Month: July 2020

Originally posted on CHW on April 9, 2018

Knights Templar, also known as the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and the Temple of Solomon, the Order of Solomon’s Temple, or the Templars, are an extinct group of warriors, whose memory is shrouded in a myriad of myths and legends, which still grips the imagination.

So what exactly happened to the Catholic Military Order, who exercised financial authority over countless, prominent, royal houses and major capitals in Europe?

One of the many legends surrounding them indicates that their demise began in France, on the most notorious of all days, Friday the 13 in the year 1307. It is unclear if their destruction was a reckoning for insinuations of misuse of power or a political gamble.

What is known is that after they lost the Holy Land to the Muslims during the Crusades, their order’s entire existence came into question and lost support. Rumors sprang up about their secret initiation ceremonies, sewing seeds of doubt and mistrust.

One man who seized upon this opportunity was King Philip IV ‘the fair’ of France. He was indebted to the Templars and wanted to snag their great wealth for himself.

In 1307, King Philip IV had members of the order in France arrested. Once incarcerated, the knights were tortured mercilessly into giving false confessions of heresy, sodomy, and treason that were made public.

For seven years, the Templars were subjected to official inquiries and public executions, where hundreds were burned at the stake. Pope Clement tried to save the Templars but was unsuccessful.

Finally, after much pressure from the King of France, in 1312, at the Council of Vienne, Clement dissolved the Knights Templar and ordered all Christian monarchs to arrest the remaining members.

He also issued a Papal Bull giving the Templar lands to the Knights of Hospitallers. In March 1314, outside the Notre-Dame de Paris Cathedral, Jacques de Maloy, the last Templar Master died, after retracting his confession.

The secrets and mysteries surrounding the Knights Templar have ignited colorful conspiracy theories and stories that still delight modern-day audiences. A few of the most popular are The Da Vinci Code, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and National Treasure.

Originally appeared on CHW on May 7, 2018.

***Trigger Warning: Article Contains Suicide and Drug Use***

On April 25, 1989, at 5:17 a.m., my father placed a handgun in his mouth, pulled the trigger, and ended his life. He was forty-five years old. His forty-sixth birthday was only twenty-three days away. My younger brother’s thirteenth birthday was only five days away.

Unlike some people, my father didn’t leave a note explaining to us why he wanted to take his life. So for years, ravaged by the guilt that ate us from the inside out, my family and I speculated on what caused him to commit such a violent act. We still don’t have an answer, and after twenty-nine years, I’ve accepted that we never will.

The lives of my family and I are changed. The trauma and turmoil that ensued were heartbreaking. At times, so painful, my younger brother turned to cold medicine to help him sleep at night. He also drank and smoked cigarettes. From there he experimented with street drugs for about ten years until he finally shot heroin.

The heroin was a game changer. It destroyed my brother’s entire life. He lost his high-paying job, his car, his daughter, and his self-respect. He became a recluse who tried many times to clean up his act. Like other addicts, he was in and out of rehab and mental hospitals. He also began the methadone program, but apart from keeping him high, it did nothing to help him get sober.

During this time, his mental health continued to deteriorate. He had severe anxiety, major depression, and chronic insomnia, who became his closest friends.

He struggled with these debilitating illnesses for many years. Ashamed of who and what he’d become, he cut himself off from his friends and I. Since my mother and my youngest brother lived with him, they were the only two people who saw him every day. They knew the true depth of my younger brother’s suffering.

In the early months of 2017, my younger brother and I reconnected. He wanted to reclaim his life and make a fresh start. He’d gotten off the methadone and had gone to therapy regularly. His therapist was helping him make plans to volunteer and learn a trade.

My brother and I hung out together. We watched movies and listened to music and talked for hours like we’d done when we were kids. At first, I was hesitant to let him back into my heart. I was afraid to let him get too close and lose him again. I’d spent years mourning his absence. During that time, he had overdosed several times, and I had quietly prepared myself for his death.

But, after two months of watching him fight through his struggles and make steady progress, I believed maybe, just maybe, he started living again. Unfortunately, that was not meant to be. On April 30, 2017, he celebrated his forty-second birthday. Hours later, on May 1, he relapsed and died of a drug overdose.

The biggest regrets I have about my father’s and brother’s deaths are I never got to say goodbye.

