Excerpt for The Search for Connection: A Spiritual Journey to Physical, Emotional, and Financial Health by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

The Search for Connection

A Spiritual Journey to Physical, Emotional, and Financial Health

Joan Sotkin

Published by: Prosperity Place, Inc. Santa Fe, New Mexico



Distributed by Smashwords

Copyright © 2017 by Joan Sotkin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations embodied in literary articles of reviews.

Some names used in this book have been changed to protect privacy.

Go to www.SearchForConnection.com to see a gallery of images that illustrate this book.

Table of Contents


Part 1: The Journey Begins

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Part 2. Coming Back to the World

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

About the Author

On the Internet


We were off to Las Vegas—quite a drive from the San Fernando Valley where we lived—because my husband, Don, wanted to try a system he had read about that promised great results at the blackjack table. That night, he gambled while I slept. Upon awakening the next morning, six numbers floated through my mind. I wrote them down and at breakfast played the six numbers at Keno. Much to my surprise, I won over $1,000.

Although an avid reader of books about psychic phenomena, metaphysics, and Eastern philosophy, receiving information so specific and correct astonished me. At that moment in 1974, tapping into unexplored realms of consciousness seemed possible, and with this realization came a deep desire to understand from where the information about the numbers had come. The Carlos Castaneda books about his studies with Yaqui shaman Don Juan and others of that ilk further opened my questioning mind to the idea of parallel realities and unseen worlds.

I also read the available books on health and nutrition because of my own long-term struggle with health issues and a deep desire to become strong enough to live on my own. Following the advice of health gurus Jethro Kloss and Paul Bragg in July 1975, I decided to do a 24-hour fast, although I didn’t realize that this could cause a rapid detox and pose a danger for someone like me who had taken prescription drugs for many years.

The first few hours of the fast passed without incident; after about six hours without food, my body started releasing some of the built-up toxins from the drugs. Gradually, discomfort spread throughout my body; my joints ached, and I felt dizzy and generally uncomfortable. The idea of sustaining the fast for a full 24 hours seemed impossible. While lying on my bed trying to deal with the discomfort and determined to continue, in my mind I heard the phrase, “I am not my body; I am not my mind,” and I began repeating this silently to myself.

After three hours of repeating the phrase, I suddenly felt detached from my physical body, and the pain lifted. Transported into an altered state of consciousness, a vision of a diaphanous entity hovered above, comforting me and filling my heart with love. The air seemed to separate as my being expanded into a wider space, heightening all of my senses. I could feel the air against my skin, hear the blood flowing through my veins, and as I stepped into a bath, smelled the chlorine and experienced the slipperiness of the water.

While lying in the tub, it dawned on me that the emotionally tumultuous and painful years of my marriage were ending, and I had become physically and emotionally strong enough to go out on my own. A lot of healing still had to take place, but that could only happen in a less stressful environment.

When Don came home, after a long talk we agreed the time had come to sell our house and go our separate ways. My spiritual teacher, Swami Parampanthi, told me to put out a For Sale sign and wait. Two weeks later, a woman knocked on the door and asked to see the house, and within an hour we reached an agreement. A month later, with $3,000 in my hand (my share from the sale of the house) and ready for a new adventure, I moved into a spacious, modern duplex apartment a block from Venice Beach.

Here an almost unbelievable spiritual journey began, one filled with awe and wonder. If someone had told me the story that I’m going to share with you, I probably would have approached it with a great deal of skepticism and, perhaps, disbelief.

Fortunately, from July 1975 to December 1985, I kept a Day-at-a-Glance diary, noting each day’s major events and the people with whom I interacted, my emotional state, and the steps taken to improve my health. These diaries have enabled me to remember much of the drama as it unfolded. The story has been begging to be told, but I couldn’t imagine how to present it in a way that would be congruent with my current well-established entrepreneurial image.

Now feels like the right time to share the story. Because of current world events, it seems helpful for others to hear a true story of a relationship with a part of life that lies beyond our conscious understanding and that is available to anyone who wishes to expand their knowledge of reality and connect to something greater than themselves.

I have come to believe that what people often attribute to God, guides, angels, and The Universe actually comes from the part of us that exists in other dimensions. Limited by our three-dimensional concepts and language, an accurate description of this part of us is impossible. Attempted descriptions often satisfy our limited physical brains and give that which is formless form.

