- Chapter Nineteen -  
“For exactly 244 days and nights my family lived inside a local Park in our old car, and later inside an old van, before the cops came late one winter night during the week of Dr Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, and evicted us.”
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Trethewey Park was a small and beautiful park. It was just across the road from a police station, which was beside a busy street called Black Creek Drive, which led to a highway. It was also next to a small bridge that was built for a small river than ran through it. There was also a tiny bridge that covered the river at another area in the park, so that people could walk over it. Most of the park itself was over that side of the bridge, and it led to a large parkland area that went on for about a mile, that was fairly wooded. 
But most people stayed in the portion of the park that was not beyond the bridge. There was a shady area with tall trees, a playground for kids, with swings, and tunnels and other stuff kids liked, at one end of the park. At the other end was a large open area with a few trees near the river. And next to this park was a small parking lot for about twenty cars.
We parked in the first parking spot on the right hand side when we started staying there; and we kept using that same spot during the entire time we lived there. It was the parking space that was closest to the street as you pulled into that park - the closest one to the river - and it was also the farthest one away from other vehicles in the park. Being in that park for my family was like being on a vocation. We were living in our car but we were also living outdoors amongst nature.  For the first time in our life as a family we were able to spend our entire days living outdoors, in such a beautiful setting. We were never able to take the time to spend more than just a few hours in a park before.
For most of our lives we had been locked up inside whatever house or apartment we had lived in. The only parks we had gone to were the ones in the playground in our backyard at Trethewey Drive, and a few times across the road from our home at Coxwell Avenue. While we lived there, we drove down to the beach near Woodbine Racetrack on different occasions and enjoyed a lot of the scenery there. But most of the time there were too many people around. And my family no longer enjoyed being around people. They had forced us to live as recluses, and my husband and I had become very protective about protecting our privacy as a family. The farther away from people we were - the happier my family felt, and the more peace of mind we had.  
We had become a family by the end of the 1980’s, who preferred to be as far away from our neighbours as possible. After what they did to us in every place where we had lived so far as a family, we were no longer willing to live amongst them. Since we did not have the money to buy a place with wooded land as far as the eyes could see, where we would never have to see our closest neighbours, until we chose to, then we would have to be contented with living in a park where most of the time we were there – we were the only people there. It was almost as if my family owned that parkland: except that we shared it for much of the days with others, from about noon until about seven p.m., when almost everyone there would leave. What we really liked about that small park was that there were only a small number of people who came by there at any one time on any given day.
Even though we were a homeless family, living in a small park inside our small car - that was the first time in our life as a family when we were able to relax and enjoy our surroundings that we lived in. It was also the first time that we did not have to worry about having to pay for living expenses for ourselves. Because we were now living in a parking lot we did not have to worry about paying rent for a house or an apartment, or other utility bills such as telephone, cable, hydro, gas, or even for Internet services. The only expenses we had were for the food that we ate, gas for our car, and a few other personal items that we needed to keep our bodies clean and healthy like soaps and feminine stuff. In order to make sure that we were able to make hot and tasty foods to eat, that we could afford, we purchased a big propane tank that we had to refill about twice a month. We also purchased a small heating and two-burner cooking stove that we heated with the propane from the tank that we had purchased. 
It was just like we were camping outdoors in the woods, as a family – just like other Canadian families often did during the summer months. Except we were doing so in the city of Scarborough, in a small park that was near a busy intersection, next to a police station. For the first three or so months that we lived in that park, and about one month after we started spending our nights there as well, we survived on the meagre unemployment insurance income that my husband was still collecting from the Kreskie’s job that he left about six months before we were evicted from our last home. But when his benefit period ran out we no longer had any money coming in. For the rest of those five months or so that we lived in that park, we had to rely on the generosity of the people of Scarborough for the food, clothes, propane gas, and everything that we needed to keep our bodies alive. Now we were at the mercy of the same people whom we had been forced to flee from for most of our life as a family. Life was full of ironies, and my small family was living a life of continuous ironies.
For about a month after our money ran out, and about four months since we were living in Trethewey Park, we stayed in that parking lot wondering when our first Samaritan was going to stop by, to offer us some food - or even some money to buy gas for our propane tank. Andraggon had made sure that we had enough food to eat during those four weeks. He visited a church a few miles from the park, called Prayer Palace to ask them for food for his family. On two separate occasions he went to that church. The first time he brought home some food items for us. But the second time he did not get anything from them. 
He did not get very much help from a church that was one of the newest, and the largest in the entire city of Toronto. In fact, part of what he had heard from some people who had attended that church, when we lived at Trethewey Drive, and also at Driftwood Avenue, was that this was a mansion of a church, that was built mostly with the money raised weekly from its thousands of members. Not only did these members give money through collections that were taken up a few times a week, but they also gave one tenth of their income to the church in the form of “tidings.” And many of them even mortgaged their home to help the church to get the millions of dollars it needed to built its $5,000,000 mansion for “God;” and also a 20 storey or higher apartment building for senior citizen on that same property.  Andraggon was not impressed with what he had heard over the years about the operations of this church, especially since he discovered that the majority of its members were people of African Canadian descent.
He had started to refer to himself as a priest, by the time we had started living on the street of Toronto, who was a member of an ancient Lemurian priesthood. He also began referring to me as a high priestess from that order. I did not care one way or the other whether anyone saw me as a high priestess, a sage, a spiritual woman, or whatever one chose to call me. As long as others referred to me in a respectful manner, that was all that mattered to me. And if they did not, I would let them know about it; and if they continued to do so, I would just leave them alone and not have anything to do with them again. Neither Andraggon nor myself wanted to associate or to be identified with any organization or group - past or present. Part of what I had taught him over the years was that it was crucial for him to first join with his own higher self, and become an organization of one. Once he was able to get to know who he truly was, and the mythical and mystical heritage he was a part of in the Cosmos, then he would never have the need to look for any organization to be a part of. He would not need to join any of them, in order for him to know how to define his life, or even how to guide and develop himself into a higher being.
Calling himself a priest, and myself a high priestess, of an ancient Lemurian Priesthood, was not seen by my husband as his being part of an organization. Lemuria was a civilization that was around many thousands of years ago somewhere inside where the Pacific Ocean now is. It was considered a mythical continent very much like the lost civilization of Atlantis was known to be, which was around about twelve thousand years ago. Lemurians were a nation of people who were very much like the Native People of the Earth. They lived in harmony with their environment, and with nature; and they left the planet very much the way they had found it.
They were a people who were advanced spiritually, technologically, and highly developed socially. That was my husband’s understanding of Lemuria, and Lemurians, from the different books he had read about that ancient civilization, and also from other supernatural sources he had checked with. For him, identifying us as Lemurians was his way of identifying with Mother Earth, and all of nature, and also with the Natives of the planet and their ancient tradition of protecting and respecting the Earth. At the time, both he and I had started wearing a form of headdress which was very much like the ones worn by many of the people of ancient Africa, especially the royal families of Egypt. We later found out that this headdress was called a “khat” or a “nemis.” It was a headdress I first decided to make for both of us, as a result of the memory of a dream I had when I was living in New York City in the early 1970’s. It was a strange dream, but one which I was proud to have:
“I was in the basement of a home that I was living, where I saw two big garbage cans like the kind that were used decades ago by homeowners. Both of them were new and had never been used. Suddenly a huge snake began crawling out of one of those garbage cans. The dream scene shifted to my bedroom, where I found myself lying down and looking at this same snake in the corner of my room. It was a king cobra, and it spoke to me as it raised the upper part of it’s body about five feet of the ground, and spread the wings of its beautiful head. It was a telepathic conversation, and at the time I understood the information that this magnificent Earth being gave to me. But I just forgot about the whole thing, and pushed it into the back of my conscious mind.”
In the early winter of 1990 when we were living at 17 Murray Road, I decided to make something for me to wear on my head to protect my head from the cold weather. It had gotten cold in our house because we had no heat. We had lost our heating for the house after the gas that was heating the house ran out. We did not have any money to buy any more, and there was also a problem with the gas furnace. The only person who could have fixed it was the landlord. But since we were already behind in our rent, there was no way that he was going to spend money to repair it, and we did not even bother trying to ask him to do so. I could not afford to live inside a house that was just as cold on the inside as it was on the outside, with all the health problems I now had. My husband was also an asthmatic, and he could not afford to live in a cold house either.
