A few of the mysteries behind the opera The Magic Flute…

Almost from the moment of its premiere the public was talking about the occult significance of Wolfgang Mozart’s last major opera, The Magic Flute. There was so much to consider — after all, it was full of Masonic symbols, and, despite the fact that it was a jocular singspiel, it held a pregnant sense of awe — of things not explained. To make things even more convincing, Mozart himself died a few weeks later. Was there a connection? Was Mozart poisoned? What happened? Everyone wanted to know. Or was it just the hand of fate? Some asked. Perhaps writing the Requiem under someone else’s name was what did him in? Others questioned.

Well, for one reason or another, the mystery has continued to this day. And for good reason. What if the opera were, in fact, a prophecy that included Wolf himself? What if that prophecy was to come to life over 200 years later?

Unthinkable! said many. Impossible, said others. Keep the lid on it! said the assassins…no one must know!

However, if this were to be the case, let me provide some details that are implied in the opera. I don’t ask anyone to believe what I say, simply to test my words. Just for the moment take as an hypothesis that the opera being prophecy is simply a possibility — extraordinary though that might be.

Here might be a few insights —

Pamina’s father dies after presenting her with the magic flute. Her Mother, the Queen of the Night, flies into a rage as she feels her power is threatened by her daughter’s having the flute. Sarastro, Pamina’s step-father, steps in and kidnaps Pamina to keep her out of harm’s way, but says nothing to Pamina, who is confused and frightened. Sarastro happens to be Wernher von Braun, with whom Pamina and her family have a connection. Sarastro’s temple of Isis and Osiris is the occult secrets of those committed in the US and Russia to going to the Moon and Mars.  It has, in fact, a number of different locations.  Pamina is brought to a place of relative safety, in the frozen tundra of the Northlands…

The three children are Pamina’s children. They are an even greater threat to her Mother, who comes after them and tries to bewitch them and steal them from Pamina, who is horrified. The Queen of the Night holds the children ransom, creating even more terror. To make matters even more sinister, the Queen has a ‘spare’, so to speak, in Pamina’s sister, Starla, (the so-called ‘other Queen’) who assists her Mother in stealth to try to turn the children against Pamina. And, last-but-certainly not least — add to that the possibility that Monostatos, who happens to be a bass player in an orchestra of false servants in Minnesota, has also attempted, frantically and viciously, to insinuate himself into the lives of Pamina and her children, in order to help the Queen.  He tries to cause Pamina bodily harm and slanders her to his colleagues.  She continues on, following the direction of the Zauberflote, which is always changing, and is always charming.

Pamina has had glimpses of Tamino, but nothing more, except his picture. When she sings her desperate aria “Ach, ich ful’s”…she feels she has lost everything. As the children are being deceived by the Queen, even they cannot help her.

And yet, Pamina perseveres, in love and in faith…with the help of her longest best-friend, Papageno.  Papageno gives Pamina words of hope and faith at just the right moments…and together they keep moving forward…

Update 12.24.20 (M4B*)

I went to Orchestra Hall this week, on December 21st, in fact. That was also the night of the great “Christmas Star”. That day is significant to me because it is the birthday of Monostatos, who affected our lives so profoundly, and it is also the day we were married, long ago. (That lasted 666 days.) I decided to lay hands on the doors of Orchestra Hall and rebuke the enemy in the Name of Yeshua in order to demolish all of the strongholds connected with Monostatos persecuting me on that darkened stage because of the Zauberflote.

It was a cloudy day, cold, with a bitter wind.  I had invited Papageno to go with me, but he had declined. Once I reached the Nicollet Mall I was relieved that he had done so, for what I was witnessing was unexpected and almost overwhelming.  The mall stores are basically shuttered.  The only exception is Target.  There are no Christmas lights.  There are no lights at all. It is desolate. Dystopian. Like Blade Runner. Orchestra Hall had stacks of cardboard boxes in its lobby.  There are signs on the pavement reminding everyone to stand six feet apart.  WCCO is shuttered. They don’t show you that on the evening news. There were no crowds. Just people milling and talking, all carrying bags of some sort.  Acrid cigarette smoke. A woman shouting into her phone. Stragglers walking aimlessly.

