Vortex of the Evil Eye…

When I began writing the draft for what has become “Vienna Mystery” I had a strong conviction that the real story of what happened to Wolfgang Mozart was yet to be revealed.  In all my research — and I have read everything I could find on his life, both in English and German — it became evident to me that there was a mystery of grand proportions around his death and the events that led up to it.  The irreverent movie “Amadeus” skirts around these issues, but in a mocking way — as though to say that there was so much lawlessness around what happened to Wolf that nobody would ever be able to get through it, much less communicate the truth in any manner that was coherent.

Gradually, I came to see that there appeared to be a vortex around Wolf, that consisted of those who flattered him to his face and worked to destroy him behind his back.  They acted in secret and in stealth.  This vortex of ill-intent surrounded Wolf, so that he was unable to see outside of it.  Instead, it seemed that he was dragged further and further down into it.

And then he died.

There was no autopsy.

There was no burial spot.

Those in the vortex expressed shock and dismay.  But then they quickly went about their business.  In at least one case, that involved making money off of Wolf’s music.

At one point I had an insight — that if a person of stature is removed from office, so to speak, that is not simply called a ‘murder’.  It is an assassination.  If this vortex of ill-intent consisted of people who had agreed to Wolf’s demise and then sandbagged him and tricked him until that happened, that would be an assassination that was supposed to remain undetected.

And, in unintended irony, did the dreadful “Amadeus” spill the beans? What if the vortex consisted not simply of Salieri, who is something of a red herring, but of all of those around him?

What if Mozart had been poisoned, not to kill him outright, but in small doses, to try to weaken him, so that he would then succumb to death by ‘natural causes’?

Oh wait — didn’t Wolf even say something to that effect himself?

While I was digging into those revelations, though I did find it curious that some of those around me seemed to find my involvement in research of the assassination of JFK somewhat hilarious, I was blessed with ignorance that something similar had happened to me.

I was systematically poisoned by my birth family.  I think the reason was to weaken me, and, in my case, control me.  I think this sinister treatment was part of a campaign to create a false persona.  I could be wrong.

Perhaps the one remaining member of my birth family can clear that up for me.

 

 

 

 

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A Simple Christmas…M4B*

Because of the persecution at the hands of my birth family, which included being systematically poisoned in their attempts to control this great gift of shalom that is die zauberflote and try to use it against God’s will, Christmas has a special meaning for me. I learned it the hard way. At the time, I could not understand why it seemed that God had abandoned me to people who insisted on turning themselves into monsters. Yet nonetheless I willingly stood in ankle-deep icy mud, at times with tears running down my face, and sang Christmas carols with the neighborhood children in my hometown of Fairfield, Connecticut. Although I came to realize that the persecution would intensify during the holidays, I fairfield house vnever lost my love of every piece of music connected to Yeshua, the Messiah.

But much of the hooplah came to make me quite miserable. The tree, the tinsel, the cotton batting on the mantle with a cardboard sleigh and reindeer, and of course, “Santa Claus” — whoever that was — came to represent to me an abyss of hopelessness.

“Let’s have our Christmas!” my Mother would chuckle, as she got out her notepad to record which gift was from whom, so we could immediately send thank-you notes for everything under the tree.

Well, that was it. The Bible sat dusty and untouched on a bookshelf, and everything swirled around who got what. And of course, I seemed to end up with items I had never wished for nor could ever use. That seemed to be part of the orchestration.

At the time, being quite young, it was all very confusing. Now, looking back, I can see how God has used everything for good, for I literally cannot tolerate anything having to do with Christmas that does not directly lift up the Lord Jesus Christ. I no longer ‘celebrate’ what I call ‘Xmas’. No tree. No lights. No wrappings. Just the music. And The Presence.

And I am richly blessed…I invite you to do the same…:-)

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

The ‘big secret’ that wasn’t….M4B*

If any of the countless people who have tried to destroy die zauberflote, and me in the process (Mr. Schrickel, for one), had bothered to ask me if I had any understanding that there was a good possibility I had been systematically poisoned as a child by my Mother so that she could ‘control’ me and, of course the position associated with being the heir of Wolf’s legacy, and try to use substance connected to die zauberflote for herself, I would have said, ‘well, of course I did.’

What sort of happy, carefree child, healthy as a horse, who finds themself suddenly sick as a dog, while their usually hostile Mother, suddenly switches into helpful-nurse mode — serving up ginger ale with shaved ice and saltines — wouldn’t, after a few such episodes start to ask, ‘what is really going on here?’

