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However, the Queen of the Night — my mother, Katherine, has been replaced by the wanna-be — my sister, Angela.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…

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…

Tangled up in a vortex…

A vortex of time and space swirls around.  It is confusing and often loud, but not everyone can hear it.  It surrounds the Zauberflote…There are waves of energy coming through it continually…sometimes waves of shalom, other times waves of angst.  There is a dark angel in the vortex, trying to control the waves.  There are a few people in the vortex; some past, some present. Impressions of them filter through…There are influences…there is night and fog, a threat of oblivion, as the night angel tries to silence the living, but by the zauber they manage to escape…there are impressions of things to come, and odd coincidences that bring new things to life…it is magical, and at times frightening…we are all caught up in it…all the real-life characters of the opera…the Queen of the Night is gone now, but another — a paler version — tries to take her place.  Monostatos is not just one man, still spinning falsehoods and madly conducting a small orchestral group…but also a large orchestra of the same name, pulling the wool over the eyes of the citizens who support them…keeping secret what they know is happening…

The vortex stretches from Vienna to New York, and from there, to Minnesota…we are all tangled up it it, and right now things are not really making sense…we seem to be tumbling, falling apart, losing each other as the lies are unmasked and the truth comes to the light…and it seems that there may be someone else in the vortex…it’s hard to tell…sometimes seeming to send direction, at others appearing to try to ignite the vortex…around it all, in the sound of the flute, there is also is a voice…

Update March 25, 2021

I seem to keep bumping into someone in the vortex.  It is someone who is rather pushy.  Most of the influences in the vortex are quite subtle — from those who live on another plane.  But this — whatever it is — is noisy, and not a lot of fun. The energy seems to be most alive during the night, Central US time.  Sometimes there are visual impressions.  Sometimes there seems to be hints of music.  Whatever it is, if I could get away from it, I would.

But that may not be possible.

It may be some sort of thorn in the flesh.

Or it may have something to do with this mysterious connection that I am trying to decipher…

An as-yet undefined subplot in the opera Die Zauberflote as prophecy…

There are some straightforward characters in Mozart’s last major opera, The Magic Flute, that correspond to those in real life — my Mother,for example — the real-life Queen of the Night who managed to bewitch just about everyone (but me); my Father, who gave me my first flute; Monostatos, who is a player with the Minnesota Orchestra, and of course, my three children, who are represented as such. The reality, however, may be even more profound than the opera (granted, Wolf didn’t have all the time in the world either) in that the children who save Pamina from despair when Tamino is silent are actually her own children. Filled with fury, the Queen of the Night comes after the children and tries to use them in her machinations, attempting to leave Pamina bereft, and thereby contributing greatly to Pamina’s despair. Monostatos also goes after the children and attempts to enlist them to the Queen’s agenda…

…and so, all that is left for Pamina is the wondrous sound and assurance of die zauberflote…

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.Me with my three K's...:-)

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

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…:-)

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

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

 

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

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…

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