as we were packing up to move from our two apartments into a townhouse right after our wedding, I noticed his appearance suddenly change, his face and eyes glowed a sullen golden and there seemed to be something rippling under his skin. Later I came to think he might have shape-shifted before my eyes. I had never seen anything like it. I became frightened and devastated, realizing with a shock of despair that I did not really know the person I had married. I quickly came to see that just about all he had said was a lie. But why? I had no answer.

For about 666 days this man controlled every aspect of our lives. He threatened my life on two occasions to where I had to call the Police. I was afraid he would kill me if I pressed charges. I also think he was causing me to consume substances without my knowledge or permission. I could not afford to leave as he controlled all the money. He ridiculed me as a person and as a musician and also caused me bodily harm. But I did have the heady experience of practicing on the darkened stage at Orchestra Hall. I was also recorded there, but that night I was so exhausted I could hardly think. It felt like I had been drugged. It was a dream of mine come true, but it had come at a terrible price. At times, as we stood on the stage, he would hiss at me, “You can’t play under pressure!” Then it dawned on me that he was more interested in my children than in me, and so I began to fear and grieve for them, for what might be happening to them. As it turned out, he did seem to connect with at least one of them, who managed to turn my house into a nightmare…

My children and I were going to the Jesus People Church, and I pleaded with them for their help and prayer. They pointed me to the scripture about the saved not being bound if the unsaved person leaves. They also told me to submit to him. I did so, and I prayed day and night. Lo and behold, when I started asking him serious questions about our relationship, he packed up in one half-hour and went to stay with a colleague from the Minnesota Orchestra.

By this time, I understood that the Zauberflote was truly controversial, and that it was a gift of the Holy Spirit. Evangelist Brian Ruud declared this when I played a movement from a Bach sonata at his revival meeting in St. Paul. Though I did not have much understanding of how the Holy Spirit works, I did realize that this could account for why there was so much havoc with the orchestra members and at the UofM as well as the local musicians union. I found myself, essentially, locked out of the Minnesota Orchestra. When the players were themselves locked out in 2012, I quickly realized that this could be in response to their treatment of the Zauberflote and myself. For it seems that with the Zauberflote, what we wish for others becomes our fate…

And so, my family was torn apart from the inside out…

I stayed single, and supported myself outside of music after that. It was a difficult and tumultuous experience. I was heartbroken and disappointed for the hopes which I had had for my children. My children were in the midst of a spiritual maelstrom. There were many issues in our lives and challenges that, at the time didn’t seem to make any sense. But I can see now that the enemy, this dark angel I had seen long ago, and still hear, at times, was trying to turn our lives upside down and turn us against each other. It became evident that my birth family was doing their best to control my children, even trying to turn them against me. And then it seemed that some form of the childhood poisoning was starting up again…I was devastated and terrified, having no understanding of what might be taking place under my own roof…

In my helplessness I cried out to the Lord…I am the luckiest person in the world, and my soul magnifies the Lord!

Piecing things together, it looks as though my birth family may have told my children that if “something happened” to me they would inherit “my” share of their estate. At the same time, they were assuring me that I was getting nothing…

Fortunately, I had met a good Christian friend by this time who taught me about spiritual warfare, so I began to do battle in these difficult situations that appeared hopeless in the natural realm. Gradually, I began to see the negative situations give way to stability and shalom. How could this be? I wondered. It was the grace of God, using the Zauberflote…

And, of course, I played the flute every day and did some performing. Somehow, things always managed to work for good, even though there were terrifying circumstances. I began more and more to see that the energy of the flute was helping to get the truth out of whatever challenging situation we might be facing, and then put everyone in a safe place. It was truly astounding. I could not thank the Lord enough. And, though I was not consciously aware of it, I sensed at that time, I sensed that the persecution I was experiencing was also a part of this great gift. In fact, I bear the stripes of Yeshua…these are they are but mild and temporal afflictions.

The Zauberflote was blessing us…prying us out of the jaws of the dark angel…

Then I met a wonderful man ten years later, and he was a great blessing to us all, until he unexpectedly died in my arms in 2016. In 2014 I had told him about the childhood poisoning, and he said, “You remember that?” I was perplexed, to say the least. In May 2015 when I told my two younger children details of the childhood poisoning, he cried. I began to sense that I was just seeing the tip of a large and dense iceberg…

After this, my first husband’s son died by suicide in 2018, and abject grief became my companion once again. There were days when I could hardly open my mouth to speak. I began to wear sunglasses, so that people could not see my tears. Still, I continue to make a sacrifice of praise, knowing that God has a wonderful plan…

I had been a part of a Messianic congregation off-and-on, since 2010. I had always felt this gift of the flute was a gift for the Jewish people, and most specifically the Jews who had survived the Holocaust. But I was not able to effectively communicate with the leadership about the Zauberflote. They ended up getting bits and pieces of my testimony, and it wouldn’t have made much sense. And then, some negative things were happening to them, which I reluctantly realized could be connected to the convicting power of the Zauberflote.

So, with sadness I stepped back, to wait for direction from Yeshua..

However, Yeshua uses the Zauberflote for good, and the Rabbi and Rebetzen brought me to a significant connection…that of our family to, of all people, Bob Dylan…whom it looks like the dark angel is using in a crusade against the Zauberflote which, however, is instead turning into some sort of a miracle. (More about that at dylagence.wordpress.com)…

I determined that my one remaining family member had learned from my Mother and caused me and perhaps at least one other family member bodily harm through poisoning. I asked for help from two of my children to stop this lawlessness and bring her to justice, but they tried to threaten me into silence instead. I have removed myself from all family occasions involving this family member, and now am, in effect, locked out of the family I helped to create by those in support of this lawlessness. Nevertheless, I rejoice, knowing that Yeshua has a wonderful plan for us all.

And he has, in fact, delivered me from what Bob Dylan calls a “Murder Most Foul”…so I am in awe of His power and mercy…and blessed by the great Zauberflote…

And so I am stepping out in faith and moving forward, not knowing whither…with my testimony and the Zauberflote. I invite you to help me in this historic endeavor if you feel led to do so. I ask that you not believe what I say, but test what I say and pray about it….

And if you would like me to play the Zauberflote for your needs, please let me know….I will be publishing the songs that come out of this weekly prayer time….for both the saved and the lost…

When you hear the Zauberflote you are blessed…

You can be richly blessed,

You can be blessed beyond all measure…

What are you able to receive?

Listen to the Zauberflote…and come into shalom…

https://open.spotify.com/search/shabbat%20shalom%20pamela%20brown

*Mozart 4 Believers….

Time’s Up! (…was ‘3400 days, and counting’…)

Update 4.10.24

One of them has decided to exclude me from a ‘family’ event because I declined to dine with the one remaining birth family member, who has caused me, and, I think, at least one other family member bodily, harm. They were outraged and claimed they are putting the Lord first in trying to get me to do this. At this point, I am simply numb…

3.17.24

Guess what? Now one of them is complaining because I am blogging about my Mother (who happens to be the real life Queen of the Night) poisoning me! Apparently, I am supposed to remain silent…and consider what is in fact torture to be simply lapses in parenting!

What kind of a world is this?

