The world is still with us, and so are the hucksters

Well, here we are on the Day After the End of the World. No doubt many New-Wage ninnies are babbling about how we've survived The Shift and are entering a bold new era for humanity. And they have just the frauducts and flopportunities to help us adjust to the new era. Yawn. I've heard it all before.

But today, on the Morning After, I was hit with the realization that I have been serving an unbalanced diet for the past few months. In focusing so heavily on Kevin True-dough and his ex-b.f.f. Lenny Coldwell, I've been neglecting some of the other hucksters who have colored my Whirled over the years. I'm not through with Kevin or Lenny (despite my claim yesterday of burnout), but I came across a recent blog post from Joe "Mr. Fire" Vitale, star of The Secret and legend in his own mind, that played on a theme I've often snarked about... so I just couldn't let it go by.

The Obama administration has been criticized, mostly by Obama haters of various stripes, for former White House Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel's remark, "You never want a serious crisis to go to waste." The haters generally take that out of context, neglecting the rest of the quotation, which is, "And what I mean by that [is that] it's an opportunity to do things you [thought] you could not do before." Well, I'll gladly take the incomplete version of the quote about not letting a good crisis go to waste, and I'll apply it to New-Wage/selfish-help/McSpirituality gurus. Such as our Mr. Fire.

In a recent blog post Joe once again invokes the power of "group intention" -- this time, to help the people who were affected by the tragic Sandy Hook school shootings in Connecticut December 14.

Joe's request seems simple and heartfelt on the surface. He's simply asking you to send out good thoughts to the good folks of Newtown. But then the megalomaniac comes out, as Joe begins to list his previous "successes" with group intention.

Back in 2005 I asked you to help me slow down Hurricane Rita, which was aimed at Texas right after Katrina devastated New Orleans. As a result, Rita dropped from a Category 5 to a Category 3. It didn’t even rain in my area, which was under such threat that most of the area had evacuated.

Never mind that parts of Louisiana and East Texas were devastated by Hurricane Rita, and many people were left homeless. It was not a benign storm. And the Texas Hill Country, where Joe lives, was never in any real danger anyway. Joe sent a duplicate email to stop Hurricane Ike in 2008, and while those of us who were actually IN THE PATH OF IKE (unlike Joe) were dealing with power outages and worse, Joe was merrily tweeting about how the storm passed over his area once again. Here's my take on all of that.

Joe continues:

Later, I asked you to help clean up the oil disaster in the Gulf. Shortly after my email, things began to get better.

Uh-huh. It was Mr. Fire and friends' group intendin' that did it. Obvious cause and effect. One definite effect was that there was a snark chum spill in the oceans of my Whirled.

But Joe's powerful miracles don't end with wind-whisperin' and oil-spill tamin'.

A year ago from this past summer I asked you to help stop the Texas wildfires, which had destroyed over 1,000 homes. Within minutes of my email, it began to rain in some areas. It actually down poured over my house. The fires all went out.

Um. Yeah. I'm SURE Mr. Fire's group intention groupies were responsible for the rain and the immediate end (ha) to the wildfires. Actually they didn't end immediately in his area -- and never mind the OTHER MAJOR AREAS in Texas that were also suffering. Like my area.

And then there's this:

A year ago, I asked you to help my dying and bedridden other [sic; he meant his mother]. Within a week she was crawling out of her bed, unassisted, getting into her wheelchair, and asking to watch TV. I saw her last weekend. She wanted to sit and talk. It was miraculous to see.

'Kay. I'm glad Joe's momma is doing better. I've met her. She's a sweet lady. Although for a while Joe did seem to be getting more mileage than was decent from that "my mother is dying" theme, I cut him some slack because I have been through this experience myself (only my mother actually did die, five years ago, though I have yet to be able to really write about it). I can tell you firsthand that it is devastating to see a parent go downhill. But still. Talking about group intentions and cause and effect in this context just seems... well, exploitative. (And let's just not mention that miracle yagya that supposedly saved Joe's "best friend of 20 years" a few years back. That story is in his book, The Attractor Factor, along with another story in another part of the book that mentions that the person ended up dying, apparently not long after the yagya miracle.)

But never mind all that. In his recent blog post, Joe assures us:

Twenty-three scientific studies have shown that when groups of people meditate with the same positive intention, they were able to measure positive results in the world around them.

Yep. That's one of Joe's favorite claims, which he has used more than once to to market his own group-intention flopportunities. As it happens, those "scientific" studies were all sponsored by groups and institutions related to the late Maharishi's filthy-rich TM organization. I wrote at length about that (and Joe's "Miracles Community") nearly four years ago.

"Oh, but Cosmic Connie, this is all a bunch of gratuitous snarking!" a few of you may be saying. "Have you no sense of decency? Can't you give this good man the benefit of the doubt even for a moment? All Joe is asking in his recent blog post is for people to use the technique of their choosing to send love out to the people affected by the Sandy Hook school shooting! He says it won't cost anyone a cent! He's not selling anything!"

Well, my little naifs, first of all, Joe is always selling something, so I win that part of the argument by default. Secondly, if you read the post you will notice how he names several techniques for which he sells infoproducts. Just because he doesn't provide links in that particular blog post doesn't mean that he isn't trying to sell you something.

