Have you watched the YouTube clips of mediums giving readings, both for audiences and individuals? I've made a study of them. I started with John Edward and his show, "Crossing Over," and then branched out to Lisa Williams, Gordon Smith, Paula O'Brien, Matt Frasier, and others. Note there is an interesting principle that people are generally drawn to who they're ready for. People who aren't ready for the real information are drawn to frauds, which then confirms their world-view. Similarly, there is quite a bit of false debunking going on out there. People who aren't ready for the real information will be readily fooled by it--fraudulent debunking acts as an unintended protection for them. But sincere seekers aren't fooled by it, because they have a sort of homing device in their heart. I suppose that sounds hokey; or will, to anyone in the former class.
So this is stricly on a need-to-know basis.
In 1998, I was one of the first to videotape a live (i.e., unedited) session with a psychic, not counting the Spiritualist churches, which, unknown to me, had been filming their own services and demonstrations for some time. But unlike the Spiritualists, who as a group have been very reluctant to embrace reincarnation, I was using it specifically to prove reincarnation.
This is pretty radical stuff, for that group--it's as though I was using their own methods against them. Of course, that's not how I would see it. All I can say is, the truth will out, and reincarnation is true.
Now, in 2010, I used a psychic to connect with my past-life soul-mate, Abby. Abby, as you will know if you have followed this blog, was Mathew Franklin Whittier's first wife, and true love. She had contacted me, in the manner that I described briefly in the previous essay, as regards the music I used to open that page. I was trying to communicate with her, and needed some help. I told the psychic only that I wanted to contact my past-life wife from the 19th century, and I sent her digital images of an unmarked etching of Mathew in 3/4 profile, in his mid-forties; and the second page of a letter from Abby to Mathew's sister, in her hand. She received the etching, but not the letter, as e-mail attachments. Perhaps the etching, having been copied off the internet, was of smaller resolution.
She did connect with Abby in the astral realm, in real time, and I have told that story elsewhere. She had no idea what historical persons these were, and she got several strong hits. Just as you will see the genuine mediums do on YouTube. I recently watched John Edward convey the message that someone's father (I think it was) in the spirit world was saying that someone had been looking at a dress, and had found a dead mouse in it. The woman confirmed that someone in the family had opened the box containing her wedding dress--which she would look at and try on occasionally--and finding a dead mouse and such in it, threw it out.
These mediums do this kind of thing routinely. If you are dismissing their results as chance or "cold reading," you are flat in denial. I'm just telling you.
Well, my psychic, in 2010, did the same for me, as regards my past-life wife from the 19th century.
Here's the example that I just yesterday found another piece of evidence for. I don't have space to present all the evidence properly. All this is in my books. I will only be able to touch on it, here. Don't think this is "all I got." It isn't. It's just all I have space, in a blog, to mention.
In the course of the reading, Candace (the medium) indicated that Mathew and Abby would read together, outdoors, from "black-market metaphysical books." She also described a scenario in which, as it seems, Abby was being tried for witchcraft. Now, remember, this is 19th-century New England (the medium didn't know what part of the country it was, but she knew the era). The following is from my notes, taken in real time during the phone session. Keep in mind that in 2010, I was quite aware of the dynamics of the "cold reading" technique, and was being very careful not to give her any subtle cues that she could guess from:
The books we were studying were based on reincarnation. Black market books. Had to hide them. Abby putting book under her dress if someone approached. Like-mindedness between us, in complete agreement. Abby talks poetically. Her education came after her schooling, largely from Matthew, reading books together. We were ahead of our time.
Both were working on it, but it went wrong, and we were shunned. A court scene, like a witch trial--not physical punishment, but severe verbal. Lawyers.
Candace seems to have interpreted that it was Mathew teaching Abby, whereas in actuality, it was the other way-round. He was soaking up everything she taught him about the classics, etc., but he was very skeptical of what she taught him about the occult, for several years. However, they were deeply simpatico in other respects, and they were both demonstrably ahead of their time. Abby was a poetic child prodigy (though I doubt she talked poetically). So a great deal of mediumship is in how the medium translates what's being shown him, or her. But what about this witch trial? I had trouble taking this literally.
I have mentioned that Mathew wrote almost all of his work anonymously; and when your work is particularly good, and you leave it unprotected like that, people steal it and claim it. The same was true for Abby. So I had to do a great deal of fancy detective work to reclaim Mathew and Abby's work for them. I was very careful and precise, and the evidence gradually mounted. I don't claim any work for either writer unless I'm quite certain of it.