I’m reminded of the incident in the book Flatland, a story about a two- dimensional reality written in 1884 by Edwin Abbott Abbott. One day a sphere from Spaceland visits Flatland, appearing as two dots at the points of intersection. The sphere attempts to open the minds of Flatland inhabitants to the idea of a third dimension but meets tremendous opposition. From Spaceland, the sphere observes the inhabitants of Flatland surreptitiously acknowledging the existence of a third dimension while punishing those espousing the truth of Spaceland.

At this point in human development, most people are fixated on three- dimensional reality with many skeptical about the existence of other dimensions. Yet a growing number of pioneers of consciousness recognize that other dimensions exist, even if we can’t describe them accurately.

Complicating the telling of my story are two inseparable, converging story lines. First is the story of a spiritual journey kept mostly hidden for more than thirty years; second is an incredible tale of physical and emotional healing as I struggled to rid myself of a list of long-standing disorders that caused endless suffering, including depression, insomnia, allergies, sinus problems, Candida, chronic headaches, fatigue and more.

In 1970, our family doctor called me a hypochondriac and suggested learning to live with my many discomforts. At 29, the thought of such an uncomfortable life was unappealing, and I convinced myself that with enough research, a solution for my many symptoms could be found.

At the suggestion of my mother’s sister Lorraine, in 1972 I joined a metaphysical healing organization called Astara that offered meditation techniques and some basic spiritual healing methods via a mail-order course and events at Astara’s Los Angeles location. Dr. Robert Chaney and his wife, Earlyne, led Astara, Earlyne as the channel of a long-deceased Egyptian healer who passed lessons on to her, and Robert as the mail-order expert who brilliantly marketed the lessons to members of the organization.

A primary meditation method taught at Astara involved focusing on an image of the Healing Christ, a pleasant picture of Jesus with his hands upraised as if sending out healing energy. A visiting India-born teacher, Swami Parampanthi, taught a more traditional meditation that reflected his Hindu upbringing. A series of compelling lectures given by the Swami entitled “Creative Self-Fulfillment,” opened up my mind to new ways of thinking and perceiving my role in creating my life stories. The Astara teachings solidified my belief in the availability of solutions for my physical and emotional problems.

In June of 1973, a documentary appeared on television about hypoglycemia, or low blood sugar, and I instinctively recognized this as the root of many of my problems. At the time, the American Medical Association (AMA) dismissed hypoglycemia as “a disease of thin, nervous women” and considered it irrelevant. After insisting that the family doctor administer a glucose tolerance test, the test for blood sugar disorders, he proclaimed that even by AMA standards, I had a raging case of the disorder, although treatment options were unknown to him.

After reading the few available books about low blood sugar and making some dietary changes, I learned of an endocrinologist in the San Fernando Valley, Dr. Harold W Harper, a bariatric physician who, after discovering that virtually all of his overweight patients suffered from the disorder, developed treatment protocols for hypoglycemia. The day I met Dr. Harper—September 13, 1973— was unforgettable. Finally, someone understood the cause of many of my physical and emotional symptoms.

Dr. Harper, an imposing Texan with a charismatic presence, commanded respect. Even though patients had to wait two to three hours to see him after arriving at his office, his intuitive diagnostic talents and willingness to try alternative modalities made it worth the wait. Dr. Harper, who wrote How You Can Beat the Killer Diseases, pioneered the use of chelation therapy for the treatment of cardiovascular disease and other conditions and was considered an expert in nutrition.

After talking to me and examining my test results, Dr. Harper confirmed a serious case of hypoglycemia that needed immediate attention. He handed me a paper that said, “No peas, no beans, no corn, no rice, no potatoes, no bread, no grapes, no bananas, no watermelon, no sugar, no flour, no caffeine.” He also suggested a supplement program. His promise: following his suggestions would allow the debilitating depression that had been with me for fifteen years to lift and many of my physical symptoms would disappear.

Desperate to feel better, the promise of no more depression motivated me to give up the cookies, candy, sodas, and other junk foods that permeated my daily diet. No simple task. For months, I struggled with cravings for some of my favorite foods. But I was determined not to be depressed again and discovered some simple tricks for moving through the cravings, such as smelling breads and cakes or shouting aloud, “Lemon meringue pie.” Somehow I found the discipline needed to never knowingly eat sugar again.

Within two days of following Dr. Harper’s advice, my moods improved and the depression lifted. Obviously, I wasn’t crazy and didn’t have to spend the rest of my life on psychotropic drugs in order to keep from killing myself. What a relief!

