Books of Interest
Teachings of the Great Brotherhood of Light by the Masters Kuthumi and Morya
Sanctus Germanus Prophecies Vol. 1 by the Amanuensis
Sanctus Germanus Prophecies Vol. 2 by the Amanuensis
Sanctus Germanus Prophecies Vol. 3 by the Amanuensis
A Personal Account of Mediumship Training
Yet Another Encounter
On my return flight from Singapore, we landed at night in Newark, New Jersey in the worst blizzard of the season. As soon as we debarked, all gates closed and the airport shut down. The shuttles to the hotels ceased running and the shuttle train that connected the terminals broke down. Thousands were stranded and were left on their own to sleep on the floor of the terminal. There was no way to leave the airport except by foot. I was told this was a sign of what is to come: Man's technical systems are so fragile that they will not be able to handle the chaos caused by the encroaching earth changes. Here was solid proof. Later in the year there was the Katrina Hurricane that hit New Orleans, and some of the scenes had a marked similarity to what I saw in the airport that night.
But what was I to do? I found an isolated corner in the terminal to bed down for the night. I was tired after the 20-hour flight and fell asleep right away on the floor. I woke up at 5 am to find myself surrounded by other stranded passengers who had camped out around me. It was all quite eery. I gathered up my things and went to the airline counter to see if there was any possibility of getting out that day, as another storm was supposed to be approaching. I joined a long line of other stranded passengers.
When I finally reached the agent, she said that the only seat they had available was in two days, otherwise I would have to find other means. All trains, buses, and taxis were shut down, so what could I do?
I went downstairs to the bus counter. There were two Indian tourists also looking for a way out. There was a sign on the counter that said all bus service had been cancelled until further notice. They shrugged and walked away. I stood there alone in a daze wondering how I would ever get back to Montreal, when suddenly I heard a voice behind me. "You want to go downtown?"
I turned around and there was a pleasant looking fellow about 38 years old. I said, "Yes, but everything is closed and we can't get out."
"I work here. Look, here's my badge. I'm just getting off work. I worked all night de-icing the planes so they could take off."
"I thought they closed the airport," I said.
"Oh, no, we were sending flights out all night. Come. We can't get a taxi at this terminal. We have to go to terminal 3."
"The shuttle train is down. We'll have to walk through the snow. I did it last night."
"Wait!" he said. At that moment a white official airport van was coming down the ramp. He ran outside and flagged it down. The lady driver nodded, and he motioned me to get on. I dragged my suitcase and gear through the snow and hopped on the van, which took us to the next terminal. We pulled in alongside a taxi, the only one in sight. The man jumped out and bargained with the driver and said to me, "20 bucks to get us to the Newark train station." I agreed, and he helped me load everything in the taxi trunk and we jumped into the taxi.
In the taxi, the man handed me a $10.00 bill. "Here's my half," he said. "You pay him."
In less than ten minutes we arrived at the Newark train station. As we entered the terminal, he asked me, "You want a cup of coffee?"
I said, "Yes, it's on me. But let me check the train schedule first. I'll be back in a second."
He took his place in the line and I walked about 20 feet to check the train schedule on the board. I looked back at the coffee line, and the man had disappeared. I walked around coffee stand but couldn't find him, then I figured I'd find him on the same train to Manhattan so I could thank him.
I went upstairs to the track indicated on train schedule, but there was no one else there and no train. Suddenly a trainman appeared. "Are you going to Manhattan?" I nodded. "That train is on the track on the other side. Come, I'll take you there." Such courtesy in New Jersey, I thought. And at five in the morning!
The trainman took me over to the other train and told the other trainman that I wanted to go to Manhattan. He told me to buy a ticket from a vending machine against the wall. "You can board, but we don't know when we're leaving. But at least it's warm inside."
"How many passengers do you have?" I asked hoping to see the gentleman who had helped me get there.
"Only six," he said.
I boarded and looked around at the other passengers. The gentleman was not among them. I really wanted to thank him.
No sooner had I sat down, then the train started to move. Within minutes we were in downtown Manhattan's Penn Station.
Penn station in the midst of a snowstorm was surreal, like a morgue. Homeless people were standing asleep everywhere, and a few security guards kept prodding those who had sunk on the floor to force them to stand up. No loitering or sleeping in the station. I went upstairs to the exit door on corner of Seventh Avenue and there was a big embankment of snow that the ploughs had pushed against the entry, so I had to climb over it to get to the street on the other side. It was still pitch dark and there was no one in sight. What was I to do now? Then I noticed a car flashing its headlights at me. Miraculously it turned out to be a yellow cab. I motioned him to come over. The driver was wearing a turban and could have been a Sikh. He was uncommunicative and didn't want to chat. With no traffic, we arrived at my friend's apartment. After I alighted, I looked at my watch. The whole trip from the bus counter at Newark Airport to my friend's apartment in Manhattan had taken less than an hour!! I was astounded and knew instantly that some kind of divine intervention had taken place!
