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Excerpted from the end of yesterday’s dumb blonde American teaching model – pure testosterone, with Key West twist provocation …
My oldest second Bashinsky cousin sent this today:
My kids don’t want to have anything to do with me, but when we still were in love I did my best to try to teach them to be good people, follow their hearts, and be kind to the environment and to other people, after those topics became of interest to me. Today, it’s all I can do to get up each morning and deal with what the angels put in front of me to engage today. Dreams last night alerted me to something different about education for today’s post.
As for Vietnam …
No, I did not dodge the Vietnam draft. God dodged me out of it after I had signed up to be drafted. That’s another story I would love to tell Keys first graders. Lots of luck, unless they read it on my websites.
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As yesterday progressed, I felt more and more poisoned in my liver, gall bladder, intestines and body fluids. Nap dreams pointed me toward my relationship with my daughters, something big there I needed to engage, do. Several dreams in the past week pointed in the same direction.
When my old friend from Wisconsin Mark was with me two weekends ago, he was very concerned and encouraging that I need to do something about my relationship with my daughters. I told him I didn’t know what to do, it seemed out of my hands. I told him a good bit, and finally he seemed to accept that it indeed was out of my hands.
In one of my dreams this week, Mark urged me to ask the angels for help with it, and I replied in the dream that it doesn’t work that way. But on waking, I didn’t see it that way, and I prayed for help with it, if such was available.
In another dream, my second daughter showed up. She is an eye doctor, she does eye surgery, she has taught in medical school. When she is in a dream, it means she is helping me see something better than I am seeing it. Or, there is something I am not seeing, which I need to see.
Several years ago, she told me in a dream, “I will always be with you, I will never leave you.” I understood on waking that she meant she would be there to help me see what I needed to see. I wrote to her about that dream, heard nothing back.
As I write this Saturday afternoon, 4 May 2013, I still don’t see what I need to do. The video on my TV went out today, while the audio is still working. My daughters and I do not talk with each other in human ways, sometimes we do in dreams. So, the TV video going out is equivalent to a dream; there is something I need to see, which I am not seeing.
My first daughter’s conception caused me to go back to the Draft Board to try to undo a student deferment I had taken to allow me to finish out law school. Taking the student deferment insured I would be drafted upon graduation. That was the trade-off.
I had become exposed to the draft when my son died of sudden infant death syndrome just before the start of my last semester in law school. After maybe two months of worrying, I applied for the student deferment. A week or so later, my wife, Dianne, learned she was pregnant. Thus my trip back to the Draft Board.
The same nice woman who had taken my application for a student deferment waited on me again. She said the student deferment was irrevocable. She opened a filing cabinet and pulled out my file to get the application for the student deferment and show it to me.
But before she showed me the application, she frowned, said, “There’s been some sort of mistake.”
“What sort of mistake?”, I asked.
“You made the application on the wrong form; the application is void, you will have to do it again to get a student deferment.”
I laughed, said, “No thanks, I will go back to having a father deferment,” and I walked out knowing it was a miracle; God had saved me.
About a year ago, I learned from one of my Facebook friends, who is a daughter-in-law, or maybe a daughter, I don’t now recall, of a lawyer about my age, whom I had known in Birmingham, and had had some legal dealings with.
After reading in one of my posts what you read above, she had messaged me that she’d heard other stories like that about that draft board. Her father, or father-in-law’s mother had worked at that draft board, and it was said she helped quite a few young men avoid Vietnam.
I was blown away, again.
I had done nothing to try to avoid the Vietnam draft. I was in college. They didn’t draft students. I got married. Then, they started drafting students, but not fathers. They never drafted fathers.
It never entered my mind to get married, to avoid Vietnam. It never entered my mind to have a child, to avoid Vietnam. In fact, I applied for a student deferment knowing it meant I would go to Vietnam after I was out of law school.
I applied for the student deferment not knowing Dianne was pregnant again, or soon would be. I applied for the deferment because I was going crazy with worry over the draft uncertainty, and because I was already crazy over the death of my son. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my body; I wanted to go with him. Maybe applying for the student deferment was a subconscious death wish, so I could go to my son.
Yet, I had told Dianne that I wanted to have another baby, and she went along with it and she got pregnant with our first daughter, who would be named Nelle Major, after my mother, who was born Nelle Frances Major. Two years later, Nelle’s sister was born, whom we named Alice Lawson Bashinsky. Lawson was Diane’s family name. I think I came up with Alice, it was name I’d always liked.
I was no more ready to be a father, than I was ready to go to Vietnam.
My unreadiness had nothing to do with Nelle and Alice, whom I loved dearly, as anyone who saw me with them well knew. It had to be with my soul being shredded, and with a horrible physical disturbance which had suddenly onset almost a year after Nelle was born, during my clerkship for a US District judge in Birmingham. An affliction I knew even then was a God thing, because of the suddenness of its onset; no way could it have been medical in origin.