Yet all was not perfect. Slowly, over the next two months, my energy levels declined. Despite consuming as much as three pounds of protein a day, my energy slipped so low that just walking from my bedroom to my living room was problematic. I couldn’t image what was happening and wondered how I would figure out what to do.

We hired one of my unemployed friends to help me with the daily chores such as food shopping, laundry, and cooking. My energy deteriorated to the point that I became a total couch potato, barely able to speak more than one-syllable words and sitting on the couch most of the day. However, the depression was gone, and I considered that a blessing.

Here’s where this story gets a little strange. By this time, I had gotten to know Dr. Harper pretty well because of the time spent with him in his office trying to discover the cause of my lack of energy. One day, he told me about a psychic reading done for him that seemed unbelievably accurate, and he wanted me to go to the psychic to validate her abilities.

A few weeks preceding this request, Dr. Harper had let me read one of his biochemistry textbooks to see if it held some answers to my serious energy problems. When I visited the psychic, she said to me, “There’s a word in a book that you’ve circled, and this is your problem. The answer is a green pill.”

The circled word was “gluconeogenesis,” which meant my liver wasn’t converting the piles of food I ate daily into glucose, the fuel needed by all cells to function. When I told the doctor, he smiled and said, “That’s it! I can order a fancy muscle biopsy, which would be expensive and painful, or we can trust the psychic and give you a green pill.” He suggested a green time-release niacin capsule.

What a surprise that such a respected physician accepted information that in 1974 would have been considered pretty “woo-woo.” Pushing the envelope and with some trepidation, I asked him if I could spend a few minutes in his medication room where floor to ceiling shelves were stacked with hundreds of bottles of supplements and other medications. With his permission, I went directly to the far side of the room, raised my arm and pointed to a bottle on a top shelf and asked, “What’s that?” “A digestive enzyme.” He grinned. “It’s another green pill and could be just what you need.”

Within two days after starting the niacin and digestive enzyme, I had enough energy to at least get through the day and a new sense of optimism. Yet, clearly, serious problems remained, such as my addiction to Valium.

Before withdrawing from sugar, while searching for ways to feel less anxious and depressed, a doctor wrote me a prescription for Valium. A tolerance for the drug developed, and by the time I gave up sugar, 40 mg of Valium to go to sleep at night—a very large dose—barely helped me sleep. When I suggested to the doctor that the Valium was addicting, he smiled and pulled a small prescription drug bottle from his drawer and said, “Don’t worry about it.” He seemed proud of the fact that he, too, took Valium.

After eliminating sugar and high-carbohydrate foods, my emotional symptoms started diminishing. Determined to withdraw from the Valium, a drug now known as addicting, I was able to eliminate all but a 5 mg dose before retiring. Anything less caused total sleeplessness.

In addition, I had what appeared to be poor circulation. My fingers and toes and large areas of my arms and legs always felt cold. Since this occurred before CAT scans and MRIs, Dr. Harper ordered a thermogram, a heat picture of my body. The test confirmed poor circulation in my upper arms, upper legs, hands, and feet, and the doctor suggested chelation therapy.

Chelation consists of a series of intravenous treatments with EDTA (Ethylenediaminetetraacetic Acid), an ingredient so safe that it is used as an emulsifier in foods. EDTA has the ability to attach itself to calcium, allowing the calcium to be safely removed from artery walls then passed out through the kidneys. EDTA also removes heavy metals such as lead, mercury, and cadmium.

Controversy surrounded chelation—and still does. The AMA never accepted chelation therapy as valid for cardiovascular disease, only approving it for lead and mercury poisoning. Eating cartons of canned tuna fish during the time when my energy levels were low had left me with elevated levels of both lead and mercury.

Dr. Harper had a large room in his office where patients would sit in comfortable lounge chairs during the three-hour treatments (twenty treatments in all). The chelation room was a happy, sociable place where I often spoke to patients about the benefits they were receiving.

Patients who avoided open heart surgery by chelating were commonplace. Stroke patients who chelated within a few hours after their stroke most often experienced few side effects from the stroke. An arthritis patient who hadn’t been able to turn his neck for a long time enjoyed new levels of mobility after the first few treatments. For a patient with gangrene, chelation reversed the condition, saving his leg.

