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Good books
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Joined: 13 Mar 2004
Posts: 72

PostPosted: Sat Nov 20, 2004 10:42 am    Post subject: Good books

Hi all,

I just read a good book, and it triggered the thought of starting this topic. Feel free to post details of any good books you recommend to fellow XBKchat members. Now here is my good book:

The reconnection - heal yourself heal others
By Dr Eric Pearl

Publisher: Hay House, Inc
Copyright 2001 by Eric Pearl
First printing, April 2001, 11th printing, June 2004
Price: US $14.95, CAN $20.95, UK pounds 9.99
Softcover, 223 pages

Publisher's website: www.hayhouse.com
Author's website: www.thereconnection.com
Amazon's webpage: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1401902103/qid=1100962649/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-8749029-7237638

In a nutshell, Dr Eric Pearl is a chiropractor by training. He had one of the largest practices in Los Angeles. On a lark, he decided to go for an energy raising session with a woman who worked with crystals etc. After that, strange things started happening. Lights would go on and off in his home. He felt the presence of beings in his home. He started to feel heat in his hands. Eventually, blisters appeared on his palms. Then, while working on patients, they began to experience 'miraculous' cures, for illnesses which no chiropractor can deal with and, indeed, even which physicians could not cure.

Voices came through some of his patients. Pearl was told: "We are here to tell you....to continue doing what you are doing. What you are doing...is bringing light and information onto the planet. What you are doing is reconnecting strings."

Pearl gradually realised that a totally new manifestion of higher energy was making its presence known through him. A very intelligent and healing energy. He eventually concluded that this was a calling, and walked away from his chiropractic work to do this healing work full time. Now he travels around the work and gives seminars showing others how they can connect to the healing energy to heal themselves and heal others. There are no complicated or fancy techniques to learn. No equipment is required to feel the energy. It's simply a matter of state of mind, being, receptivity and awareness. You just have to get yourself out of the way, and the energy comes through.

His book attempts to teach how to connect to the energy. And I think it succeeds. I have tried it myself and connected to the energy. And it works. I have felt the healing energy in my body. I also tried it with a co-worker. She had a persistent neck problem for many years and - following on a brief session with me - now it's gone!

Pearl's book is backed up by some super credentialed heavy hitters, including Gary Schwartz Phd and Linda Russek Phd. Gifted psychic John Edward and noted writer Dr Deepak Chopra have also commented favourably on Pearl's work.

Get the book and read it. You'll be rewarded.


Joined: 23 Jun 2004
Posts: 174

PostPosted: Sun Nov 21, 2004 2:33 am    Post subject: Good Books

Congratulations! What a great idea!
BKs it seems are not encouraged to read books. Reading books is following manmath or mayamath. It was one 'shrimath' I coud not resist breaking! Laughing
The God In Every Man and The Goddess In Every Woman by Dr. Jean Shinoda-Bolen are both eye openers!
Dr. Shinoda-Bolen is a Jungian psychologist, who describes in her two books the achetypes which are dominant in the lives of males and females. Each archetype represents one of the Greek gods of Olympus or one of the gods of Roman mythology.
For instance, an individual with a Zeus achetype will be a natural leader. The Zeus achetype will empower the person to lead from a young age. There were many Ahas as I read both books. Both books were great sources for self-healing about nine years ago, when I experience a crisis of seperation from a soul mate.
Om Shanti,
To my brothers and sisters.

Love to you all,
Errol bhai
   Yahoo Messenger

Joined: 13 Mar 2004
Posts: 72

PostPosted: Sun Dec 12, 2004 9:00 am    Post subject:

Here is another good (and timely) read:

In Praise of Slowness : How A Worldwide Movement Is Challenging the Cult of Speed

by Carl Honore

Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: HarperSanFrancisco
ISBN: 0060750510

Read all about it on Amazon:


The editorial review begins:

"A former "speedaholic," an award-winning Canadian journalist advocates living a slower, more measured existence, in virtually every area, a philosophy he defines as "balance." Honore's personal wake-up call came when he began reading one-minute bedtime stories to his two-year-old son in order to save time. The absurdity of this practice dramatized how he, like most of the world, was caught up in a speed culture that probably began with the Industrial Revolution, was spurred by urbanization and increased dramatically with 20th-century advances in technology. The author explores, in convincing and skillful prose, a quiet revolution known as "the slow movement," which is attempting to integrate the advances of the information age into a lifestyle that is marked by an "inner slowness" that gives more depth to relationships with others and with oneself."

Joined: 13 Mar 2004
Posts: 72

PostPosted: Sun Dec 12, 2004 8:12 pm    Post subject:

Forgot to mention that the writer, Carl Honore, has his own website. Here it is:


Joined: 13 Mar 2004
Posts: 72

PostPosted: Sun Dec 12, 2004 8:39 pm    Post subject:

This one is a classic:

Many Lives, Many Masters: The True Story of a Prominent Psychiatrist, His Young Patient, and the Past-Life Therapy That Changed Both Their Lives
by Brian L. Weiss

Here is the Amazon page:


And here is Amazon's book description:

"As a traditional psychotherapist, Dr. Brian Weiss was astonished and skeptical when one of his patients began recalling past-life traumas that seemed to hold the key to her recurring nightmares and anxiety attacks. His skepticism was eroded, however, when she began to channel messages from the "space between lives," which contained remarkable revelations about Dr. Weiss' family and his dead son. Using past-life therapy, he was able to cure the patient and embark on a new, more meaningful phase of his own career."

The writer, Dr Weiss, is a heavily credentialed ivy league psychiatrist. He has his own website:


Joined: 09 Nov 2004
Posts: 102

PostPosted: Sun Dec 12, 2004 11:13 pm    Post subject:

Paul wrote:
"As a traditional psychotherapist, Dr. Brian Weiss was astonished and skeptical when one of his patients began recalling past-life traumas that seemed to hold the key to her recurring nightmares and anxiety attacks. His skepticism was eroded, however, when she began to channel messages from the "space between lives," which contained remarkable revelations about Dr. Weiss' family and his dead son. Using past-life therapy, he was able to cure the patient and embark on a new, more meaningful phase of his own career."

This could be valuable to those who would like to confirm their beliefs regarding past lives.

The success of past lives therapy need not necessarily mean that people are or are not reborn.

I think the universe provides adequate space for people to believe in rebirth and find abundant evidence of rebirth without rebirth necessarily being the fundamental reality, the gears of the cosmic clock.

Clearly, many self-realized individuals have no concept or consciousness of a previous life.

If rebirth were the key to self-realization, we would see a huge difference in consciousness among those who do and do not believe.

Speaking personally, vividly conceptualizing and consciously invoking a sense of self as a multiply reborn entity did not bring any particular lasting self-realization or transformation.