For most of those nights we sat in the kitchen, in chairs, in front of the kitchen stove, with the oven wide open and turned up to maximum, trying to keep our cold bodies warm. It did not work very well. We often got our faces scorched from the blazing heat from the open oven, and my husband and I began to get head colds on a regular basis. That was when I decided that I had to make something for my husband and I to wear on our heads, to keep us from getting more head colds so quickly. When I had finished making that headdress for myself, and I put it on, my husband looked at me and told me that I “look just like a cobra.”
After I looked in the mirror at my new headdress, I saw that he was right. My headdress did make me look like a cobra. It framed my head just like a snake’s, and when the part of it that was resting on my shoulders was blown by a breeze, it opened up just like the wings around its head does when it rose up from the ground. It was in that moment that I recalled my dream of the cobra, and the information that was given to me by that king of the Earth. This was what that cobra told me in that dream:
“You are the carrier of the ancient knowledge of the Earth, since the beginning of time. You are the Cobra Queen, and you will crawl out of the bottom of the garbage areas of life and rise up and spread your magnificent cobra head, and touch all of life with a magnificent body of ancient knowledge. We cobras are creatures who are always in contact with the skin and energy of the Earth. We live and breathe and eat that knowledge more than other creatures are able to. You are the human cobra, in the way that you live and the sustenance you give to all of life.”
That day when I made my cobra headdress, and also a similar one for my husband to wear, was a very special day. We had finally found the headdress that I needed to wear not only to protect my head from the cold weather but also from the hot one. My cobra headdress kept my head at a temperature that was comfortable, and pleasant, in every kind of weather, just as my husband’s own version of it did for him. It also provided me with the physical outerwear that captured and reflected who I was as the Keeper of Ancient Knowledge. Since that day, and for the rest of the decade of the 1990’s, my husband and I wore our special headdresses whenever we ventured out in public. During the eight months that we lived in that park, we wore our headdresses the entire time that we stayed there.
Our children did not, nor did we ask them to. They owned their own lives: even though as their parents - we were to make sure that we guided and protected them as best as we could while they were in our care as children. To most people who saw us, we looked like immigrants from some African country, mainly because we were a “black couple” who wore these headdresses. That was how my husband and I looked as we waited in that park for members of the public to show up and help us to stay alive as a family. We did not know when any Samaritan would stop by: but I knew that they would. And I was willing to put my head on a block to prove that.
For weeks my husband went through a daily ritual that he had started, shortly after we first began to stay in that parking lot during the nights as well as throughout the days. He began counting the days since we left that motel, by using strips of silver tape that is normally used as a duct tape, that he had purchased just for that purpose to do so. He used the front window of our parked car to form the shape of each of the number that he needed to make. And each morning he would change one or more of those numbers to show the exact number of days we had been living in that park. That was his way of keeping track for the family, and also of advertising the number of days we had been staying there to anyone who drove, walked, or passed by that part of Trethewey Drive. He believed it would help create an interest for people who passed by; and also build up suspense in our plight as a homeless family in the eyes of the media as well. They could also count the days along with us themselves. And getting the attention of the local media was one of the goals that he and I had set for my family.
The first person to stop by, and see us, was someone we will never forget. One afternoon we sat in our car just relaxing, when a man drove into the parking lot and parked a short distance away from us. He was a Caucasian Canadian male about age thirty, who was dressed in a pair of beige shorts, a white tee shirt, and a pair of running shoes. In his left hand he carried a bag with a few small boxes of Kentucky Fried Chicken food inside it. He did not look like a Samaritan. In fact, he looked like an ordinary Canadian man, except that he looked like a slob, especially around his mouth, which looked grimy and untidy.
Our first Samaritan introduced himself to us, and then announced that he had brought us some take out food because he thought we must be hungry.  He informed us that he had driven by that park many times a week, and he had noticed that we were still parked there each day. He then took out the few boxes of chicken and the few boxes of fries he was clutching in his greasy hands, and then offered them to us. Andraggon took them, and we thanked him. Then this man caught us completely by surprise when he reached for one of those boxes of chicken, now in Andraggon’s hands, reached inside it, pulled out a piece of it, and began to eat it. Our Samaritan brought us food that he intended to eat with us as well.
My family was hungry, and the smell of that chicken, and those fries, was hard to resist. But we all were turned off by the fact that we had to eat food from the same box with someone who looked like a real live slob. We appreciated the fact that he had taken the time to go out and spend his own money to buy us some food, which we really needed at the time. He did not have to do so. No one else had taken the time to bring us a drop of water or even a morsel of food to eat. No one had even taken the time to stop by and asked us how we were doing. He was the first person to have actually given us the time of day. But he was a slob. And a slob is a slob, even if they have a generous heart. I never touched any of that food. But my husband ate some of it, and our two children reluctantly ate some of it as well. Our generous guest ate generously. In fact he had more of that meal he brought for us than we did as a family. It was as if he had brought that meal for himself, and made a last minute decision to drop by and share it with us.
After he broke the ice, other people started to stop by to see us. Some brought us food, mostly canned food, others brought us blankets, some brought us fruits, and some even brought us clothes, money; and some would even go with my husband to the nearest gas station where there was a propane station that he could get our empty propane tank refilled.
Some of these people stood out in our minds for different things that they did for us during those many months we lived in that park. There was the young man we labelled our human angel. He was a Seventh Day Adventist, and the brother of Oral, one of the young men that had been on that dance show with us called Boogie, that City Television had aired in the later part of the 1970’s. Of all the people who came forward to help us, this young man went out of his way to help us more than any other person or family in Toronto did. His name was Reynolds, and he was married with two children. Though he gave the impression of being a Christian brother who was doing the work of a Samaritan, as the teachings of Christ recommend for all of his followers, he was very much like my Andraggon – who had declared himself to be a Lemurian priest.
Reynolds was using the guise of helping my family with the intention of helping himself to me, while also looking like a hero in the eyes of his family and mine. Like my Andraggon still was, he was subtle and sneaky in displaying his bow wow ways to others looking on, unless they knew what to look for in a bow wow man. At different times, he tested the waters to see if I was interested in having a fling with him, especially whenever my husband happened to be away from the park for a short while. But each time he did I would ignore his advances and just deflected them away from me.
Exactly 144 days and into our protest, Reynolds brought us a van for us to live in. It was an old and rugged and battered and blue General Motor van. He had driven it to that park one day, just as he had promised us that he would do. It still worked. But it was not certified or insured, and it was on its last legs. But we were happy and relieved to have it. Since the day that we drove away from our home, after we were evicted over six months before, we had spent every single night sleeping in our small, cramped, car - except for that month that we stayed in the Lido Motel. Finally we had something that we could stretch our bodies out in while we slept. It was a gift that we really needed, and truly appreciated when it arrived.
About a week later, Reynolds brought a double bed to the park for us to sleep on inside that van. It’s hard for four people to sleep comfortably on one bed, especially a double bed, which is designed for two adults, or maybe three small children to sleep on. But to my two adolescent children, my husband, and myself, it was just what the doctor ordered. It was in the later part of October that we were given this van to live in, and by that time the warm summer had already left, and the cool fall weather had settled in. 
So we were starting to spend more and more time inside our car, and now our van, in order to keep warm. That van could not have been brought to us at a better time. I don’t know why it came to us on the 144th day that we had been living in that park. It is true that Reynolds may have noticed the number of days we had been there, from the numbers posted on the front window of our car by my husband. But when he came and told us a few weeks later that he had a friend who had an old van, that he believed he would be able to get from him to give us to live in, I don’t think that he had in mind to bring it on the 144th day of our protest – as he had managed to do.     
It was not his decision for us to spend no more than 144 days sleeping in our car. That decision was made somewhere else by a higher power. It was made by my fellow Gods. And it was made to make a statement to the human world that this family was doing the work that was divinely sanctioned and blessed by the Cosmos. The number 144 represents completion of different kinds, or perfection of different forms to people of different religions on this planet. The book of Revelations, the final book in the Bible of the followers of Christianity speaks about the number 144, as a number that represents the number of thousands of the followers of Christ who will be chosen first to ascend into heaven, in the first wave of beings rescued from planet Earth before Jesus and his heavenly army meet Lucifer and his army from hell, in a final confrontation. Or something to that effect.