When Dr. Harper suggested chelation I willing agreed and began treatments in August 1975. Remarkably, by the second treatment, I stopped taking the Valium, and my body parts no longer felt cold. With a heightened sense of enthusiasm, a healthier future seemed within reach. That’s when I decided to do the 24-hour fast that led to the selling of our house and my moving to Venice Beach where my life took an unexpected turn.

Part 1: The Journey Begins

Chapter 1

Liberation from my seven-year, tumultuous marriage to Don came on October 18, 1975. Armed with $3,000 from the sale of our house, a few basic pieces of furniture, and a heavy dose of optimism, I moved into the two-bedroom duplex apartment a block from the beach in Venice with no apparent source of income. Don had left a lucrative job in TV news and was unemployed at the time of my departure. As a result, we had no separation agreement binding him to offer support.

My unrealistic hopes for my financial future were staked on an organization started the previous year with Harold Harper called The Health Corps. A mail- order organization modeled after Astara’s lesson system, the purpose of The Health Corps was to disseminate information about nutrition and alternative therapy methods with an emphasis on hypoglycemia. Funded with $5,000 from Dr. Harper, a four-page mailer offering a yearly membership in The Health Corps was prepared and sent in December to a list of 500 names collected over the previous year. Twenty-five people responded to the membership offer, a humble but encouraging beginning that fueled my fantasy of having The Health Corps support me.

Shortly after mailing the 500 pieces, a call from Margo Elliott, a part-time worker at Astara, changed my life. Margo had received the copy of the mailer sent to Dr. Robert Chaney and believed the message was meant for her because of her ongoing physical problems and her battle with cancer. When Margo and I first talked, we felt an immediate and strong connection, as if we had known each other before, and after spending hours on the phone talking about health and metaphysics, decided to meet.

Margo filled her small, dark studio apartment where we met with images of her spiritual teachers, both Baha’i and the gurus of The Self-Realization Fellowship (SRF), which included SRF’s founder Paramahansa Yogananda and the lineage of gurus who preceded him. Having read Yogananda’s The Autobiography of a Yogi, I knew of this lineage and their teachings.

Margo, ten years my senior at 45, could have passed for my sister; we were both about the same height, brunette, and shared an ethnic Jewish background.

Feeling very weak because she was recovering from a cancer operation, Margo could only work a few hours a day for Astara. I empathized with her because of my extended period of weakness and felt a strong desire to help her.

Two days after our meeting, Margo called me and said, “My friend Beth gave me a typewriter to use so I can make some extra money, but every time I try to type on it, this heavy feeling comes over me, and I can’t get any work done.”

I had recently finished reading A World Beyond by Ruth Montgomery that contained information supposedly dictated to her via automatic writing from the recently deceased psychic and medium Arthur Ford. Remembering how Montgomery described the process by which she sat at her typewriter and received the information from Ford, I said to Margo, “Why don’t you just sit at the typewriter with your hands on the keys and see what happens.”

The next day, Margo called and excitedly shared. “I have a message for you.” Somewhat stunned I asked her to read it. The message began with, “Hello my child. I am The Mother Isis, and I have come to lead you and Joan on a spiritual journey.” The rest of the message contained information about The Health Corps that was unknown to Margo as well as my role as a messenger.

As Margo read Isis’s words to me, an energy filled my being similar to the energy felt during my fast-induced vision of the diaphanous being. Confused yet curious about what was happening, I wanted to know more.

Margo told me about a woman named Muriel Isis who channeled The Mother and a group of beings called the Ascended Masters on Wednesday evenings at her Santa Monica gathering place, The Lighted Way. Although skeptical about channeled information, I eagerly agreed to witness what Muriel offered.

By this time, most of my $3,000 had been spent, and on the afternoon before meeting Margo at The Lighted Way, extreme fear and dread about not being able to pay my rent and other expenses overtook my logical thinking. Sitting in the apartment feeling totally alone and without resources, tears streamed down my face as I implored, “If I’m your special messenger, why do I have to suffer like this? Why? Why? Why?”

That night, when meeting Margo at The Lighted Way, she handed me a piece of paper with a message she received that afternoon. It read, “Why my child? Because you are on the path of initiation.”

That blew me away. How could Margo have known about my question? At this pivotal moment, I realized something far beyond my comprehension was occurring, which further piqued my curiosity.