And in the following blog post -- his own "day after the End of the World" offering -- Mr. Fire is right back to pushing his pricey "Miracles Coaching" program, run by notorious Utah boiler room Prosper Learning. "Doesn't cost anything to learn about it," Joe writes. What he doesn't write is that it costs plenty if you get sucked into it.

And so it goes: the big sick machine hums on and on. And on. Our big old world is still spinning, and we won't be seeing the end to Scamworld any time soon -- even if (and it seems like kind of a big if at this point) Mr. Fire's b.f.f. Kevin Trudeau ends up in the joint.

* * * * *

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Snippets for a Monday afternoon

Happy New(ish) Year! It's past time for me to get back to my Whirled; no more excuses. While I'm putting the finishing touch on several longer posts, and churning out content elsewhere for pay, here are a few snippets.

What's wrong with this (big) picture?
New-Wage guru-ette Marianne Williamson, who first rose to fame in the early 1990s by popularizing A Course in Miracles with her book, A Return to Love, has been an Oprah fave for years. Marianne's stock-in-trade is flowery, poetic writing that is often lovely to read but has a tendency to be kind of rambling, while offering very little in the way of practical advice. (Kind of like this blog, come to think of it, except for the flowery and poetic writing and the being-lovely-to-read bit.) I met Marianne years ago at a book signing in Houston, and because in my brief conversation with her she exuded what seemed to me to be genuine kindness, I still tend to give her, perhaps against all reason, a little more of a pass than I do other New-Wage superstars. But her latest opus... jeez.

The story goes that Marianne was standing near Oprah one day when the latter was chatting about dieting. As most of us know, Oprah has experienced dramatic weight losses and re-gains – repeatedly – over the past couple of decades. According to the story Marianne tells, she said to Oprah, "If you could have done it by yourself, you would have done it by now."

Oprah asked Marianne to 'splain, and Marianne said she would reply by email. Subsequently she sent Oprah several letters detailing how Oprah or anyone else should ask God for help to move forward from food addiction or compulsive overeating, and the accompanying emotional baggage. At some point – we're not told exactly when – Oprah suggested that Marianne turn those emails into...hold on to your hats, Dear Ones, because this is really unprecedented...a book. And the result is A Course in Weight Loss, published in November 2010 by, appropriately enough, the New-Wage fiddle-faddle factory Hay House.

The title of the book is, of course, a blatant marketing ploy, and if you're at all familiar with the history of A Course in Miracles (aka ACIM), you'll also immediately notice that the cover of A Course in Weight Loss is vaguely reminiscent of the design of the classic ACIM book covers, consisting of simple text with a border and solid-color background. If you're not familiar with ACIM, suffice to say that it is a New-Wage study course with an impeccable spiritual pedigree, having originally been channeled by an atheistic Jewish woman, Helen Schucman, Ph.D., straight from Jesus H. Christ Himself. The success story of ACIM and Marianne herself are neatly encapsulated in this informative graphic. (Click for enlargement. And yes, I know I've shared this pic before. Sorry about the redundancy.)

Marianne's newest book is all about retraining your consciousness and healing your separation from Gawd, which, she explains, is the true cause of your portliness, anorexia, binging and purging, or what have you. "People report that just from reading this book they're losing weight," says Marianne, according to the Houston Chronicle article I linked to in the second paragraph of this snippet. Oprah herself listed A Course in Weight Loss as one of her "favorite things" of 2010.

The elephant in the room, if you'll pardon the metaphor, is actually a thundering herd of elephants. One hardly knows where to begin. There are several problems, apart from the glaringly obvious fact that Marianne herself has apparently never had a weight problem remotely on the scale (no pun intended) of Oprah's. "Well, gee, Cosmic Connie, that could just be because Marianne takes her own advice," you might say. If you believe that... um, you know those sayings about oceanfront property in Arizona, or bridges for sale?
So let's examine some of the elephants.

First of all, that story of the origins of the book seems...well... a tad contrived. Oprah has long been in tune with all of the trends and ideas of the conspicuously enlightened set, embracing everything and everyone from Eckhart Tolle to, most infamously, The Secret. She has supposedly been in touch, almost ostentatiously at times, with her spiritual side for years. She has known Marianne Williamson for years as well. How could anything that Marianne says or writes possibly be so novel to her that she would even ask what Marianne meant by that remark during their conversation about dieting? Or was Oprah just making polite conversation? Or did the conversation actually occur as related? Something about that story doesn't quite ring true to me.

Secondly, the use of spirituality (whether of the New-Wage, Eastern, or Bible-thumping Christian variety) to aid in weight loss is hardly a revolutionary concept. If the blending of spiritual or religious concepts with weight issues is supposed to be a unique selling point for the book, the author and the promoters are kind of behind the times.

Third, Oprah is lavishly wealthy, and besides having her finger on the pulse of cutting-edge spiritual and pop-psychology concepts, she has easy access to all of the world's very best fitness trainers, dietary experts, and methods of medical intervention that she could possibly ever desire in order to achieve permanent weight loss, if such a goal were even possible for her. And indeed, she has had personal trainers and chefs and Lord knows who and what else to aid her in her struggle for years; contrary to the implication in Marianne's remark to her, it doesn't appear that Oprah has been attempting to to do it on her own for a very long time. 

Fourth, just look at Oprah. While I think she's lovely at any weight, I have a strong feeling that being even remotely trim is going to be a lifelong struggle for her no matter what she reads or how she tinkers with her relationship to Spirit. I'm not making fun of or trivializing her weight struggle or anyone else's. I'm just making observations.