But it is also a number that has specific meaning and importance to people in the world of metaphysics. And Andraggon said that he had read, or heard, about this number having a special and sacred place in the other cultures, and religions around the world. Whatever the case, it was a number that stood out in the life of the family I had led to live on the streets of Toronto in 1990.
Reynolds was heaven sent – or rather, he was used as a willing instrument by the Gods, through which they were able to provide help for my family at crucial moments when we needed it. Others were sent to help us, even if they each of them had their own personal motive for doing so. There was one particular man who came by early one morning when we were asleep in our van, and brought us each a cup of hot chocolate and a large muffin. He informed us that his brother was very ill, and that he hoped that we would be able to somehow help him to recover from his illness.
This misguided man thought that by bringing us something to eat and drink every morning that he could change the fate of his brother’s future. He was actually trying to barter with Destiny, by using us, and our destitute situation, to try to buy his brother’s life. Every morning he would bring us his offerings of faith, four cups of hot chocolate and four big muffins. And each time he would ask us to pray for his dying brother.
About two weeks later he told us one morning that his brother had died. We told him how sorry we were that his brother had passed away. The next morning we did not see him. Nor did we ever hear from him ever again. He had disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared a few weeks earlier. That man did not care about my family. Nor did he even care about whether or not we lived or died in that park. All he cared about was using us to give the impression that he was a caring man who wanted to help a family that was truly in need of help. Once his brother had died, there was no longer any reason for him to keep up that charade of impersonating a Samaritan.
What he did not know was that had he truly wanted to help us in whatever way he was able to, and had actually done so from the goodness of his heart – just for the sake of helping a family in need – his dying brother would have miraculously recovered. In honestly trying to help a God, and her family, to survive as mortals, while she goes about doing the work of the Cosmos, this man would have been given the grace of a God. And through that grace, and gratitude, would have come the healing energy that his dying brother needed to miraculously restore the health of his ailing body – and become whole again. He did not cost his brother to lose his mortal life, by what he did: but through his own selfishness for his own feelings, and his lack of genuine care for my family’s welfare, he literally squandered away a golden opportunity that had come his way for him to save his own dying brother’s life.
I will share a secret with each of you that may be the most meaningful one that you can ever be given. Whenever you genuinely reach out to touch the lives of others around you with true love, and real compassion, you are actually helping to fill – and full-fill - your own life with the higher love, and the pure light, that comes from the Cosmos. And as well, you will also be directly causing the lives of people you love to be also touched, and blessed, by those same sacred and radiant energies of the Cosmos. You are linked to your loved ones, by your biological ties and also by the spiritual bonds that you each come to form with those people in your life who are not related by flesh to you. And because of this unbreakable connection: whatever wealth of spiritual treasures or blessings or radiant energy that you have brought into your own mortal life – or what others have given to you – will be automatically sent out through different streams of consciousness to everyone that you are connected to: especially those family members or friends that you feel the most love for; and are the most loved by.
The reverse is also true. Whatever wrongs that you have brought into your own life – either neglectfully and especially intentionally – will bring an abundance of diminishing and contaminating stream of spiritual energy not only into your own life: but also into the life of those mortal beings whom you are most closely connected to. You could even say that the Karmic debts, or the Christian sins, of someone is inherited and passed on to everyone that this particular individual loves, or is loved by.
But the force of the vibrations and the radiance of those blessings,  (or blessed deeds) however, are also stronger than those of the karmic debts that mortal beings bring into their lives; and indirectly into those of their loved ones – for those right deeds and uplifting works reflect the true state of the mystical and mythical nature of the perfect and unlimited Energy of the Cosmos. So whenever you intentionally and genuinely try to help those people in life who are truly working to help to uplift and restore their love ones in their world – the entire Cosmos will reach out to do the same for you in return, and light, and lighten the path that you walk on, so that you will begin to travel through life with a deeper sense of inner peace, and a inner confidence that tells you that you are blessed. And when the one you genuinely tries to help just happens to be one of the most hardworking, and humblest servants, in the Cosmos – such as we Gods are – the grace and blessings that comes to you, and to you loved ones, will be ten folds and more!
There were different people who visited us while we lived in that park, and some who we remembered for standing out in our minds in different ways. One person that caught my family’s attention during our stay in Trethewey Park was the man who came along, and promised that he was going to build a large house on wheels, and bring it to the park for us to live in as a family. He was quite a character. He even had my husband thinking that he was really going to do it. We never saw him again. Then there was the woman who swore that she was going to bring us a large motor home to live in, that she had at home, once she fixed the hole that it had in the roof. There was also the man who offered to buy us a large piece of land out in the country that we could live on. 
Many people, however, opened their hearts to us, and brought us different things that we needed. Some brought us blankets to keep warm as it started to get colder. Some brought us fresh fruits and vegetables. Others brought us clothes such as sweaters for us to wear. On a few occasions, some people from organizations, that donated food to the food banks, even brought us bags of groceries. There was even one woman who decided that she was going to cook meals for my family, after I became too ill to prepare my family’s meals any longer. She had her sights set on becoming my husband’s future wife, and for about two weeks she kept bringing food that she had prepared at home to the park, for my husband and our children to eat. She stopped coming once I told her that my family did not eat food that was prepared for them by strangers. There was also that woman who came by a few times to bring fruits for my family. She even invited herself to sit inside our small car on one occasion so that she could make some kind of play for my husband, while I lay in the back seat of my car trying to keep my ailing body from become even worse.
Those were just some of the would-be Samaritans who came forward to help us survive while we lived in that park. Each came to see us for their own personal reasons; and each time I was seeing behind the different guises that they wore to mask their motives. I kept my family updated and informed about these apparent Samaritans, especially my husband. But he just did not believe, or wanted to believe, that people could be so complex, and also so calculating and self-serving. My husband still insisted on seeing people in a light where he was able to see their best side, or what he thought was there best side. He was not ready to see people for what they really were showing themselves to be, because he was still not ready to see himself for what he had become, as honestly and clearly as he could.
Most of the people who dropped by to see us, however, did not even pretend to be Samaritans. They were people who saw us as a family that had no right to live in that park; and they made it their own personal responsibility to get us to leave that park as soon as possible. At least they tried to.
The local police department was at the top of the list of these people. They did not put us through the trauma of coming to intimidate us in the middle of the night, with a strong show of force, as other police officers had done at City Hall, and also in that parking lot at Lawrence and Dufferin, where we spent our nights for the first two months of our family protest. We had been spending our days in the park during that time, and officers from the police department across the road, had stopped by on a number of occasions to park, and just sit there and watch us. On a few occasions some of them even drove up to us, and spoke to us while we sat in our car. But we always left the park every evening for those few months, and they had come to see that we did not sleep in that parking lot. They also saw for those first few months that we stayed in that park during the daytime, that we were a very clean and tidy family, who did not disturbed or harassed others who came to use the park. 
My family treated that park as if it was our own backyard. We made sure that we did not leave any mess or garbage that we had created, and we also cleaned up the entire park where we were staying in, before we left each evening. Each evening we left that park to go and sleep someplace else at nights, we left with the knowledge that we had left that entire park spotless. So by the time we had started to stay there at nights as well, the police department across the road knew what kind of family we were. And they also knew that they did not have to wonder or worry about us living there all the time as a family.
But they were law enforcement. And we were a family who were making the politicians, and other authorities, very uncomfortable, and worried, about us living in that park. No one wanted us there. Not the mayor of the City Of York, where Trethewey Park was located in. Not its parks and recreation commissioner. Not social services, children’s aid, the fire department, ambulance department, or even many members of the general public.
The police department in the area led the effort of the bureaucracy, and the local government, to try to get us out of that park as quickly as they could. They used a variety of strategies to try to achieve their goal. First they tried speaking to us as if they were just police officers who were concerned about the fact that we were a homeless family, who were living in a park in a car. A few of them came on different occasions, and even spoke as if they were sympathetic to our situation, and even as if they supported our cause. I saw through their deception every time, and I informed my husband each time, even if he was not able to see that himself at the time.
When they saw that this strategy was not working they tried something else. They decided to use the old ‘flash the flesh technique’ - or the “honey bait” - hoping to stroke our egos, and entice our loins. For about two months during the middle of the summer, different men and women came to the park, and spread themselves out on the ground in their bathing trunks, as if they were there to get their Caucasian bodies tanned. 