In my own case, forgetting these philsophical passageways has led me to an more immediate sense of reality than pursuing them did.

Your mileage may vary. Good luck to all!

PostPosted: Wed Dec 15, 2004 8:53 pm    Post subject:

you've got a point there
Yet, where is the alternative?

Joined: 22 Feb 2004
Posts: 167

PostPosted: Mon Dec 27, 2004 1:00 pm    Post subject: After the gurus ....

Hi guys,
Here's an interesting story I came across while browsing. Kinda long (20 pages) but worth the while reading. The bold highlights are mine - some points with which I concur.

warm regards,


The true story of a modern-day searcher


Dedicated to my Special Friend

Author’s preface

Dear Reader,

I would like to tell you that the story you are about to read could be similar to that of many others who, like me, have set out on a Path and met a Special Friend, who then became their Master. Since this text could be read by anyone, I have preferred to maintain the characters’ anonymity for reasons of privacy.

I dedicate these lines to you who, wandering through the Internet,
are perhaps in search of a word that comes from that Great Master that is inside all of us, and that, sadly, only a few are able to hear.



It was a dull November day, the day I was born. My mother, a delicate woman, held me in her arms, and I, unaware, didn’t even know I’d been born… that I had entered a completely new world, different from the warm, protective maternal womb. I have clear memories from a very young age of moments of trouble and moments of joy; to be honest, there were more of the former than of the latter.

My memories of my father, especially before I turned eight, are beautiful. My father, although he was a moody man, was always there for me. I still remember our lovely walks at Castelli Romani, where we met up with other friends of his, and where, in the spring, I could smell so strongly the aroma of the trees and flowers, and feel the heat of the sun on my young face. It was good to see my father so happy, holding my hand and smiling, it made me feel safe between his arms, and I felt like the happiest little girl in the world.

However, a time came when something changed in him. Or perhaps it changed in me, since, by this time, I was becoming a young lady, and all those happy moments, which I now carry within me like precious stones to look at now and again, were lost in the wind. Due to various financial problems, he started drinking and, sadly, his violent tendencies got worse. My father had never been a calm man, but at that time I felt that I was growing away from him, and that this divide would never heal.
My mother, on the other hand, was completely dominated by my father, both because in his moments of anger my father could turn violent, and because she didn’t have the strength to react. Indeed, perhaps because of the nervous breakdowns that afflicted her at the time, she had twice attempted suicide. I still remember my cries when the smell of gas reached my room … I ran straight to the kitchen and found her collapsed on the floor with her head in the oven. Thanks to the fact that I got there just in time, and to my cries of pain, broken by sobs, she came round, and her life was saved. But don’t go thinking that my mother, because of this, was an inexistent character, or always accommodating. Quite the opposite, especially where I was concerned. Sometimes, I guess to offload some kind of tension, she would unleash her anger on me … I think you can imagine how.

My mother’s anger, in those moments, was different from my father’s; sometimes she seemed much nastier. And so you can see that I was born into an environment where tension and violence were often the order of the day, and my way of reacting to all this was to shut myself off more and more, or to assume a rebellious attitude towards all that came from my family.

Inside me I hoped that one day I could find a man who would love me, and give me the warmth that I was missing. I often dreamed of running far away, and sometimes I wondered why I was destined to suffer so much. I wondered why I had been born, and what, if any, was the purpose of my life.

At about seventeen years of age the meeting that I had been waiting for happened. It was the 2nd November 1968, and I was walking with a friend, towards the usual place where we used to meet up with the rest of our crowd. We were sitting near a fountain when two young lads approached us, as often happens in this kind of situation when you’re young. I was deeply struck by one of the two; his shoulders were wide, and his features gave me a sense of security. Now I can see that at the time I needed reassurance, perhaps I needed to rediscover the sensations I had felt years before in my father’s arms. That meeting was to change my very existence radically, because that young man became my husband.

However, our marriage did not take place in the idyllic way that you may imagine. In actual fact we had to get married, because in the mean time I had got pregnant, and I could never have brought up that child alone; my family would never have let me. That morning when I came back from the doctor with the news that I was already two months pregnant, it was a real shock for my husband too. Not because he didn’t care about me, or I about him, but because we were both young (I was just eighteen) and above all because we didn’t feel ready to take on all the responsibilities that marriage and children bring.

In the end we got married, and I felt an incredible love for the little creature growing inside me. My pregnancy was very happy; I could feel this living creature inside me, and I felt that I could continuously communicate with it about all that I was experiencing, my thoughts and my emotions.

Some time later I underwent surgery to my uterus, which knocked me for six. Although I knew that it wouldn’t leave any permanent damage, I was overcome with the fear that I wouldn’t be able to have any more children, and this made me long to become a mother once again. Indeed, three years after the birth of my first daughter, whom I called Valeria, I had a little boy, and gave him the name Gianluca.

Meanwhile, my relationship with my husband was far from perfect. We didn’t have the kind of communication I would have liked, and I didn’t feel wrapped in his warmth. I only felt the presence of my children, and this brought me a deep sense of peace. My feelings of loneliness seemed to have lulled, and I knew I was starting out a new life.

As time passed, as my children grew and I tried to make sure they lacked nothing, I realised that something was missing inside me. In bringing them up, I tried to give them certain principles. For example, I felt that their happiness could not be dictated only by the smartness of their clothes or by the number of toys I could offer them. They were children, of course, and I did all that I could not to make them feel uncomfortable in any way, but I felt that it was absurd how television or fashion could create in youngsters unhappiness or competition simply about their external appearance and not the richness of sentiment.

However, this was to do with a process going on within me. I couldn’t accept the fact that life could go on without a different reason, even if I didn’t know what other reason could substitute everyday needs and the constant rush that was my life. Often, looking around me, I would wonder: what is the point of all this? Surely we don’t live just to have a nice car or a nice house or a reasonably dignified job?

In the summer, every time I went to the seaside when my children were four or five, I would stop and ponder the crowds of people in the sun, all lying a few centimetres apart on colourful towels, as if they were carpeting the beach with a mass of colourful streaks. It always made me think of an artist’s palette, marked all over with different colours. I would imagine looking down on the scene from above and seeing myself amid the throng, and the impression I had was of so many ants that, after a long winter of hard work, all raced to the edge of an enormous puddle to try to cool off a little. I couldn’t believe that we all work so hard, using all our energy just to have a nicer jumper than our friend or a house with a wonderful lamp to make our neighbours jealous or some such things.

