Nearly 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?

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…

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…

Mr. Schrickel and Mozart’s Zauberflote…

During the approximately 666 days that my children and I were pretty much held hostage by this man there were a number of experiences that, at that time, did not make much sense. Hindsight being what it is, however, I now feel I have some sense of perspective.

At the same time Mr. Schrickel was enticing me to practice on the stage at Orchestra Hall with the Zauberflote (who could resist) there were also odd things going on behind the scenes. For one, it seemed we usually ended up in some sort of heated dispute over something or other after the practice sessions. This was all supposed to be my fault. This happened so frequently I began to wonder if there was some sort of agenda. Now that has become obvious. Creating trauma is how the Zauberflote was thought to be vampirized, to create, in effect, blood money for the attacker. (I think Wolf was treated this way too, and for just this reason…)

But another strange theme began to surface. I was being blamed for not making money. Rather than helping to establish my credentials on the world stage, he was making demands that I earn money from sources outside the world of music. Frantically, I began to look for temporary work. I did not understand what was happening. One of my first jobs was scrubbing floors at Abbot-Northwestern Hospital. He seemed pleased by that, and one morning held my hands, looking at them as though they were prized possessions. When I was offered a permanent job, I felt validated to know I had done my best. He seemed puzzled by that. Uncomfortable somehow. I graciously declined, and went on to other opportunities…

I think this is Minnegeddon…everything is Zauber now…

The first time I remember using the term “Minnegeddon” was back when I was a flute performance major at the UofM.  I was talking to a friend after a theory class.  I said, “Someday I think there is going to be a Minnegeddon at Orchestra Hall.” At that time it didn’t really make sense to me.  But now it does.

Minnegeddon, to me, today, means that the whole truth about what happened to Wolfgang Mozart, which has been a closely-guarded and highly occult secret, is being revealed.  Since his death, which I now call an assassination, in December 1791, only a chosen few have known the truth.  And these people have used their hidden knowledge to control the public into believing things that are not only false but detrimental to them. I think the underlying reason for the persecution (I’ll explain that later) and assassination of Mozart was a gift that everyone he was in contact with who understood it refused to acknowledge.  It was a gift that went far beyond his unsurpassed musical gifts.  It was a gift of an essence, of perfection.  No other musical voice had this gift.  In spiritual terms, it was a gift of the Holy Spirit — a priceless entrance from the natural into another realm — the kingdom of God.

Mozart himself had some sense of the grandeur of the struggle between good and evil in his life. But what he may not have known until late in the game was that he had been, for most of his life, surrounded by a vortex of the evil eye — people claiming to be his friends, who had in fact agreed to his gradual murder by way of systematic poisoning and what we would today call mind control. The objective of this deadly treatment was to be a form of alchemy —  to use the energy of the gift for selfish means…

The portrayal of Mozart in the movie “Amadeus” was perhaps deliberately constructed by those in the inner circle who were trying to keep the truth about what really happened to him from coming out.  In JFK research, this would be called a ‘limited hangout’, as clues were given, but everything returned to Mozart’s being manic, irresponsible and immature. Blame the victim. It as worked, as in the schools of today Mozart’s ‘inability to handle money’ is regularly discussed.  That is false, as he was doing his best under circumstances he was unable to completely understand.

So now the truth is coming out in a most unusual way.  The dreadful CV-19 has, in effect, everyone distrustful of everyone else.  Everyone is separated. We all have to watch everything we do.  Anyone can infect us.  We can’t see the germs.  This is ironically consistent, to my thinking, of how Mozart lived for as long as he did.

But, as if the pandemic itself were not enough — slowing down the economy of most of the world and darkening the stages of all the venues where Mozart’s works were sometimes carelessly performed by people who had no interest or empathy for what had happened to him, we also have plagues of locusts and this violent sandstorm in West Africa just a few days ago.