They had a ritual that they became known for doing. It was a dance of the mating kind. If it was a man, he would park himself a short distance from where my family usually sat, or stretched out on our blanket, close to where our car was parked. After he did so, he would give the impression as if he was not paying attention to us. But every five minutes or so, he would glance in our direction, and adjust his nearly naked body as he stretched out on that grass. If it was a woman, she did the same thing as he had done, almost to the letter.
These people were undercover police officers, and I smelled their scent from the first day that they each took turns playing their mating game, trying to seduce my husband or myself. They were always in their late twenties or around there, and always Caucasians. They would come around, one at a time, only when my family was relaxing on a blanket, which we did most of the warm days we were there. And whenever anyone of them did, I made sure that my husband and I were ready for them. If it were a female who came to suntan that day, I would be the one who would look in her direction, if I felt I needed to. If it was a male, then my husband would be the one to identify what that person was doing. We worked as a team, so that at no time did I ever looked in the direction of that male nor did my husband ever looked in the direction of that female, whenever they showed up to tan their bodies in their bathing trunks.
Stroking the ego, or caressing the loins, of a human being in order to get them to do what you want, for a long or short period of time, is a method that has been used by humanity since the beginning of time. Adam was supposed to have fallen for it, as well as his companion Eve, according to the biblical account of Christianity. Delilah brought down the mighty Samson that way. In fact, empires have risen and fallen over time through this same strategy of stroking the ego and caressing the loins – especially that of a man by a beautiful looking and enticing woman. I was beyond being trapped by that strategy, or by any strategy men, or women, could form to lure and catch each other. No man or woman could force or even entice me to pay him or her even a moment’s notice.
My ego was never separated from my higher self, in childhood, as it had been done to just about all human beings. My ego and my spirit has been working and living as one person since I was an infant. No one could stroke my ego, and cause me to become filled with a sense of my own self-importance. Even though I was a God, and aware of that fact, never for one minute did I see myself as being more important, or better than anyone at anytime for any reason. Though, I was spiritually heads and tails above other beings who were not Gods, in the abilities I had developed, or in my impeccable thinking, and flawless behaviour: that knowledge only served to remind me of the larger responsibilities I had to other beings in the Universe, in order to help them to develop into highly developed spiritual beings also.
And I was never tied to my private area, as most females, and just about every male had done to them by the Society they live in, usually by the time they were in their teens. So no one or no thing could stir my loins, or turn me on sexually. And the only person I allowed myself to connect with in that way was my soul mate. He had done fairly well during that period when those females tried to stroke his ego, and caress his private area. And he should. I had spent over fifteen years teaching and training him on how to trim his bloated male ego, so that no one could use it to manipulate and use him whenever they wanted to.
He had become very focused visually, and was able to gain full control over the use of his eyes, and he was able to shift or place his attention only where he wanted to. But he was not able to do so all the time, because he had not yet fully accepted the fact that he had the abilities to take full control of his life; or that he could live it responsibly, and impeccably all the time – as I had done, and shown him since he knew me. There were times when he was still taking sneak peaks at other females he was attracted to, or when he would use the opportunity to shift attention to himself, when we were having a conversation with one of the number of female visitors who dropped by to see us in the park.
One of the strategies most often used by men, whenever they want to get their egos stroked by others, especially by a female they find attractive or enticing, is to bring attention to themselves by doing or saying something that pulls the attention of that female in their direction. It is a dance that they do that most females are able to follow, and also able to read very quickly. Another method of having the ego stroke is one where a man will put himself in the view of that female he is trying to entice, so that she can look at him and admire his manly profile.
These were two areas that my husband was still having problems in with his conduct around females in general – especially whenever he allowed his ego to become inflated, or whenever he turned to others to stroke it. He was also still tied to his loins, and as long as he continued to focus on feeding and pleasing his loins, as he had done since he was an adolescent, he would continue to live as a prisoner of his proud ego, and a slave of his enticing loins. I knew that one day in the future that he would disconnect his ego from being tied between his legs. And I also knew that when that day came, that he would then finally become a free being, and the owner of his own mind, and body, for the first time in his mortal life. No man or woman would then be able to control his mind or manipulate his body anymore. That day was still many years in the future. And I could not wait for it to come.
When that strategy of trying to entice and trip us up through our loins – and our egos - failed, the cops then tried to use other strategies. One day a male police officer, who was undercover, came out of the wooded area of that park with a lighted joint in his hand, and walked up toward myself and my husband, and asked him if he wanted a toke of his joint. My husband looked at him and said: “no thank you!.” I on the other hand would have loved to have accepted his offer to share his joint. But I knew he was an undercover police officer. And that this cop was trying to set us up, with the hope, that they could eventually arrest us, for possession of an illegal substance.
Since I started to have complications from my breast implant surgery, my husband started to purchase cannabis for health purposes for me to smoke to help my ailing body. But because it is an illegal substance in Canadian Society, he had to later buy it from street sources such as some of the “brothers” he befriended while we lived at 710 Trethewey Drive. 
While we were staying in Trethewey Park, he made a few trips to try to purchase a few joints for me. And each time he did so officers from that police station would try to follow his movements, hoping to catch him with marijuana in his possession, so that they could charge, arrest, and jail him for it. If they were able to achieve this end, that would have forced my family to either end our protest, or disrupt it enough where we were no longer able to continue it as effectively as we had done so far. But my husband was protected by a God; and I made sure that he was not caught in the web that these officers were trying to trap him in, while he went to search for an herbal medicine that I used, and need, to lessen my bodily pain and lighten my burdened spirit.
This herb is a medicine from Mother Earth’s Nature Garden, which She personally concocted, and provided for mortal beings to use so that they can remove, or reduce, ailments they develop inside their bodies, from the wear and tear of mortal life. It was especially given to humanity for its adult members to use, in order to enhance their abilities to develop into the higher spiritual beings that it is their birthright, and destiny to become. Actually, marijuana is a sacred plant that is most suited for highly developed spiritual beings such as sages, to use as a vehicle for them to enter and travel into the realms of the supernatural dimensions of the Cosmos, while they are still living in mortal bodies.
It is one of Mother Nature’s most ancient plants, and one which contains certain ingredients, which allows the human body to regain control of itself, more than just about any other plant is able to do by itself; and in the process makes it easier for someone to leave their mortal body and explore other dimensions of experiences, which they are normally prevented from doing by the pressures and ties and the weight of the daily trials and tribulations they encounter in their personal or public lives.
It’s the one plant that has the ability to lighten both the physical pressures, and emotional weight, on the human body, and also on the heart and mind of that adult individual who uses it. It’s not designed or intended for children to digest or inhale. Their bodies are not fully developed, and they do not have the emotional maturity to handle the sharp mental shifts and huge psychic movements that this spiritual herb allows its user to undergo most of the time. As well, children are normally allowed to keep in touch with their psychic ties and spiritual connections, as immortal beings, who have recently arrived to live mortal lives. And it usually takes about the end of their teenage years before these bonds and connections that they have with their higher self, and with the Cosmos, are ruptured severely, or disconnected completely by the forces of the systems of controls in the world they live in.
So children do not usually need to lighten their bodies, or their spirit, until they are in the adult phase of their lives; nor are they ready to handle the process of using this herb, or the spiritual journey and experiences which it gives its user the ability to undergo with little or no effort. It is also not intended for mortal beings who are not balanced emotionally, or mentally - especially those people who are filled with vices and harmful intentions.
This is a sacred herb. It becomes a vehicle for its user to explore their private and personal frontiers. And if that person is unbalanced, or deformed, in anyway, or even blocked with distorted beliefs or limited views of themselves - the experiences that they have while under the influence of this sacred herb will reflect those personal problems they have. This sacred herb that is grown by the Mother of the Earth, and given as a gift of Nature from the God serves as both a mirror that will show human beings a true reflection of what they have become as mortal beings – for better or worse; and it also serves as a window through which they can travel spiritually and get a truer sense of who they really as immortal beings, and children of Gods.
This sacred herb from the vineyard of Mother Nature has helped me to ease the agony in my pain-ridden body, and also help to relieve the tremendous stress that both my body and my mind were under. I was developing a condition called Fibromalgia, which is a soft tissue problem, that causes me to feel excruciating and prolonged pain whenever anything solid comes in contact with any part of my body, with any kind of force.  And it heightens and magnifies that pain. It can be a simple thing as trying to open a bottle of ketchup with my hand, bumping into a doorway, or shaking someone’s hand too tightly. The pain is sharp and it last for sometimes - even up to an hour. In the early part of 2002 I was diagnosed with that condition. But I had been living with it for all of the 1990’s.