Lately I read in the papers that Giovanni Agnelli’s son had committed suicide. This brought to mind thoughts from a long time ago. The young Agnelli really could have had anything he wanted, the best car, the best jumper, the best house… And yet he was unhappy. Perhaps in his heart he had such great suffering that he had gone beyond the limits of what he could bear. He only had enough strength left to drive to that bridge and put an end to it. It has always struck me the way that his car engine was still running when the police found it; it made me think how much of a hurry he was in to end has life of luxury; nothing was important any more. All his riches, his fame, even his deep sadness were unimportant now... he had decided to kill himself.

I too, at that time, felt unable to carry on living like that; my life had reached the outer edge of bearable. But as we all do so often (in my case for love of my children, who were my only joy), I kept going, completely ignoring that inner voice that whispers: “but there must be a higher purpose! There must be a better reason to give meaning to this life lived like robots!”

In fact, I didn’t yet know that somewhere out there that reason existed and had always been there waiting for me, waiting until I could open my eyes and steer my life towards it. A reason that was to turn my life around, making it vibrate, allowing me to feel in harmony with nature and the world once again.

Years went by from those thoughts on the beach, and my children continued to grow. I still remember their first day of school, and how enthusiastically I took them there. They were just children, but I saw them through the eyes of a mother, full of love, and I was proud to lead them to the gates of the world.But I had a strong realisation that they were growing up when they started to have their first friendships, their first parties and their first moments of independence.

The years passed by quickly and we moved house. It took me a while to get used to our new home, which was bigger and also more comfortable. If you have had children you will know how handy it can be to have more space available. Naturally it was difficult for them to leave the places of their childhood, their friendships and the green space right opposite our old home, where they loved to play. Unfortunately however we had no choice but to move.

You have no idea how such an apparently banal event such as moving house can actually be the opening of a completely new, different and unexpected chapter in life…

When we moved, although I was quite happy, for the reasons mentioned above, I had just one little worry that cropped up now and again among my thoughts. In fact I already knew that on the floor below our apartment there was a lady who had had psychological problems. I had heard that wherever she had lived there had always been arguments and acts of violence. Once someone had told me that she had even argued with her husband (since she was married) and, coming out in her blood-stained nightshirt, had set off barefoot towards the hospital, shouting and yelling. You can imagine my diffidence as I started getting to know her.
For the first five or six months of reasonable neighbourly dealings (I say reasonable because I would often hear her shouting at night or arguing loudly with I don’t know who) all went fairly well.

One morning, while the children were at school and I was watching a bit of television, I heard someone knocking at the front door. Thinking it was the postman, I happily opened the door, only to see her before me - Signora Mara. She was barefoot on my landing and, although it was winter, she wore only a little short-sleeved t-shirt, as usual. Come snow or storms, you would never see her with a jumper or shoes on her feet.
She wore stained tracksuit trousers that hadn’t been washed since who knows when. She had an unusual face; she wasn’t ugly, but she had strong features and swarthy skin. What struck me most were her vacant blue eyes, staring at me, a pale blue, almost like ice, which stood out even more surrounded by her deep eye sockets. Her hands were short, and I noticed the strange movement of her fingers as she tried to talk to me. She spoke loudly, although there was no need, and despite her small physique, and listening to her was something like hearing the sound of a box of pins spilt out onto the floor. I was taken aback, “Hi Mara, what can I do for you?” I tried to keep it simple, not to upset her, and to get rid of her as soon as possible. “Teresa...” she said, “I wanted to tell you a secret...”

Put yourself in my shoes; what would you do if your neighbour, whom you know to be psychotic, knocked on your door and started chatting to you quite unexpectedly? My reaction was to be gentle; I had no intention of upsetting her, or of creating ill-feeling towards myself. “I feel touched that you want to share your thoughts with me…” I hoped this would take away some of the icy look I could see in her face, but the effect was quite the opposite. Her eyes lit up with a sinister glow, and she continued: “often I manage to keep back a bit of the money my husband gives me for the shopping…” I wasn’t sure where she was driving at, I was afraid it might be something really terrible for me, but I let her go on. “Since I know that you work far away…” It was true that I had for some time been working as a home help in various families, to help maintain my own. “…I wanted to ask you to come and clean my flat … what do you think? I could pay you… I told you, I’ve got the money…” At first I didn’t know what to say, I could feel my lips trembling… Go and work for her? No chance! There was no furniture in her flat (I’d been in once to deliver a letter) other than the bare essentials, it was dirty, but above all I was scared of having to be with her, witness her crises or suffer who knows what else. But, since I didn’t want to rock her boat, I managed to find the friendliest way I could of refusing “Dear Mara, I’m so pleased that you asked me… But unfortunately I already have an awful lot on, and I have very little time even for my own home. Anyway, if you need a hand, I’ll be pleased to help you out, but without asking you for any money. We’re neighbours, if we don’t help each other out… who else will?” My real intentions were to end the conversation and let time pass, hoping that she would forget. On hearing my reply, she looked at me without any kind of expression on her face, and silently went away, as if she had never spoken to me. I wasn’t sure how to interpret her reaction, I didn’t even know if she liked my reply or not, but I felt greatly relieved that she had gone, and I closed the door.

For a few days I didn’t come across her, and I thought that the matter was done and dusted. In actual fact, she was planning her revenge. One afternoon, on my way down the stairs to go out, I heard her shrill voice saying: “Aha! There goes the lady upstairs who doesn’t need to work!” I was struck above all by the tone of her voice, which was somewhere between sarcastic and ironic, but I didn’t take too much notice. From then on, however, I made a decision that may only have made matters worse; all I wanted was to have as little to do with her as possible, and I decided not to say hello to her so that she wouldn’t speak to me.
Unfortunately, this was just the beginning of a long series of troubles that followed.

One day I spotted that she was out on her balcony throwing food down onto our car. My husband decided to go down and ask her to stop, and this marked the beginning of a period of violent reactions and of spite.
For example, when we came in she would try to spray us with a hosepipe, as if we were targets to shoot at, and several times as I was climbing the stairs she threw pebbles or salt at me, many times she insulted me, and at night she would make such loud noises with a hammer (or something of the sort) as to prevent us from sleeping. We lived in a fairly isolated area, and were the only two family living in the building. You can see how she had free reign to carry out her plans.

I was at the end of my tether, her nastiness had reached the limit. Anyone of you who has ever had to do with unstable people will know what kind of hell it can be to live in this kind of situation. Especially when you are in contact with potentially dangerous people. I only discovered recently that Signora Mara always carried a knife with her and that she told the children, who were only five or six, that she would use it on me sooner or later.