And so, yes, I was aware of what was taking place. Being able to get out of the situation in one piece was another matter entirely. To complicate matters even more, I was forced to attend and participate in a church I can, in retrospect, only call apostate. What I was apparently supposed to ‘learn’ by this false church is that God was unable to help me and did not favor me so would not help me either.

My hope was to escape to New York City and find help there. But rather than going to a conservatory, I ended up being kicked out of the Fairfield house by my Mother with $30 to my name (while she withheld my childhood savings account which had a significant amount of money) after I had managed to find a job outside of music in New York. She demanded I quit. I refused.

My Father almost died by his own hand in that house. He took rat poison in the basement. Did he realize what she was doing? Was he a part of it? I will never know for certain from their lips because neither of them talked, and they are both now gone.

The behavior of the one surviving birth family member, on the other hand, speaks volumes to me. The fact that I outlived our Mother seems to have stunned this person, who quickly moved to a small West-African country without extradition to the US (where, in the state of Connecticut, attempted murder has no statute of limitations) this person darts around the US during the summer, hiding at times even in the homes of some of my family members. This person claims to be a Christian surrounded with a ‘cloud of witnesses’. Needless to say, this is lawless behavior. Is this person,as a CT States Attorney cautioned me, looking for an accomplice to finish what my Mother began? I hope not, but I do not know. Will this person repent of their involvement in this murderous agenda? I certainly hope so…

I do know that I have been healed and delivered of all the damage inflicted on me in that house by the power and grace of the gift of Holy Spirit of the Lord Jesus Christ that is die zauberflote!

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

The Other Mozart…M4B*

pamela flute

December 3, 2016
Minneapolis, Minnesota

My name is Pamela Brown. I am the other Mozart — “Pamina”. What do I mean by that? Let me tell you.

I am a Christian, first and foremost. And I am flute player. I play Die Zauberflote – not the opera, but the flute about which the opera was written. Die Zauberflote is to me and always has been the pearl of great price — paid for on the cross by our Lord Jesus Christ.  It is a gift of the Holy Spirit. It is so profound that it causes controversy everywhere it is played. It causes upheaval. Because of it, some stumble. It causes outrage. It causes some to try to hunt me down. It has even caused some of my own kin to try to destroy me. Die Zauberflote has the attributes of a gift of the Holy Spirit. It divides and discerns and it turns everything upside down. It has torn my family apart and yet uses everything for good.

I talk about Die Zauberflote wherever I go, and ask people to listen to it. Some respond with tears of joy — others with the gnashing of teeth. I never know what to expect. There are some who say they are Christian who refuse to hear Die Zauberflote or my testimony. It seems they would prefer to try to use Die Zauberflote to their own ends. That, of course, always ends up in disaster. Such was the fate of Ananias and Sapphira (in Acts 5). This gift of the Holy Spirit protects itself. It cannot be used against God’s will. Some who have ill intent are only deceived into thinking that it can.

In one respect, I was born in Chicago, Illinois and grew up in Connecticut. In another, more artistic respect, I come out of a vortex of time and space created by Wolfgang Mozart and the consequences of his life and death. For Mozart had this same gift. We hear it in his music. Some even call it the “Mozart effect”. In person, it was overwhelming to those around him. It caused people to take offense and plot to destroy him. I think he too was hunted down, even by some he considered his friends and kin. Despite that, he managed to create over 600 exquisite pieces of music that are still held in the highest esteem today, almost 300 years later. Die Zauberflote also has ‘that certain sound’ –you can hear that it is a gift of shalom, and of joy.  It is also, like Wolf’s music, a gift, for you.

I invite you to listen to Die Zauberflote, and I hope you will be open to hearing my testimony of how the Lord pried my children and me out of the jaws of the enemy, rescued us from the murderous ill-intent of my birth family, and has set us in a safe place where I can share this great gift with you.

I am looking for those who feel called to help me bring forth this great gift at the level of the press, and to the world. If you feel that this is something appropriate for you I will be humbled to include you in this historic quest. One way or another I would appreciate your prayers and good wishes. And please, do not ‘believe’ anything that I say, but test what I say and decide for yourself what to think.