Marijuana is also a herb that has allowed me to perform a simple and normal function such as clearing my bowel, without having to go through a lot of agony while trying to do so, because of how much it relaxes my entire body, and all the muscles in my body, within a matter of a few seconds. It has also allowed me to digest my foods without feeling like I am eating gravel, or digesting something that scrapes and bruised the walls of my lungs while I am having a meal or even a snack.
In the late 1990’s, I discovered something which other people with health problems like myself – that blocks their ability to digest their food or remove the waste from their bowels – came to know as medical marijuana. And through a caring and courageous physician in Toronto – I have been able to purchase medical marijuana since that time. In fact, thousands of patients in Canada, with health problems from sexually transmitted diseases, multiply scleroses, leukemia, depression, cancer, and many other ailments are now able to purchase medical marijuana to help them maintain a quality of life that they are not able to have without it.
They are able to have their meals, and empty their bowels, without damaging or bruising the inside of their bodies, as well as have their minds relieved of the stress that comes with being a sick person in this materialistic and selfish and stressed filled world. And in the case of those people who have to swallow a handful of different tablets just to keep their health problems from getting worse, such as people who have A.I.D.S. or who are H.I.V. positive, medical marijuana is an herb that is heaven sent.
As a woman who is able to go through each day with less pain inside my body and less stress inside my mind (from the health problems I have developed,) I know the value, and the benefit, of having access to medical marijuana, in order for me to do so. As a God who was responsible for the creation of such a plant, and who truly knows the immeasurable benefits it provides to mortal beings in general: I am concerned and sad to know that such a special gift from the Mother Of The Earth to humanity is being kept from the people of the Earth by governments, by the giant drug companies of the world, and by the tobacco companies on this planet.
These three goliaths of the land have deliberately, knowingly, and systematically plotted and worked together to make sure that Mother Earth’s finest and most useful plant was made illegal for the masses; and pushed underground for the outlaws of Society to grow, market, and sell at ridiculously high prices, and often poor quality, to adults; and even to children, who are willing to risk being arrested by law enforcement, or even being assaulted, or robbed, by criminal elements in places where they are forced to go to purchase it.
Fortunately more and more people living in North America, and elsewhere in the western world, have come to recognise that this sacred plant – and others like it - belongs in the hands of the people. And more and more, they are forcing the governments, and the courts to take steps to “de-criminalize” this precious medicinal and spiritual plant. They are also now finally admitting that the “War on Drugs” that the American government has been leading, and waging, cannot prevent people from having access to marijuana, or even the other illegal substances like heroin and cocaine, or their appetite for them.
As a God, it truly disturbs my ancient spirit to see any government, any authority, or anyone trying to tell another human being what they can or cannot put inside their own body. No one has that right – not even a God! As long as that mortal being is not harming anyone: it is their right to eat or drink or smoke or do anything they choose to with their life, and with their own body. And if they have reached the age of what is considered “adulthood” in that particular Society, even if they are putting something inside their bodies to harm themselves, or which others determine will cause them harm – it is absolutely no one’s business but their own.
Even us Gods do not have the right to prevent that person from taking steps to harm their own mortal life, or even their own spiritual life. Just because Gods create life, and gives that person life - does not give even us the right to interfere with a decision, or an action taken by that individual to harm their own life. The only time that even a God has the right to interfere, or to intervene, in that person’s life, is at the point where that person is using their life to intentionally and systematically harm and destroy the lives of others around them. The same thing goes for a group such as a community, an organization, a nation, or an entire race of beings.
The same thing also goes for those beings who decide to intentionally take their own mortal life. It is their right! And it will always be there right. No government, or any authority, has the right to force that person to remain alive as a mortal being. They did not give these beings life. And every time that a being deliberately (or neglectfully) decides to end their mortal life - they make that decision to do so, only because they have become unhappy and overwhelmed by situations in their own life. As spiritual beings, they do so always knowing within their own soul, that they are immortal members of the Cosmos, who have the power, the right, and the free will to remove themselves from any life, anywhere, and at anytime that they choose to. The right to own one’s own life outright, and live it as one chooses, is the most sacred and eternal right, and heritage, that is owned by all beings everywhere; and which is recognised, respected, and protected and celebrated by the beings who gave them that immortal life in the first place.
One of the worse violations that a Society, or even an individual, can commit against the life of another being, or even a group of beings, is when that being is forced to remain living as a mortal being by anyone or any group, in any place or civilization in the Cosmos. One of the most serious violations that can ever be inflicted on an immortal being by any person, or group, is for that immortal being to be forced to remain alive in a mortal body, once they make the decision that they will move on, and go and make another life for themselves somewhere else in the Cosmos. Even if they are not certain where they are going, or even if they are not clear about why they are going – it is their “God-given right” to do so. It is, and will always be, the inalienable right of every immortal being to live, or leave, any mortal life that they choose to live at anywhere, at anytime, for any reason. It is their life – it is your right!
Immortal beings cannot be prevented from leaving mortal lives, because sooner or later the life they live, as mortal beings, will end either through the death of their physical body or after years of wear and tear as their body ages. Or it will end prematurely through some illness or sudden death accidentally or through some form of murder. Mortal bodies are designed to live only for a period of time, just like all physical forms, and features of life in the three dimensional realms of the Cosmos. And there have been periods in the history of humanity where human beings have been able to live for many hundreds, or even thousands of years in the same body. The biblical Methuselah, who lived for nearly a thousand years, (and who is considered the oldest human who ever lived) is just one example of how long a being can live in a mortal body on Earth. 
Whether that mortal life is brief or long, or somewhere in between, it is the right of that person who owns that life to make the final decision about how they choose to live that life, or even how they decide to end it. But they do not have the right to harm or injure anyone else in the process of ending their own mortal life. And no one has the right to take that right away from that being - not even a God: unless that immortal is using their mortal life to intentionally violate the life of other beings. Then they forfeit that right to make that choice in that lifetime.
That is an unspoken law of the Cosmos, and it is written inside the hearts and minds and souls of all beings everywhere. And every man made law that is written to take the right away from an individual to make the decision about what to put inside their mouths, or inside their bodies, including those laws against possessing or using marijuana – especially if they are of adult age – violates one of the most ancient and sacred rights of all beings to live their lives (mortal or otherwise) as they choose, without harming the lives of anyone else in the process.
If I was not able to get my joint to smoke while I lived in that public park, with my family, I don’t think I would have been able to survive living under those conditions for as long and as well as I did. So when the law enforcement officers tried to prevent my husband from buying or getting that medicine for me, or even tried to set a trap so that they can arrest either or both of us in that park for possession of marijuana, I was furious. They had no right to do so. And as a God who was living in a body that was losing its health quickly, I knew that they were violating my right to put whatever I choose to inside my body, in order to help me to cope with the pain and the stress I was going through. And which in this case was a medicinal and spiritual plant.
Others in authority also came to try to convince us to end our protest and leave that park. One day the mayor of the city of York, mayor Fergy Brown came to see us, with one of his assistants, who just happened to have been an African Canadian. The mayor was an elderly Caucasian man, in his sixties, and he stayed for about fifteen minutes trying to convince us to go take our protest someplace else than in his district. When he left he was not happy. A worker from the “dreaded” Toronto Children’s Aid Society decided to also honour us with her presence. On more than one occasions she came to see us. And each time she told us that if we did not find a place to stay with our children, where they would be safe, she will have to take us to court, and have our children taken into their custody. In fact she ended up taking us to court.
As well, she accused us of sleeping with our two children. She was correct. We were sleeping with our two children: we were sleeping with them in the same van on the same bed where we all slept together as a family. But never once did my husband or myself tried to molest or touch either of our children in anyway, shape, or form that was sexual or inappropriate. Any parent or any adult who did so, or does so, have had their morals perverted, and needs to have them checked and changed quickly. That was exactly what I told that social worker from Children’s Aid Society. When she interviewed both our children, in private, they informed her that we had never violated their bodies, or even their lives in anyway. About a few weeks before the police abruptly ended our protest one night, Children’s Aid dropped their case against us suddenly and unexpectedly. They knew that they did not have a case against us. They also realised that I was very ill, and that if they kept pushing to take our children from us that it might have been the trigger that pushed me over the edge and into my death.