I was in pieces, I was afraid every time I left the flat because when I passed by her landing her door would regularly open and I would suffer insults and threats, until the day when she went so far as to push me and spit in my face. And today I am glad (after all that I found out later) that at the time I didn’t have the guts to react, because that was just what she was waiting for. Her provocations, in fact, were traps that she set up to get the chance to hit me and damage me physically. As I said, the knife that she always carried with her (and which I knew nothing about at the time) had a precise function, if I were to react rashly.

I was overcome with anxiety and terror at the very thought of having to carry on living in that flat, but unfortunately our financial conditions did not permit us to buy a new place. Several times I called the police, but they continuously repeated to me that they couldn’t do much because the lady was mentally ill, and therefore untouchable. They could only intervene if there was any physical violence. I remember once saying: “So you’ll only come if this woman hits me, or worse, injures or kills me?” They simply replied: “let’s hope it never comes to that”.
I had reached my limit, and there was nobody to help me. My husband was at least as frightened as me, not to mention the fear I had for my children. Every time they went out on their own my heart would pound, and I would pray to God to protect them. I would often find myself crying alone, when my husband was out at work and I felt I was losing my mind, in my anxiety and loneliness.

I went to talk to the priest, but all he could tell me was to pray and, despite my prayers, I couldn’t control my fear and anxiety. I felt that God was billions of miles away, perhaps very busy with problems and suffering far greater than mine. And yet, for everyone, even the smallest problem is huge if you don’t know how to deal with it, if you are alone and afraid.
And so I started to contact witch doctors and fortune tellers, hoping that someone could stop her. Now I can understand what a big mistake I made, but in those moments of panic I couldn’t see any other solution. I was beside myself, because her abuse was increasing and her moments of madness were becoming more frequent. She would bang on the ceiling with a broom (since I lived right above her) and calling me by name she would say: “Teresa… you’ll pay for this!” with a voice that I couldn’t describe other than with the adjective “demonic”, so shrill that it froze the blood in my veins. The most vulgar insults, the yells, the moans night and day had turned my home into hell, and into a prison.

Meanwhile, every time I called the police, who knew me well by now because I had called them dozens and dozens of times, they would hang up on me, simply saying: “Be fair, we’ve done all that we can”.
As I was saying, I started to visit fortune tellers, and I spent a lot of money, just to get well and truly conned. They all promised that with their “spells” things would sort themselves out in a flash, and I, all the while, emptied my purse.

In actual fact, nothing happened, and I fell into an ever darker and more difficult depression. At the time, my hours passed by full of sadness, of dark thoughts, of genuine fear. And I believe that my children, who are grown now, can remember those moments too. They also lived through that time with me and were disturbed by it. During that period of their lives they grew up in a climate of real psychological terror, and even now they occasionally suffer bouts of negative thoughts and fear. At times their dreams bring those nightmares back to the surface, and they will probably leave their mark on us forever, a part of our past.

Meanwhile the months and the years went by, and I shan’t bother you with details of the levels of desperation and anxiety that I reached. Every day was the same for me, and nothing was important any more. I was almost thinking of putting an end to it all…

Sometimes however, right when the day is at its darkest, and the clouds in the sky are black and full of rain, a ray of light filters through the clouds to touch the ground and remind you that the sun is always there, even when it is hidden.

And it was precisely one of these days when I met up with my mother in 1990. That morning I was particularly depressed because I had received more abuse from my downstairs neighbour, and this time she didn’t just suggest that I was a good for nothing… she spat repeatedly at me as I passed by her landing, on my way home from doing the shopping.
My mother and my aunt came to see me, and they said that, perhaps, they had a solution for me and my problem. They spoke of a young man who could help me. I was shaken and perturbed… How could they suggest another conman to me after I’d spent thousands on charlatans? I had no intention of listening, and I said very clearly: “our life is terrorised continuously by the grief that woman gives us… There is no solution, just forget it. I don’t intend getting conned again”. By this time I had resigned myself to the fact that my family and I had to continue living in that dark dimension.

When you reach the point I had reached you develop a complete sense of apathy, it’s almost as if part of you starts to become numb to everything. That situation, although unbearable, was the only one I knew, and by this time it was as if a part of me had died. I was resigned to the fact that my life had never been like that of many of my friends. I had never known even a moment’s peace of mind. Even the calm haven of a home had been denied me, and so I had to adapt to the suffering. I had to develop a tougher shell, anaesthetise myself definitively and no longer wish for anything. And, naturally, get rid of all hope of ever having a peaceful life, and this is just what I was starting to do at that time.

The weeks went by, and every time I saw my aunt she would repeat insistently, “You must meet this boy… he’s extraordinary… You have no idea how much he’s helping me”. As it happened I had noticed that in recent months she had changed somehow, become more of a listener, more understanding. Bear in mind that she was almost eighty at the time, and suffered with various anxiety disorders and, despite this, she was full of energy, and appeared happy, relaxed. She had always known of my suffering and now I would say that she was more supportive of me than my mother in that period. Perhaps without saying anything, but I believe that she could sense the dark, secret corner that my soul had ended up in.
In the end I decided to meet this boy who, according to her, had been the most important meeting in her life. It was only much later that I found out that my aunt was in fact a Searcher, and that this boy was her last master. He hadn’t helped her in the way that I imagined (with magic or spells or some other jiggery-pokery), he had helped her to develop a new consciousness… the last piece in the puzzle of her spiritual growth. But at the time I knew nothing about all this, and I thought my aunt was a fascinating but slightly bizarre person, like all fans of occultism and the like.

I told you that my mother had met this boy, and when I tell you what happened in her life you will understand what kind of miracles are possible in the human heart. My mother, in her time, although she was basically a good woman, had made some selfish choices. Her stubbornness and obstinacy made her seem like a fairly pragmatic person, at times even a bit of a social climber. She had never thought seriously about spiritual matters. And yet today the change that took place in her heart makes me proud to be the daughter of a woman who became an example for us all. But I’ll tell you about that later on.

It took a while before my aunt managed to get me an appointment, but in the end she succeeded. And so, that morning, we set off for Rome together. My heart beat faster than usual, I don’t know why, but I can tell you that I was strangely tense. When we rang the doorbell, a very kindly lady answered the door, and brought us into a little waiting room. Deep down I was very sceptical, because I thought that the result would be yet another disappointment.

I felt a little strange, I could smell a strong aroma in there, and I couldn’t quite work out if it was incense or roses. I felt as if time had stopped… If you asked me now how long I waited in that little room, I couldn’t tell you… I sensed time as having slowed down, although it may not really have been more than ten minutes.