BTW, I am posting this today at 10:30 a.m. which is the day and time my oldest child, Keith, was born.  I am also richly blessed to have his younger brother and sister, Kirk and Kathy.

pamina@mindspring.com

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

Minnegeddon Revisited…M4B*

Long ago, when I was a flute performance major at the UofM I said to a fellow classmate, Greg, “Some day there will be a Minnegeddon at Orchestra Hall.” I remember clearly saying that, but I don’t recall exactly why. By that time I had already come up against the dead-end that studying with their Principal Flute, Zeitlin, appeared to represent. He had, in fact, tried to convince me that I was ‘too old’ to play in an orchestra, so should become a university prof. But when I did that he went into a tizzy. “I can teach you everything you need to know!” he stuttered and spat at me. By that time I was thoroughly confused. And so, by the time I spoke to Greg it seemed logical to accept that there was probably some sort of conflict between me and the Minnesota Orchestra. Less logically, it seemed that Sid tried to blame me for the fact that the Orchestra had changed its name from the Minneapolis Symphony, which all the players seemed to prefer, to the wider-scoped MO.

Needless to say, I was, at that time blissfully naive. I had no real understanding of what I was involved with. It was just as well…

During the 2012 lockout of the MO players, the concept of Minnegeddon appeared to me again. This time, it took an interesting turn, for by now, the player I call “Monostatos” had insinuated themself into my family and then left, leaving upheaval everywhere. My days of having been enticed to practice on the stage at Orchestra Hall were over. But there was still this tangential connection. One of my family members had a connection to the MO through their work. In fact, at one point I wrote a letter to Mr. Vanska, describing my concerns. I asked this family member to help make sure this letter went directly to him. But they refused to lift a finger to help me, claiming, “I don’t want you to use my contacts.” Did the lockout of the MO players actually begin with the MO, in effect, locking me out? I began to wonder…

Then there was the Monday evening in October 2012 when hurricane Sandy abruptly changed course and headed for not only New York City, but my home town of Fairfield, Connecticut. I was in the indoor arena, taking a dressage lesson. I had climbed off of my horse, Miles, and was standing next to him, tightening his girth. I looked at my instructor, and said to her, “that’s odd. The only horse I was allowed to ride with any regularity when I was a child was named ‘Sandy’. Sandy was an albino Arab given to family friends who had a farm in Shelton, CT. He had blue eyes and pink skin. A pale horse indeed…

Was there some sort of connection between the weather and what I called ‘Minnegeddon’, I began to wonder? I had visited NYC and Connecticut recently for reunions. Odd. I recalled that I had also spent some time in San Francisco in 2011, near Nihonmachi, where I had once lived, and a few weeks later there was an earthquake that may have moved Japan 8 feet.

It was about that time that I began to ask a lot of questions. No, I can’t say I have any answers. But I thought I would share some of them with you. I believe there is a gift of the Holy Spirit in Mozart’s music, and also in die zauberflote. When Wolf was alive, it was also connected to him. I think there was a vortex of some sort around him. People could sense it. This caused the continual controversy around him. I think he was probably murdered in order to stop this energy from affecting those around him. What if this gift is also present in his music? What if, every time it is played, no matter by whom, that gift is shared? His music is played all around the world. What if it is affecting changes wherever it is played? What if it is even having an effect on the weather?

I think you get my drift. As an odd footnote, let me mention two more puzzling coincidences. The 2005 Hurricane Katrina devastated the New Orleans area. This area is significant to me because of its connection to the Garrison investigation and the assassination of JFK, which I also research. In fact, the evening before Katrina hit, my husband Donner and I were entertaining a venerable Warren Commission proponent in the research community, Prof. Ken Rahn. We had, in fact, earlier spent the day at the Minnesota State Fair, debating JFK issues. We had to agree-to-disagree on just about everything. It dawned on me that the nickname given to my daughter by her Dad was “Katrina, Katrina, ballerina.” Just this fall Hurricane Matthew devastated North Carolina. Oddly, a couple of weeks earlier I spent an afternoon at a Tomorrow’s World presentation with Rod McNair. They are based in Charlotte, NC. And oh, perhaps you can guess the name of my son-in-law?:-)

I know. Just odd coincidences. Nevertheless, perhaps all of us who are Believers can take a moment to humble ourselves before our Creator and ask for His guidance and wisdom for the times that may lie ahead…

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

P.S. Another odd coincidence — not long after I published this post a 7.4 earthquake hit in the same area of Japan as the one in 2011: http://www.reuters.com/article/us-japan-quake-idUSKBN13G2DC

For my sister, “Starla” — a Mother’s Day wish come true…:-)M4B*

There has been a secret in our family…one, in fact, that my birth family has risked life and limb and their very souls to keep from coming to light. My Father almost died by his own hand because of it. My Mother tried to put curses on me and my children because of it. My family moved away from my home town to a remote area a six-hour drive away because of it. My sister has moved halfway around the world because of it.