Some of our own African Canadian people also came to that park to try to push us out of it. Children’s Aid sent a psychiatrist to interview us, hoping to find evidence that my husband or myself was mentally unstable. Only a couple who was out of their minds would decide to take their family to a park to live in a car or a van, as far as they were concerned. This was not a trailer park, where families lived in trailers. There were no trailers anywhere in Trethewey Park, and we were the only people living there. The psychiatrist also happened to have been a member of our own African Canadian family. For about one hour this man sat in that park with us, and asked us questions about different issues. He then went back to that agency and gave them his findings about our mental health.
In court documents, which Children’s Aid provided to us, this reputable and respected professional stated: that there was something seriously wrong with the mental health of both my husband and myself. He stated that we both had a mental illness called “foli au deu:” or some spelling like that. This is supposed to be a mental illness where the person has “delusions of grandeur in the context of a paranoid illness.” Both my husband and I were disappointed that a psychiatrist from our own community decided that my husband and I were insane, after speaking to us for only about one hour. That was a serious charge against our mental health for him to have made.
We realized that this man was not a “brother” who was concerned about the plight of a family from his own race, as they struggled to fight for their rights, and take a stand against injustices. He was someone who was loyal to his job first, and to the people who had the power to take that job from him whenever they saw fit. Not only was he a slave to his own personal ambitions, but he was also a prisoner of the same European power base that enslaved and devastated his own ancestors, and still continued to hold their descendants as human pawns and mortal puppets.
This man was your typical home grown Uncle Tom, who was also a loyal supporter and defender of the institutions of power in Canadian Society. He interpreted the closeness that Andraggon and I demonstrated for each other, and in our views and understanding about different issues - as unnatural, disturbing, and threatening. My husband, and I, expressed the same view to him about every issue he raised in that hour. The only difference in our view, was that I expected Society to change and transform itself sooner and more completely than my husband did. We showed this psychiatrist an example of what true soul mates look like in their thinking, and in their beliefs. He determined that we had “delusions of grandeur” because I revealed to him that the ancient knowledge that I was carrying had the power to transform human life completely, after it is understood clearly and practiced carefully and diligently. And my husband voiced his agreement.
After we revealed to him that we preferred to live as recluses, and away from people, and among Nature and the animals in the wild – because of how much we have been abused as a family by people in Canadian Society - this board certified professional decided that my husband and I must be paranoid. No family in their right mind would prefer to isolate themselves, and live as recluses in some wooded area away from civilization, as far as this urban professional was concerned. Especially a young, healthy, articulate, and talented “black couple” - with two adolescent children, who had been living and working in the city of Toronto for about a decade and a half. Only hippies, or people like that, would want to live in such a manner. And hippies we were not.
The irony of this disturbing charge that this man made against the mental health of myself, and my husband, was that not once did either one of us revealed to him that I was a God. In fact, Andraggon identified us as being only ‘very spiritual beings,’ with me as a high priestess, and himself as a priest from an ancient Lemurian priesthood. Neither one of us made any mention about the fact that I was a member of the most highly developed group of beings in the Universe. If we had, I could only imagine what this reputable expert in mental health would have concluded about the condition of our minds.
Actually, this mental health expert was unintentionally and unknowingly paying both my husband and I a great complement. Humanity has a nasty and shameful legacy of labelling people who present a different view of reality as being individuals who were out of their minds. The recorded history of human civilizations has shown that every one who comes along, and pioneers a vision of the future that is different from the current one, is attacked mercilessly from every quarter. And until their invention, discovery, reform, or theory is proven to be sound, practical, and popular – these visionaries are viewed as beings who are dreamers, idealists, quacks, kooks, and misfits in the particular area of Society where they are trying to make a difference. Scientists like Albert Einstein was laughed at and called a nutcase by most of his fellow scientists.
Avatars like Jesus the Christ was declared insane by the authorities of his day. Inventors such as the Wright Brothers who flew the first airplane, Henry Ford who built the first horseless carriage that enter the marketplace, and Alexander Graham Bell who gave us the first telephone - were all considered deluded dreamers by the majority of their contemporaries. Because of the radical, and idealistic vision, that we held about the harmonious, peaceful, and beautiful future that humanity had the ability, the responsibility, and the right to experience in the near future - this mental health expert decided that my husband and I was a couple who must be mentally ill; and also paranoid, because we did not want to live among human beings anymore, and instead preferred to live in a forest, where we can enjoy the company of the animals in the wild, and Nature.
Mortal beings who have lost the knowledge of their true identity as immortal beings, or even the memory of their connection to higher spiritual beings, and all beings, have a habit of reacting to us in the same manner that this blind and lost mental health professional did – whenever they encounter a God, or a highly developed spiritual being. They become fearful of us even while being in awe about the abilities we show, or the ancient and metaphysical knowledge that we share. And eventually they will either crucify or glorify us. But they always refuse to greet and accept us as servants of the Cosmos, who just happened to be Gods. One of the most common labels that mental health experts, and other experts from different areas of authority, have tried to pin on Gods over the ages is that we have “delusions of grandeur.” That’s one of the funniest things that anyone can say to a God, especially one who is living as a mortal being. And for myself, and my husband, this arrogant doctor of psychiatry was hilarious.
What was not funny, though, was the actions of a group of men from our own culture who came one evening in that park to see us. Or rather, to see if they could drive us from that park, by using their spiritual powers to try to overpower and cripple my family, so that we would have to literally crawl out of that park to save our lives. These were men who were skilled in the use of witchcraft in a negative way, and who were hired by the authorities to use their “black magic” to attack our minds and turn us into frightened and broken and insane people. Many mortal beings have fallen prey to such psychic attacks over time. For a few hours, this group of men who were dressed in African gowns, and Muslim styled head dress, chanted quietly and intensely in a small circle, from behind the bushes where they had gone and hid themselves. They reminded me of the African Canadian men who I met at that Christmas party when we lived in the Parkdale area, who had told my soul mate that I was going to be a threat to men, and to the dominance of men in Society.
These members of the mighty, and ruling, Male Culture, from my own African culture, knew who I was, because of the spiritual abilities they had developed in the art of gathering and using supernatural techniques and processes as mortal beings. They knew that I was a God, or someone along that line. And they also knew that I was here to shift the balance of power on Earth, away from being owned and monopolized by men just like them, and distribute it evenly in the hands of members of both genders. I was a threat to them, and to all members of the Male Culture who believed that their gender was more divine and more powerful than members of the Female Culture. That was the reason why they had gathered in that park that evening in the woods to attack me with the force and power of their de-formed and ‘E.Veil’ energy, hoping to destroy my family, or at least to try to injure me spiritually.  
They failed miserably in their effort that evening. And even if they continued to attack me psychically, afterwards – which they did – they were not going to succeed.  Gods cannot be destroyed, or even injured by anyone period: They are indestructible beings, who are beyond the reach of other beings. Gods can however, be physically injured or even killed, when they are living in mortal bodies just like other beings can be. Especially if that God does not bring enough of their abilities with them, when they choose to live as mortals. Or if that God chooses to allow their mortal life to be taken from them by other mortal beings, as Avatar Jesus and other Gods over time have done (throughout the Cosmos) in order to teach important lessons about the immortality of the soul, for example; or the depth of the higher love Gods have for all beings – to allow their mortal life to be taken from them by their own creations. 
Some members of the Canadian public also took the opportunity to let us know that we were not welcome to live in that park, or even welcome to live in Canada. At least once a week someone driving by that park would shout to us to “get outta Canada!” – because my husband and I were wearing headdresses of people from the African continent, and looked like we both were immigrants who came from there recently. Then there were the rednecks who were even more openly racists. These motorists would yell to us to “go back where you came from, nigger!” as they drove past us on their way to wherever they were going. They were just nuisances as far as my family was concerned; and their bold display of raw prejudice would usually cause us to just chuckle, sometimes, at such utter and dangerous show of ignorance. 
One of the most annoying groups of people that we encountered, for most of the months we slept in that park were not the public, but members of the various public service departments. These were the people who drove ambulances, fire department trucks, and also police cruisers. During many of the nights when we were sound asleep, there would be a sudden burst of loud noises from one of these vehicles. The loudest and most annoying of these sounds was the one that was made by the horn of the fire fighter trucks. It was loud and long, and made more than once, and it usually caused us to wake up right after. Throughout the course of each night, we would hear the horn of at least one of these vehicles being blasted as it went past us. And we knew that it was being deliberately done, because that driver would only blast their horn a short distance before they drove past us in that government vehicle, and then turned it off when they had reached a fairly short distance from us. We lost a good night sleep many nights because of this childish stunt by these government workers.