Could it be that Oprah was just trying to help out a gal pal whose star is kind of fading, by suggesting a quick and easy money op? Ya think? 

In any case, Marianne is now making the rounds to promote and sign her new book. She'll be in my neck of the woods this coming Thursday, giving a lecture on what seems to me the painfully self-explanatory "The Lure of the Miraculous." Don't look for me there. I'll be staying home experiencing the miracle of The Big Bang Theory and $#! My Dad Says.

A Course in Methane Miracles: who's gonna step up to take credit? 
One of the biggest disaster stories of 2010 was the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico last April. It was bad news to be sure, but as it turns out, it wasn't all awful. Texas A&M oceanographer John Kessler and fellow researchers recently published a study concluding that hordes of hungry bacteria have gobbled up nearly all of the estimated 200,000 tons of methane the spill released into the Gulf of Mexico. And the microbes performed this feat faster than anyone had previously predicted, without creating the expected oxygen-deprived "dead zone" in the ocean. Not everyone is convinced that the bacteria alone were responsible for the fact that the methane is all but gone, but some journos are calling it "the methane miracle." 

Now I'm wondering who is going to be the first in the New-Wage community to step up and claim to have provided the power behind that miracle.
Will it be Phoenix, aka the Spirit Diva, aka Judy Marks, the gal who not only communicates with hurricanes but who also led not one, not two, not three, but twenty-three meditations on the Gulf oil spill?

Will it be Mr. Fire and his sidekick, Pat, who last year announced a "clearing" audio to clean up the mess, featuring Pat's music and Joe's weird vocalizations, which they claimed had awesome powers to tune listeners into the collective unconscious, thus enabling them to impact the oil spill and anything else perceived as being bad?

Or will it be members of that cultish sex-and-money (dis)organization, Access Consciousness (née Access Energy Transformation), who are experts in "Molecular Demanifestation" and "Demolecular Manifestation," and who are going to attempt to demonstrate their expertise by going out on a boat and demanifesting a giant glob of plastic in the ocean? Perhaps a group of Accessories will step forward with the claim that they've been practicing their skills on the methane from the BP oil spill, in preparation for their big ocean voyage (on which they will embark once they have taken care of basic details, such as manifesting a boat).

Or will it be some other New-Wage entrepreneur claiming that it was his or her frauduct or metaphysical superpowers that cleared it all away? Guys and gals, there's a huge money op here. What are y'all waiting for?

Accessories on the loose: monkeys and typewriters

Speaking of Access, in an Access post I wrote last year, I mentioned that a former Access insider shared some of the hooks that Access founder Gary Douglas and his right-hand boy, Dain Heer, have used to sucker participants into continued participation. Among these hooks, my correspondent wrote, were the "clearing statements."

Gary originally and then Gary & Dain together would come up with what they said were new more powerful clearing statements - all the time. So if you missed classes or workshops, you didn't get the 'clearings' from these new and great clearing statements, and you didn't have them to process yourself with or process your clients (if you had any). While I was participating I observed many accessories try to make a 'go' of doing Access facilitation to create income. Most could not and no facilitator was raking in the money like Dain.

The other day someone forwarded an email to me that had been sent out by an Access facilitator who claims to be a relationship expert. This is a person who, among other things, teaches people how to stay married and happy, and also coaches women on how to find happiness and fulfillment as The Other Woman. (In Access, any type of sexual arrangement is apparently okay as long as it is satisfying to the Accessory.) During a recent "relationships bootcamp" call, the facilitator shared a new Access clearing statement:

What secret agenda for the creation of confinement, definement, and avoidance of choice and question pressurizing you utterly into stillpoint through sex copulation and relationship do you have that maintains and entrains what you cannot change choose and institute as life and living that is bigger than the reality of others?
Right and wrong, good and bad, all 9, POD, POC, shorts, boys and beyonds.

When I shared that clearing statement with my guy Ron, he said, "That kinda nails down the thing about monkeys and typewriters, doesn't it?"

Au contraire, Ronald! Far from being the result of random pecking, the clearing statement is in fact deeply meaningful. I'm willing to bet that the first paragraph can be easily understood after taking a few Access classes, downing a few Very Special Brownies, or consuming a large amount of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. Anything that severely compromises cognitive function should do the trick. (If you're wondering what "stillpoint" means, however, you'll have to listen to the bootcamp call to find out.) 

The second paragraph is actually the classic original Access clearing statement, according to the former Accessory I mentioned at the beginning of this snippet. In use for many years now, it's a sort of shorthand, with each word having many meanings, according to the Ex-cessory. An early Access web page stated, "This phrase unlocks and erases all the programs, agreements and judgments which keep you stuck throughout all time and space." It's a phrase that is generally used after a "process question" to clear all of the energies – good and bad, right and wrong. Some of the things that are cleared include...

...implanted and explanted stuff, perpetually and/or eternally regenerating and all of the relays, spheres, uns, atomic, subatomic, pre-atomic structures, confluences throughout all time, space, dimensions and realities, ad infinitum.

All of these things were taught in Access One, at least at the time my correspondent was involved. I think they're taught in Scientology too, come to think of it.

But what do those weird things like "POD," "POC," "all nine," "shorts," "boys," etc. mean?

According to information on an Access web site...