Eventually, I managed to get on another flight back to Montreal from La Guardia Airport that day.
New Face for the Foundation
I spent the next month moving the Foundation to an office building. The noise from the students downstairs had made it impossible to carry on our work. We decorated the new office so that it does not resemble an office, and most people were quite surprised when they entered. It is so quiet there that we held our meditation group sessions there.
After setting up the new office, I rented a small cottage on a lake in the Laurentian mountains north of Montreal. It was an ideal setting to start writing the draft to the Sanctus Germanus Prophecies Volume 2.
The Masters, primarily St. Germain transmitted information at a pre-determined time in the morning or afternoon in the small garden facing the lake, a most beautiful, serene spot. Many times these transmissions were hints of what I should research or think about. Their effort was to engage me in the writing, rather than give me everything. So after the transmissions had finished, I wrote up a first draft, thinking I would spend the next few weeks polishing it up with an editor. However, they notified me that the book was still not ready for publication. I would have to finish it after another trip to India.
Return to Darjeeling and Trip to Rumtek, Sikkim
While I was preparing to leave for Darjeeling in November 2005, I received a message that I should bring some pain pills with me, and then I saw a scene flashed to me of myself writhing in bed with pain. "What was all this about?" I asked.
"You will see, if you go." I was warned that this would be a voyage of thorns. Why? I could not then answer. So the choice was left up to me. But I knew it was to be yet another test of my sincerity and commitment to what I was doing.
"Haven't I shown enough commitment up to now?" I asked. No answer.
Yet Another Encounter
The trip started off badly. My flight from Montreal to Newark was on a brand new Brazilian Embraer passenger jet, and it had developed instrument trouble before we even pushed off. I had allowed for a five-hour layover in Newark to catch my connecting flight to Singapore, so according to the air personnel, the glitch would be repaired, and I would have no trouble connecting. So the passengers were told to wait on board. Everything would be okay.
Time dragged on until the pilot announced that they would have to call a team of specialists to fix the instrument problem. Everything would be okay and we would be on our way shortly. An hour later, a team of three technicians boarded. Two of them went to the cockpit and the third one headed down the aisle toward the back of the plane. As he passed me, he smiled broadly as if he knew me. I, too, recognized him but couldn't place him. He adjusted something in an electronic panel, then headed up front to join his colleagues. Again, as he passed me, he turned around and smiled at me again. At that very second, I realized who he was. It was that same man who had bailed me out of the blizzard at Newark Airport-the one who had disappeared before I could buy him a cup of coffee and thank him. But what was he doing in Montreal? Wasn't he from New York? It was clear that there would be no logical answer to this encounter, so I accepted it with a chuckle. I suddenly felt safer flying in that plane.
Second Trip to Darjeeling
We finally arrived in Newark six hours behind schedule, just in time for me to miss my flight to Singapore. The next flight would be in three days. At this point I was tempted to return to Montreal instead of spending three days in Newark.
Finally, after Singapore Airlines realized it was not my fault, they agreed to change my ticket and allow me to take the next day flight from JFK New York to Frankfurt then to Singapore and Kolkata (Calcutta). The drive from Newark to JFK was tense, and we were stuck in traffic for hours. I was afraid the same scenario was replaying itself, but luckily we arrived just in time to take the flight.
Arriving in Singapore two days later, I found that I had missed the flight to Kolkata, India and would have to spend a couple days in Singapore. I seized the occasion to see some Singaporean friends. Finally, I arrived in Kolkata six days behind schedule exhausted.
After resting a couple days, I flew to Bagdogra where I hired a car to drive me up to Darjeeling. I was told to pick a certain driver otherwise there would be problems on the road. They had flashed an image of a Tibetan man who was to be the driver. When I arrived at Bagdogra airport, I prepaid a taxi, as is the custom. Through the window, I could see the dispatcher assigning a driver to me, but he did not look at all like the person whose image I had seen. I decided to take my chances. If anything happened, I would just have to bear the consequences.
As I exited the airport with my baggage, suddenly a young Tibetan man jumped in front of me. "Hello, I'm your driver." He was the one I had seen in the flashed image. He told me he had just swapped tickets with the other driver so he did not have to return to Darjeeling empty. I felt safe with this fellow, so throughout my trip to Darjeeling and Sikkim, I kept him as my driver. Let's say he came "highly recommended," and indeed he was a very good driver, careful and not frenetic like a lot of young Indian drivers.
We arrived Darjeeling after dark and I went to the hotel I had booked. It was a complete dump, so we drove to another one, which was slightly better, except it was not well-heated and had noisy neighbours upstairs. After a sleepless night, I moved again to another hotel high up on a hill.