My birth family attempted to use my precious children to continue the persecution that this secret represented. They were targeted from birth, it seemed. At the time, there appeared to be little I could do to prevent it.

But Gd in his great mercy finds a way to use even the most horrible situations for good. All of this is beyond our earthly comprehension. As I watched the consequences of my birth family’s predatory treatment of my children, my heart was breaking and my soul was seared with almost incomprehensible grief. But the Lrd was telling me to “Rejoice!” How could I possibly do this, I wondered. And yet, I did my best to make a sacrifice of praise of what I could not understand.

But now, this year, this Mother’s Day (which also happens to be my birthday) I do have an answer, and it has been worth the wait.

The Lrd has used all the tumult of my childrens’ relationships with my birth family to get the secret out into the light. The secret itself — my birth family attempted to put a ‘mark’ on me. This was done in stealth and deceit, through systematic intermittent poisoning. The goal was to make sure that, even with this great gift of die zauberflote, I would have no alternative but to doubt Gd. I was supposed to believe I did not have His favor, but they did. I was supposed to believe I was not ‘good’ enough to go to Heaven, but they were.

My birth family treated me as though I was already dead and waited for something to happen. What did happen was that Gd has turned our family upside down.

And there has been a great concept at work here. Children cannot lie to their Mother, even if they wish. Children always tell the truth to one who loves them, through their word and action.

My children are of no more use to you, “Starla.” 🙂

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

My Mother’s curse…and an interesting coincidence…:-0 M4B*

I sincerely doubt that anyone who met my mother, Katherine, was not bewitched by her charm and poise.  In fact, I would have myself, had I not also been a target of her vicious, even murderous, agendas.  When she was charming it was almost impossible to realize that she could, in an instant, lash out in a demeaning and disrespectful manner.  I quickly became aware of her dual personality and, even as a small child, never trusted her to be honest with me or look after my best interests.  In fact, by the time I turned four, I had come to realize that ‘nothing was as it seems or as I am told.’  It seemed that my Father just stood by and watched things happen.  My younger sister, Angela, seemed to hide and gloat, and did not, or was not able to, help me.

However, as a child, everywhere I turned, there my Mother was.  Only when I was sent to my room (the precursor to being grounded) or allowed to go outside after finishing my homework, to the relative heaven of the fluffy fields, stream and woods surrounding our dead-end street in Fairfield, Connecticut, did I feel that I could calm down and really think for myself.  Her influence was very controlling.

However, the commotion surrounding my most likely having been poisoned by her on more than one occasion caused a terrible upheaval in my birth family.  My Father almost succeeded in taking his own life when he figured out what had happened.  He spent quite a while in a hospital recovering.  During that time, my Mother decided to take things into her own hands (once again).  After returning from a session in New Haven with my Father and his doctors, she came into the livingroom where I was sitting and perched herself on the footstool to my Father’s chair.  At that moment, the air seemed to become both black and white around her.  There was a fearful intensity of negative energy.  Her eyes became black as coal, with a white light of some sort seeming to emanate from them.

“You are just like your Father, Pam. The same thing is going to happen to you!” she spat at me.

At that moment three black frogs jumped out of her mouth.  Not real frogs — something that looked just like ‘frogs’ in a spiritual sense.

At that point the black and white light dissipated.  She left the room and walked upstairs. I felt alone, and frightened.  In our house at that time the Bible sat on a shelf with other books.  It was rarely opened.  I had not read Revelation, and, at the time knew nothing about a possibly analogous mention of ‘frogs’ in Revelation 16:13.  I did not know what that meant at the time, and I can’t say that I do even now.  Some of those writing commentary on this verse seem to tiptoe around the fact that ‘frogs’ are specifically mentioned: http://biblehub.com/commentaries/revelation/16-13.htm.  All I know is that is that ‘frogs’ are what I saw that night…

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

 

Minnegeddon — New York City and the “Babylon” of Revelation 18 M4B*

 