In the end we were called through, and only now I can see that, for me too, that was the most important meeting of my whole life.
I shan’t tell you about what was said or done, because that is my business alone, but I can tell you what I felt on seeing that figure.
He was a perfectly normal boy, he had the most striking eyes, and at the time he wore his hair in a long ponytail, with the odd lock dropping in front of his face, like a girl’s. His features were delicate and his hands were particularly long and white. But, above all, I was struck by his voice. His voice, in contrast with his sweet appearance, was mature and deep. His Italian was perfect, and it was impossible to tell where he came from, what country, or what region of Italy. He used refined words and, although he was very young, he spoke like an adult. This really stood out to me. You won’t believe it, but this person spoke, moved, reasoned in such an appropriate, profound way that what I found out how old he was, I almost couldn’t believe it. My aunt told me, when we were alone, that he was just seventeen years old. I was astonished, it was so incredible that such a young person could arouse in me a deep sense of respect, both for his broad culture and for his ways. I can assure you that the reasoning and discussions that we went through together, the tuned-in way that he understood me and awakened in me new ways of seeing things, his extremely high level of attention to my every gesture, my every word, and the profundity with which he asked me to learn to observe myself to help me see the contradictory attitudes within me (as if he had always known me) and to get me to take on a new interior attitude towards my problem, all could have belonged to an academic of the highest level. But not only that; his level of awareness of himself and his actions, of the gestures he made to console me, precisely the right gestures and exactly the right words… I only realised later that they had a very precise purpose: to help me to achieve a state of mind to take away with me, to my home, and to my difficult situation. L’AMICO, this was the boy’s name, had already started helping me, and I hadn’t even realised.

For a long time I was able to see L’AMICO with my husband too, and we went through a series of interior discussions, all linked in some way to my problem. Never did he ask me to start an interior journey, indeed, every time we met he asked me how things were going and how to straighten out my thinking, but always concerning the specific problem of my neighbour.

Slowly but surely, over time, things started to change extraordinarily. At first the change happened within me, and in my perception of the reality around me. I became a little more aware of my reactions and how I could intervene using conscious effort and, once more, like when I was a young girl, I experienced what it meant to get up in the morning with joy in my heart. It was true, pure joy! I didn’t know where it came from, and yet I felt that L’AMICO (whose name in Hebrew means “God’s gift to the world”) had given me some completely new behavioural “secrets” - apparently absurd things in the face of my hatred and bitterness, because I can assure you that it is by no means easy to “love” in those moments - which induced a sense of calm in my neighbour. Indeed, a moment arrived when, with the passage of time, she began UNEXPECTEDLY and STRANGELY to change.

Perhaps it would be useful if I tell you some of the conversations I had with him, to help the reader understand, in this little autobiography of mine, the depth of a seventeen-year-old who, in a certain sense, saved me, in the deepest and truest way that someone can save a woman from a desperate situation.

Once I went to see him and he asked me to go for a stroll; in effect our strolls together were always a particular form of communication that he wished to establish. He dropped his “hints” with apparent nonchalance, without attaching importance to them and, often, he would suddenly change the subject, talking about trivial things or telling me jokes. I always had to make an incredible effort to pay attention, because I had realised that, if I wanted a direct answer, he wasn’t going to give it to me. I would have to get there on my own, he would just “hint”, and his warnings, ideas or advice had to be pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle that I could only solve if I paid attention and didn’t get lost in my own thoughts.

On this walk in the park near his home, where some beautiful red flowers were blooming, he said to me: “Dear Teresa, up till now you have been unaware of the capacities of the human mind! Now I’m not talking about the mind you use to do sums when you’re shopping or to analyse a problem, I’m talking about another mind: a superior mind that is inside you, but which you rarely come into contact with. That “mind” is the I am that is in you, and which you are unaware of, because you haven’t developed the right attention, and the right level of consciousness. We all live like little machines, we carry out our daily work, on Sundays we rest and we start the week over again, completely forgetting that there are other realities, other universes parallel to our own. We lose the sense of our existence, and we start to become part of a mechanism that leads us all to the same point: we lose sight of our real purposes, and we stop feeling the temporariness of life. We don’t realise that we’re not eternal, immortal and that we won’t live forever, and that our purpose should be to leave a sign of light on our passage on this earth”. As he spoke these words he was watching some dogs playing… It was as if he was talking about the simplest, most normal thing in the world! Whereas for me it was a concept that I had reflected on for many years, and suffered over too, and I couldn’t help thinking of my reflections years before on the beach, looking at all the people lying in the sun.

After making a joke about the dogs, he came back to the question in hand: “If people really grasped all this, they would stop running in eddying circles and start asking themselves some fundamental questions. The trouble is that today it’s even more difficult than before, because the mechanism that leads people to sleep is much stronger than it was one or two hundred years ago”. In the meantime, I was wondering what he could know about all this, since he was only seventeen. And, as if he had read my mind he replied: “It’s strange, but sometimes I think that people get silly ideas about how an initiated person or a master or a person on the path should be! The fact is that evolution doesn’t just depend on the time factor, although that is a part of it. It depends above all on the age of the soul, and its readiness to receive teaching! Some think that a master must be a guru with a white tunic and a beard, or with oriental features, but that’s just because they don’t go beyond the external appearance! Many people go off to India or the Middle East looking for a Guide, and that’s fine, but they don’t realise that the Path can be found here too, and is within reach of those who truly seek it, with their hearts. But sometimes time must pass before this opportunity is taken up or openly seen, depending on the maturity of each searcher. The Master always arrives when and only when the time is right… not a moment before and not a moment after. That’s why I sometimes hurry towards somebody and introduce myself, and other times I refuse someone, categorically, hiding, and making sure I’m not recognised.

A master is a man reborn, but (according to the task he must complete) he behaves like everybody else, and lives a normal exterior life. If this were not so, he could not carry out his function correctly. Did you know that I sometimes go clubbing too?” And he started to laugh loudly.

Time went by and I followed L’AMICO’s advice. First of all I tried to get closer to my neighbour, forcing myself to overcome my fear and to present myself as a friend. For example, I had to make her a cake, and if she refused to take it, I had to insist, and failing that, leave it outside her door. The strange thing is that L’AMICO told me that it didn’t matter what I did, but HOW I did it. In other words my inner attitude, which, he told me, would activate energies. He explained some little “knacks” to me, to teach me to maintain a certain posture in my soul, of openness and welcoming.

Things weren’t easy, not at all, and especially at the beginning there were even more violent reactions, which, had I given up trying at that moment, would have made the situation much worse than it had been to start with. And yet, since I had no other choice, I carried on following L’AMICO’s advice, and with time I sensed that something was changing in me and, strangely, in her too.