2.26.24

It’s been staring me in the face all along. It was too traumatic to comprehend, too elusive to be able to accept. My birth family has trained my children to continue with what they were doing, and to even attempt to capitalize on their torture. Two of my children are involved in this; the other is also a victim…

To add to the horror, this is being done for the ‘blood money’ extorted from me and The Zauberflote by my birth family. My children were even told that if “something happened” to me, they would inherit my share of my Mother’s estate. At the same time she was telling me I was getting nothing…

And since then, there have been financial incentives and promises from Angel to them…to continue the pogram…

When I went to the authorities about Angel one of them caused bodily harm and tried to threaten me into silence…

Where do I go from here?

I am at the center of what Bob Dylan calls a Murder Most Foul…

yet the blood money speaks…

The Zauberflote protects us…

and all that they did in secret is become known…

2.7.24

Katrina, one of the two referenced in this post, the other being Kristoff..(my names for them in our saga Piper to the Alternative) has attempted once again to throw me to the wolves…the wolf actually being the Chief Poisoner, Angel…and I realized I had been patient long enough…

(You might be starting to wonder if this family is like the Borgias…you wouldn’t be far off…)

What these two have been refusing to come clean about just happens to be what I consider perhaps the most important aspect of our connection to Bob Dylan…because, while they have been stonewalling me, Bob, in his own inimitable way, has been telling me the truth. That is, that I am at the center of a Murder Most Foul, surrounded by some (not all) claiming to be friends (or family) who have agreed to my death. They have caused me bodily harm and slandered me behind my back. All of this, in order to steal from The Zauberflote…

You can read about the Bob Dylan connection at Dylagence…

https://dylagence.wordpress.com

Update, 12.24.23

Well this takes the cake, as my Mother (the original Queen of the Night) used to say…

These two people have now managed to unmask themselves to the point where the question no longer is ‘why are they protecting Angel, whom I believe has caused me and at least one other family member bodily harm’, to ‘to what extent have they been involved all along in what Angel is attempting to do’…which, to my thinking, is clearly a Murder Most Foul…

The Zauberflote gave me a vision on Friday. It was of the Xmas horror of the birth family house in Fairfield, CT. (pictured above)…

I wrote a post about that experience…

A very Nazi Xmas…M4B*

The vision was that these two have been attempting, even while under my roof, to recreate the entire trauma of the Fairfield house…that there was always whispering and conspiring of some sort going on, I had no doubt. But I had no tangible clue as to what was going on. This is a staggering revelation. Yet I would rather know the truth than not.

They attempted to stage an event where, apparently, I was supposed to be the main course. (Ham or turkey I do not know). This following an extensive Zoom session of them with Angel from Senegal. (hint: there is no extradition to the US from Senegal)

Update August 26, 2023

With the advent of another leg of Bob’s tour, it is starting to look as though he may be ‘shunting… Shunting is something that sometimes happens to people who think they can ‘steal’ from the Zauberflote and use it’s magical energy to their own ends. What happens is that, at some point, the truth about what they have been involved in is revealed, and anything stolen is, in one way or another, restored. All things work for good, for those who love God, and so it is with the Zauberflote…

In fact, Bob and his touring seem to be used as a giant rudder steering the ship of the opera. 

I can also think of him as the Zauberflote’s secret weapon…

Update August 16, 2023

So this is the Bob Dylan connection as I am seeing it today: those two I am referencing in this post are not telling me the truth. Instead, it is Bob Dylan, of all people, who is the ONLY person telling me the truth.

ONLY.

Do you have any idea how that feels? Never in my entire life have I been so beholden to someone who seems to hate my guts. I can tell you, that is a weird feeling. And very humbling…

Bob Dylan’s character is supposed to be the ‘fiend’ of the opera The Magic Flute. He is part of the cadre Mozart called ‘Monostatos’. There are others: my flute teacher Sid Zeitlin of the Minnesota Orchestra and William Schrickel, bass player of the Minnesota Orchestra, and a few others who crawled out of the woodwork at Orchestra Hall…

I don’t think Mozart had any idea there would be more than one person fitting this character. It is also bit odd that “Monostatos” is very close to “Minnesota”, and, of course, when Wolf was writing the opera The Magic Flute he had no idea there would ever be a place called Minnesota.

That, to me, is a testament of the incomparable genius of Wolfgang Mozart — that he could reach out into the future and see somehow, in the midst of his despair of being poisoned incrementally in a hideous Murder Most Foul, that perhaps some day the opera would come to life in the real world.

But back to Bob/Monostatos…

Monostatos is obsessed with Pamina…

And I, of course, or more specifically, my alter-ego, am Pamina…

Update May 16, 2023

One of the awesome things I have discovered about the Zauberflote is that it always gets the truth out. Whatever is concealed becomes revealed. And so it is in this situation, horrible though it may be…

And the truth is not only coming through changes in circumstances of these people, but also through the Bob Dylan connection…in fact, who could possibly imagine that Dylan, of all people, could be the one telling the truth about this situation. But that is the case. With every leg of his RARW tour, which I think has songs with some oblique and not-so-oblique references to us, more truth becomes apparent. I am grateful…

Update September 10, 2022

I tend to consider these people as part of a “No Crowned Heads” group, as they have continually and assiduously pushed the agendas of my birth family, which appear to be to treat me as though I am already dead, pilfer my work, slander me behind my back and try to obtain possessions that are rightfully mine. It is hard to imagine what more they can do to try to silence me…

Update August 25, 2022

I had a kind of vision today that was quite distressing. It was of these people, who, rather than have any empathy for what happened to me in my birth family were comfortable supporting them and actually feuding over the blood money extracted from me by my birth family through the persecution…At least one of them has also acquired items that are rightfully mine (and I should have the sole right to distribute) behind my back, from my sister, Angel…

Original post: 2800 days…

That’s how long it’s been since I told two of my closest family members that I always figured I had been given poison of some sort by my Mother when I was a child. I don’t know what kind of reaction I expected. I did think there would be a reaction of some sort or other.

Was I in for a surprise.

There was no visible reaction from either of them. In fact, they just sat in stony silence.

I don’t consider myself an expert in human behavior. A lot of times I miss the full impact of what someone is trying to convey. But this time, I had enough common sense to say…well…this doesn’t make sense at all…

I had told them of my abusive childhood, long ago. I should have grabbed a hint back then, when my comments were dismissed. At the time, of course, that was puzzling, but anything connected to an extreme testimony, such as mine, is going to be a shock, and some people do not want to hear about it, so I never made any demands of them…

However, I have become somewhat wiser through the years. I decided to simply monitor their behavior from this point on and see what transpired…

My dear husband, Donner, was present that day. He cried. He asked me why I had to tell them. That made no sense to me.

Before long, my dear husband had died in my arms, unexpectedly. I cannot even now fully cope with the trauma of losing him on that dark day.

Not long after that, one of these family members tried to pressure me to put my dear stepson, Kevin, under my roof. He had severe mental illness issues and at that time lived in LA. After talking with him and researching alternatives available, it appeared that he would prefer to return to his mother’s home in Florida. Tragically, that did not happen. He died by suicide, walking in front of a train.

That second tragedy lead me to a bizarre connection to Bob Dylan. At that time, everything seemed to explode. You can read about all this at my blog, Dylagence…https://dylagence.wordpress.com/

Through all of this, these two have maintained a stony silence. I can only ask at this point what it is that they want to conceal. Ironically, the stonewalling may not make much difference, as it looks like Bob has told everyone the truth of what happened to me in a few of his songs…the ones containing a reference to the nightingale.

I think that’s me…

So from now on, it looks like it’s a whole new ballgame…

Who knows where all this will lead?