On top of that, my my goals were scattered. I was hiding out working out in the YMCA, and playing 4-wall handball, which I had picked up and fallen in love with after moving back to Birmingham from law school in Tuscaloosa. Working out and playing handball were more important to me than anything; it was my way of trying to prove to myself that I was okay, a man, worthwhile.
The illness seriously disturbed that jock (testosterone) program. The illness destroyed my self-confidence and pushed me to to to work for my father’s company, which I viewed as safe, as opposed to going into the private practice of law. All of that seriously disturbed my family life. The illness spared nothing, and nothing I tried medically, workwise, or relationshipwise had any effect.
I knew it was a God thing, but I tried to treat it with ways of this world, and I continued to try to do that even after Dianne and I were divorced, and nothing I tried had any effect on the illness. And believe me, I tried everything this world had to offer. Western medicine, natural medicine, religion, eastern methods. New Age methods, shamen, spiritual healers. And I tried prayer. And begging. And crying. And screaming. And nothing affected the illness.
Three years ago, I was told by the angels that the illness was karma for when I molested my sister when she was 5 and I was 15, before I had reached puberty. I was silently going insane because I had not reached puberty. The incest didn’t go on long, maybe a week or two, but it really injured my sister. It really injured me, as I would later come to see.
The illness is what propelled me to seek other ways to deal with it. The illness is what eventually propelled me, in early 1987, to ask God to help me, because I did not want to die, failed, as a man. I offered my life to human service, as if that would make me feel better, as a man.
None of the ensuing angel-directed spiritual training and healing had any effect on the illness, other than to aggravate it during different seasons of my ensuing life. The illness was on its own trajectory, and I was on my own trajectory, and I did my best to endure.
The spirit training led to my seeing things very differently, much of which I shared with my daughters as it came to me. By letters, I continued to share it with them after they stopped talking with me in early 2000. I told the angels many times that some of what they moved me to write, which I shared with my daughters, guaranteed they would not want to have further conversation with me. As did some of what else the angels moved me to write concerning their mother, which had to get back to my daughters.
Were I my daughters, I would think my father was insane, and worse, mean, evil, dangerous. I don’t see how they could see me any other way.
As much as I loved them; as many times as I wept for and over them, as much as I still love them and still sometimes weep over them; as often as I have admitted to myself and to God that I was a lousy father, because I was not really there for them, I still don’t see what I am not seeing. I am clueless.
I will set this writing aside, maybe something will come into my thoughts; or maybe a dream will come with information.
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Later today, nighttime now.
I don’t know my granddaughters. I wouldn’t recognize them if they were standing in front of me. I wonder what world they will face, are facing? I wonder what that’s like for them? I wonder if they see how mad this world is? Or are they wrapped up in their lives and don’t see the pandemonium I see, the no end in sight, the inevitable doom facing America, perhaps even humanity.
I wonder how their mothers are getting along? I wonder if they see what I am seeing? I wonder what I would have to say to them, if we were face to face? I wonder if I would be afraid to say anything which was not responsive to what they said to me?
If someone had told me 20 years ago that I would have no human relationship; with my daughters and their husbands and their children, I would have gotten angry, said there was no way that was going to happen!
I feel my heart breaking, tears welling. I feel like screaming. Damn. I still don’t see anything I didn’t already see many times. I still don’t feel anything I didn’t already feel many times. I still don’t hear anything I didn’t already hear many times.
I’m still asking the angels to show me what I don’t see. I figure it’s up to them, since they put me up to doing so many things that surely made my daughters to never want to have anything more to do with me.
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Sunday morning.
Wild rough powerful dreams. I’m still all jumbled up and poisoned inside. One thing jumped out at me this morning, an editorial in The Key West Citizen. Especially the ending. Monroe County is the Florida Keys, where I live.
Statistics show a crisis; grant offers solution
A 2012 state study showed Monroe County teenagers significantly more engaged in alcohol use, binge drinking and marijuana use than their counterparts elsewhere in Florida, and at a rate more than double that of a national study.
And sexually transmitted diseases among Monroe County teens have soared more than 400 percent since 2006, according to state data.
Education is clearly one of the best tools we have for opening young eyes to the consequences of poor choices, but until 2011, the Monroe County School District was restricted to teaching abstinence as the means to avoid unpleasant consequences of sexual activity. The statistics show us how ineffective that curriculum has been.
Now, Womankind, a Key West-based nonprofit that provides health care services, has been awarded a three-year, $600,000 grant to address the county’s sex-education shortcomings with what’s being called an “abstinence-plus” curriculum. The grant will be used to offer this curriculum to students in the sixth through 10th grades.
