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Mystical Early Years

I grew up as one of 10 children in a poor, working class family living in public housing projects. My dad was a construction laborer and my mom, whom had attended college in her youth, stayed at home until the ninth child was in school. Then she went to work in the public schools where she taught children with learning disabilities to read. My mom was my greatest advocate and  always encouraged me to study and excel. 


When I was 10-years-old, my mom had a spiritual transformation at a Christian fundamentalist tent revival. She was "saved and filled with the Holy Ghost." Some years earlier, my dad who was the quiet type was visited by an angel and received the gift of healing. He would pray for people and oil would appear in the palms of his hands. He would lay hands on them and they would be healed. 



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In my youth, I knew that healing and miracles were possible - like the $20 bill that appeared at my feet in biology class as I uttered a heartfelt wish to buy our family a turkey for Thanksgiving. The evening before, my mom called a family meeting and informed us that the rainy season meant my dad had worked little and we would not be able to celebrate Thanksgiving that year. Her sadness and disappointment echoed in my heart as I sat in class. I simply said, "God, I wish I had the money to buy my mama a Thanksgiving turkey." The voice responded, "Look down at your feet." There lay a $20 bill.   


I was confronted by an ethical dilemma: Should I turn it in just in case someone had dropped it? The school policy was to hold lost items for three weeks.  By then Thanksgiving, which was the next day,  would be long past. I settled on turning it in if it were reported lost. That was my longest day in school. Every time the bell rang signaling the change of class periods, I breathed a sigh of relief.


There never, ever was a claim. It was a miracle. The $20 simply manifested out of thin air in response to the heart's desire of an 11-year-old concerned about the sadness of her mother.  

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For the past 13 years, I have studied with Enlightened Masters in India and experienced the grace of Living Avatars.  I am eternally grateful for the awakening into higher states of consciousness. 

My service  is an expression of this gratitude.

An early spiritual teacher said it is important for meditators to travel. Wherever we step,  we leave an energetic imprint that will continue to affect the consciousness of those who come in contact with that place for seven generations. So I have traveled with friends, colleagues,  

delegations, and led groups on sacred journeys, leaving 

footprints on every continent, except Antartica.

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