Minnegeddon?

October 20, 2023

The first time I spoke to someone about what I consider Minnegeddon was when I was a flute performance major at the UofM…my classroom buddy Greg, who also was my accompanist, was the one I blurted it out to…I had no comprehension at that point, of what it meant.  I just said, “I believe one day there is going to be a Minnegeddon at Orchestra Hall…”  Little did I know that my concept would eventually be forced to expand, in order to include not only my experiences with the Orchestra, but also a Corona Plague and a connection to, of all people, Bob Dylan…

The Corona (typewriter) plague of (possibly) pilfered lyrics…

And now there is something more that must be included, and which may have been at the heart of all the other aspects of this concept — namely, the Hamas attack on Israel and the siege on Gaza that has been the result.  To envision good coming out of this humanitarian disaster has been very difficult.  Should Bibi N have appealed to the UN before taking action?  I must wonder, as it is as a result of a UN resolution that Israel became a state.

https://mfa.gov.il/Jubilee-years/Pages/1947-UN-General-Assembly-Resolution-181-The-international-community-says-Yes-to-the-establishment-of-the-State-of-Israel.aspx

But the UN has been left on the sidelines to weep along with all of those whose lives have been uprooted or completely destroyed.

Would that have made a difference? I don’t know…

So then I began to wonder once more about Bob becoming a born-again Christian and then abruptly returning to secular songs and gung ho songs about Israel in Infidels.  In the jacket of that CD he shows a photo of himself overlooking Jerusalem…

Was he attempting to use the waves of energy connected to the Zauberflote somehow in regards to Israel?

An astonishing thought…

Because now, all that has been concealed is being revealed…so if that were to be the case, everyone will know it…

August 21, 2023

After 80 years, a tropical storm –Hilary– takes aim, and a 5.1 earthquake shakes SoCal…

https://abc7.com/hurricane-hilary-los-angeles-county-camarillo-area-flooding-update-now/13677977/

Flooding at Point Dume…a Tempest, wouldn’t you say?

https://nypost.com/2023/08/21/californians-climb-trees-to-escape-tropical-storm-hillary-floods/?utm_source=sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=news_alert&utm_content=20230821?&utm_source=sailthru&lctg=6079ac247030294703924bca&utm_term=NYP%20-%20News%20Alerts

(Also odd…)

https://nypost.com/2023/08/20/russias-luna-25-space-craft-smashes-into-the-moon-in-failure/?utm_source=sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=news_alert&utm_content=20230820?&utm_source=sailthru&lctg=6079ac247030294703924bca&utm_term=NYP%20-%20News%20Alerts

And of course, last but not least…on this day in 1965…

https://www.mnopedia.org/event/beatles-concert-bloomington-1965

July 9, 2023

As Bob finishes up the Europe leg of RARW in Rome, ironically, as Rome is where this post began, we have had another month of tumultuous weather and air quality issues, and the exploratory submersible, Titan, with five souls on board, was lost as it set out on its underwater voyage to the remains of the great ship Titanic that sank in 1912…

https://www.cnn.com/2023/07/06/us/oceangate-suspends-operations-titan-submersible/index.html

This brings to mind Bob’s 2012 song Tempest, from the album of the same name, which is. long and rambling dirge about the original tragedy at sea…

Tempest

Titan also happens to be the name of the first episode of my saga Piper to the Alternative, which Bob may have had access to and used in reference in this and at least one other song, Jokerman…

I have to wonder if Tempest was intended to convey to Bob’s insiders some sort of hidden message about my family and the Zauberflote…ironically, that album also includes the song ‘Roll On John”, which, to my thinking, leaves John Lennon as. a rolling stone never coming to rest…

And, in additional irony, Titan was also the nickname of Gustav Mahler’s first symphony.  I think Mahler brought the Mozart Vortex to America.  He was also the first international super-star, as he conducted and performed in both Europe and the US.  He contracted a terrible infection and made his last voyage from New York home to Vienna by ship in April, 1911..the USS Amerika…

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_America_(ID-3006)

Gustav Mahler’s last words, according to his wife, were “Mozart! Mozart! Mozart!”

Oh, and yes, there has been at least one more significant ‘Slow Train Coming Apart’, this time in Montana…

https://www.cnn.com/2023/06/25/us/montana-train-derailment-cleanup-yellowstone-river/index.html

So, maybe we could also say,

Roll on Bob…

June 15, 2023

Now the wildfires have hit home.  Today Minnesota has the worst air quality in the nation!  It’s so bad they even cancelled the races at Canterbury Park.  Last night the sun–or was it the moon, I couldn’t really tell — was red.  I am feeling frustrated having a socialist country to our north that just lets the fires burn.  I can’ imagine what they intend to do with all the scorched earth.  Whatever it is, I am not a fan…

June 11, 2023

Well, Canadian wildfires have kept us coughing for the last week or so.  Ironically, on June 6 (D Day), the skies of New York City turned orange from the smoke…

https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2023/06/end-of-the-world-orange-sky.html

And, if that wasn’t enough, it looks like those “Slow Trains” Bob Dylan was talking about are “Coming Apart”…as there have been numerous derailments, including two in Minnesota, so far.  The latest is a horrific disaster in India…

https://www.cnn.com/2023/06/05/india/india-odisha-balasore-victim-families-survivors-intl-hnk-dst/index.html

Wonder what is next?

Update, January 1l, 2023

California has been drowning for the last 11 days…

And today this morning there was a nationwide ground stop of all air traffic…something not seen since 9/11…

Update, January 1, 2023

And now we have lost Pope Benedict XVI.  He was known as the “Pope’s Rotweiler” to Pope John Paul II.  Papa Ratzinger also happened to be the pope who did not want Bob Dylan to perform at a youth festival in 1997, saying he didn’t want ‘that kind of prophet’ playing for the Catholic youth…

https://ultimateclassicrock.com/bob-dylan-pope-performance/

Update, December 24, 2022

About a week ago there was an unusual sight in Minnesota.  There had been an ice and snow storm. All the trees were covered with hoar frost, and everything else was covered with snow and ice. For about four days everything was silver. The skies, the ground, the trees…for the most part, there was not much sunlight, so there was an eery feel to everything.

I began to wonder if this had something to do with the Zauberflote. I recalled my manuscript, Piper to the Alternative.  The main family were the Paynes. Named for Paynes’ gray. I then also realized that this is the color of the Zauberflote…

Absolutely, I said…something is happening…

I have felt for some time we were heading for some kind of portal…

Could this be it?

Now this country has been hit with a ‘generational storm’ that has caused serious interruption to just about everyone’s holiday plans…In Minnesota, we have had nearly a week of sub-zero temperatures, along with heavy snow and, last but not least, blowing snow.  Roads are rutted with ice and snow days after the last snowfall…

(BTW, remember Bob Dylan’s song Isis? https://www.bobdylan.com/songs/isis/ Do you think this is funny? I am stuck here. I am not originally from Minnesota. I am from the NYC metro area. Every year I am shocked and stunned by the awful power of the winter here. It is traumatizing, to say the least…)

I can say with all honesty that I do think this is Minnegeddon…

If I am right, the whole truth is coming out about what really happened to Wolfgang Mozart…

In addition, I believe the truth is coming out about what really happened to John Lennon…

And to me…

Murders Most Foul…

But I am still. here…delivered to safety by the great Zauberflote…

And I have a story to tell…

I hope you will listen to me…

July 15, 2020

When I saw this photo of the pope looking at an empty St. Peter’s Square at Easter, my first thought, of course, was to wonder how he felt.  My second thought, however, was about Wolfgang Mozart.