Slowly, over the course of several years of research, I began to uncover evidence for this trial. But it was not during the period when Mathew and Abby were working together (though there appears to have been a close shave, regarding Abolitionism, later on*). The first indication was Abby's own writing. And this is a convoluted detective story in itself, but I'll just give you the results. When Abby was 14 years old, she began attending a composition class in nearby Newburyport, Mass., being taught by a young Harvard student (or, wannabe Harvard student), named Albert Pike. Pike is known as a controversial high-ranking Mason in the 19th century. He was a civil war general for the South; and his name is linked to a conspiracy theory regarding a plot to re-establish slavery. He has been charged, but not convicted, of plagiarism. He made a name for himself, briefly, as a poet, but told his biographer he was never able to write that well, again. Some accuse him of teaching a type of devil-worship, as a Mason; others excuse him based on a more benign explanation. So his character is in dispute among historians. Personally, I think the benign explanation was a cover.
I determined that Pike must have stolen Abby's poetry out of her class workbook, and published it, piecemeal, under their shared initials, "A.P." If he was ever caught, he could always explain that, as her teacher, he was publishing it for her. And if he wasn't caught, he could take the credit--and the cash. Among this poetry, are two very short pieces which are clearly private. They were written directly to two friends, who had remained loyal to the author through some terrible period of social disgrace and shunning. If you look at Albert Pike's history, he left the Newburyport area about the time he had developed a crush on a student. His explanation is that he was too poor to declare his love to the girl, so he left for Arkansas (mostly on foot, as it happens). But Mathew wrote two of his "obfuscated personal history" stories about him. In Mathew's account, he has an affair with the student, and presumably is driven out of town. Mathew goes easy on him, putting most of the blame on the townsfolk. But it's pretty clear that "Bouncing Betsy" is the same well-endowed young lady, Elizabeth Perkins, that Pike tells us he had a secret crush on. And it's clear enough from Mathew's story, that Bouncing Betsy and the teacher were an item. Bouncing Betsy is so-named, for her skill and stamina in the dance--ostensibly. This one is written over Mathew's identified signature at the time, "D.":
But it was among the girls, however, that Jonathan Jenks bestowed the most of his estimation—by associating with them he hoped to [wear?] off a certain rustic bashfulness, which threatened to be an impediment to his becoming a great man. We need not relate the various little arts which he practised to win their affections—suffice it to say, that each and all of his patrons' daughters fondly believed she had captivated the heart of the matter. But there was one in particular who thought she had stronger claims than any to the prize.—This was no less a personage than the daughter of his hostess—a stout buxom lass who fastened herself on his company whenever he went to church or sleigh riding.
About this time Jonathan received an invitation to attend a dance at a neighboring town. Bouncing Betsy—for that was the name by which his hostess' daughter was called—was to be of the party, and as Bet knew the road and Jonathan did not, she considered it a fair pretext for inviting herself to a seat in the same sleigh with him.
"Stout," here, probably means "ample," or pleasingly plump, as was the fashion of beauty in the day. "Jonathan" is a generic name for a Yankee. Even in this snippet, you can see that Mathew is putting the blame largely on the student, for having seduced Pike. Mathew always took the part of the underdog--but later, his opinion of Pike would diminish considerably. In fact, it was probably Mathew--who wrote for New York papers from 1830-1832, and again from 1834-1835--that Pike biographer Alexander E. Jones is referring to, in "The 'Plagiarism' of Albert Pike," when he opens his article thusly:
In his biography of Albert Pike, Fred. W. Allsopp has referred rather mysteriously to a "New York literary man [who] once made the assertion that Pike was not an original thinker and suggested that he was a great plagiarist."
So Pike took these two "shame" poems, and published them under his own name, changing the initials in the heading to the initials of his own friends. He thus gave the appearance of contrition; when we know that sociopathic personalities have no genuine contrition of their own.
The two shame poems were actually written by Abby, a few years previously. One of them was originally addressed to Mathew, whom she was tutoring, and who was friends with her older brother. Mathew would write to them both, in disguise, when he moved to New York in 1831, as "Enoch Timbertoes."
So these two poems by Abby were my first clue that something along the lines of what the medium mentioned, had actually happened in Abby's young life.
Next I found Abby's short stories, which she probably never intended for publication, and hence which were heavily autobiographical. In one of them, a vagabond who is reputed to have skill in palm reading, comes to town. A girl approaches him, saying that her sister has fallen in love with an undesirable suitor, and requests his help. What she wants him to do, is to give a palm reading to her sister, and convince her that the boy is no good for her. The vagabond reluctantly complies, then sobs, presumably because he knows he shouldn't have done it.
