Grace Notes
All of creation is stressed. We wonder how, and if, we’ll survive the dark times that threaten us—and the whole world. More than ever, we need guides, not half-baked con artists who preach a false gospel, based on one of two opposing poles—1. that we draw to us what we put out, so at all costs we must ignore evil and blindly embrace illusion, and 2. That everyone is inherently depraved, with carnage lurking on every hand, unless we follow the letter of the law (usually of the charlatans’ own cherry picked scriptures that ignore the greater context). Otherwise, we’ll suffer eternally. Neither extreme is modelled on Jesus of the Gospels. In fact, a fake Jesus—in reality, an idol—is being peddled by far too many professing to be Christian.
I’m going to start recording my ongoing extraordinary experiences with the souls of the living and the dead, of both two- and four-foot animals which I will label as Grace Notes on this, my main site, as well as my other sites—Grace Period, A Aaron Counseling, Thomas Ramey Watson, and Baltho, The Dog Who Owned a Man. I also intend to offer individual and group services for those who need help with grief.
Many classical English poets like Wordsworth looked to the long Judeo-Christian prophetic tradition exemplified by David, who was held to have written the Psalms. Primarily they wrote of their experiences with the divine, who was the Word who came to those he called and spoke to, just as he spoke the world and all that is into being. All who attempt to follow the Word echo in some way the Word which is the Divine Logos that became incarnate and centered in Christ and the Age of Grace (over Law).
My insights spring from specific occasions from manifold tests and learning to dwell in the Presence, as mystics have termed it. I do not turn them on and off at will. I write about a number of such experiences in my forthcoming spiritual memoir, Seer: The Communion of the Living and the Dead
Grace Note 1
On Sunday afternoon I was shopping at Costco. One of the food servers whom I’d gotten to know had lost her husband a year ago. Connie was still grieving. I’d heard from other fellow workers that she was taking it very badly. She was a retired elementary teacher, who struck me as someone that little kids would love. Her sweet face and kind manner endeared her to many of us.
When I first decided to broach the subject with her a few weeks before, I asked how she was doing. She looked very sad. “Some days are better than others,” she said.
“That’s usually the case,” I said.
She told me that she and her husband had had a long marriage and were very close, “But his death was still hard.” She believed his soul lived on. “Some friends at the funeral told me they felt his presence. I didn’t, but I’m glad they did.”
I nodded and said I was glad she’d had assurance. “That makes our grief more bearable.”
Experiences with the souls of the living and the dead, of both two- and four-leg animals, have long been part of my life and calling. After I was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in April 2022 and given only 1½ – 2 years to live with chemotherapy, which I refused, such experiences have increased. In fact, my divine visitations are the reasons I have refused. Now, I am 10 months beyond my final expiration date.
As I walked away, I had the sense that Connie’s husband was telling me he was fine and loving his woodworking projects in the afterlife.
As I always do, I waited to see if I heard this again. I do not pass along anything unless I’m sure. I do not want to try to fish around and merely placate people when I have no such leading to do so. In most cases, the message I am called to deliver is positive and encouraging. But in some cases, I have had to warn people that their long habit of embracing evil has removed them from God’s mercy and grace and put their souls in jeopardy unless they right their courses and make amends to those they’ve wronged. That’s never pleasant. But being popular is not my calling. Doing right is.
On Sunday, the sense that Connie’s husband wanted me to speak to her returned. I started thinking that perhaps I should broaden “woodworking” to “home projects” or “building projects.” Something vaguer. Less precise. That’s what I’ve seen others who claim to be psychic do–a claim I do not own. I cannot turn my gifts on and off at will.
I sampled the dumplings Connie was demonstrating and continued to ponder my leading.
I walked around a bit, sampled some lemon yogurt, but kept feeling Connie’s husband telling me that woodworking was correct and not to try to broaden it. “Be precise,” he said.
I walked back to Cindy, took another dumpling and waited till she was alone. She had to cook more dumplings in the microwave.
“Did your husband like woodworking?” I asked.
“Why yes, he loved it. He hadn’t been doing it for long, but he really loved it,” she said. “Why did you ask?”
I told her what I’d heard. “I thought about trying to play it safer, but he said “woodworking. Be precise.”
“Wow. You really heard him say that?”
“Yes, I’d felt it when I saw you a few weeks ago, and felt, then heard it again, just now.”
“Just now?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yes, just now.”
“That’s really something. I’m getting goosebumps,” Connie said with a slight shiver. “Our last name is Wolf, so he carved two wolves, one for us and one for our son and his family, shortly before he died. They were beautiful pieces.” She paused. “Thank you so much. This means so much to me.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
Already I could see a brightening of Connie’s demeanor. Her downcast look and bearing were visibly lifted.
I turned and finished my shopping.
To know that I was able to assure someone grieving that her husband’s soul lived on and that he assured her of his love gave my own soul’s journey—of bringing good out of evil, light out of darkness—meaning. That is what all souls are called to do.