The curriculum, which has a proven track record, takes a common-sense approach of teaching not only “safe sex,” but also skills to make better choices when it comes to sex and other risky behaviors.
The lessons are age-appropriate — with lower level studies focused on making good choices.
For instance, sixth-grade lessons focus not on sex, but on how to set boundaries and deal with social challenges. As students progress up through the grades, sex becomes part of the discussion in the context of the decision-making lessons that it preceded in earlier grades.
We are glad to see an education effort to deal with what is clearly a crisis among our teenage population, and we applaud the district and Womankind for making it happen. Education consistently pays good dividends on the investment.
But we can’t help from adding a footnote about the 800-pound gorilla in this room.
That would be us, the adults in this community who intentionally or unintentionally are the role models after which children and youth pattern their behavior.
There is no grant that can mitigate the damage done to our children when we behave irresponsibly.
– The Citizen
The 800 pound gorilla in what I wrote yesterday is, my mother molested me in my crib. The Bible speaks of the sins of the fathers visiting the sons for 3-4 generations, but not of the sins of the mothers.
Another 800 pound gorilla in what I wrote yesterday is, my father was a womanizer. I did not know this when I was young, but my soul knew it.
I don’t use those two 800 pound gorillas to excuse what I did to my younger sister, but my spiritual training and experience provided by the angels who run me, Jesus, Michael and Melchizedek, say those two 800 pound gorillas cannot be ignored, either.
Nor can it be ignored that at the level of soul my daughters and their mother and children know what I did to my younger sister.
Nor can it be ignored that I myself became sexually promiscuous toward the end of Dianne’s and my broken marriage, which carried forward a couple of years after we were divorced and I got it out of my system. That, too, bled into and affected my daughters.
While on this very grim subject, here is something I put together almost two weeks ago, on which I have been sitting.
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Morticia, of Locust Fork, Alabama, about 30 miles north of Birmingham, replied to yesterday’s Sunday homily: child sex trafficking cure – Key West initiative post:
Dear Sloan:
Last year we were at the Gaylord Hotel and I was channel surfing and I saw a story about young women that were lured over here to Atlanta with the promise they would get a college education and get a job when they finished. Well they got a job alright. They were put on a bus as soon as they landed and ended up North in a slave house.
The ladies were sent to work in a strip joint and then they were escorted home and locked in the apartment with no phone and no way to get out. Customers one right after the other. The lady telling the story was just a beautiful innocent young woman wanting to come to the USA for a better opportunity and she told as soon as one man was finished with her they had another waiting.. She did say that in the town she came from that the owner of her here in the USA had men there that worked for him “recruiting” girls and then if they caused any problems their families were hurt or even killed. So they used terror tactics on these ladies.
Well one guy she began to trust and she told him her story.. He went to the authorities and they busted the place. The guys that owned her and the other lived in a huge mansion worth millions, drove cars around like Rolls Royce and lived like Billionaires.
Then here in Bham on our local Fox 6 we had a woman who runs WellHouse in Bham who was trafficked at age 17 from Atlanta to Bham. She opened my eyes. I see the women standing on the street and I just thought they were prostitutes that chose that but she said that is not the case. That if you ride around and look you will see their owners sitting in cars watching them. Her organization rescues young women and I guess men also and when she gets a call from the police that they have been found she gets them back to their families. They come to the Wellhouse for a while to have help and treatment before they go to their homes. I was trying to find the video so I could send it to you. She said the hot spot for picking up new girls is Pelham, AL and that I-20 to Atlanta is a big hotspot for transportation. It is also a 30 billion dollar a year business.
I just was not aware this was going on.. As a young person all of our parents told us to be careful not to end up in “white slavery” I just figured it was a way to scare us not to get in any situations. To keep us under control.
The lady that runs the Wellhouse was sent from ATL to Bham. I forgot how she finally got away.. She then went to UAB and got her masters degree and started this program to help young women.