I strongly suspected, after I mulled it over awhile, that Abby must have done something similar. This might be what she had gotten in trouble for. Her Scottish mother, Sally, whom historians have called "brilliant," probably had taught Abby these same skills. This is not the only instance of palm-reading that shows up in Abby's stories--there's another, and there are indications of the occult in almost all of them, as well as in her poetry. So Abby's mother must have taught her these things from the "old country," but admonished her never to use them with the other girls in the village. I found additional clues that Abby was shunned and bullied by her peers, as Abby had earlier "told" me, directly. It further came to me, that Abby had probably been set up by these two girls.
So I knew the instigating event, but still, I had seen no direct evidence of a trial.
During this period in which Mathew was writing as "Enoch Timbertoes" for a paper called the New York "Constellation," I found that he had written a thank-you poem for his birthday present, a night-cap that Abby had knitted for him. He feigned dismay at the occult symbols she had sewn into it, as well as the symbols of love. This proves beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Candace was right about Abby being knowledgeable about the occult. The poem was signed "P.P.," which as I have recently discussed, was probably a private nickname that Abby had coined for him, "Peter Pumpkin-eater." The poem appears in the July 16th edition, and Mathew's birthday is on the 18th.
Addressed to a Lady, on being presented by her with a night-cap fantastically decorated.
I took a short nap,
Dear girl, in thy cap,
And dreamt of each hieroglyphic,
As black as the ace
Of spades was its face,
An omen to me quite terrific.
I feared that a frown
On that brow of thine own,
Might gather in anger or gloom,
And cloud the warm sky
That smiles in thine eye,
And destroy all my hopes in the bloom.
But thy pretty hand wove
An emblem of love,
A work of such exquisite art,
That sure even Cupid
Must be very stupid
To take it for aught but thy heart.
And close by its side—
What can it betide?—
Is another most ominous heart,
Almost I could swear
They were meant for a pair,
They were formed so alike in each part.
A circle is here,
Of magic, I fear
An emblem, Enchantress, of thee;
But who would beware
So tempting a snare,
Too prudent by half is for me. P.P.
I had long felt--since the days I had the first psychic reading--that one of Mathew's fond names for Abby was "my magical girl." This poem was written at a time when Abby, having just turned 15 and being too young to enter into an official romance, had long held a crush on Mathew, who was four years older. He was reciprocating her feelings, but could not openly say as much in his correspondence with her at this time. He can only refer to his "hopes," and he found other ways, through his "Enoch Timbertoes" character, to reassure her of his fidelity in the face of temptations, while living in New York.
Recently, I found Mathew's very early work, published when he was only 15 years old. Abby does indeed seem to have already begun tutoring him, even at age 11. Mathew had run away from home (as I have concluded) at age 14, because he wasn't permitted to attend Haverhill Academy with his older brother, John Greenleaf Whittier. He had returned from a brief stint at sea (not having the stomach for it, and having been dropped off in Cuba). But by November of 1827 he was already off again, writing for the New England Galaxy in Boston. Then, in December, it appears he is writing from Washington, D.C., New Jersey, and New York. His editor has told us, in his 1852 memoirs, that Mathew was also persuing a mercantile career (which I already knew he was doing in 1834).
That brings us up to date. In the previous entry, I described how my eye was magnetically drawn to the New York "Telescope," and how I found two of Mathew's recognizable pieces in it. I just got the physical copy of that paper in the mail, yesterday. There are two more of his pieces on the second page (all signed "GLEANER"). The first of these is a brief admonition not to broadcast one's name in the newspaper, when one gives money to charity. He points out there is a Biblical injunction not to "trumpet" such things; and asserts that modern newspapers are the equivalent of the Biblical-era trumpet. Then, he asks the editor to print someone else's essay about the folly of seeking earthly happiness. Mathew embraced a Stoic world-view when he was deeply disappointed in love; and this had happened to him, recently, with an older girl. So that fits, as well.
Clearly, Mathew was personally acquainted with the editor of the "Telescope," and was asking him to publish certain pieces by other authors. In the third page, is found a contemporary report from Dublin, Ireland. It seems that a dwarf girl was accused by the townsfolk of being a witch, and was attacked by a mob. She probably would have been killed, except for a brave young man who literally scooped her up under one arm, and bore her through the crowd to safety, at the police office.
I have seen so many examples of Mathew using his own work, and other people's work, to express himself on events in his own life, that I am 99% sure he is doing so, in this instance. Abby has been similarly persecuted; and he, himself, is the young man who is trying to stand up for her and to give her encouragement.