POC is short for "point of creation." This means you are asking the energy to go to the point of creation (the moment where you first began functioning as though whatever thought, feeling or emotion was actually yours) and uncreate and destroy it, so that you can now function as the infinite being you truly are.POD is short for "point of destruction," where you started destroying yourself by functioning from those thoughts, feelings or emotions that were not yours.

My Ex-cessory correspondent 'splained the rest to me:

• All nine refers to the "nine layers of garbage" that Accessories are taught to eliminate. Each of these layers has a power of its own.
• Shorts stands for "the meaning, the meaningless, the punishments, the rewards, the layers, the non layers, the meaningless glop and the glop." Hey, makes sense to me!
• Boys refers to "the 22 nucleated spheres," which Accessories refer to as "the boys in the hood." These are issues that tend to repeat themselves no matter how often we work on them. Clear as a bell, eh? Although I would think that "boys" should be spelled "boyz" for cultural consistency.
• Beyonds are "the usual feelings and sensations that stop you dead."

Now it all makes sense, doesn't it? I bet this is some of the stuff that Gary Douglas got from his old pal Raz, or Rasputin, as most of us know him.
The former Accessory tells me that Gary always used to say it didn't matter what order the words were said when repeating the clearing phrase. In that respect, the Access clearing statement is like the Four Magic Phrases of Ho'oponoponoponoponoponoponoponopono. Cool, huh?

When I shared Ron's comment with the correspondent who had forwarded the info about the "relationships bootcamp" and the latest Access "clearing statement," that person replied, "Honestly, he's so judgmental." "Judgmental" is kind of a dirty word in Access and, indeed, in much of New-Wage culture.
"But I'm not being judgmental," Ron protested. "I was merely pointing out some scientifical data."

Indeed. Besides, Ron and I both happen to like monkeys. We just think they should be kept away from typewriters, keyboards and phones.

That's it for now; more to come soon.

* * * * *

Now more than ever, your donation is needed
to help keep this Whirled spinning.
Click here to donate via PayPal or debit/credit card.
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Inspiration from the Good Book (and the Bad Audio File)

Dear Ones, this has been an overwhelming week for me, a week filled equally with miracles and horrors. Not only was there The Miracle of the Meat, which left me wonderstruck, but I also accidentally accessed the Higher Planes (or perhaps the Underworld; it's difficult to say) and I was able to tune into a 36-minute Secret Transmission. My ears beheld a conversation among an elite group of inspired Masters who were laying the groundwork for a grand scheme, a scheme of Biblical proportions.

I was even more wonderstruck, and so I sat down to write about what I had heard, but found myself at a very rare loss for words. But the Good Lord guided my hand anyway, and She/He/It said unto me, "The words will come in due time. But you know what they say about pictures." So here you are (click on it for an enlarged view). The words, I suspect, will come later.
Then again, if you insist on words now, you can always go here. And if you do, be sure to watch the video too.

Meat the Master: in which Cosmic Connie witnesses a real miracle

Dear Ones, I have something to confess to you. Most of you know me as a snark who scoffs at many things, including and especially the entire idea of miracles. But the truth is – and some of you more savvy readers have read between the lines and have detected the yearning soul who trembles beneath this snarky cloak – I long for tangible miracles in my life. Why, I even wrote about this longing years and years ago, on my old Cosmic Relief web site, during the heyday of Millennial madness when many feared that the world, or at least civilization, would end at the stroke of midnight on January 1, 2000. Here is what I wrote (and I hope you will pardon the royal-"we" affectation):

THESE are the days of miracles and wonders? Oh, we only wish. Either we've led a really wicked life, or the recently* discovered "God module" in our temporal lobe is severely underdeveloped. Or maybe it's just that we never did hallucinogenics.
Whatever the cause, the unhappy truth is that angels don't whisper in our ear, deities don't dictate sacred texts to us, and dead spiritual masters refuse to use us as a mouthpiece.
To add insult to injury, the dolphins at Sea World treat us with disdain, the Weeping Jesus picture just rolls its eyes at us, The Face on Mars stuck its tongue out at us, and the statue of Ganesh laughed so hard at us that the milk squirted out of its nose...er...trunk.
Worst of all, aliens from UFOs have never taken us into their vessels to poke at our naughty bits (oh, but we keep hoping...)
Life, alas, is just so mundane for us. All of the tortillas, billboards, cinnamon buns, and porch lights we've ever encountered are just tortillas, billboards, buns, and porch lights. No face of the Lord, no nunly visage, no apparition of the Virgin, no secret signs of the End Times. (Okay, on one of our quests we did find a misshapen dog-turd that bore a striking resemblance to the face of evangelist Pat Robertson -- pious smirk and all -- but we just couldn't get the media interested.)

The Millennium came and went and, as far as we... I mean I can tell, the world didn't end. Eventually I created my own Whirled. It was fun from the get-go, but still something was missing. My life remained bereft of the type of miracle that draws bored reporters and long lines of desperate believers to one's front door. Except for some isolated experiences with statues, which I wrote about a few years ago, discernible miracles have been few and far between in my life.

Of course I pretended not to care. On the surface I was a happy snarker – a livid one, as one of my snargets has described me – but beneath it all flowed a deep, deep river of discontent. I still felt so... well... left out. Overlooked. Utterly under-appreciated by the Higher Power(s).

And then, and then... last night... Something Happened. 

It was so wondrous that it shook my Whirled. 

It made me re-examine my entire life.

It made me want to write one-sentence paragraphs.