I felt very weak from all the travel but nonetheless went down to the Bhutia Busty Monastery to see my friend Lama Tenzing. When I arrived, the assistant lama said, "Lama Tenzing is not here. He went to Calcutta two weeks ago and should be coming back shortly. But he called today and said someone from Canada is coming. It must be you. He said he will be here by tomorrow." I had not spoken to the Lama for two years, and did not even tell him I was coming. I was to learn by closer association with him that he is very telepathic and clairvoyant, and there are many things I don't have to tell him that he already knows.
Since I was already at the monastery, I asked to meditate in the second floor room at the Monastery. As I went into meditation, I went into semi-trance. I got a rousing welcome from the Brothers. They all showed up in the etheric and St. Germain came forward to talk through my voice chords. They congratulated for making the trip and that I had made an excellent decision by going through with this trip, despite all the problems encountered. Then, St. Germain spoke to me giving me more details concerning the organisation of the Sanctus Germanus Foundation and the tasks ahead.
After this session, I walked out on the balcony. One of the monks yelled, "He's here! Here he comes!" There was Lama Tenzing walking down the mountain with a little porter behind carrying his two suitcases. He immediately recognized me and we talked for a short while. He was very tired from his long trip and so was I, so we made plans to meet the next day at my hotel.
I seemed to be the only guest in the hotel. The next day the Lama arrived very early and we had breakfast together. He would be going to Sikkim and would be very busy with pujas and travel into the nearby villages, so we would try to meet again in the next few days.
By this time, I was sick with a cold and from the strain of so many sleepless nights of travel. Then something else started happening to me. I was going through some other adjustments, most of which were made in the head and throat area. There were times I thought my head would literally crack in two. At times I could not make it down to the restaurant to eat and had to be served in the room. This adjustment lasted for about ten days until I was very weakened, but all the time I knew they were working on me. I knew not to panic at the thought of dying in the Himalayas all alone, even though at times I felt I would expire. I knew it was a necessary adjustment, and that I had to go through it. That's why I had made this trip. I understood now why I had brought the pain pills.
What took place was one of the final stages in the rising of the kundalini energies from the base of the spine. Rather than rising at once, my experience over a five year period was that kundalini release came at different intervals, and over time worked its way up the spine from chakra to chakra. I would feel discomfort in the lower back followed by various odd symptoms or pain in the chakra being affected. It would come and go. This time the kundalini was reaching up to my throat and brow chakras which caused the intense pain in the head.
After this episode, I remained in a weakened physical state for about a month. It took three more weeks on the beach and eating fresh foods to recover fully. I am still discovering things about this opening. I was told why this opening took place and the work I will be involved in the future. Communication from the higher dimensions would need more precision of increasingly complex messages and teachings, and I would be expected to record them as accurately as possible. The accompanying images projected are now in vivid life-like colour.
Visit to Rumtek, Sikkim and the Rumtek Monastery
Although still feeling a bit week, I decided to hire a jeep and go to Sikkim, primarily Rumtek where the famous Rumtek Monastery is located. I was later to understand why this visit had to take place.
After an endless turning and twisting drive through the Himalayas in order to reach Rumtek, I checked into the Shamballa Hotel, which is a short walk from the Monastery. I thought that was an apt name, since the subject of Shambhalla, the ethereal seat of the Spiritual Hierarchy has always fascinated me.
I was the only guest in the hotel, yet it was fully staffed. I felt like a king.
I went for a visit of the Monastery the next morning and was stopped by armed guards for a check of my passport and internal Sikkim visa. After this rather disturbing checkpoint, I climbed up to the main entrance of the Monastery only to find two more soldiers with machine guns guarding the main door. Again, I was surprised to see such a show of brute force at the entrance of the monastery, which was supposed to be a place of peace and spirituality.
Rumtek Monastery is supposed to be the seat of the exiled Kagyu Order of Tibetan Buddhists and was built about 40 years ago by the 16 th Karmapa, the former spiritual head of the order. He died while in the United States in 1981. The order waited patiently for the Karmapa to reincarnate and it was not until 1992 that a search team sent to Tibet found the little boy who was said to be his reincarnation. The boy 17 th Karmapa was enthroned in Tibet, and the Dalai Lama recognized him officially. From then on, there ensued a power struggle among the high-ranking monks of the Kagyu. The Shamar Rinpoche, or deputy to the deceased the 16 th Karmapa declared the Tibetan boy Karmapa a fake and set up his own candidate, also a Tibetan, in Kalimpong, India. So there are now two young Tibetans in their early twenties who claim to be the 17 th Karmapa.