Oh, I left out one clue, but I'll add it, here. This is Jan. 5, 1828. He is 15, and Abby is 11. The public accusation, and the trial, must have occurred sometime late in 1827. But five months later, in May of 1828, Mathew is back in Boston writing, once again, for the New-England Galaxy. There is a hiatus of several months--I am not yet certain whether Mathew remained in New York, writing for the Telescope, or not. I may be able to look into that question. But in any case, in May, Mathew publishes a series of three faux reports from the secretary of the "Slander Club." Unmistakably, it is his satire on the girls in Haverhill, Mass. who have been gossipping about Abby, and shunning her. The series is meant specifically to support and encourage her, by lampooning her enemies.
So we have, what, something like five or six independent clues, all bearing on what the psychic said in 2010--and which she had no normal way of knowing. She, the psychic, didn't even know who these historical persons were. She only knew I wanted to contact my past-life wife in the 19th century--and she only had an older image of Mathew, sans name or other identifications, to work from.
Proof? I don't have the court records of this trial. One can find probate records, but I don't know whether it's possible to find the records of criminal trials, especially where there may not have been a conviction. If you pursue such a thing with local historians, you have to reveal what your full interest is. No sooner do I do that, than they will get scared, and cease writing back to me altogether. Skeptics imagine it should be easy to verify these things in the historical record. But in order to verify something, you have to have full cooperation. Typically, I find that people in these small towns are very, very nice; but if you reveal too much, they get scared. It's entirely understandable. But it's a Catch-22, where one "catches" it from both sides. The skeptics are too afraid to assist you; and then, they blame you for not being able to verify something. Well, if it wasn't for their skepticism in the first place, you probably would have been able to verify it! If you see what I mean.
This principle holds true at the macro level, as well. The entire Society is keeping its own head in the sand, this way.
At any rate, it would appear that Candace was getting genuine information from Abby, about the persecution and shunning she experienced. That same shunning is now being applied to me, today. My books don't sell; I am not contacted for radio interviews, or TV appearances. Even experts in the field simply don't believe me. Apparently, nobody does. No-one seems to have the inner discernment to pick out my work from that of a thousand flakier claims. I wrote a novel about Mathew and Abby's romance, 95% of which is based on fact. No-one can discern its merit from literally hundreds of superficially similar past-life novels being sold on Amazon.com. The Spiritualists won't have anything to do with me, because I used their own to prove reincarnation. The scientists won't take me seriously, because to them, only Dr. Ian Stevenson's methods are "serious science." No-one with their own reincarnation case seems particularly interested in mine, perhaps because in many instances, they haven't put nearly the rigor into investigating their own cases that I have, into mine. They don't want to admit that their own claims are sloppy, or fanciful, in comparison.
So here I sit, writing excellent blog entries day after day, with a literal handful of mysterious readers, whom I can never induce to buy my books.
Shunning is a form of silent violence. Selling no books, I am just squeaking by. My work involves pulling down the pants of tottering old men, to help them on the toilet--work I could get because no-one else will do it. Spiritually, it is to my benefit--but the image keeps on coming to my mind, of a race horse required to pull a cart. I am an author, a lay scientist, and a public educator, who has done some cutting-edge work in a cutting-edge field. I have at least the minimum academic credentials to be taken seriously, i.e., a master's degree in Counseling and Human Systems from FSU. And yet, I am ignored.
Shun away, folks. It won't be the first time for either Abby, or myself. Just remember--the truth will out.
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
*Reading between the lines, I think that Mathew and Abby's clever pseudonym, "Kappa, Lambda and Mu," previously discussed, wasn't a good enough cover in a small town. They were discovered as the pro-Abolition writers to the paper. They stuck around just long enough to honor Rev. Elijah Lovejoy at his memorial service (Rev. Lovejoy had been murdered by a mob, in another city, for his Abolition work), and fled town immediately after the service. Keep in mind that they were in Dover, NH, a small town whose economy was based on a large cotton mill.
Regarding the second image, above, I included it specifically for the reference to being original. However, the context, as best I recall from my study of it, has to do with Lincoln not freeing the slaves, and not permitting blacks to serve in the army. Apparently the Governor of Massachusetts had written Lincoln urging him on these points, and then in response, the Mayor of Boston had written an open letter, supporting Lincoln's current policies. Mathew, writing as his long-time character "Ethan Spike," jumped on the bandwagon and wrote his own open letter to the President, mocking the mayor's letter. Mathew was a long-time Abolitionist and Spiritualist. It was in a seance that Lincoln was finally convinced to free the slaves, as I understand the deep historical record. The odd thing is that here, Mathew was publishing in a conservative New York paper, "Vanity Fair." Perhaps their editor only saw that it was critical of Lincoln, and didn't understand its full, ironic implications. The Emancipation Proclamation was signed roughly six months from the date this piece was published.
Music opening this page: "Awaken," by Eric Johnson,
from the album, "Up Close"