Or even one-word paragraphs.

Really.

Here's the deal: Last night Ron took me into the Big City (that would be Houston) for dinner at a restaurant that I will not name for reasons that will soon become apparent. We'd been there numerous times before and had always enjoyed superb food and service. 

But last night was over the top.

Being in a carnivorous frame of mind and feeling a bit extravagant, I decided to go all out with one of the most expensive steaks on the menu. I was famished and couldn't wait to dig into it when it arrived.

But something stopped me. On that succulent piece of meat I beheld a Face, clear as could be. It was an oddly familiar mug with a toothsome smile. At first I thought it was a demon. Then it kind of looked like an obnoxious ex-boyfriend of mine. And then I realized that it was...oh, my Goddess, the Face of the Master.

It was... it was... Himself. It was The Big T. As in Tony Robbins. The undisputed king of the selfish-help industry.

I gasped.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Ron asked, his mouth full of New York strip steak. Speechless, I pointed to The Face. 

Ron's eyes widened.

He put down his fork, whipped out his cell phone and began snapping photos.

By then a small crowd had gathered around our table. Most people instantly recognized The Face. Many were astounded; some were crying. People were Tweeting and Facebooking about it. A reporter from a local TV station happened to be dining at a table near us and contacted her producer, and before I knew it there were camera crews and bright lights in my face. I became a minor celebrity for a while. I signed autographs, did a couple of mini-interviews, even landed a book contract.

Finally, I had the miracle I had been waiting for. In spades. Well, in a steak, anyway.

But the fact remained that I was still hungry and feeling more fiercely carnivorous than ever. So instead of preserving that wondrous cut of beef, I scarfed it down, much to the dismay of some of the miracle seekers who were still crowded around us. Others, however, cheered me on. They said this was the ultimate self-empowering thing for me to do. They assured me that there was no better way to Awaken the Giant Within than to consume an image of The Giant himself.

I noticed that the steak tasted a little "off," but I didn't care; I was that famished.

Back at home a few hours later, I bitterly regretted my choice to eat the miracle meat. I became violently ill, and am only just now recovering. Some may call that poetic justice or instant karma for destroying the evidence of a miracle, and perhaps they're right. But I really didn't destroy anything. After all, I still have those photos. The miracle lives on and continues to unfold in my life in mysterious ways. Now I am seeing The Face everywhere. What does it all mean? Stay tuned...

* Well, the discovery of the God module was "recent" in 1997, anyway.

* * * * *

Now more than ever, your donation is needed
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Choose your imaginary friends wisely!

“This is no ‘fairy-tale’,” said the 36-point-type headline in the email I received the other day from my favorite New-Wage spam service.

Well, they sure didn’t have to use 36-point type to convince me, once I saw that the message concerned the blonde Russian wood nymph Anastasia, whom we met last month.

"In 1995, a most extraordinary woman was discovered living in the wild forests of Siberia, Russia," read the email. "Revealed to the Russian speaking world in 1997 by now best selling ‘author’ Vladimir Megre, Anastasia is now 38 years old. She was born and has lived her entire life in the forest."

Okay, so far there was nothing new. I knew the basic story: Failed entrepreneur Vladimir Megre "discovers" a beautiful young wild woman in the woods one day, and ultimately is guided to write a series of books outlining the wisdom about life, the Universe and everything that Nature Girl has taught him. Thousands of people are profoundly moved by the writing, and many quit their jobs as a result of reading the books, choosing to spend their lives writing poetry and trying to change the world. And because of Anastasia countless thousands have discovered a new appreciation for nature, with a resulting desire to help save our fragile planet. It’s just like the late 1960s, except without the bad acid.

I thought I knew the whole story. But this latest email contained a shocker: Anastasia is naked.

She lives naked – in freezing cold conditions! – and has no house or cultivated garden. Wild animals bring her food at her command. Her demonstrated, mind-boggling powers, her profound wisdom and her complete access to "Universal" knowledge, have shocked and astounded the scientific and religious communities, who continue to be amazed by each new revelation, as her messages are delivered in this on going series of books.

How had I overlooked the nakedness part before? I’m always pretty good at reading between the lines, except on those occasions when I’m not. And, granted, I had seen some references here and there about how Anastasia "lives in complete harmony with nature." But in my nearly twenty minutes of intense research for that first blog post, I had never actually uncovered (so to speak) anything about Anastasia being utterly naked. This bares further investigation! I thought. So I went to one of the Anastasia web sites to do a few more minutes of research, and I found this information, along with a gratuitous squirrel shot:

[From the text of Volume 1:]

Anastasia lives in the woods entirely alone. She has no house, wears almost no clothes [italics mine] and doesn’t keep any supplies of food. She is a descendent of people who lived in these parts for centuries and it is like another civilization. Anastasia was born here and is an integral part of Nature.

"And you never went hungry?" I asked. In answer, she clicked her fingers and a squirrel instantly appeared and jumped on her hand. Anastasia brought the head of the squirrel up to her mouth and the squirrel gave her a cedar nut right out of its mouth.

Setting aside for the moment my doubts about the wisdom of eating nuts out of the mouths of wild rodents, I focused my mighty mental powers on the big question: is Anastasia nekkid or just nearly-nekkid? Or was she nearly-nekkid way back in Volume 1, but all-the-way nekkid now because, perhaps, the books aren’t selling as well as Vlad had hoped?