But the sound of Mozart’s gift lives on in the Zauberflote that I play. I too have been surrounded by those having ill intent, some of whom have caused me bodily harm.  I won’t go into details here about that, except to say that I believe his Zauberflote…the gift for which he gave his life… protects us, and gives us an alternative to fear and despair… it always helps…

9.13.20

Now we are also dealing with the terrible wildfires on the West Coast…

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

4.11.2020

As waves of desolation wash over us as a result of this CV-19 Corona virus plague, I have found myself just holding my breath, waiting for the next round of bad news.  It has been a rollercoaster for all of us, unprecedented in our lifetimes.  I am originally from the NYC metro area, and the images and statistics there have seemed almost unbearable.

However, even though my daily routine, as all of yours, has been turned upside down, a few things have remained in place…simply because I have done them every day no matter what.

In the morning, soon after I get up, I read the Bible.  In fact, I recite Psalm 19.  It is a glorious statement of God’s love through His incredible creation of the earth and heavens.  It also happens to be the epitaph on the grave of  NASA’s extraordinary and controversial Wernher von Braun.

I have had a connection to Wernher for almost as long as I can remember. I probably could have met him. I wish I had.  I did not realize the significance of his influence though until fairly recently, and, when I did, I decided to honor him by declaring his favorite psalm every morning.  That photograph, by the way, was taken at Edwards Air Force Base in Lancaster, California. I have spent time there at NASA.  The dry lake bed there was a backup landing location for the space shuttles.

Every evening I declare Psalm 91. This is the Psalm of protection. I claim its protection over all my family and friends, and now, over our lands, and people everywhere;

Like bookends, 19 and 91.  I just realized that…

Somehow, that’s helping to keep me grounded…maybe it will you too…

Update, February 18, 2021

I call him Papa.

I believe he is the real-life Sarastro (of the prophecy) of the opera The Magic Flute…

He would love this…

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Update 7.2.21

Well the gov’t has just released a non-report on the existence of UFO’s…

It seems to add to the mystery of it all.

But it has occurred to me that it is not impossible that all this fuss about UFO’s may have something to do with Minnegeddon — which is where the truth about what happened to Wolfgang Mozart is revealed. And I do think all of this is connected to Mozart’s last major opera, The Magic Flute, which, as you might begin to sense, I think has come alive… So we are all living in the temple of Sarastro, the temple of Isis and Osiris. Sound familiar? NASA just loves to use ancient Egyptian names and symbols for all of its endeavors.

Let’s carry this unique idea a bit further. If WVB was taken to Roswell after the craft crashed (well, wouldn’t he have begged to do that?) and then realized that the moon could have been a stopping place for it, that could have fueled his passion to send a man to the moon. He then linked up with JFK, whose family also happened to have a Nazi connection, in that Papa Joe was a Hitler appeaser of such conviction that FDR fired him from his job as Ambassador to the Court of St. James. So WVB could have assumed that JFK would be a loyal protagonist for his cause. The US was in a dismal second place in the space race when JFK took office, which meant WVB would have to reunite his team — half of them had gone to the USSR, which was making steller accomplishments in space.

The objective would have been to search for alien life and installations on the dark side of the moon, as well as to begin to establish a presence in space which would ultimately lead to WVB’s other and even stronger passion — to go to Mars.

And here we are today, with missions in the works to go to Mars. They are led by a man named “Elon”, which WVB happened to prophetically mention long ago in his treatise on Mars…

So Wolfgang Mozart’s imagination has created the environment in which we are living…which includes Egyptian mythology, possible alien life, UFO’s, and the universe outside of earth…

Update July 6, 2021

Doing my Dylagence research, I just happened to note that his uber-famous song, Like a Rolling Stone was released on July 20, 1965, which happens to be the day of the Apollo II moon landing in 1969…

Not sure what to make of that, but it is hugely interesting…it may be that Dylan’s references to Isis and Osiris, plus the use of the tarot, and other symbols of Egyptian magic, such as the Eye of Horus, may have a connection to NASA and Sarastro’s temple. Dylan may have been telling us all about what happened to Mozart all along…if we just knew where to look…

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