Minnegeddon in Minneapolis, I thought.  What else could I call it?

I then went over to Monostatos’ apartment building and laid hands on the door there and rebuked the enemy again.  Hopefully, this nightmare involving him and the Minnesota Orchestra will now come to an end.

Is this what happens when you lock out Mozart?

During the 2012 lockout of the Minnesota Orchestra players I asked a family member who knew Mr. Vanska’s assistant for help getting to Mr. Vanska, to ask to play the Zauberflote for him.  She replied that she ‘didn’t want me to use her contacts.’  I was saddened by this, as the letter I had written to Mr. Vanska had gone unanswered, and I did not even know for certain if he had received it.  But now I could see that it wasn’t enough.  A slap on the wrist for Monostatos was not in everyone’s highest good.

But this is.

They are locked out yet again.  Orchestra Hall is dark yet again.  But this time I don’t think the lights will go back on until we all have some answers.

*M4B=Mozart for Believers

On Wolf’s birthday….M4B*

262 years ago today an extraordinary event occurred — the birth of Wolfgang Mozart. I say this because he carried with him an unusual gift — not only supremacy in every area of the music of his time, but an additional gift that made him unique. This is a gift of the Holy Spirit. This gift permeated everything he composed, and affected everything he did. This gift caused him to be the most celebrated musician of his age, and also the most hunted and despised. I believe this gift also caused him to be murdered — assassinated, in fact.

If you are willing to keep an open mind to the fact that most of what you have heard about Wolfgang Mozart is false — a lot of it deliberately so — I can tell you what I really think happened to him and why…as, in this respect, the same thing has been happening to me…

That is, if you are at all interested…

 

*M4B=Mozart for Believers

 

Look to Minnesota in the New Year

When Wolfgang Mozart wrote his last major opera, The Magic Flute, in 1791 he had no knowledge of a place called “Minnesota”. In fact, at that time there was no such place in any formal way, as Minnesota did not become a state until 1859. However, this opera may have turned out to be more than a delightful and exquisite singspiel — it also may contain a prophecy…

Mozart describes a minor character who is simply a blackguard who tries to torture, etc, Pamina. His name is “Monostatos”. Hmm…odd coincidence? It happens to sound not unlike “Minnesota”. Well, in the opera, Monostatos is a rogue to tries to interfere in Pamina’s relationship with her stepfather, Sarastro. Monostatos also ends up trying to assist her wicked mother, the Queen of the Night. A nasty character indeed!

Now let’s turn to another odd coincidence. The Minneapolis Symphony changed its name some time past to be called the Minnesota Orchestra. They did not have to do that. In fact, that seems a rather odd thing to do. But they did.

Then, into the orchestra walks someone who has had a significant influence on the life of my children and me. Someone who, almost literally, crawled out of the woodwork at Orchestra Hall. This person did everything in their power to control our lives. Fortunately this situation did not last forever. It did, however, last 666 days. Needless to say, the effect on all of us — especially my three children — has been traumatic.

What I call the lockout of me by the players occurred at that time. And this person, to my thinking, whose behavior qualifies them in the ranks of “the lowest of the low” can only be called “Monostatos.”

During the 18-month lockout of the MO players I attempted to bring this ironic situation to light, but to no avail.  But an inexorable process still seems to be in place. “Monostatos” is apparently still embedded in their midst. But what may have been intended for ill might instead be working for good…

And all that goodness will take place in Minnesota…:-)

On the possibility of my having been poisoned as a child…

Update, January 9, 2023

My parents were never brought to justice…but their 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.

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”…

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

Stay tuned, as this is becoming curiouser and curiouser…