And why isn’t she nekkid on the covers of the English-language versions of the books?

I really can’t answer these questions, and I’ll probably have to rely on some of my faithful readers to do further research. For now, if you want to find out more about Anastasia, you definitely owe it to yourself to check out the Anastasia-related web site I found. The copy was originally rendered in German, but something got lost or at least irretrievably misplaced in translation. Despite the awkward prose, however, I learned some more interesting facts about Anastasia and the books she has inspired.

For example, there’s apparently some subliminal stuff going on with the Anastasia material:

According to Anastasia, special combinations of letters and words are inserted into text, which influence a man beneficially. You can feel these influences while reading it, when your hearing is not disturbed by sounds produced by artificial thinks and mechanisms. Natural sounds like: the singing of birds, the sound of rain, the rustling of leaves in the trees help to produce positive influences.

And don't forget she’s naked! And blonde!

Apparently the books get even more interesting as one progresses through the series. Here’s what our German site says about Book 4, Co-Creation:

This book is exceptional poetic. Anastasia tells about the origin of the universe – of being – of love. She enthusiastically speaks of the appearance of man – of Adam and Eve. But the book reports more than that. Highly interesting narrations of past and future of our earth intertwine each other. Incredible sounds the story of a visit of Anastasia and Vladimir at another planet where strange people live.

Hmmm… a planet where strange people live. I’d sure like to visit a place like that!

As I noted in my earlier blog post about Anastasia, some people have doubted that she actually exists. I believe this is going to be a real problem for Vlad as the books grow in popularity, even though Anastasia herself has reportedly stated, "I exist for those for whom I exist." You'd think that would clear it up once and for all, but some naysayers are never satisfied. The writer on the German web site mulls this problem over but comes to a happy conclusion: "It sounds so incredible but still – what would be if it would be true? It would… not only bring solutions to the people but it would also bring real release."

Indeed. And if you’re still in doubt, consider this:

If Anastasia exists or not can be found quite easily by reading the books: Does your heart start to speak to you or not? No worldy (sic) authority can find the answer to this question – only the reader can tell if Anastasia begins to live in himself or in herself or not.

In other words, Anastasia is kind of like Santa Claus. Except slimmer and cuter, and, of course, blonder and more naked.

And speaking of blonde, I just heard that a movie about Anastasia is in the works, with Emily Procter slated for the starring role.* (Rev and Blair, I bet I have your attention now!)

It is beyond the scope of this blog to determine whether or not Anastasia actually exists, or even whether or not she is naked. I do have a couple of big concerns, however, and for once they don’t have anything to do with me directly. Yes, I can step out of my narcissistic little bubble – for a while, anyway.

First off, even though Anastasia has inspired ecological activism in people the world over, I have real fears for the future of the Siberian woods where she reportedly lives. Hordes of gawking tourists tromping through that pristine wilderness, frantically searching for a naked blonde woman, cannot be good for its fragile ecosystem. I really think Vlad should have taken this into consideration.

My other concern is for Vlad himself and his long-term prospects for success. While the naked-blonde angle is no doubt highly marketable in the short term, the long term could be shaky for several reasons. First of all, Anastasia’s appeal is very much tied in with her physical appearance. But let’s face it; she is not getting any younger, and although at 38 she should be in her prime, sooner or later time is going to take its toll. Furthermore, living unclothed in those bitter Siberian winters can’t be very good for any woman’s skin, no matter how much in harmony with nature she is. And sometimes Russian women don’t age so well anyway. I fear that some fans are going to start raising questions about this. I guess Vlad could get by with convincing folks that Anastasia is privy to all sorts of mystical beauty secrets, that she has a handle on the Law of Attractiveness (maybe she could even could pen a couple of books on Timeless Beauty Secrets)…but sooner or later, skeptics and other literal-minded sorts are going to start having serious doubts.

So what is Vlad going to do when and if her beauty begins to fade, if only in the minds of believers? I suppose he could "discover" that she has a younger sister or a younger friend, or Anastasia herself could have a daughter who grows up to be as beautiful as she, or even more so. Or Vlad could "discover" a whole race of beautiful young naked women of the woods who reproduce by parthenogenesis or something (just to keep hairy male figures out of the picture entirely, and keep the titillation factor up). But all of these possibilities just raise more complications, credibility-wise.

Truth is, Vlad probably made a mistake by giving Anastasia a chronological age or, for that matter, making her a physical being at all.

I am really thinking he should have done his homework, or at least he should have consulted with me and paid me many American dollars to do his homework for him. I would have suggested that he take a cue from the wildly successful Esther and Jerry Hicks, or even JZ Knight. When they invented their imaginary buds – Abraham and Ramtha, respectively – they were pretty careful to avoid anything related to physicality. Sure, JZ gave a ballpark for Ramtha’s age – 35,000 years, give or take a few hundred – but that was about as specific as she got. As for Esther and Jerry, notwithstanding the photo on the cover of their new DVD, they’ve been pretty vague about Abraham’s physical appearance.