Young Mozart, with a number of stellar achievements already behind him, had an audience with Pope Clement XV on April 11, 1770.

The choral piece that earned Mozart a papal honor

One might think that the pope, of all people, would not have stopped with conferring just a worldly honor on Mozart, but would have gone on to acknowledge that there was yet another gift that deserved to be validated, even though it was ephemeral.  It is the gift of perfection that is an integral part of everything that Mozart wrote.  It is a gift of shalom granted to no other musician before him.  Everyone sensed it.  It had already created tumult even in the Italian musical community, where Mozart was accused of allowing his father to write an opera for him.

But the pope said nothing about this divine distinction.  As a result, I believe, Mozart did not fully understand how different he was until much later in his life, when he realized that he was surrounded by a vortex of evil — those close to him who had agreed upon his death.

And it was because of this gift that Mozart was killed.  And this assassination — this Murder Most Foul — has remained a closely-guarded secret through the years.  Until now.

Ironically, with the onset of this terrible pandemic, and the physical distancing that everyone is keeping, we may all have a much better idea about what Mozart’s life was really like.

And, at last, the truth about what really happened to Mozart is becoming evident to everyone.

I call this Minnegeddon…

Update, February 22, 2021

We are coming through a year of pandemic. Ironically, it is called “Corona”. I say ‘ironically’ because when I was growing up with my birth family who were, to say the least, treating the Zauberflote with a lack of respect, my father insisted that I take a high school typing class twice, because I only scored 95 words per minute the first time.  That was on a Corona typewriter.

The Corona (typewriter) plague of (possibly) pilfered lyrics…

Orchestra Hall is still dark. In fact, concert venues in most places are as well.  Is the truth about what really happened to Wolfgang Mozart coming to light — in spite if the deadly attempts of the ‘insiders’ who are trying to keep it secret? Will the Zauberflote be heard once more on the stage at Orchestra Hall — but this time, in the light? Will those who have been attempting to silence it be unmasked?

Time will tell…

Out of Night and Fog…

Update 6.21.22

Since the last update, a lot has happened. For one thing, the Corona (typewriter) plague (of pilfered lyrics) appears to have kicked the presence in the vortex to the outside of the vortex. This is a relief, as, though the waves of energy are still strong, they are much less focused, and easier to roll with. And, with every wave, more that has been concealed is revealed…

Update 3.28.21

(I released this video, without realizing it at the time, on August 17, 2017, which was the same day Miles Davis’ iconic album Kind of Blue was released in 1959. I am encouraged by this, as Miles and his music have had a profound influence on my life. But that’s a story for another time…)

Since then, my family and I have suffered yet another loss — this one, of my beloved stepson, Kevin Dixon, to suicide…https://dylagence.wordpress.com/2020/02/16/example-post/

Kevin walked in front of a train.

This fact brought me into the world of Slow Train Coming, and Bob Dylan, whom I had tuned out long ago, the vicious anti-feminine lyrics in Like A Rolling Stone being the final straw.

I found out that he was Saved, performed some outstanding gospel songs and even preached during his concerts for a time…before apparently ducking for cover by “going back to his Jewish roots.”

So last year I started a blog, Dylagence, to examine this connection…

https://dylagence.wordpress.com/

Since I published this video I have come to realize that there seems to be another presence in this vortex that I had not taken into account. Something arrogant and pushy, even seeming to throw waves of targeted attack in my direction.

I have begun to analyze this presence and its significance to me and the Zauberflote. Here is a recent post…

A possible connection? In the vortex? Odd references in Bob Dylan’s My Own Version of You…

This influence, this energy, or whatever it is in the vortex appears to be demolishing lawlessness and bringing to light the truth of what really happened to Wolfgang Mozart. And also to me. It may even be that this is happening in spite of forces trying to keep the lid on something that has been a closely-guarded secret for over 200 years…

Stay tuned…

Tisha B’av, the 10th Anniversary of the I35W Bridge Collapse, and the Sorry Story of Monostatos’ Orchestra –M4B*

On August 1 of this year we commemorate, or really mourn, the ancient solemn day of the destruction of both the Jewish temples — the First by Babylonians, the Second, by the Romans. It is the saddest day in Jewish history.  Other tragedies have occurred on or near this day.  Ironically, this year is the tenth anniversary of the terrible and unanticipated collapse of the I 35W bridge over the Mississippi River connecting Minneapolis and St.Paul.

I had traveled on that bridge just about every day preceding the collapse, as my daughter and her family — with our shared dogs– lived on the other side of the river.  She, along with my two sons, their families, and I, flew out of MSP to DC for my Mother’s birthday party on August 1, 2007.  We were, in fact, rehearsing for our performances that evening when we were told the shocking news.  There was no cable where we were rehearsing, and phones and the internet were bogged down.  We frantically looked for photos and information about what had happened and why.

Mr. Vanska, and his sidekick, Mr. Schrickel (who had a tangential connection to my family) were also apparently overwhelmed with the seriousness of this tragedy, as Mr. Vanska then composed, and Mr. Schrickel –with the Metropolitan Symphony — performed a piece called “The Bridge”.  Did they consider at that time that there might even be a deeper significance to this terrible event?  It’s hard to tell…

Now, almost five years after the lockout of the Minnesota Orchestra players, and the ongoing lockout of me, the Other Mozart, are they starting to make a connection? In fact, on this day in 2013 I mailed a letter to Mr. Vanska, asking to be heard in the place where I had once been enticed by Mr. Shrickel and his cohorts to practice on the darkened stage.

Does anyone in Monostatos’ Orchestra have a conscience?  Does anyone care about the people of Minnesota who have given them their trust and their money, not to mention their loyalty?  Is there any chance that at some point they too, as did Gustav Mahler (whom they have programmed prominently for the next season) call out — in his final words — “Mozart!  Mozart!  Mozart!”?

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

 

 

 

The “Shackles” School…

Update 5.10.24

It looks as though I was mistaken about the event taking place, as it appears to have been called off or postponed. Still excluded, however. This is all strange and unnerving.  Ironically, this is how the Zauberflote seems to work. It gets the truth out about any situation. Things turn upside down and nothing makes sense.  Then it does.  So it is with this…

Update 5.5.24

After dealing with the acute distress of apparently being locked out of a family event because I refused to appease lawlessness, it occurred to me that that event was scheduled to take place at the Shackles School, as was an earlier event that proved to be quite traumatic.

In the first event, in 2014, my husband and I were barred from attending a family member’s graduation at the Shackles School by the family member who works there. In utter frustration at the exclusion, we went anyway.  Once inside the school the family member who had barred us screamed and yelled at us for defying the edict not to attend.  Needless to say, this was extremely distressing to both of us.  I even contacted the Headmaster to ask for support, but there was no response.

At that point I decided not to set foot in the place again.  Also, in that situation, we were barred from attending a presentation of the graduating student from that school, as well as their graduation party.  There was no actual reason given for this exclusion, nor was there any sort of concrete apology.  After my husband’s death, demands were made on me to attend other events at the school, which I declined.

As it were, the school was also regularly sending me requests for money, along with information about school events.  Realizing that every time I saw their logo I became uncomfortable, I requested that they remove me from their mailing list.