After the meeting at The Lighted Way, Margo received daily messages for us. On Christmas Day, she visited me at the beach, and as we strolled along the water’s edge, I suddenly blurted out, “Why don’t you come and live with me?” It seemed like a good idea to both of us, and Margo moved into my extra bedroom on January 3, bringing with her just a few belongings and all of the images of her spiritual teachers.

Shortly before moving to Venice, Margo stopped typing the messages. Instead, when a question was posed, she would sit in a cross-legged position with her eyes closed, and after waiting for a signal that a message was coming, would speak the message.

After Margo arrived at the apartment, I felt like a kid with a new toy and loved questioning The Mother about health issues and asking for help when faced with a difficult situation. Her often-profound answers, presented from the point of view of someone or something viewing our lives from a distance, more often than not comforted me as she led me through fear and concern into acceptance.

One time when I was upset about something and asked to speak to The Mother, she came through laughing. Feeling somewhat rebuffed, I asked, “What’s so funny?”

“I see you down there in your little space, like a child locked in a playpen pushing to get out,” she replied. “What you are going through is necessary for your training. Your assignment is to learn to accept what is happening even though you have no idea where it all will lead.”

“You tend to see things in the moment as good or bad,” she continued, “when in reality the moment is just a point along a timeline, necessary for the development of an emerging story.”

At another time, she suggested, “Imagine a chessboard with pieces that can all move in different ways. The pawns can only move one space at a time, and you are like the pawns with a limited point of view. You don’t understand that the knight can vault over other pieces, and the bishop and the rook can slide across the board in order to protect you. Almost impossible for you as pawns to imagine is the being who is moving the pieces around on the board and wants to win the game.” Analogies such as this enabled me to alter my point of view in order to see a bigger picture and learn to view myself as connected to a larger group of souls working together with a common aim.

Even though she was leading a somewhat isolated existence when we met, Margo had developed wisdom about life. She treated me like a younger sister, often offering advice meant to help me cope with my newly independent position. Two of her most frequently repeated phrases were, “Love is the healer,” and “It’s just a drama, and we are actors on the stage.” When I would worry about the finances or some other detail, she reminded me again and again, “It’s all a drama,” which helped me take myself and the situation less seriously.

Shortly after Margo moved into the apartment, I felt guided to do energy healings for her. Knowing little about this type of healing work, I remained open to learning something new. Basically, Margo would lie on her bed, and, with eyes closed, I would place one hand on her abdomen and one on her forehead while directing energy to flow through my hands. When I felt the urge, I would position my hands on or slightly above different areas of Margo’s body. The energizing effect of the healings on my entire being and the improvement in Margo’s energy levels encouraged me to continue.

The energies also affected me during my daily meditations. My body would sway on its own from side to side or in circles, and often my head would tilt towards the sky and remain in this position for up to fifteen minutes. Although this seemed somewhat mysterious, the feelings were both positive and welcomed.

On one occasion, a healing took place in meditation for me. Months before I moved to the beach, a nerve in my neck became pinched while doing a yoga shoulder stand. A chiropractor had done a number of neck adjustments to release the pinch, with minimal success. During a visit with Dr. Harper, he gave me an injection of a muscle relaxant and forcefully adjusted my neck, relieving the pinched nerve but leaving me with some residual discomfort and loss of range of motion.

While sitting in meditation, tingling energies moved up into my head and neck area. Then, as if a chiropractor stood in the room with me, my head turned in different directions until an adjustment was completed, leaving me with increased range of motion and less discomfort. This healing experience helped me understand that we can access energies that we may not understand but are nonetheless real and can have a powerful effect on a wide range of discomforts and dis-ease. Energy healing modalities such as Reiki, sound healing, Repatterning and Matrix Energetics have become more commonplace now, but at the time were generally unknown in the United States.

Shortly after this healing experience, I had the urge to read a book that someone had shown me a few weeks earlier. I didn’t remember the title and hoped the book could be found at the Bodhi Tree (www.bodhitree.com), a spiritual bookstore in West Hollywood. The store clerk who I asked about the book did not recognize it from my description. Somewhat disappointed, I suddenly took a deep breath as a burst of energy filled my body and propelled me forward, clumsily moving one leg and then the other. Drawn to one of the side rooms in the store—and relieved that no one was watching—I walked over to one of the bookshelves, raised my hand above my head and touched the exact book for which I had been looking. Simultaneously elated and stunned, I was reminded that indefinable forces were at work.