As a matter of fact, there are indications that the Hickses regret that now-famous photo, even though it was the Abe Gang’s own choice for two of them to manifest physically for the picture and now for the DVD.** Little could they have predicted the chain of events that unfolded as a result. It seems that Rhonda Byrne saw that photo when it first came out several years ago, and she confused the two simians with the famous "No-Evil" monkeys. True, there were only two monkeys in the Hicks pic, and as everyone knows, the "No-Evil" monkeys are triplets, but Rhonda was never very good with numbers. She immediately made the connection between Abraham and the "No-Evils" – and this, say some insiders, is why Rhonda’s interpretation of the Law Of Attraction focuses on teaching folks to shut their eyes and ears to unpleasant realities such as fat people, sick people, poverty, tsunamis and the like. Esther, Jerry and The Abes insist that such appalling self-absorption is not what their message is about at all. This philosophical misunderstanding is the real reason for the falling-out between Rhonda and the Hickses. Remember, you read it here first.***

Anyway, you can see the pitfalls of getting too specific when it comes to imaginary friends. That’s why I think Vlad Megre may have made a serious tactical error when fabricating Anastasia. Time will tell if his woodsy blonde has real staying power.

But just in case you’re considering going into the channeling, miracle-discovery, or revelation-receiving professions yourself, I’d recommend that you think twice before creating an imaginary friend who has any physical attributes whatsoever. Remember: the less specific you are, the more license you and your "friend" or "friends" have to create your own realities. And in the New-Wage world, the power to create realities equals big bucks. Take it from Esther, Jerry and JZ! And me.

PS ~ Here's where Anastasia made her first appearance on this Whirled.

PPS added September 2009: Vlad's Muse has once again attracted Cosmic Connie's Musings (scroll down to the final item, "Anastasia: real because thousands say she is").

PPPS ~ My fellow Texans should be pleased to know that the Anastasia craze hit Texas some time ago.

* Not really. You cannot believe everything you read on this blog.
** Naturally, this is just a joke. There are no monkeys on Esther and Jerry’s new DVD, although there are over two dozen of them in The Secret. Oh, bad, bad Connie.
*** Unfortunately, these are just more fabrications. There are some days you really can’t trust me, and this seems to be one of them.

Pizza pan Mary enthralls thousands

I don’t know why I’m so negative and whiny (as the Secretrons keep pointing out to me). After all, miracles and wonders are all around me. In fact, another miracle has just manifested in my own fair city.

This past Ash Wednesday, a humble cafeteria worker beheld a sacred splotch on a pizza pan (pictured here). Now thousands are flocking to a makeshift shrine at the home of a PTA member from Pizza Lady’s school. They're all coming to see the splotch, which they believe is an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe. They are asking the splotch for all sorts of favors and healing of illnesses and such.

These are the kinds of things that make me feel so unholy. To tell the truth, Our Lady of Guadalupe is not what I see when I look at the image. And a different kind of healing comes to mind.

But maybe that’s just me.

PS - Eventually I'll get around to applying labels to my posts for easy cross-referencing, but for now, if you'd like to read more of my profound ruminations on miracle items, here's a post I wrote last August.

PPS - Regarding my interpretation of the image above: I realize there are various sacred traditions surrounding that image too, but my guess is that these traditions are not observed by the visitors to the Shrine of the Holy Splotch. And I'd also be willing to bet that if someone were actually to try to practice one of these other religions at this particular shrine, they'd get the holy crap slapped out of them.

Rock solid miracles

Statues are the source of more wondrous occurrences these days than one of those thousand-dollar weekend workshops where personal-growth addicts sit around bobbleheading while some professional self-promoter teaches them how to manifest "miracles." And one of the good things about a statue-related miracle is that you don’t have to pay a thousand bucks to experience it.* You don’t even have to do any manifesting; the statue does that for you. All you have to do is see, and believe.

Statues have always had a special place in the hearts and souls of believers, of course, but today’s statues seem to be more active in the miracle biz than ever before. Maybe it’s because of the great cosmic changes that are afoot, such as that "galactic shift" I’ve been hearing so much about lately. I’d always thought a galactic shift was a simple little dress to wear at cocktail parties in outer space, but it turns out I was wrong. Even after receiving many important emails that mention the galactic shift, I am still not quite certain what it is, but I do know it is creating a profound spiritual change in the human race. So it only makes sense that it would produce a stir in our statuary as well.

Other everyday objects besides statues are being mystically affected as well, but I’d wager a bet that in the past few years statues have produced a greater number of miracles than all of the headline-making puddles, porch lights and pastries put together. And then there's the matter of provability. A wavering image of the Blessed Virgin in a porch light, or a cinnamon bun shaped like the face of Mother Teresa, are always open to interpretation. That could be Angelina Jolie’s image in the porch light, or some toothless old Italian guy’s mug on the bun. But with statues, you have a much more solid foundation, miracle-wise.

The truth is that most statues (as well as their more utilitarian cousins, mannequins, and even many dolls and certain figurines) are sentient beings and always have been. But now that the shift is upon us, more of them than ever are coming forth with spiritual messages to aid humanity. (By the way, Dr. Cass Ting, a renowned intuitive counselor and statue communications expert I spoke to, informed me that most statues now prefer to be called "inanimate citizens" or "motion-challenged individuals." The Statue of Liberty, for example, is now to be referred to as the Inanimate Citizen of Liberty. I just thought you'd want to know.) Whatever you choose to call them, those inanimates are delivering the goods. You’ve got your weeping Marys, bleeding Jesuses, bleeding Marys, weeping Jesuses, belching Elvises, and all manner of statuary that sweat, drool, dribble, or shake, rattle, and roll. Some smile, some wink, some glow when there’s no obvious source of light, and some have even been known to move of their own accord.