The most vicious attacks that my family survived in that park came from some of the most heartbreaking, and sadistic things that some people did to a few animals late at night, a short distance from where we slept each night. On more than one occasions, some very sick and evil person, or persons, tortured an animal that sounded like a cat for longer than I care to remember. In fact, I sensed very strongly that each time this crime occurred that a poor and innocent animal was literally being tortured to death. It is not something which I want to remember, or which my family wishes to remember. But it was something that was done. And each time I think about it, that memory sends a cold shiver throughout my entire body. The most agonizing sound that anyone can hear is the sound of someone being physically tortured to death. It is the most haunting and painful and eerie and helpless sound that mortal beings can ever hear.
For hours my adolescent children, my husband, and myself, were kept awake as we lay in that van, by the sounds of what appear to be a cat being tortured over and over. For about two or three nights in a row we were forced to listen to the sharp and blood curling death cries of such a misfortunate animal. The first night we were woken up by that horror: we knew that it was a desperate attempt to find a way to drive my family out of our minds so that we will flee from the park. That was the toughest part of the over eight months that we lived on the streets, or in that park – of having to listen to what appear to be an animal being tortured over and over.
We were literally held prisoners by this sadistic and evil act. We had no place to go; and we could not drown out the heart wrenching sounds of the death screams that were being made by that tortured animal. The old van we were living in did not have a radio, nor did we even have one ourselves that we could have tried to use to drown out those bloodcurling sounds we were forced to lie there and listen to for hours. What was done to those animals those three nights was wrong and evil and unforgiveable. What was done to my family during those same three nights was heart wounding, and something we will never ever forget. Any other family would have collapsed under such unbearable and relentless attacks against their minds, as they lay awake in that quiet van while being forced to listen to such indescribable anguish. But my family survived. And we did not lose our minds. But we did lose our respect for such members of our human race who would commit such horrible acts against a member of another race of beings.
There were some people who came to the park, however, who helped us to cope with many of the obstacles, and dangers, which came our way. These people actually came to lift our spirits, and to build a wall of protection around the area of the park where we spent most of our time. A Native warrior from the First Nation of Canada came to the park one afternoon during the summer, and performed a ritual called a walk of protection. She circled that park in complete silence with an intense focus, while she walked around the area where we were staying, exactly seven times. My husband and I were both proud of our Native sister, and we were deeply moved by what she did. 
My entire family sat in that park on our blanket and watched our sister as she perform her walk of power, to protect the family of a God, with the mystical power of her mighty ancestors. We did not say a single word to her, nor did we try to get her attention. But psychically, my husband and I thanked our Native sister for her mystical support, and for her generous spirit. My family will always remember what this Native warrior did for us that special afternoon. What she did that afternoon made a difference in how well my family was able to survive and cope with living in that park, for the rest of the four or so months that we stayed there.
An Oriental warrior from the culture of the people of the Orient also came to that park about a month later, and performed the same walk of power to form a wall of protection around my family.  Seven times she walked around that same area of the park in deep silence, and with a single mindedness, as only a true warrior can. We were moved and humbled by the sight of our Oriental sister as she built a wall of light around my family.
It was not a coincidence that the two people who came to do a walk of power, and construct a protective shield around my family were both women warriors. Nor was it a surprise that they each just happened to come from two of the oldest cultures of people on Earth. It was also not a surprise that these female warriors were from two of the cultures where females were especially viewed as properties of men, and controlled by men, more than almost all other cultures on Earth – except for women of Indian and other Asian cultures.
I knew that if there was a female warrior (from the people of the Asian race like the nation of India, for example) who was anywhere in the city of Toronto at that time – that she would have also come to that park to pay homage to a God and her family, by conducting a walk of protection as my other two sister warriors had done. Both walks of power were performed by these two female warriors at about the midpoint in our eight-month of living in that park. They could not have chosen a more fitting time to shield my besieged family. As the warm days of the Canadian summer became shorter and cooler, life in that park became harder and tougher for my small family. I also became weaker with each week, from having a body that was severely short of blood. The massive amount of blood that I lost that day, about five months earlier, in the Lido Motel began to take its toll on my already failing health. As the months passed I began to lose my appetite for food, as my body gradually lost its strength.
Most of the summer I actually spend sitting in the back of our small car, or lying on the grass on a blanket with my family. I also lost a lot of weight, which was not good because I was already barely over my average body weight when we were evicted from our last home. After awhile I did not have the strength to do anything anymore. But whenever anyone came to see us and tried to force us to leave that park, by using all sorts of different arguments, I always found the strength to stand up against them, and push them back with the force and power and depth of my ancient knowledge. Actually, the only defence my husband and I had against the endless attacks that were launched against us during those many months we lived in that park, was the strength and depth of the knowledge we displayed on those occasions. Knowledge was our only weapon; and truth was our only shield – and we were loaded with an abundance of it. And we used it as a powerful weapon to keep all our adversaries at bay during those months we lived there.
As I lost more and more of my strength, my soul mate became more and more the family protector. Andraggon responded like the real trooper and warrior I always knew he could be. He did everything for his family, and to provide for his family, when I was no longer able to. He cooked all our meals on that propane burner stove when we were hungry, washed all our clothes near the water fountain in that park when they got dirty, and greeted everyone who came to see us, responsibly and respectfully. I was never more proud of him than I was during those months. He even made sure that I was able to keep my body clean, by helping me to clean myself; and he even made sure that I did not have to leave that van to empty my bladder or my bowel, by providing me with a small bucket to use, which he would empty for me, somewhere in the bushy areas of that park. He and our children had to make a trip into the bushes whenever Nature called, which they tried to keep from doing as long as they could.
By the time the media finally decided to speak to us, and cover our story, I was too weak to speak for my family as I had been doing for most of that protest. But I still made the effort to do so. My husband became the spokesperson for his family. And for the last half of the eight months we were there, he became very assertive and aggressive and eloquent at doing so.
I became so weak and so ill towards the end of our stay in that park that one day while I was lying down in that van, a door from another dimension appeared a few yards in front of me. And it opened and beckoned me to rise up and enter through it. The pull of that magnetic door was very enticing and extremely powerful. It’s like a hole in the Cosmos, somewhat like a small dimensional door – except that it was made of the colour of the clouds.
I was tempted to go through that hole and disappear from the realm of the three dimensional world my family and I were living in, and being persecuted in. But I did not. I could not. My family needed me to continue to guide and strengthen and protect them as I had done all their life with me, even though I no longer had the strength to even look after myself at the moment. But I knew that one day in the near future I would regain my physical strength. And I would be ready when that day came.
If I had gone through that white door of light I would have no longer had a mortal body anymore, because it would have disappeared – or rather it would dissolve into the particles of living light that all mortal things are made of. I would still have been able to return and continue to live and work with my husband and our two children. But the body I would have had would have been made of pure light, and also prevented me from continuing to be identified as a mortal being by my family or by other mortal beings, unless I chose to make myself visible to them. One day in the future I may acquire such a body for me to use while I finish my work here on Earth, to bring all beings together in this lifetime. But if and when I do so, or even regain the use of more of my abilities as a God, no one will know – except perhaps my husband and my faithful and loving daughter Mahogohney.
Of all the beings who came and entered our lives while we lived in that park, the most loyal and helpful of these were not even humans. The children of Mother Nature were there for my family more than anyone else were. Children and animals are the beings whom I am most drawn towards, and also the ones who have embraced and welcomed me more than any other beings. During the entire time that we lived in that park Mother Nature provided my family with scouts, who kept us informed about the different people who would be coming to see us on that particular day. 
A group of doves became messengers for my family. The dove is the symbol of the presence of the divine in many cultures. Every day they would arrive and reveal to us the identity of the people who would be coming by and see us on that particular day. And they were never wrong! They provided this information through the actual colour, the health, and even the sizes of their bodies, and even the length of time they stayed. For example, we always knew when a v.i.p. would be coming to see us on a particular day whenever a dove (or a pigeon) with a distinguish looking body came by among that group of pigeon. And if that person was crippled spiritually (or morally) that particular pigeon would walk with a limp for the entire time that it spent with the others.