This seems to have taken effect…

Update 3.9.24

Since then, the school has grown and expanded. So did the connection to the Minnesota Orchestra.  In fact, during the lockout of the MO players in 2013 I wrote a letter to Osmo Vanska, asking him for permission to play the Zauberflote again at Orchestra Hall, but this time, not on the darkened stage, as it had been with Bill Schrickel, but for him.  Mr. Vanska’s assistant just happened to be a board member of the Shackles School. I even met him at one of their events.  I asked the family member connected with the school for help getting my letter to his assistant, as I would know for certain Mr. Vanska had received it.  But I was told, “No!  I don’t want you using my contacts!”  And so, the letter was never answered…

Original post

Starting the New Year off on the right foot, I will be providing information, not using the actual names, of course, of organizations that have, in one way or another, effectively locked me, my husband and die zauberflote out. I will explain how this happened to the best of my ability, as well as do my best to describe the organization and use it as an symbol to represent something that I consider to be false.

My first foray into this arena involves a private school that claims to have a Christian mission and outlook. So far, so good. It also specializes in a certain form of education termed “Classical”. If you research this, you will find that a Classical education does, in many ways, fill in the gaps of what is available to students in the public education sector. It relies on memorization, logic, rhetoric, all areas that have long ago for the most part fallen by the wayside in public education, the purpose of which seems to be to create good followers, not unusual leaders. So again, all well and good. How can you go wrong, right?

Unfortunately, there is a little bit more to providing a true Christian environment than just saying so. In fact, perhaps the most serious criticism I have of this type of school is that the leaders are not only spiritually immature but they are so wrapped up in making a success of the school they have become ignorant of their supreme arrogance and superficiality. To add to the problem, they seem to have surrounded themselves with others of the same level of understanding, and so, in effect, have created their own little world. If you dare to criticize what they are doing you are met with outrage. If you try to point them to the Wrd they may attack you. Yes, I think you’re starting to get the message I am sending your way — an environment such as this can become vulnerable to being some sort of cult. Whether or not that is actually the case, I do not know. There does seem to be an undercurrent of the ‘end of the world’ philosophy, and the need to prepare to survive the Tribulation. (That, on its own, might raise a red flag, as some Christians tend to think that the ‘real Christians’ will be raptured prior to the Tribulation. :-0)

As this school grew and developed I was hopeful yet baffled. Everything seemed to be so right, but something was wrong. I could not figure it out. Then I was invited to perform at the school for a program they were doing. I was given no introduction as either a musician or a Christian. No mention was made of this great gift of die zauberflote even though the person who requested me to perform is a family member. Lovely performance of the Bach unaccompanied flute sonata, nice reception. As I left the school there was a large van farther up the driveway. All of a sudden it went into reverse and came towards my car at full throttle. By the time I was able to hit the horn, the van had crashed into the front of my vintage Honda Accord, squashing my “Pamina” license plate! The driver got out, was very apologetic. Seemed she had ‘forgotten her keys’ :-0. My hood would not open and my radiator was cracked, but she said she would send me an amount for the damage and asked me not to go to my insurance agent. She sent me a check for $300 with a nice note that said this is what Gd had “told her to send me.” That was enough to fix just the hood. I didn’t ask her for money to fix the radiator. I knew there was a lesson to be learned by this, but I had no idea what it was. This was a very odd wakeup call.

During most of this time I had been giving money to the school. When I felt a young family member was, in essence, being ‘trapped’ in the school, which had very limited opportunities for their area of expertise, I was railed at and bullied by my family member. At about this time the headmaster and my family member arranged a coffee event apparently only designed to convince me to give substantial sums of money from an inheritance I had recently unexpectedly received, to — guess where — their school. As the headmaster spoke, her teeth seemed to become larger and brighter — I felt like Little Red Riding Hood. I left the little ‘chat’ trembling with anger. Fortunately, once again, an unsettling event served as a significant clue. I decided to research the school online and found one review that summed up my experience — “They talk the talk, but they don’t walk the walk. Run from these people”…

During this time, also, the school had become more and more closely aligned with another adversary of mine — guess what– Monostatos’ Orchestra. A handful of employees and even an adviser had in the past or currently some connection to this organization. Upon that realization I started asking the really tough questions — was it possible that this school was developed with an intent to use die zauberflote against Gd’s will to make money for the school, or was it just an odd coincidence that this seemed to be happening? We as Believers know from the book of Acts, Chapter 5, of the antics of Ananias and Sephira. They tried to test the Holy Spirit and ended up dead on the spot. I also began to wonder if the school was deliberately designed to present the students with a false gospel that, in effect, ‘locked-out’ the real Holy Spirit or if their beliefs were simply immature? Needless to say, I began waging spiritual warfare on behalf of the children, and hope to be mistaken. This school ought to provide the students with not only learning but character sufficient for them to be truly inspired Christian leaders for the rest of their lives. Was it doing this, or causing them to be bound by the wiles of the adversary? Does the staff have any idea the stranglehold the adversary has managed to put on these children?

This time, when a request for money comes, I will explain that we are partnering with organizations who are willing to support us and die zauberflote, and perhaps host a concert. Hopefully, that will get their minds working…:-0

 

A very Nazi Xmas…M4B*

We are all supposed to think that WWII ended in 1945 and all traces of Nazism are either demolished or illegal, but, speaking of my own experience, I must disagree…

When I was growing up, I felt as though I were living in some sort of bizarre Nazi camp; one not unlike Dora from which the illegally housed immigants were worked to death in the military installations of Mittlework and Nordhausen to create the fantastic V-1 and V-2 rockets.  I am exaggerating, of course, to some extent, for literally speaking, my existence was far superior to theirs.  However, emotionally and spiritually speaking, there was an unfortunate relevance. And, as part of the persecution, I was intermittently being caused to ingest toxic substances of some sort without my knowledge or permission, so I was constantly on guard…

Of all the unpleasant treatment that I received in my birth family, one of the most difficult aspects of it as a child was the spectacle called “Christmas”.  I call it “Xmas”, as it blotted out every conceivable vestige of what the advent of The Lord Jesus Christ is really all about. Ours was about tinsel and cotton padding on the mantel, and was as empty.

The worst trick that my Mother seemed to enjoy playing on that holiday was what I ended up calling a game of ‘substitution’.  Whatever gifts it was that I wanted usually ended up on my sister’s chair, while my gifts were things that were irrelevant to me, such as a holder for my records, or sports equipment which I had no interest in.  I learned to prepare for the indignity by locating as many gifts as possible ahead of time, so that my sister would not see me reduced to tears Xmas morning.  Apparently, the theme of my life, according to my birth family, was supposed to have been that ‘god’ (whatever that was) was blessing my sister and cursing me.

This was such a strange and lonely time of year.  We had no family in Connecticut.  A colleague of my father’s included us every Thanksgiving as extended family, but at Xmas time we were on our own. I used to think that the Nazi’s must have celebrated Xmas in a similar way — with their haves and have nots, blotting out everything that was true and graceful and substituting that which is cold and dark.   When I grew older and became involved with a family who had come to the US after the war as part of Wernher Von Braun’s team (specializing in jet engines, however; not rockets) I came to understand that my impressions of our family Xmas were not at all incorrect.