In fact in our meetings L’AMICO often said: “in effect we are all connected. We don’t realise it because were are mostly asleep, but a change in the other person can only come about when there is a REAL change in ourselves (he emphasised the word “real”). There are Energies and Forces and we have to recognise them and use them to our own and others’ advantage; the fact is that in order to do this we have to undergo training that for some can be very hard and tiring. This can only happen if we develop our consciousness. What does that mean?” From my expression he could see that I didn’t understand, and he began to explain, “it means that we have to stop being automatic! To do that we have to learn to observe ourselves and to see our usual mechanisms. Are you familiar with what Freud calls ‘reiteration’ mechanism?” I told him that I wasn’t. “Reiteration is the mechanism that leads us to automatically to repeat the same mistakes. In reality, we are constantly subject to influences from both inside and outside ourselves. We are influenced by our upbringing and by social factors, we are influenced by the environment around us, so strongly influenced that sometimes it’s paralysing! And the crazy thing is that we don’t even realise it; we attribute the choices we make to our autonomous freewill. In reality we are structured always to choose the easiest and simplest way, we do it automatically, as a mechanism to protect us from difficulty. But by doing this we don’t realise that we often fall into the same situations and the same problems. We think that we always have new problems. They are actually only apparently new, because the old problem is inside us and in our mechanical nature. But it’s no use me telling you about that now… These are things that you will have to understand for yourself. It makes no sense for me to talk about it… My role is just to make you notice things, which you could have noticed for yourself before now. In this way you will start the change yourself.

I can’t initiate anyone. We can only initiate ourselves. My purpose is not to initiate people, but to help them to initiate themselves. This is the purpose of real guides; they can never take the place of the Path of understanding that you have to walk. Although without a guide you will never get anywhere, because it is impossible to get past certain obstacles on your own, and they will stand between you and your initiation. Without an outer guide, without a master, it is impossible to reach the goal. But it is also true that a time will come when, if the student has not failed, and has succeeding in raising himself through his initiations (which may take a number of years) the master must set him the ultimate test: complete detachment from himself, abandonment. And I can assure you that once you meet a Master and you have grown enough to get to know him better, you’ll never want to abandon him. I’ve experienced it for myself. It is one of the most difficult tests, and it is the master himself who sets it! Many false masters never get to this point, and they create dependencies that can last for twenty or thirty years, even if the disciple is ready to go on alone. But what can you do? There is true gold and there is false gold.” Meanwhile, he got up, and since there were dishes to wash he said, “Now I must do the washing up! Did you know that there is a way to save detergent? I discovered it recently!” … And he started laughing as he scrubbed the dirty dishes, and I got up to say goodbye. Effectively there were times when I couldn’t really understand what he was saying but today, ten years later, I understand it. Sometimes it takes a long time to understand a master...

Once things with my neighbour had been sorted out and I could even hold a calm conversation with her, I often went to see her. One day, I knocked on her door and she answered it with an absent look in her eyes; she was thin and her face was pale and hollow; I realised that she was actually just an unwell person who needed help. And, for the first time in my life, I felt that mass of hatred and bitterness that I carried in my heart melting. Just then I heard the words of L’AMICO echoing in my heart, as if they came from inside me, from my very heart, like a splash. The words were these: “Love this soul!” and inside me I felt a shiver running right through my body. Then I did something that was quite absurd for me, I found myself hugging her. I could feel love pouring from my heart, like a river, a stream of loving energy coming from inside and washing over both of us. For the first time, after years of insults, slander, nastiness and pain, I found myself holding in my arms the woman that, until recently, had been my worst nightmare. And as we embraced, we both melted into an ocean of tears...
My reader should not think that all this happened in a week, or that it came easily. It took a lot of hard work, and often L’AMICO would put me into a corner by saying that he would stop helping me if I didn’t do what I had to do. He was determined in helping me, but he said that he couldn’t do anything if I didn’t let myself go and listen to him. And how difficult it was for me to do that!

But the situation was contingent and for me he was the only way out, perhaps this situation allowed me to become in his hands like a flower that allows itself to be carried away on the water. In any case I can assure you that it was far from easy, and he gave me no comfort when I was afraid of carrying out one of the things that he asked me to do. At those times I even reached the point of hating him, thinking that he didn’t understand my needs. Now I sometimes feel ashamed of this… but anyone who’s ever had a real guide alongside will understand what I’m saying and know the trials, the states of mind, the ecstatic joys and terrible suffering that you go through. But the Guide is always there to remind you what you must do and never to offer you a shoulder to cry on. Even if L’AMICO is at times an excellent consoler, he doesn’t want to be considered a psychologist, and he doesn’t want anyone to take him as the substitute for a psychological figure. “I am not the Goal…” he would often tell me.

In the meantime, the years went by and my relations with my neighbour improved greatly. But then, one day, I was in my kitchen when I got some terrible news. I received a telephone call telling me that Signora Mara was seriously ill, with liver cancer. I felt a sense of great distress inside me… and I ran downstairs. I knew that she was not in very good health, and that she had recently been in hospital, but I didn’t know the real reason, and I don’t think she did either.

After a while, her illness was getting worse, and she was bed-ridden. I received a phone call from her, asking me to go down. I went straight there without thinking twice, and found her in bed, crying desperately. I hugged her and she apologised for disturbing me. Most probably her illness and her loneliness had opened her heart and, even if she looked worse because of her ill-health, she had long-since lost that bitter edge from earlier times. Now she was completely defenceless. I hugged her and told her that she could call me whenever she needed to, and she, still crying, asked me to forgive her for all the bad things she had done to me. “None of all that is important any more,” I told her with tears in my eyes.

I related this to L’AMICO, and he was very sorry about it all. He told me: “Now your job is to be close to this woman and to help her to die. Don’t go thinking that it was her nastiness that killed her, or just desserts for what she did. Just concentrate on loving her, as if she were a sister… because one day you could need help too. Help this woman, help her to live her last months joyfully… love her with your whole self. When all this is over you will begin your true growth and you will set off on the path… this has been your test, which has allowed you to train yourself to a greater, more conscious vigilance over your reactions. Now you are ready to enter the Way.”

At the time I didn’t know what he meant, but I imagined that the death of this woman would be of great significance for me, a kind of symbolic Diaspora. In actual fact it was a part of me that was dying with her, my past was dying. I can assure you that if someone had told me in the past that I would have suffered so much for the death of that woman, who was my nightmare, I would never have believed them.

My experience with this “young” master changed not only my life, but also that of my family. And to this very day, with his teaching that continues to be imparted to me, he makes what I have written here even more alive and vibrant.