And they were always right. That was how we planned our days as we waited to greet the visitors whom these messengers of Mother Nature alerted us would show up. My husband and our two children were constantly amazed by how accurate these doves were, in the information they provide us about the different people who later came to see us that day. It was an amazing display of psychic intelligence. Never once did we ever feed, or tried to feed any of those doves, nor did we even tried to lure any of them to come by, with food or any kind of treats. These winged messengers of Nature came to see us of their own free will. And many times they came by two or three times during the day. And without failure: so would the people they portrayed and imitated on that day.
I was not surprise to see those doves. They are ancient messengers who often alert others of the presence of Gods among mortals. In the holy book of the Christians, a dove appears out of the blue and descends above the head of Avatar Jesus - as he was being inaugurated (or blessed at the start of his mission) by the prophet John The Baptiser, in a baptism in a river. It was also a dove that brought a small branch back to the Ark for Noah to see that their was dry land close by, after the Great Flood that had covered the entire face of the Earth, and drowned everyone except for those people and creatures of Nature whom Noah had sheltered in his huge ark – as the biblical story goes.
Ancient cultures have often used them as messengers in times of peace, and also in periods of war. My family was honoured, and protected, by the groups of doves who brought us information that kept us informed about the visitors who came to see us in that park. The Mother Of The Earth, and Mother Nature, were both there for us at a time when we had no family or friend or organization that was there for us. 
This was not the first time in the life of this family that we have been protected by other messengers of Nature. For all our lives together, different messengers of Mother Nature have kept my family informed about events that were to occur during a particular day. The ravens (or crows as they are called today) have been the most accurate and detailed of all the messengers of Nature, who have been helping to guide and protect my family every day of our lives. Everywhere we have lived in Toronto, they have been there to provide us with timely intelligence report about problems that were ahead of us on that particular day. They do not come by everyday, and they never come in any set amounts each time, though they usually came by in groups of four. But each time a raven visits us at home, and gives us information about a problem that was on its way to meet us, or that we were heading towards – by the end of that day that problem always showed up without failure.
The ravens are not just some black bird that fly around, or fly from one place to another, looking for some food to eat, or just following the course of their own life and interest at any given time of the day. They are the most informed, the most mobile, the most accurate, and the least noticed of all the messengers of Mother Nature. When it comes to bringing information about upcoming danger on any given day, the crows are in a league all by themselves.
Ravens don’t just show up in a tree in someone’s backyard just to enjoy the view, or to be viewed. They do not fly across a road ahead of your vehicle, while you are driving to wherever you are trying to get to, just to be noticed. They do not make that alarming “caw caw” sounds whenever they decide to do so, just to annoy you while you are relaxing in the comfort of your living room, or just to wake you up early in the morning with their “loud noises” as you sleep soundly in your warm and cosy bed. They are messengers of Nature, and they bring intelligence from a higher source, than any kind of intelligence that any of your intelligence agencies anywhere in the world have the capability to uncover.
My family has come to accept them as the messengers of intelligence of the supernatural kind, or the psychic kind. And whenever they show up at our home, or when we are walking, driving, running, riding, or whatever my husband, or myself, or our daughter is doing - we always take the time to look, listen, and pay close attention to what they are saying, the urgent manner in which they say it, how long they say it, and how they position or locate themselves while they are sharing this supernatural intelligence about some form of danger that is ahead of us on that day.
And they are never wrong! Sometimes it is information about an argument that you and your spouse will have later that day. Sometimes they bring intelligence about an incident, or even an accident that someone in your household will experience on that day. Sometimes it’s about a death of a loved one, or even a close friend that has just taken place a few moments earlier, and you have not yet been told about it. The ravens get their information from the same higher source of intelligence that a dog or cat, for example, does when they react to the presence of an unseen being in your home. They get it from the same source that animals use, to let them know when an Earthquake is about to erupt, or when some other natural disaster is about to take place. It’s a direct knowledge, and an inner intelligence, that flows freely throughout all the dimensions of life in the Cosmos.
Some human beings are able to lift their own vibrations and tap into this Cosmic stream of consciousness more easily than others. There are stories that have been written or spoken about such beings with such psychic tendencies over time, and even today. All beings have a right to access this higher intelligence. It’s part of their Cosmic heritage, and yours. The ravens are just some of Nature’s children living amongst us, who use this higher intelligence to inform, guide, and protect all members of humanity - who are paying attention to the potent and flawless information that they bring, about dangers or problems entering our lives on any given day.
It’s not that they bring bad luck, as some people view the presence of a black cat, as doing, for instance. In fact, when one encounters a black cat that crosses their path, for example, it’s not that this black cat brings bad luck to that person. Instead, it’s that the presence of that black cat crossing one’s path - reveals that there is some misfortune (or bad luck, if your will) that is heading one’s way in a few minutes, an hour, or sometime during the rest of the course of that day. The information is given to humans by the black cat, the raven, or some other child of Mother Nature, so that you can be forewarned about a danger on the horizon. Once that higher intelligence is sought, and received by that human being, the next step for that person to take is to go into a state of heightened alertness (as your intelligence departments are now fond of saying.) 
Whenever any of these messengers of Nature brings that higher intelligence to my family, we become more aware, more alert, and also more relaxed as we prepare ourselves to meet whatever problem or danger that is heading our way sometime during the course of that day. We do not panic, nor do we become worried or downhearted: we just relax and pay closer attention to everything occurring in our lives, or around us, for the rest of that day. To ignore the messengers of Nature, especially in places where dangers lurk, or at times when pitfalls are all around us, is to intentionally walk blindly into problems that are waiting for you. You will not be able to avoid the dangers or problems heading your way, or that you are heading towards, unless the problem removes itself from out of your path. What you can do, however, is use this advance information to prepare for that event that always comes your way. In this way, when it shows up – and it always does, once the higher intelligence has been given to you by one of Nature’s messengers  - you are not pulled under, or knocked over by it.
My family has a special relationship with these messengers of Mother Nature because of the information they bring to us at different times on any given day. There was one special child of Nature that we developed a special bond with while we lived in that park in 1990. He was a baby squirrel who just walked out of the bushes one day, and came over to the spot where we spread our blanket on the grass everyday. He would not leave – even after we took him back into the bushes where he came from, three different times. Each time he just walked right back and came over and joined us.
We called that bundle of joy Sparky because he was so full of life and energy even though he was so young. For about a month, Sparky lived with us as our fifth family member and our second animal child. Our poodle, Sheba, even seemed to accept this child of Nature as part of the family. However, we made sure that we always kept Sparky protected when she came around. In fact we even borrowed her large cage that Sheba use to sleep in before we began putting her in our car to sleep in after we got that van. And we used that as Sparky’s own house, especially at nights.
Sparky did not live to see even one full season. One night while he was asleep in his cage, someone came along and intentionally killed that innocent and beautiful and loving child of Nature. We do not know exactly when it happened, nor do we know who committed such an evil act. But that baby squirrel was murdered in the middle of the night, about the same time that those animals were being tortured to death. The same evil and despicable excuse for a human being visited us late one night, and crushed little Sparky to death. The little guy did not stand a chance, as he rested in that cage. This soul-less creature who called himself a human being tortured the body and destroyed the life of a beautiful and innocent creature, while we slept soundly in our dead van only yards away.
It was sad that none of us was awake, while this evil deed was being committed by a human being against a baby from another race of beings. But it was a blessing that we did not hear little Sparky’s death call as he cried out for his life to be spared. It would have devastated us even more than when we found his broken and lifeless body lying in that cage the next morning.
My family will always remember little Sparky. He filled our lives for a whole month with more joy and laughter and smiles than we had during our entire life before or since by anyone. He or she was just a baby, maybe no more than a week old when he came to live with us. Sparky was a gift of love and life from Mother Nature to my family. For years, my husband would cry like a baby each time he told the story of little Sparky, just as he is doing now as we speak about him. That child of Nature meant so much to us. And we loved him so much:
“You did not stay with us for very long Sparky. But what you gave to us, and what we shared together as a family in that park, during that one month, is something that will always remain with us. Though we did not give birth to you, you will always remain one of our children. Little child of Mother Nature, you will always be alive in our hearts and our minds for as long as we live. We love you Sparky, and we knew that you loved us too. May your next life as a mortal being be one that is blessed with love and filled with joy for all of your life.”





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