Since those sad times I have been able for the most part to happily let go of Xmas almost entirely.  I don’t decorate, and only participate when I feel I have no choice.  I always preferred Chanukah anyhow. 🙂

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

On the possibility of my having been poisoned as a child…( — was it just the beginning?–)…

Update February 17, 2024

There is a major development in establishing justice in this Murder Most Foul, in that my longest best friend, Brad, and his lovely bride, Missy, have moved to the street on which we lived in Hopkins, MN…in fact, just a few doors down. I see this as part of the miracle that is unfolding…of divine justice for those who tried to silence me there…

Update, October 20, 2023

It is with the greatest of irony that I have come to understand that the persecution I experienced in the house of my birth family was just intended to toughen me up for what I would experience later.  In fact, I think I can say that the early survival training has been a lifesaver.  

Also ironically, it is my experience surviving as a target of a Murder Most Foul, complements of Bob D. and the Dylinquents (you know–dodge the Dylinquents, steer clear of the Mc’Geddons…) that has caused me to truly appreciate how the great Zauberflote is protecting us even from things that we have no knowledge of…

Now, the waves of sludge come and go in various degrees of intensity, but there is no longer a ‘hook’ to the abyss…while Bob goes out on a limb of his own making, every time he prances about the stage…or shuffles…more truth is coming out, more of what has been concealed, about this Murder Most Foul — Wolf, JFK and the private goy concentration camp he likes to crow about overseeing…and last but certainly not least — the truth about the assassination of John Lennon…

Bob wears the red shoes…

Update, January 9, 2023

After Bob Dylan contacted me and dropped RARW on my birthday, I began to have flashbacks of another event.  That was a visit to the one it seems Bob is referencing as “Angel'”s house after the divorce from Richard in December 1975. I had become violently ill. It was the only time I had thrown up since I lived under my parents’ roof. I then had the realization that Angel had made me sleep in that same room — the kitchen — on my next visit to her Takoma Park house, claiming that my dogs were not well-trained enough to sleep in a bedroom.  At that time I realized that “Angel” had bought a different house in Maryland, but recently sold it, and wondered if there were any connection.  And I had to wonder why the contact by Bob had triggered this flashback…

My parents were never brought to justice…but “Angel” and her accomplices may be…

Original post..

When I was four I had a vision, of sorts, that probably helped to keep me alive.  The significance of it to me at that time was that I became convinced I had to protect a Gift I had been given from my mother whom, it seemed, had made some sort of a pact with a dark angel I came to call “Lermontov”,  as it resembled a movie character by that name. I had no doubt my mother was my adversary, but I did not at the time comprehend the extent of her antagonism. Not only that, I had no idea that this dark angel would try to turn everyone in my family into a monster…

Although a robustly healthy child, I regularly found myself becoming violently sick to my stomach and throwing up.  Ironically, at those time, my mother was conciliatory and sympathetic, bringing me ginger ale with shaved ice and saltines to calm my stomach.  This continued until shortly before I left home for college.  Once I had settled into dorm life, my first thought was how nice it was to be somewhat on my own. My second thought was relief that I was no longer throwing up.  It immediately occurred to me that my mother had probably been behind this, but my relief at having survived was my primary emotion.

Within a few months of this realization my father nearly died by his own hand.  All my attention switched to him.  I did not make the connection until recently, (as, subsequent to that event, the rest of my birth family seemed to circle the wagons and lock me out, so to speak), that there could have been a connection. Other questions that I had about my birth family also began to fall into place when I looked at them from the perspective of my birth family trying to shield themselves from the consequences (not of their own actions, mind you) of my having survived this ordeal.  :-0

Update 4.17.21

Since this post was written a lot has taken place.  I spoke to my dear husband about this possibility and his response was, “You remember that?” Of course, I was puzzled, to say the least.  I then told my two younger children of this possibility. I received blank looks.  There were no questions.  There was no concern. Just a chill emptiness.  I did not know what to think. 

It became evident that for whatever reason, protecting my one living birth family member from being held accountable for their part in this terrible situation was more important than showing any concern for me. 

At that point I began to step back.  The Corona pandemic provided an extension of what I had already decided to do.  

Now I see the situation from a different perspective.  I have had the courage to ask, “What if it didn’t stop?” I don’t like the answers that come to me, but accepting the truth is always better in the end.  

Update June 9, 2021

There has been a veritable flood of information coming at me for the last few weeks. Most stunning is the realization that these odd coincidences possibly connecting Bob Dylan’s family and mine are not that at all.  Instead, this may consist of ‘inside information’ from a member of my family that made its way to Dylan’s people.  Even more astonishing is the possibility that this may have been going on for a long time…perhaps even back to when Dylan appeared on the scene in New York.  What could possibly be the reason for this, I wondered?  It has been, at the very least, a betrayal, but to what end?  I puzzled over this until the lyrics of one of Dylan’s songs came to mind…Jokerman…whose features could have been carved out by Michaelangelo…dancing to the nightingale tune…

Jokerman

Whoa Nelly, I said to myself…could Dylan be hinting at my father’s ignoring my mother’s terrible behavior toward me?  Is he giving his insiders information about what happened in that house? Where would that possibly come from?  My family members have all been in lockstep to shut me down whenever I mention what happened in that house, and here is a complete stranger telling the world — or at least his ‘insiders’ — about this?  

And then, another possibility occurred to me — that Dylan’s people had somehow obtained a pilfered copy of my manuscript Titan, from Piper to the Alternative.  The heroine’s middle name is Philomela — which means nightingale.  Her father, Dorian, is as handsome as Dorian Gray, and as ignorant and selfish…

This opened up an entirely new kettle of fish, so to speak…

Jokerman appeared on the scene in 1983. The only adversary I am aware of who had access to my early drafts of Titan in the late 70’s, was my ex-husband, a bass player in the Minnesota Orchestra, whom I call “Monostatos” who held us hostage for 666 days and caused me bodily harm…and also an instructor at The Loft, where I was taking novel-writing classes.  Ian demanded to see my manuscript, and then held onto it for about a month.  I had to beg to get it back and had little to do with him from that point on.  His nickname was the “Mad Brit”…

Was that what had happened, if that is the case? 

Stay tuned, as this is becoming curiouser and curiouser…

MinnegeddonPartDeux — just for “Starla”and Yoko?…really, ladies? Really? :-0

Update, January 27, 2023

Some time has passed since this post was written, and some things have changed.  Bob Dylan has insisted on telling us about our connection to John Lennon.  And Piper has some new characters…

It looks like the Queen of the Night (my mother) has some helpers…a Wanna Be…and possibly an adjunct! Well, John calls her the “Mother of Night”, so that kind of fits.

And Monostatos has increased in size with Bob as the leader of the cadre, and Bill, along with his cohorts at the Minnesota Orchestra…

Oh, and my best friend Brad (Papageno) is now married to his little dove Missy (Papagena)…however, he is complaining that he is being tested more as a Christian than I am!  I would beg to differ with him, but what good would that do?

And it looks like Minnegeddon is in full swing, where the truth comes out about everything that has happened to us…

Original post…

In the novel “Piper to the Alternative”, Pamina’s mother is Mildred Payne.  She is the great Queen of the Night.  She hurls down curses with a bolt of lightning.  She emanates charm that can seem almost irresistible.  At other times, the air glows black and white with the depth of her profound wickedness.

Mildred was also an adept at various evil strategies.  One of them, in fact, perhaps her favorite, was that of finesse.  In order to accomplish this, you set your prey up through flattery and deceit, and then move in to destroy them, getting them to do something or give up information they would never otherwise do.