And some haven’t even done anything yet, but people have such high hopes for them that they’re automatically deemed miracle statues nonetheless. Take that new monument of Pope John Paul II, erected in the late pontiff’s home town of Wadowice, Poland. Pilgrims are coming in droves to the statue because they believe the water that flows over its base has special healing properties. They’re splashing it all over themselves and their kids, washing their hair with it, brushing their teeth with it, collecting it in bottles, and taking it home to keep as a relic or to put on eBay. And they are doing this despite the fact that the Catholic Church hasn’t even declared it to be Holy Water. That doesn’t matter to the pilgrims; the statue has been a shrine ever since it was unveiled at the end of June. As one pilgrim put it, "If the water comes from the papal monument, it is holy to us."

Actually, the water comes from a well in the town’s main square that dates back at least to the sixteenth century. The parish priest at the Wadowice basilica admits that no one has told the people that the dead pope water is miraculous (memo to self: drop a line to Dave Barry mentioning that "Dead Pope Water" would make a great name for a rock band). But, adds the priest, "nothing is impossible for believers, and if this water evokes faith, then great things might happen." Great things might happen? Hey, that’s good enough for me.

Not knowing the fine points of Catholic theology, I can’t say if this statue fixation is an example of the mortal sin of idolatry or not, but I'm thinking it isn't, or that priest would probably have been pretty upset about it.

Besides, Holy Water or not, at least the pope statue gives the people something to take home with them, unlike the miraculous statues of the elephant-headed Hindu god Ganesha in India. These pachydermic inanimates aren’t givers; they’re takers from the word go. Specifically, they are sopping up the entire milk supply of India. This first happened on a wide scale in 1995, and now it’s happening again. One believer reports, "I put a milk-filled spoon to Ganesha's mouth and he drank it." This dude was one of the innumerable devotees who carried milk in glasses and pitchers to various temples in northern India that have Ganesha statues. A priest at one temple confirmed, "It is a miracle."

While some wet blankets have tried to convince people that the milk-guzzling is the result of scientifically explainable phenomena such as surface tension, which pulls the liquid toward the statues, believers know better.

I’m kind of confused about who started this latest drinking-statue frenzy, but reports indicate it began when a group of Muslims gathered at Mahim Bay in Bombay to drink "sweet water." Apparently they believed it was miracle water of some sort because it tasted much less salty than usual. Some party-pooper scientists stepped in and said that recent heavy rains had lowered the salinity of the water, and people were urged not to drink from the bay, since the water was reportedly contaminated by raw sewage and industrial waste. According to the report linked to above, "Nearly two days later, on Sunday evening, milk was offered to a statue in the town of Bareilly, also in Uttar Pradesh, and the idol absorbed the liquid."

Because that last sentence was written in the passive voice, it is not clear to me who did the offering, but I am assuming it was those sweet-water-drinking Muslims. Apparently they decided to heed the health warnings, and, in desperate search of a miracle that wasn't potentially fatal, they traipsed over to a nearby Ganesha statue to offer it some milk. (In case you are wondering why Muslims would be messing around with a Hindu god, Ganesha welcomes followers of all faiths.) The statue apparently drank the milk, and that got the Muslims excited, and word spread. Before long crowds were swarming in temples in dozens of cities, just as they’d done during the great Ganesha milk riots of 1995. During the ’95 incident, some parts of India had actually faced a milk shortage, and Ganeshas everywhere were sporting milk moustaches. There are indications this could happen again.

The watery pope and the milky elephant god are just two of many examples of miracles surrounding the inanimates among us. Even I have experienced wondrous things in the presence of our motion-challenged brethren. There is, for example, The Miracle of the Big Boy. Over the years, many seekers have had mystical Big Boy experiences, and mine happened on a sunny Sunday afternoon in May a few years ago. The Reverend Ron and I were making one of our customary pilgrimages through the streets of the Bayou City when we came upon a small shop, where we beheld a smiling chubby-cheeked inanimate, decked out in familiar red-and-white checkered suspenders and holding aloft a huge hamburger. We could not tell what sect he was from; he might have been a Bob’s, or he might have been a Kip’s, or a Shoney’s, or a Frisch’s. The important thing was that he was a Big Boy, though admittedly one of the littler Big Boys, and I knew I had to pay homage to him. The Rev stopped the car and we got out in silence. Deferentially, knowing I was in the presence of something holy, I approached the Big Boy and placed my hand upon the pointy part of his hairdo. And then, just as Reverend Ron was capturing the moment on digicam, the Big Boy spoke to me.

Out of respect for the wholesome image of this great American icon, I will not repeat what he said to me, but it was really quite naughty. I was shocked, though for the sake of the picture I smiled and pretended everything was okay. But I still blush even today when I recall the Big Boy’s wicked words. Even so, it is clear that this incident was a miracle. And ever since that day, my eyes, mind and heart have been open, and I have witnessed other miracles with inanimates, one of which involved a group of naked mannequins, some headless Barbie dolls and a local church’s Nativity scene. Some have said that particular miracle was the work of the devil. But I blame it on the galactic shift.

PS added February 2010: Big Boy in the news once again: a dastardly crime, or a Christmas miracle? (No, I had nothing to do with it. I've never been to Ohio that I recall.)

* Another good thing about statues is that if they’re outdoors, they’re often covered with pigeon crap, but at least you can tell right away that it’s crap, and it never pretends to be anything else but crap. And it’s free.