In the Rumtek Monastery are said to be the great treasures of the Kagyu order that the previous Karmapa smuggled out of Tibet. This includes a sacred black hat that enabled the 16 th Karmapa magical powers. Both factions in the Kagyu claim Rumtek as the seat of the Karmapa, but neither has been able even to approach the main door. The armed guards around the monastery are stationed there to protect the treasures while this controversy simmers. No one can predict if or when this problem of the dual Karmapas will ever be resolved.
I passed the two machine-gunned guards and entered the monastery courtyard. It is breathtakingly beautiful.
One of my objectives was to meet those in charge of teaching Tibetan astrology, for I have also seen the usefulness of astrology, especially Vedic Astrology. I followed some visitors into the main temple, after which I walked out into the main courtyard where there were hundreds of red-clad monks milling around, chatting, practicing their butter sculpture (it was cold enough so that the butter didn't melt), or horsing around chasing each other like boys in any schoolyard. I spotted one monk working on a butter sculpture and walked up to him. He smiled and I commented on how intricate his sculpture was. Was he studying butter sculpture? He said yes, like many of the monks.
I asked him if he could lead me to the school of astrology. He smiled shyly and answered, "I am the only student of astrology in the monastery." Out of the hundreds in the courtyard, I had been led to the only astrology student! I had to chuckle. "My teacher is in there and very sick. He's very old. They want me to learn as much as possible before he passes." He pointed to his teacher's room.
He said his fellow monks are not very interested in astrology. Only him. He showed me his textbook and the astrological charts they work with. Everything was written in Tibetan, but from the shape of the charts, I could see that it was probably a fusion of Vedic Astrology and perhaps the Chinese.
"Can I show you around the monastery?" he asked.
I jumped at the opportunity. He stashed his things in his room and reappeared. We climbed up to the Nalanda Institute of Tibetology, visited another temple on the top floor of the institute where all the monks congregate, then walked a small path that led to more buildings on the top of the mountain where the monks go into their three year retreat. Finally, he took me into a room where some relics of the 16 th Karmapa were preserved. In the same room, there were two other altars consecrated to both boy claimants to the 17 th Karmapa's position. I asked the young monk which one he thought was the true Karmapa. He answered, "Both."
I asked if I could see his monastic room. He agreed. It was very simple with two beds arranged in an L pattern along the wall. One bed was slightly higher than the monk's. He said that bed was for a senior monk, his mentor. I noticed that he had a picture of a Tibetan pop singer posted on the wall. I joked and asked him if that was his girl friend, knowing full well that the question would embarrass him. He laughed and said it was a pop star. Were the monks allowed to have girl friends? "Only as friends," he said.
Then he handed me his name card and I expressed surprise that he had an email address. "Yes, sometimes I go to the internet café in Gangtok." I had to laugh. Even in this remote part of Sikkim, the young monks today know about the miracle of the internet.
A Surprising Communication from Krishnamurti
While I am in the Himalayas, the Brothers communicate messages to me daily. These messages have to do with the future organisation matters of the Sanctus Germanus Foundation, scattered with advice on a range of matters.
One evening in the Shambhala Hotel I received a prompting to channel a message from someone. I turned on the recorder and sat quietly. The voice introduced himself as the former Krishnamurti, the person the early Theosophists had designated as the next World Teacher and who later disavowed his mission with the Theosophical Society. This break with the Theosophists caused a great scandal and embarrassment to the second generation of Theosophical leaders, primarily Annie Besant and Charles W. Leadbeater, his primary promoters.
In the communication with Krishnamurti, he explained to me a bit about the physical adjustments I had just endured in Darjeeling and how he had had to go through similar ones. He gave me the explanation of the kundalini that I wrote above.
I asked him bluntly why he had aborted his mission as world teacher. He answered that he had not aborted it, but just disavowed his connection with the Theosophical Society. He reminded me that he had spent his whole life teaching, writing and lecturing. I had to admit he was right. But the problem, he said, was what he had taught was way in advance of what he should have taught. The world was not ready for it. He admitted that he had been mislead by other forces (which I somehow assumed were ET's) at times, but at the same time he never disavowed his connection to the Master KH and the message of the Christ that he was meant to convey.
This communication gave me a feeling of deep compassion for him and I understood better what he had undergone, especially in the physical adjustments we seemed to share. And just looking at the state of the world between the two World Wars, I believe his mission was misunderstood from the beginning. Perhaps he was an avatar sent at that moment in world crisis to reduce some of the negativity, but certainly it must have been the more ambitious visions of the Besant and Leadbeater that led to the misunderstanding of his being the World Teacher. With a bit of historical hindsight, the world was really not even remotely ready in the 1930's to receive the profound teachings of the World Teacher. Some say the world would have been a much different place had he carried through with his mission. Perhaps, but I seriously doubt it, since the war machines had already been mobilized.
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