By the time of MinnegeddonPartDeux (post Monostatos’ Orchestra lockout) Mildred is dead.  A proxy or two seem to have tried to step up to the plate.  They too try to corner Pamina and cause her harm. They seem intent on becoming Mildred’s little mini-me’s.  Of course, the energy of the great die zauberflote protects Pamina.  And, as it might be expected, Pamina has learned from her experiences with her mother how to finesse her adversaries…

So instead of a slanted field, there is instead an even one…:-)

Mozart took to his bed for the last time…

He had had dinner with Salieri. Had Salieri given him the fatal dose? Was it larger than the others, which, according to Wolf, had been quite small? Was this because of the extraordinary success of his last major opera, The Magic Flute? Had he given away the secret they were sworn to keep? Of this wondrous gift….

They all knew what was going on…nobody lifted a finger to help him…

His unusual gift of Zauber had to be contained…it had to be controlled…or it would threaten all that they held dear…in the darkness…

It was inevitable that Wolf would die…he knew it too…

He was surrounded by those who had agreed to his death, and yet he kept on producing music…

He continued working on the Requiem, which he knew was for himself…up to the end…

His body by this time was full of poison, given in increments throughout his life, at times, even by those he loved and trusted…

There was no autopsy, of course…

Like a bag of sand, his body was tossed into a lime pit…

The truth would never come to light…

It was, in fact, a perfect murder…

in fact,

the first

Murder Most Foul…

Catalan Miles…a new release…

I can’t tell you when I first heard of Miles Davis. Or his music. I think I heard his music first, and then said, “Where did that come from!” I had never heard such elegant jazz, with such apparent simplicity and clarity of melodic lines… I had no idea until fairly recently that he had gone to Juilliard and then dropped out because it was boring…that he was a target for the police wherever he drove his gorgeous sports cars, or that he had a terrible time with drugs. I just knew I wanted to capture his sound and hold it somewhere, so I could reach in and hear it again in new ways.

Miles Davis turned the world of jazz on its ear with his album Kind of Blue. But then he turned everything upside down later on with his Sketches of Spain. It is this kind of loveliness that I want to capture…

and so, Catalan Miles…(now you know why my horse’s nickname is ‘Miles’…:-)

https://music.apple.com/us/album/1602375860

Imagined…un hommage to John Lennon

I can tell you just when I first heard of the Beatles — it was when I was in school in Edinburgh, Scotland. A buddy dragged me over to his flat at lunchtime, saying, “You’ve got to hear these guys!” I forfeited my usual Scotch egg, which at 1 shilling and 8 pence was just about all I could afford and traipsed over to his flat with a handful of other students.

It was February 4, 1963 — the last luncheon show at the Cavern Club in Liverpool. It was being televised. I think they played a couple of cover songs first, one of them being a blistering Twist and Shout. Other contenders are “My Bonnie,” “Money” and “And Then there was You.” Then they launched into a couple of newly released songs –Love Me Do and PS I Love You. When I heard their original music, I stood in complete shock for a few moments. I could hardly believe my ears. “Where did they get those chords?” I asked. Just about all rock and roll music at that time only used I, IV and V chords. These songs were more complex. “Nothing will ever be the same,” I muttered to myself.

And so it all began.

It wasn’t long before I was hearing their music everywhere I turned. At Charities Week, that April, where students go on ‘border raids’ during the day and party at night, just about the only songs played by the cover bands were theirs. I quickly learned their names — Paul, John, George and Ringo. It wasn’t long before I decided John was my favorite. Incredibly cute with a great voice. I began to see the others as wonderful backup for him.

And so, I let their music speak into my life. I watched them evolve and make some questionable choices and stepped back somewhat when there seemed to be focus on drugs, which I did not do. When John claimed the Beatles were ‘more popular than Jesus’ I cringed. You just don’t do that, I thought.

I happened to be back in Edinburgh, walking up the back of Arthur’s Seat with a buddy when I heard “Hey Jude” for the first time. I had a sinking feeling that their days as a group might be numbered. It felt like the bottom was falling out. And Yoko — who knew what to make of her? I did my best to be accommodating…

I was saddened to hear of John’s excessive drug use, and startled by the changes in his appearance. He seemed to be a walking dead person. When he and Yoko came to New York I kind of rolled my eyes. They seemed to think they were doing something of value, but I couldn’t tell if it was all just for publicity or not.

Then came the night when I heard he had been killed. A senseless act. By an unhinged disappointed fan. I found myself in a state of shock that lasted almost a week. I could not understand why. Gradually, I came to accept it. Then I made a trip to New York. I went to the Dakota. I talked with a garage attendant who had been there during the afternoon, when John signed a copy of Double Fantasy for Chapman, and in the evening, when John was shot. He pointed out the private Dakota courtyard pointed to Yoko’s boxy orangish car. “If the limo had pulled into the courtyard, John would have been safe that day,” he said. The words haunted me. Such a simple thing.

So I carried the sorrow with me. I found a ‘Complete Beatles’ piano songbook. Well, it was not complete. It left out Piggies. But that is not the point. I began playing their songs just about every day, on flute and keyboard, and that has helped a lot — to experience their chord progressions, and the simple yet elegant beauty of their melody lines. Paul and John, for the most part — the sweetness and the edginess made for amazing music.

And then there was Imagine. Simple yet breathtaking. Other performers may come and go, but New Years at Times Square in New York City belongs to John and Imagine. It was then I decided to do a reimagining of Imagine as un hommage to John. For his greatness, his flaws, his search for truth, his becoming a target both in the UK and the US.

This track was originally intended as a working track for a course I am taking in Music Production. But the minute I recorded it, it seemed the Mozart vortex went electric. Waves of energy flowed through, along with a lot of music — songs I had heard, music I had never heard before, rained down on me. If only I could capture it all, I thought…

So here it is, on this night when Imagine is played in his honor…

Imagined

https://music.apple.com/us/album/1602127134

https://promocards.byspotify.com/share/10761b0847faee46ac94848415e214b69836f493

On the 230th anniversary of the death of Wolfgang Mozart…

He told us what was happening to him,

but we did not believe him.

He may even have asked for help,

but we will never know that…

Surrounded by adversaries pretending to be friends,

colleagues and kin,

he fought until the bitter end…

He never gave up…

Instead, Mozart gave us his last major opera,

The Magic Flute…

And he gave us the Requium…

supposed to have been written under another’s name…

A final disgrace…

An ultimate humiliation…

He thought he had to do this for money

for his family…

His body was tossed into an open grave…

No autopsy for him

While his adversaries breathed a sigh of relief

that the truth would never be known

That he was surrounded by a Vortex of the Evil Eye

that took him down

One tiny dose of poison after another

Cleverly spaced

Administered by different people

at various times

Just enough to keep him on edge

to turn the waves of shalom from his music

into money and favor for them

they all took a kind of mark

as a result

Salieri gave him the final dose

at dinner

Then Mozart took to his bed

never to rise again.

Make sure to tell the public he was bad with money

they whispered

That way, no one will ever guess that

what really happened

was a murder most foul…

My best friend is getting married today…

We have been friends for over 30 years. Brad has had my back through thick and thin. I am so excited for him, his lovely bride Missy and her two adorable boys. Brad also has two grown sons from his first marriage.