Naturally, as time passed I went to see him not for my problems with my neighbour, which had been solved in an absolutely unforeseen way, but to ask him if I could become his disciple, and learn from him how to reach a higher level of consciousness. My heart was full of tranquillity and peace because I knew that there was something more beyond visible appearance…

I remember one experience I had with him that I will never forget, and which may help give the reader a better understanding of L’AMICO who, at times, I may have described too personally.
One morning, after one of our usual walks, he told me that he was expecting visitors and that if I wanted I could stay and watch. It was strange because he had never asked me to stay with him in such a determined manner. He said: “the person you will see has interior and spiritual problems… but you mustn’t be afraid… hold firm and… trust me”.
When we got back to his place we waited for a short time, and then heard the doorbell; it was a woman of about forty, accompanied by some relatives. As soon as she saw L’AMICO she threw herself at him as if to shake him. I was terrified, but I saw that he was perfectly calm. She began to fling herself around and to say rash words... You can imagine how it seemed to me that there was some connection between what I was feeling then and what I had felt when my neighbour, years before, had insulted me so vehemently. He sat down and drew a circle in chalk around the woman, who became still, as if stunned. All of a sudden, as he was drawing the circle, I realised what was happening. On a unit full of silver objects there was a pretty sharp paper knife. I saw the woman’s body throwing itself at this object and grabbing it… her face was crazed, and her eyeballs looked like they were coming out of their sockets. With that sharp paper cutter in her hand she threatened L’AMICO repeatedly, and then suddenly launched towards him, to hurt him. I was beside myself, I was afraid not only for him, but also for myself and for what might happen.

At this point something happened which really surprised me… He simply said: “La ilaha il Allah” (which I was later to learn was Arabic for “there is no god but God”) and at that moment the woman stopped still as if paralysed, dropping the paper cutter from her hands. He finished drawing the circle and spoke some words (perhaps in Arabic, but I’m not sure) that upset the woman greatly. I could see her fidgeting, cursing, spitting… and I couldn’t avoid finding a link with what I myself had been through.
All of a sudden I got the feeling that all human suffering, pain and anguish were being concentrated in that little room… all in the heart of that woman. I could feel a deep sense of compassion and love for the poor, tortured soul that was tossing about, wheezing and yelling. When I felt this strong sensation inside me, at the level of my heart, I saw L’AMICO look at me for a moment and smile.

In an instant, the woman started to cry, and L’AMICO bent towards her to console her, to hold her tight to his chest and whisper something to her. I seem to remember that his words were “it’s all over…”

What did this experience mean for me? Are you wondering whether it was a demon, or whether the woman was possessed and L’AMICO exorcised her? I don’t know. I can’t answer these questions, and I think they’re probably beside the point. I think what’s important is to understand the lesson that I learned. I actually realised that love really is the antidote to all evils… it’s strange but it was only when I began to love that woman, when I too managed to feel all her pain, that something changed in her, and I believe that this is what L’AMICO wanted to teach me that day… not with words. This was my first “non-verbal” lesson from him.

I have already talked about my mother and, albeit briefly, described her character. She too met L’AMICO, but initially she didn’t come away with the same impression as my aunt. In fact by temperament she had always been a sceptical lady, with little trust in other people, and meeting a person like L’AMICO wouldn’t have created any kind of reaction in her, precisely because she was too busy thinking of herself and her daily problems. However, after these years in which she had witnessed all that had happened to me and, having health problems that prevented her from living alone, something incredible happened. She began to tell me that she often dreamt of L’AMICO and that she could feel something melting inside her. After each dream she would push me to telephone him and ask him to meet her as soon as possible. But he would always reply “I’ve already met your mother” (it was strange because he hadn’t seen her for months) and he would put off the meetings saying that he was very busy. This was strange behaviour from him, because he had never put off a meeting with me, even if it was me who asked for it. I didn’t realise that, in reality, he was establishing a different kind of communication with her, perhaps on another plane, and that his intention was not simply to have a chat. But with time it dawned on me.
In fact, as the weeks passed I noticed that my mother was surrounded by a strange sweetness and her bitter temperament began to disappear. If you met her today, I’m sure that you would be amazed at how she has changed and how much love is in her heart. Whereas before she would have constant bouts of depression and we would have to try to support her and encourage her to overcome an illness or a worry, now it was her encouraging us all.

As I write, my mother is 86 years old, and recently L’AMICO has said that she is one of the first people to have reached the goal, to have fused completely with God, or in what Gurdijeff calls “superior consciousness”. L’AMICO once said, “We don’t realise that we often seek among the gurus of India what we could find very close to home. Today your mother has reached levels that I truly hope you can begin to imagine. Often we don’t realise that in a person who is suffering, in the sick, in the disabled, the greatest of masters may lie within… We sleep so deeply that we place more importance in words, debates, conferences, speeches, and we forget that the teaching is not in the words, but is hidden in the depth of our hearts and of our experiences. I lead study groups and I have begun to allow people to draw near to the Teaching through me, but the Teaching is not mine, I am just a channel, a relay transmitter, which from now on you can also find in Teresa’s mother. When you don’t know what to do, go and see her… Her words will be like mine, and we will be two mouths with just one word.” As regards the groups that he was beginning to lead, I would like to say a few things. Strangely during the last year L’AMICO has begun to be invited by people who want to know him, in many places, both in Italy and abroad. It’s amazing how the doors open in front of him and strangers seem to recognise him, and they offer him hospitality and the possibility of holding meetings, giving him all the assistance that he needs. Once I asked him how he recruited the people who wanted to draw close to him to get to know the Work. He said: “I don’t have time to waste, and when I speak to people, my discussions have two aims: the first is to continue spreading certain ideas, and the second is to get to know certain people who have been seeking me out for some time. In reality, those who seek me and are destined to meet me already know me and have been waiting for me. But you mustn’t think that I am the only door available, I am really worth a lot less than people make out! I am just a point of reference in Italy and in other countries so that the original Teaching can continue to be spread. The problem is that people always have false concepts and cloak themselves in false ideas, and in this way they cannot take a step along the Way; the risk of this trap is always near. I try, as best I can, to fight against this trap, if God will give me the strength. Do you remember when I spoke about Gurdjieff?” “Yes” I replied. In reality L’AMICO always spoke copiously about him, especially to strangers who came to see him from outside. “Well,” he continued, “Gurdjieff was one of those sent to the west to spread a certain type of teaching. Today, however, his methods will no longer get you anywhere, in that everything belongs to the time and the place where it was said or done. Gurdjieff is dead, and with him his system. But what is not dead is the possibility to evolve and to make progress along the Way. I am always sorry to see today’s Gurdjieffians delving their hands into the pots of a way of thinking that is no longer. But until they awaken and search for the source of the teaching they won’t have much chance. Today the books of Gurdjieff and Ouspensky are just this: intellectual archaeology. Their purpose is just to draw people in towards a chance to quench the thirst for lower mental function. Other than that they are not useful for much else. Although they carry out their positive function very well.”