I wish I could offer advice on how to deal with the loss of a family through suicide and drug overdose, but like life, grieving is a process. I believe every death we experience teaches us a vital lesson about ourselves. My father’s death taught me I am resilient. My brother showed me that, while losing someone you love is sad, you can rejoice in knowing their suffering has ended.

If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide, call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255, text Crisis Text Line at 741-741, or call 911

Originally appeared on CHW on May 21, 2018

Along with millions of other people, I believe the dead can speak to us. Anne Reith, Ph.D. and Preston Ni M.S.B.A. are two respected professionals who attest that our deceased loved ones communicate with us through “visitation dreams.”

Other ways the dead may communicate with us is through music, manipulating electrical devices, placing small, meaningful tokens, like coins or feathers, in our path, phone calls, or scenting a room with a familiar fragrance to their presence.

Experts agree that a visitation dream differs significantly from an ordinary dream, in that, the visitation dream feels real, vivid, and intense. Upon awakening, the dreamer feels a sense of peace and closure: and can remember the dream with clarity for the rest of their lives. They know in their heart of hearts that the visitation was authentic.

Despite the naysayers and the doubting Thomas’s, these types of dreams are commonplace. I know three people who have experienced visitation dreams: a former co-worker, my friend Mandy’s son, Simon, and myself.

Visitations: My Father

I have had many deceased loved ones communicate with me through my dreams. The first one to visit me was my father. When he was alive, he’d promised my mother that if there were a way to let her know there was life after death he would.

He visited me in 1990, about a year after he’d died. During the dream, I came upon him in a pitch-black space. Despite the darkness, I could see him. The area surrounding him was lit up like a person doing a video interview with a dark curtain behind them.

He was all alone, but he assured me that he wasn’t lonely. I could feel the peaceful atmosphere of the place, and this helped to reassure me that he was indeed okay; that being alone in this space wasn’t scary or a punishment. During our conversation, he didn’t look at me. He seemed content to gaze at the darkness in front of him. I guess he found solace in it. It made me feel a little out of sorts. I had never seen him so tranquil. I wish the tranquility had made me feel closer to him, but as in life, there was an emotional barrier between us. Something I guess we’ll deal with in another life.

My dad told me he wasn’t in heaven. Before he could get there, he had to go through different phases. I don’t know what the phases were. The way to gauge how close he was to completing the phases correlated to the souls that visited him in this black space.

At first, he would see people he vaguely knew, and then as he drew closer to the end of this process, he’d see acquaintances, followed by close family and friends. When a soul greeted him he was very close to in his life; he could pass through to heaven.

When I woke up, I knew the dream differed from others I’d had. It felt like I had a conversation with my father, where he had been an active participant, not a character acting out a role created by my subconscious. I couldn’t explain how I knew this. I just knew.

Visitations: Nora’s Father

The second visit was my friend Nora’s father. In this dream, I found myself in a lush green garden, seated at a white table, on a white wicker chair. My grandparents were also there. I waved to them from the opposite end of the long table, but that was the only interaction we shared. As I sat there, I realized that I was asleep, but I was aware and alert as if I were wide-awake. It was as if I had awoken to a new reality in my dream and I couldn’t stay long. I was anxious to hear the message Nora’s father had before I woke up.

I asked him if he had a message for Nora and he shook his head. I was confused. What was I doing there if not to pass on a message to my friend? It took me years to realize that I had asked her father the wrong question. His message was intended for someone else. Since I didn’t ask the right question, I couldn’t get the correct answer. This revelation helped me to accept a message from another loved one who died years later.

Visitations: Ben

In late August 2014, my friend Mandy’s younger brother Ben died. He came to visit me the earliest after dying. On September 20, 2014, I became aware of Ben walking into my room and sitting on a chair at my bedside. Again, once I became aware of what was going on, I had that same feeling of a time limit with my visitor. I knew not to ask Ben if his message was for Mandy or anyone else. I made the question general and simply asked, “What’s the message.”

Unlike my other visitors, Ben launched into a quick dialogue. He talked quick, and there was so much imagery in his message, more than I’d ever had from a visitor. I wrote down everything I could while in the dream, but I couldn’t remember everything when I woke up. There were too many fine details, and layers to the images for me to process. I felt terrible about that like I had let him down.