Though born in Chicago, I grew up in Fairfield Connecticut, not far from New York City.  My parents were transplants from South Dakota, so, of course, everything about NYC was exciting to them.  Once we had settled in from the transfer from the Midwest (my father was a metallurgical engineer) we started taking day trips to New York.  One of my fondest memories is of going out to the Statue of Liberty on a foggy morning, watching the astoundingly beautiful monument emerge from the fog as we drew close to it, the golden flame in contrast to the gray drizzle. As I grew older, of course, I wanted to live there.  Who wouldn’t?  Fairfield was tiny, the area had nothing but a charming “seashore” (the Long Island Sound) strewn with seaweed and mussels.  I also sensed that New York City had a darkness, a mystery of sorts, that intrigued and puzzled me.

In early September 2001 I was giving flute lessons at a school for home-schooled students one day a week.  It was across the river from us, in the St. Paul, MN area.  As the school year had just started, there were new instructors.  One of them had a fairly simple last name, but I was unable to remember it correctly.  For some odd reason, I kept calling her Ms. “Huffman”.  I was puzzled, to say the least. Usually, I either remembered a person’s name exactly and forever, or not at all.  This was a bit different.

Every evening I read a chapter of the Bible before bed.  Sometimes there seems to be an inclination to focus on one chapter.  At that time, it was Revelation 18.  As I read through the terrifying prophecy of a city that would be sunk beneath the sea I wondered what it would feel like to see people covered in ashes, and asked myself what sort of disaster would take place in ‘just one hour’.  I tried to imagine how those with ships would stand far off and look at the smoke of this city’s burning.

On September 11 2001 I was sipping coffee, watching CNN, preparing for the day, when the news came in of a plane hitting one of the World Tower buildings.  It must have been a small plane, off its course, I remember thinking.  I don’t recall if anything to that effect was said by a newscaster. Then they showed footage of a gaping hole with smoke pouring out one side of the building.  I recalled for a moment something I had read about their construction long ago, when they were built.  The Twin Towers had ‘load-bearing walls’. One of those had been severely breached.  Below, the first responders seemed stunned and somehow terrified.  Although everyone was hoping for the best, the portents were there.

As news of the Pentagon hit came on the air I decided to still leave (I do not know why) for a dermatologist appointment not far away — it the city of Chanhassen, which is home, ironically, to a large golden pyramid-shaped temple connected to a group called Eckankar.  That temple had always given me an eery feeling; even more so that day.  When I went inside the doctor’s waiting room there was total silence — no TV, no radio.  I felt that I was in a time warp; but at least I was able to take a deep breath for a few moments.  After the routine appointment I went out to my car and turned on the radio and started up the car for the drive back home.  Stations were jumbled on top of each other.  The news seemed almost incomprehensible — both WTC towers had fallen, and a fourth plane had crashed into a field in Pennsylvania; ironically, not far from where I had once gone to school. I was unable to process all the new information, and began to become lightheaded.  I was on side roads by this time and drove carefully, ready to pull over if necessary.

When I returned home, of course, my husband confirmed my worst fears, and the news channels carried nothing else but this disaster.  Our borders had been breached for the first time since Pearl Harbor by, we were quickly told, a group of fanatics.  Two of them had trained at a place called “Huffman Aviation” in Florida.  When I heard that, I began to shake. I went back to Revelation 18.  The entire area near the WTC towers was covered in dust, and everyone looked like mummies.  The cameras panned on lower Manhattan from CNN in New Jersey, showing at a distance the smoke of its burning.   Every one of us watched, helplessly.  And for some reason I even now do not understand, I began to praise Gd — not for the attacks, but for preparing me to see that no matter what happened, His hand was also there in the darkness.  I think He held the buildings up as long as possible to get as many people as possible out.  I wondered if this tragedy would bring the city of New York to its knees in true repentance.

That was not to be — instead, they have rebuilt.

So could 9/11 have been a heads-up?  How about, also, Hurricane Sandy, which actually changed direction and headed directly toward New York City, creating terrible calamity?  Over 300 students at Fairfield University became homeless as a result of its assault on just that small section of the shoreline of the Long Island Sound.

New York City still stands.  But for how long?  Will it become true in reality at some point that “the sound of …flutists…shall not be heard in you anymore?”  Rev. 18:22(a)

*M4B=Mozart For Believers

 

 

 

 

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