For now, let me just add that this takes place 11 years to the day of the death of my mother, Katherine, whom I consider to be the real Queen of the Night. She bewitched us all with her charm and dark powers, but now, we are all coming into the light of day…

Here is her obit…

https://www.nj.com/hunterdon-county-democrat/2009/10/former_flemington_resident_kat.html

To make matters even more exciting — if that is possible — today is also the open house of the new owners of the barn where my horse is stabled. That will be, to say the least, Utter Dylerium. I was concerned I might have to pry Miles off the ceiling when I got there, as there were over 200 people, as well as hay rides (next to his pasture) and a band and who knows what else…<groan>…but he loved it all!

And yes, they were even playing Dylan…

So, if you follow along with the plot of Mozart’s last major opera, The Magic Flute, you will see that we have come to the end of it…with Papageno and Papagena living happily ever after…the Queen, the Kingdom of the Night and Monostatos’ power is destroyed forever…oh, and, if you look closely and see that the minister looks kind of like a Sarastro, well, don’t be surprised. After all, this is about The Magic Flute. And, in sweet irony, it was Pastor Jac who came to my house the day that my darling Donner died, amidst all the tumult, ambulance, and the trauma of that terrible afternoon, he was a calming and gentle influence for me and my two younger children who were trying to process it all…

Oh! You just might want to listen for the voice of Wolf in his Zauberflote as well…

Update on Mozart’s Die Zauberflote…230 years later…

Today we celebrate the 230th birthday of the debut of Wolfgang Mozart’s last major opera, The Magic Flute. Beloved through the years and around the world, few operas, if works of art as a whole, have been so wholeheartedly embraced by the public. But, of course, Mozart, being a genius of incomparable stature, has added a mystery into the opera. And God has granted him favor of an extraordinary kind — the opera has come alive, and is right in front of you…

What? you might ask…well, yes, the characters — bad and good — exist in real life. One or two of them you may already know…

Why have I not heard of this? You might ask…

Well, there has been a cover-up of staggering proportions…in fact, my family and I have been targeted and hunted down by those trying to cause us bodily harm as well as slander us…all of this done in the airwaves but below the level of the press…so that criminal activity can continue…

For one thing, it seems we are approaching the part where the Queen of the Night and Monostatos have joined forces to try to destroy Sarastro’s Temple.

I call this Minnegeddon…

However, the Queen of the Night — my mother, Katherine, has been replaced by the wanna-be — my sister, Angela. And, if that name rings a bell (Angel this and that, Angelina) you might be guessing that the likes of Bob Dylan (pursuit of the Nightingale in a number of his songs) has been a part of the cadre I call Monostatos — which also includes Dylan’s mini-me — ex-husband (who also adopted my children) Bill Scrickel of the Minnesota Orchestra…

We could, in fact, say that Bob and Bill are telling us just how Mozart is treated…(stay tuned for further discussion on this…)

Papageno — my best friend, Brad, has found his true love, Missy, with her two lovely children…

And my three fabulous children, the three K’s, as well as their families, are protected by the great Zauberflote…

Speaking of a real-life Sarastro, that is Wernher Von Braun, extraordinary genius who took us to the moon and beyond; with, however, a severely flawed background…beloved Papa…

‘Papa’ and the Odd coincidences of ‘1’ and ‘9’…

We mourn those we have lost — my mother (Dylan’s Queen this and Queen that), and my father (Dylan’s Jokerman)…

and

We especially grieve those we have recently lost — my wonderful husband Donner Brown and dearly loved stepson, Kevin Dixon…

And as for Wolf…well, I think you’ll hear his voice in the sound of the Zauberflote..

This has been an arduous journey…our family was torn apart to get the lawlessness out…

You can read all about the Bob Dylan connection at my blog, Dylagence…

https://dylagence.wordpress.com/

Here’s my song Pamina’s grief…

Why I teach…

I can say in all honesty, looking back over my experiences, that without my teachers I would not be alive today. In fact, I probably would have died long ago. The persecution by my birth family was so severe I barely had the will or energy to keep on going at times.

Most of my teachers had no idea what was going on in my family’s house. How could they? A possibility of being caused bodily harm, verbal and emotional abuse were not subjects even discussed back then. And how would they have known? I did not have the words to tell them.

Some of my teachers seemed to sense something. I love them, every single one of them. A few of them tried to help. The first was a piano teacher who insisted on teaching me chord structure and voicing at a very young age. I had started taking piano lessons by the time I was three years old. My Mother uncovered my composition book and promptly fired the teacher.

The band director at Andrew Warde High School went out of his way for me. He mentored me into a spot as the Principal Flute of the University of Bridgeport Orchestra when I was a sophomore, as Warde had only a band. He enlisted the help of a teacher there as well. The teacher my Mother selected had me practicing Kulau exercises to perfection. But with the university teacher, before I knew it, I had learned the Mozart D Major Flute Concerto. I used it for the Connecticut Allstate audition and won a spot as first flute in their Concert Band. Mr. German then insisted I perform the Concerto for the school, which I did, to an astonished and enthusiastic response. I then went into the Girl’s bathroom and broke down sobbing. No one from my birth family attended the performance.

It was the first performance of Mozart playing Mozart in about two hundred years. My best friend, Allison, attempted to console me, to no avail.

And so my school life became my real life, while my family life remained a quagmire. Each day I would deliberately close the door on the darkness of the Fairfield house and strive to do my best at school.

I can give you many other examples of teachers who went out of their way for me. They did not know me personally, nor were they likely doing anything different for me than they did for all the other students. But it was because of their mentoring that I kept on going.

And so, when I teach, I am shot out of a cannon every morning. I am a substitute in the public and charter schools of our area, so I usually have a different assignment every day. I don’t know who I will work with, or what will happen. To complicate things, the schools of today are a far cry from the ones I attended. I frequently feel like a sojourner in a foreign land.

But that’s another story.

I just hope that I am able to give back in some small measure what was given to me. I hope that I can provide a nurturing word or validating response that will be of value to the students. I want to make sure I don’t leave anyone out…just in case there is one dealing with what seems like an unfathomable darkness at home…

Desperately trying to turn a pig’s ear into a silk purse (vintage FB post from pre-lockout days….)

Originally published August 14, 2010…

Somebody (or bodies) has been throwing money at the Minnesota Orchestra. They have made repeated trips to Europe in the last ten years; each time, it is claimed the trip is paid for by an ‘anonymous donor’. Each trip costs at least a million dollars, so these donors must have much more than that available to them. This time it is the Proms in the UK; didn’t they do the same thing last year with the same caveat? How ironic.

Do they think that if the MO is thrown up against the wall of greatness enough times, some of it will stick? Whomever is coming up with all this money is wasting their time as well — they should have first paid the 50 dollars, or whatever it would take, to have their name changed. They used to be called the Minneapolis Symphony; but those glorious smalltown days are over. They insisted on having a wider scope, a greater message to deliver — so they are stuck with the inglorious tag of Minnesota — or Monostatos — One State. They are dragging themselves down with chains of their own making, oblivious to it all. Hilarious.

August 14, 2021

Hint: They’re still at it, only on a tad smaller scale. And, yes, when I was naively studying flute with Sid Zeitlin, the MO’s Principal Flute, he spent the better part of a lesson chastising me for over the MO’s name change. At the time, it made no sense whatsoever…

But now, I think this may be Minnegeddon, where the truth of what happened to Wolfgang Mozart is revealed…and the Minnesota Orchestra and their standing-bass player William Schrickel have a part in that…