I spoke with Mandy the next day and told her everything. A few days later, her son, Simon, who did not know my dream, received a very similar message from Ben. Both messages told us not to worry, that he was sorry for leaving his daughter, and referenced phone calls. Weird!

On October 11, 2014, Ben revisited me. This time I found him alone in a kitchen. He appeared much less hurried in this dream as if he’d accomplished what’d he’d needed to for the time being and was in a sort of in-between-stage.

In contrast to my father’s calm acceptance of working through the phases, I felt that Ben was impatient to move quickly through them but had resigned himself to wait them out. I also believe he was mourning the broken physical connection to his daughter.  He told me he wasn’t allowed to leave the kitchen but wouldn’t tell me why when I asked. Before he left, we hugged, and he told me that even though he was gone, we were still friends. This made me happy. After I woke up, I felt a sense of closure and acceptance toward Ben’s death.

That was the last visit I received from Ben. Now and then, Simon still gets a visit from his uncle and a great aunt who died when he was young.

Visitations: Mr. Malcolm

During another visit, I wound up in another kitchen. What is it with kitchens in the afterlife? This visitor was unexpected. I barely knew him, but he was close to my sister-in-law, a surrogate father of sorts named, Mr. Malcolm.

As is customary with some visitations, the familiar anxiety of a time frame descended upon me, and I asked Mr. Malcolm what his message was. He instructed me to inform my sister-in-law he was okay and that he was happy. Simple enough, until I told her.

As with Ben’s death, there was another strange occurrence in conjunction with Mr. Malcolm’s demise. My sister-in-law had visited a psychic a few months before my passing on Mr. Malcolm’s message. The psychic had informed her that she would receive a message from Mr. Malcolm soon. Cue the goosebumps!

Visitations: My Grandfather

After my aunt died, my grandfather visited me. She wanted my uncle to know she enjoyed the water where she was. In life, she had been afraid of water.

Visitations: My brother, Louie

Of all the deaths, the one that had the most substantial post-mortem activity was my brother Louie’s. My mother, my other brother and his girlfriend, and I all experienced some form of communication from him. I made a list of all the exciting episodes that happened right after Louie died.

• *May 1, 2017: Louie died
• *May 21, 2017: My bedroom light turned on by itself. In the eighteen years I lived in my house that had never happened—ever!
• *June 2017:
  • My brother’s brand-new girlfriend saw a man lying on the floor. She described how Louie was found after his death. She also got locked in the bathroom three times that same day.
  • My mother’s dog shook uncontrollably at night while staring into the room where Louie slept.
  • My brother’s portable DVD player fell from his bureau.
  • My brother’s girlfriend heard someone dragging his or her feet across the rug.
  • While on hold, my brother heard Louie’s voice through the cell phone.
  • Lights turned on by themselves in my mother’s apartment.
  • My mother saw a shadow standing over her one night.

During this time, I could feel Louie’s presence, and then on June 19, 2017, he visited me while I slept, and the connection I felt to him was gone. In the dream, I was sitting on a chair, and someone tapped me on the back. Somehow, I knew it was Louie. I stood up and stepped through some type of curtain and saw his face. I can’t tell you how happy that made me. He looked so young, no more than twenty-two, and had a full head of hair. I touched his face and hugged him.

Unlike some of my other visitors, Louie didn’t talk very much. But, the imagery and activity level that accompanied his visit was over the top. There was no urgency of racing the clock in this dream, which was good because there was a lot to take in. We spent a considerable amount of time together. During this encounter, I felt like I was getting a brief, behind-the-scenes sneak peek of what’s behind the veil, and only registering those things I could see.

The most critical information I gleaned from the experience was that Louie had work to do. He was dressed in work clothes and led me to what I think was a workmen’s hall. He fell in line with a group of people headed for a utility door I surmised led to somewhere—beyond. With tear-filled eyes, I watched him step through the door, knowing he was fulfilling the tasks that were required of him.

As soon as I woke up from this dream, I was overcome with a profound sense of relief and closure. For weeks, I had been on edge, hoping that Louie would visit me, so I could say a final farewell before he was completely beyond my reach.

Not everyone in my family believes in my visitation dreams, and that’s okay. We all have our belief system. Everyone’s journey to the Light is different. Personally, I think the way I’m getting there has some freaky stops along the way.