My Testimony…as a Believer*

I was born into a family of very 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. My Mother was causing me bodily harm and my Father was protecting her. My sister, four years younger was no help, and, in fact, seemed to hide in the shadows and gloat when I was being persecuted. When family came to visit, there seemed to be a lot of whispering and conspiring of some sort. In utter hypocrisy, my family did attend church regularly and the church was a significant part of our lives. It 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 tun. She also refused the horse riding lessons I had begged for, and instead insisted that I study art. I was, however, allowed to learn the instrument of my choice…the flute. That puzzled me at the time. 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?

Then, a series of events turned things upside down. My Father almost died by suicide during 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 was happening to me behind the scenes. 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 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.

I then met a man at the place where I worked whom I considered a knight in shining armor, as he took care of me. We married and moved 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 then found out that I was expecting again. How could God be so good to me? I asked in astonishment. 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, 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.

And I began once again to play the flute. 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.

We moved to Minnesota and joined the Good Samaritan Methodist Church. My husband had a serious drinking problem and could 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. 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. It was a dream of mine come true, but it had come at a terrible price. 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.

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 realized that this was the Zauberflote, 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. I found myself, essentially, locked out of the Minnesota Orchestra. When the players were themselves locked out in 2012, I realized that this could be in response to their treatment of the Zauberflote and myself.

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. I had met a good Christian friend by this time who taught me about spiritual warfare, so I began to do battle in situations, using it, that appeared hopeless in the natural realm. Gradually, I would 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 the love of my life ten years later, and he was a great blessing to us all, until he unexpectedly died in my arms in 2016.

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…

Just last week there was a surprise encounter which I can see was a blessing..

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….

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…

They took food out of the mouths of my children…

Such was my life after being locked out by the Minnesota Orchestra bass player I call “Monostatos” and his cohorts. I performed concert after concert to showcase the lovely Zauberflote, but when I put up posters that included my phone number to request tickets, I received only hundreds of hang-up calls. This was incredibly distressing to us. I was especially concerned about the effect on my children.

None of them attended, of course. They could have lifted a finger to help, but did not…

Such was our life in those days. I remember feeling so jealous of our neighbors, who were lovely people who had escaped from Iran. The air around our townhomes was always full of rich perfumes and the smell of fresh fruit. They juiced melons and berries and their home overflowed with nurishment. I wished that I could have showered my lovely children with the same sort of excess.

But instead, after giving a series of concerts at the Art Room of the Hennepin Avenue Methodist Church, payments for those concerts forced me to by.a bag of potatoes, which at least I could afford. We ate potatoes in every form for a month. I called it “Potato January”. We still talk ruefully of those days…

<sigh>…

The Bob Dylan connection…looks like it’s all about the stones…

How strange it seems to be bringing it all back home to the first time I heard Bob Dylan’s song Like a Rolling Stone. I had been kicked out of my family’s home in Fairfield Connecticut right after graduating from Bucknell University, Phi Beta Kappa and University Honors (one of two and the only woman to do that) because I had taken a job in New York City. I found myself on a lazy Saturday afternoon walking down 57th street with thirty dollars to my name and a month’s railroad pass. My first month’s salary was going to pay the employment agency that found the job for me — at MONY, on 1740 Broadway. I found a place to stay and it all worked out ok, but when I first heard that song the following year, I thought it had been written about me. All I could hear was the screeching, mocking voice of Dylan. I tuned him out after that. For a very long time.

But now it is all coming together, and the connection makes sense, as it looks like Bob Dylan and his people had been receiving information about me from my birth family, without my knowledge and consent. And some of it seems to have ended up in some of his songs. The intent appears to be to create a false reality that would cause me to lose hope…

I discuss this at my blog, Dylagence…https://dylagence.wordpress.com/

Here is an example…

And at the center of the vortex…

It looks like Bob Dylan has been stoning me, to try to cause me to feel slandered and humiliated…and encouraging his insider fans to do the same with the oblique references in some songs coming from ‘inside’ information from my birth family…

The Dylan connection seems to be in the vortex.

I can’t change that, even if I wanted to.

The battle seems to be in the vortex.

The battle is already won…

Wolfgang Mozart and the “Amadeus” slander factory…

Recently I taught a room full of second-graders for the day.  It was an interesting experience.  During storytelling time the lesson plan (devised by the regular teacher) instructed them to sit cross-legged on small carpet squares while the story was read.  It was, to me, a rather confusing story — Goldilocks and the Three Bears, but in a play put on by penguins.  So, to some extent, I don’t hold it against the students that not all were interested.

I discovered quickly that half of the class had decided on their own not to sit and listen to the story.  Instead, they were running around ‘cleaning up’ the classroom and chattering. I thanked the students who had been on task and was planning to take down their names (from their name tags) so that their teacher would give them credit for this.  Then, one of the off-task girls came running up to me, very excited.  “Mrs. B, we’ve all  written our names on the blackboard so that our teacher will know we were the ones that cleaned up the room!”.  I nodded and smiled to myself.  It was, in fact, possible to outsmart a second-grader!  On my notes to the lesson plan I added, “It looks like all the students who were off-task during the reading time have written their names on the blackboard.”

And what does this have to do with Wolfgang Mozart?  Or me, for that matter? Most anyone who knows anything about Wolf will acknowledge that either he had some very bad luck during his life or there were a number of people bad-mouthing him wherever he went.  When else has a musician simply out to do their job created such controversy?  But, no matter where Wolf turned, he was met by those trying to block him and destroy his credibility.  It is my position that he was slandered, and the slander contributed to his untimely death.  And it is my belief that the movie “Amadeus” combines most of the slanderous myths about him into one carefully-crafted package so that anybody could simply ridicule Mozart as a person while stealing his music and performing as though they were he. One or two even seem to think they have had the inside track.

When I started writing Piper to the Alternative long ago, amidst considerable controversy — one instructor at the Loft even attempted to steal the manuscript — I wrote about the “Vienna Mystery” surrounding Mozart’s death.  I saw that there was a vortex of negative energy around him that I call the “vortex of the evil eye” that caused his death.  A number of people close to him had agreed to his murder. They treated him as though he was already dead and waited for something to happen.  A few of them actually did cause him bodily harm — to weaken him. He never knew where the next attack would come from. At that time I had no understanding that my family and I too might possibly be victims of that negative vortex.

Now I know that this is indeed what happened to Mozart.  The current pandemic is, ironically, releasing the truth of this long-held secret.  The lawlessness of those who have tried to silence his Zauberflote is becoming visible at the level of the public. They have all written their names on the chalkboard.

They, like the second-graders, have managed to solve the problem for me.  And, as Minnegeddon unfolds, I think you will be able to see them more clearly if you wish…

 

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