Now, in 2000, after ten years of Work with L’AMICO, I can say that I am truly grateful to him. And you mustn’t think that now my life is wonderful, that L’AMICO is the panacea that heals me of all my problems and that now it’s roses all the way. That’s not how it is. Still today I am fighting and working on myself. He just gives me the tools so that, as he often says, “…it’s not me that gives you the fish to eat, but you that builds a splendid rod…”

However, I can say that I now understand what my aim is to be: evolution. I understand that this evolution is part of a Cosmic Plan that is a huge work, of which I am just a small fragment. I understand that not all that we see is real, and not all that we don’t see is unreal, but above all I understand that the purposes of a person’s life can be different from the car, the new jumper or the nice lamp. I understand that inside me there is potential that I didn’t know I had, and that only an expert hand can point out.

This is my testimony and I have felt some very strong emotions whilst telling it. I hope that all those who read it will find a ray of hope, a message: I hope that in disheartened moments they too will be able to raise their eyes to heaven for a moment and know that the brightest Star is there for them too…


All rights are the Author’s.
The names written may have been
changed to protect people’s privacy.
"Those were the days my friend ...."

Joined: 31 Dec 2004
Posts: 8
Location: UK

PostPosted: Sun Jan 23, 2005 4:03 am    Post subject:

If people are interested in the Brian Weiss books, they might also like two books by Michael Newton:

Journey of Souls: Case Studies of Life Between Lives (isbn 1 56718 485 5)

Destiny of Souls: New Case Studies (isbn 1 56718 499 5)

He is a PhD hypnotherapist who started to gain insight about the world where souls go between lives through his work. He's a little scientific in his approach -- it's like he's worried his colleagues will write him off as a total flake otherwise -- but the case studies, which are transcriptions of his sessions with patients, are really fascinating. They especially made me see where the concept of Dharamraj developed!

Joined: 20 Jan 2005
Posts: 142
Location: Paramdham

PostPosted: Tue Feb 01, 2005 4:33 pm    Post subject:

Paul wrote:

Feel free to post details of any good books you recommend to fellow XBKchat members

Adi Da has his own cult of devotees who worship him as an avatar. I don't recommend his cult, but I do recommend his awesome spiritual autobiography 'The Knee of Listening':


Joined: 01 Feb 2005
Posts: 26
Location: USA

PostPosted: Wed Feb 09, 2005 11:00 am    Post subject: Books

I would also like to suggest Scott Peck's books, The Different Drum, The Road Less Traveled, and theFurther Along the Road Less Traveled. They all deal with the issues of good and evil, and mental illness as an escape from evil. Many years ago, I heard him speak and was quite impressed.

I have all appreciated Thomas Moore's Care of the Soul and Soul Mates.

Joined: 13 Mar 2004
Posts: 72

PostPosted: Sun Aug 28, 2005 7:55 am    Post subject: The Cydonia Codex

The Cydonia Codex: Reflections from Mars
Authors: George J Haas and William A Saunders
Paperback: 300 pages
Publisher: North Atlantic Books (June 10, 2005)
ISBN: 1583941215
Amazon webpage:

Here is Amazon's Editorial Review:

Book Description

In what can only be described as one of the most important archaeological and sociological discoveries in human history, The Cydonia Codex offers overwhelming evidence of aesthetic and symbolic design on the surface of the planet Mars.

The authors' research encompasses over ten years of study and analysis of NASA photographs of the "Face on Mars" and its surrounding complex. Beginning with the famous 1976 photograph of a mile-long formation found on the surface of Mars that strongly resembles a human face, Haas and Saunders offer side-by-side comparisons of the art and sculpture of pre-Columbian Mesoamerica with a set of corresponding geoglyphic structures found in the Cydonia region of Mars. The implication is staggering—Earth's history and humankind's origins could be very different than commonly believed. Black-and-white photos, as well as illustrations, are featured throughout.

About the Author

George J. Haas is founder and premier investigator of The Cydonia Institute, established in 1991. He is a member of the Archaeological Institute of America and the Pre-Columbian Society of the University of Pennsylvania. Mr. Haas is also an artist, art instructor, writer, and curator. He is a member and former director of the Sculptors’ Association of New Jersey. He has also authored monographs for -various art exhibitions, and had a one-man show at the OK Harris Gallery of Art in New York City. He became interested in the "Face on Mars" after reading a book on the subject by Randolfo Rafael Pozos in 1991. He lives in New Jersey with his wife, Dr. Amelia Joy Cole; he has three daughters.

William R. Saunders graduated from the University of Alberta in Edmonton in 1977 with a Bachelor of Science degree in geomorphology. He began work in the petroleum industry in Calgary, Alberta in 1978 and currently works as a petroleum geoscience -consultant in Calgary. He was reintroduced to the "Face on Mars" in 1991 by Richard Hoagland’s book The Monuments of Mars. He began looking at the Mars Global Surveyor images on NASA’s web site with their first release in April of 1998. He met George Haas on a web-site discussion group shortly thereafter.--This text refers to the CD-ROM edition

You can also read customers' reviews of this book on the Amazon page.

Joined: 02 Nov 2005
Posts: 5
Location: Arizona

PostPosted: Mon Nov 07, 2005 1:21 pm    Post subject: Books I Like

Well, I'm new on the list and have been trying to figure out what topic I could add to since I'm neither Bk nor Xbk. Here are some of my all-time favorite books:

Return to Love - Marianne Williamson
Illuminata - Marianne Williamson
Healing of America - Marianne Williamson
Seat of the Soul - Gary Zukav
When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times - Pema Chodron
Creative Visualization: Use the Power of Your Imagination to Create What You Want in Your Life - Shakti Gawain
Loving What Is: Four Questions That Can Change Your Life - Byron Katie Your Aura & Your Chakras: The Owner's Manual - Karla McLaren
The Complete Idiot's Guide(R) to Hinduism - Linda Johnsen

I know there are many others I can't bring to mind right now but this is just for starters!

BE Love!
"...all you need is love, love, love is all you need." ~The Beatles
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Joined: 26 Jan 2005
Posts: 169

PostPosted: Mon Nov 07, 2005 2:50 pm    Post subject: The Healing Art of QI GONG


Are you a family member of a BK or XBK?


"Well, I'm new on the list and have been trying to figure out what topic I could add to since I'm neither Bk nor Xbk. "

A book I find interesting is: The Healing Art of QI GONG,
By Master Hong Liu
With Paul Perry



Joined: 02 Nov 2005
Posts: 5
Location: Arizona

PostPosted: Mon Nov 07, 2005 7:01 pm    Post subject: attn: Tete

I'm a friend of an XBK.
"...all you need is love, love, love is all you need." ~The Beatles
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