Enthralled by the novelty of the unfolding drama, I naïvely thought that my family and friends would share my excitement. They didn’t. My family thought I was having serious mental problems and humored me in order not to push me over the line into certifiable insanity. Keeping everything to myself and a few trusted acquaintances seemed wise.

One of those acquaintances was a flamboyant healer with long, flowing hair named Swale Fenley. Two weeks after Margo moved in, we met at a health food store in Venice when Swale looked at me and said, “Something is wrong with your kidneys.” Looking for any kind of answer to my health problems, I encouraged him to tell me more. As a practitioner of Jin Shin Jyutsu, a form of healing massage and energy work based on the meridians, Swale believed the deep dark circles under my eyes were an indication of something amiss with my kidneys. Immediately we made arrangements for me to experience the treatments that Swale had to offer.

The first time he touched the soles of my feet, the pain and discomfort were intense as he prodded multiple tender spots. According to the science of reflexology, each location on the soles of our feet represents an organ or body part. Soreness on a corresponding location indicates a blockage in the flow of energy to that organ or body part, and massaging releases the block and allows for a healthy energy flow. The number and intensity of the sore spots on my feet were an indication of my compromised state of health.

Over time, Swale and I became good friends as he continued to provide me with treatments on my feet, and I shared with him the developments with Margo and the channeling. One evening Swale and I felt guided to do a healing together with Margo, and as the sun went down, we lighted a circle of candles around Margo who lay on a foam pad on the living room floor. The three of us meditated for about ten minutes, and then Swale and I each placed our hands on Margo or made sweeping motions around her prone body. After a few moments, we all felt a tremendous amount of energy in the room. With no point of reference to describe what was happening, we said that it felt as if there were other beings in the room helping with the healing. The next day, Margo shared that her body released a large amount of tissue, and she felt lighter and less burdened by her dis-ease.

Recently, as a result of an online search, I found Swale in Houston, Texas. When we spoke, I asked him if he remembered the incident, and although 40 years had passed, his recollection of that evening remained clear in his mind. “We all experienced such an amazing energy breakthrough,” he said. Both of us agreed that something extraordinary happened that evening. We didn’t need a rational explanation for what transpired; the intensity of the shared experience spoke for itself.

As the weeks passed, messages came to me via my typewriter or while in meditation. Always on my mind were questions about the nature of who or what was communicating with us. I would frequently ask, “Who are you?” The answer always was, “We are you, but more than you.”

“How do you see us?” I asked. “As points of light. From our point of view, it’s as if we are looking at a film strip,” was the reply.

One day, in response to one of my questions, came this reply: “The Earth is moving into a period of great chaos. Many people will leave The Planet. The chaos in the Middle East will become so bad that people will ask, ‘How can a benevolent God allow this to happen?’ People are being trained to be beacons of light, offering help and solace to those who have trouble dealing with the chaos.”

Over the years, this prediction has been foremost in my mind, especially when observing the spread of AIDS, terrorism, weather-related tragedies, ethnic cleansings, and political turmoil, plus the Great Recession that turned reality, for many, upside down. At the same time, alternative healing methods and a plethora of healers have emerged to offer guidance and healing for those who seek help.

My wondering about the nature of what I came to call The Voices has evolved into an acceptance of something beyond my understanding. Attempting to define that which exists in dimensions beyond three-dimensional reality leads to inaccurate definitions.

Years later after I was on my own, a surprising message from the voice I called The Mother came through to me. “I am not The Mother,” she explained. “We play the role of characters that your limited physical brains can comprehend. It would be better if, in the future, you attempted to imagine something more formless, because if you do, your understanding of the nature of reality will expand.”

Although difficult for me to totally release the image of a benevolent mother enveloping me with her comforting embrace, I have allowed myself the luxury of expanding my consciousness into that formless space, thus more easily accepting the oneness of all creation. This line of thinking has also enabled me to understand the guides, angels, and other beings that many healers and people accept as real.

I began to refer to the guidance I received as the Voice of the Us—the place where all knowledge resides and is available to those who wish to tap into it. Theosophists refer to this compendium of knowledge as the Akashic records, a term derived from the Sanskrit word “akasha” meaning “sky,” “space,” or “aether.”

There are infinite ways to define and tap into this knowledge, and individuals will select a method congruent with their own consciousness and worldview. Just as each person represents a unique point of view when describing reality, so too will the understanding of dimensions beyond the three dimensions of our physical reality vary from person to person. A precise definition of other dimensions is virtually impossible because of our limited language that only pertains to three- dimensional reality.

My own definition has changed and evolved, and I expect it to continue to do so. I believe that parts of us exist in other dimensions, and these parts show up as intuition, creativity, and inner guidance, which intensify as we learn to tune into our inner world.

Days in Venice were often filled with work on The Health Corps, chelation treatments, and doing some writing for Dr. Harper with whom I maintained an ongoing relationship. The knowledge about nutrition and alternative therapy methods gained from our association sustained my interest and stimulated my curiosity. At the time, few resources for learning about nutrition were available, and the general public remained unaware of this burgeoning science.

In January 1976, Dr. Harper was scheduled as a major presenter at a National Health Federation convention in Pasadena, California. With ex-husband Don’s help, we created a carefully-crafted slideshow presentation entitled “New Age Medicine” that received a standing ovation. Encouraged by the reception, Harold, Don, and I decided to rent the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium and repeat the New Age Medicine program in mid-March, a somewhat daunting undertaking.

Everything moved rather rapidly from that moment on. We hired a tenacious public relations person, Irwin Zucker, whose task it was to book Harold and me on radio and television talk shows, starting in early March. My role was to testify to the effectiveness of various modalities touted by Dr. Harper. We also prepared a few mailings and bought advertisements for the event with the unrealistically optimistic goal of filling the 6,000-seat Civic Auditorium.

Although I hadn’t appeared on stage at the NHF convention in Pasadena, Dr. Harper asked me to introduce the program by telling the story of how he was helping me improve my health. Whenever I became a little anxious about appearing onstage, Margo would channel The Mother, who always offered soothing words of advice. She told me to be familiar with what I wanted to say without creating a specific script and to take the chance of speaking somewhat extemporaneously on stage. Both excited and nervous about the upcoming performance, I learned to calm myself with meditation, breathing exercises, and visualizations.

The plan for the evening included my presenting The Health Corps to the audience after Dr. Harper’s speech and signing people up as members. Earlier in my life, I had sold encyclopedias and Great Books of the Western World to families in their homes and to business people in their offices, so I knew that I had natural sales ability, although selling from the stage was something new.

We approached the evening of the presentation with high expectations, hoping for a full house and lots of Health Corps sign-ups. Our goals and expectations far exceeded our ability to actually fill the venue or stimulate sales, although one thousand people attended the event and about fifty people signed up for The Health Corps, which generated insufficient income to pay my expenses.

Within two months after the disappointing results at the Civic Auditorium, I clearly could not continue to support Margo and myself and our expensive apartment. When threatened with eviction, we knew the time had come to go our separate ways. In May, I rented a small one-bedroom in a duplex on Venice Boulevard about half a mile from the beach. The landlady, a feisty senior citizen named Elsie Moore, took a liking to me and was willing to accept as a security deposit a string of pearls given to me by my first husband, Ira, at the time of our marriage in 1960. The three months I spent at Elsie’s apartment were intense, filled with ongoing healing and seemingly otherworldly experiences.

Chapter 2

The apartment at Elsie’s duplex was small but cozy—one bedroom with a modest kitchen and living room, furnished with big pillows and wooden crates in the living room, a small table for meals next to the kitchen, and an old, used dresser and twin bed in the bedroom. A small, but charming backyard provided a peaceful resting and meditation place.

During my three months in this apartment, I focused on deepening my relationship with The Voices and continuing with my progressing physical healing. Although some of my physical discomforts had begun to subside, my energy levels remained well below par, especially since any kind of physical exercise tired me easily. Shortly after moving to Venice, I bought a bicycle with the hope of using it daily, but even short rides exhausted me. Although I loved walking on the beach, that, too, depleted my energy. Determined to push through my physical limitations, as soon as my body recovered from one activity, which could take days, I would try again. On a number of occasions, the recovery from a one-mile walk required a rest of a few days.

Because of my limited capacity for physical activity, most of my time was spent alone in the apartment. My only contact with the outside world came while shopping for food and other necessities or when going to the beach. Using a 1964 blue Rambler sedan purchased while still with Don, I drove the half-mile to Venice Beach every day, frequently spending time at The Fruit Tramp, a small produce store where friendly health seekers gathered to share healing experiences and make custom juice blends with the store’s juicer. I relished the time spent with my beach buddies.

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