I never in my life would believe this was going on in the USA.. Yes other countries but not our country.. I have always believed that is what happened to Natalie Holloway and some of the other ladies that have disappeared on cruise ships but I-20 to Atlanta is the most traveled to transport young ladies. She put a plea out to anyone that saw a young person that looked like they were in a strange situation to call the authorities. She did say they took children to women in their early 50′s.. that was the most popular. It is scary and there is something that should be done to stop this. So not all runaways are just that and not all prostitutes are there because they want to. We have had several bust of slave houses in the Bham area in the last few years. I hope we have more and they get this type of activity stopped. You know I probably rather be dead as to be held captive and forced to do these kinds of things.. it is just horrible. Thanks for you posts. I enjoy them. Morticia
I replied:
Hi, Morticia – You sent me some stuff on this horrible racketeering in Alabama and Atlanta a year or two ago, and on the woman who was helping the sex slaves get away and recover, which I posted. If ever a special place in hell is needed, it is for these evil doers who prey on children and on young women and men. I agree, I’d rather be dead than trapped in this evil business. Maybe God will put the fear (terror might work better) of God in the racketeers. Having the terror of God put in me certainly caused me not to want to go against God ever again. Surely, though, there must be an easier way. Surely, the angels can wiggle their wings, or noses, or wands, and presto, the evil doers see the evil of their ways and like that fellow who gave up slaving and wrote “Amazing Grace” about his transformation can happen, the sex trade and sexual molestation of children stops and the victims are healed and live peaceful, happy, productive lives. Maybe if it went that way, it would bleed into how it’s going for me, which has been one very rough ride. Sorry to send you such awful reading on a Sunday morning, hope you and your hubby are doing well and happy. Sloan
Morticia wrote:
We are fine.. blessed… and I forgot I sent you the article before. It is so sad. I just wonder if our country has gotten to the point that it can not be turned around. Like a roach infestation. if you let it get out of control you never can get rid of them. Yes I agree I hope there is a really horrible hell for these type of people that take innocent young folks and destroy them. I have been through a lot in my life growing up in a horrible house with two crazies for parents but I never have been through anything like this and I’ll take the beatings and mental abuse any day over the sexual abuse. That has to be just terrible. There was a man just arrested near by for sexually molesting a 4 month old. I do not understand why we have to have trials on things like this if you know they did it… Why can they just not take him outside and cut his privates off with a chainsaw right before they shoot him in the brain. I think our laws here in the USA are to lenient. But then I am not in charge so that is just my opinion. I am glad you sent the article made me aware again of this situation. Thanks for all the good articles.
I replied:
So much for angels wiggling their noses, wings or wands and making everything easier and wonderful. Maybe instead of shooting sex traffickers in the brain, after cutting off their privates, crank the chainsaw back up and cut off their hands and feet, so it will be really hard for them to ever do anything bad to anyone every again. Maybe that’s too mean, but it’s kind compared to enslaving kids and young adults in sex racketeering.
Morticia wrote:
I concur.. I have always said the ones you know are truly guilty like the Menendez brothers in CA guilty of killing their parents never should have had a trial. Killed in the courtyard. Then people who are thieves.. hands cut off. Sex offenders just what you said. If I knew that when I got in a car and ran a redlight I would be punished severely just say a month in jail. I ‘d be riding a bicycle everywhere I went. Our laws are too lenient. I would love to see ALL the prisoners in ALL the prisons loaded up on a plane dropped off in Afghanistan and given a gun. If you survive you are free.. If not.. we wont have to bury you.. But you know.. honest people like we are are the ones punished.. The criminals get by and get a slap on the wrist. But then you know prison is a big money making business for the private sector.
I just do not understand. But then with my 59 years here on earth I do not understand a lot of things.. I live not even a mile from a sex offender. Rape, sodomy, kidnapping. He did his time.. Got out and lives with a woman that her son is in prison for helping cover up a doctor’s two sons that killed the doctor. He tried to lure a woman in Anniston, AL a couple of years ago to a motel. Said he worked for her company and he needed to interview her. Yea with what. Plus he had a wreck drunk driving and they covered up the wreck and the police was never called. We are actually afraid of him being in our community but Anniston let him go and never charged him. But his victims and all of us ladies in my community are locked up because we are afraid of him. I just do not understand our justice system. I hope in my next life I come back as a Judge.. let me warn all ahead of time.. You will not want to come before me in my court!!!! This creep of a sex offender works at a bowling alley in Tarrant. I wonder how he is allowed to be around all these young folks that come to the bowling alley? It is funny to pass the house and see him out in the yard on Tuesdays with his white shorts and white tshirt on cutting the grass. I guess he is having a prison flashback. When hubby is driving and I see him outside I get him to go slow and I look at him , stare him down with a look “like you better keep your sex offender ass in your own area and do not come down my road.”
I replied:
There was some tongue-in-cheek in my aggravation of your chainsaw execution. Maybe such a punishment for sex traffickers would have a deterrent effect, but maybe not. The death penalty and long prison sentences with folks who look forward to having sex with new inmates for a long time doesn’t seem provide a deterrent effect. This is dicey terrain for me because of how I treated my younger sister. The karma from that has been awful, but there was no understanding of karma when I did it. The karma had at me for just over 40 years before I knew what it was and where it came from. Here’s something I wrote the other day, then tinkered some with, which I have covered before in posts from time to time.
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In June 2000, Jesus and his mother came to my sixth wife and me and told us his mother had molested him in his youth. I was enraged, not over what had happened, but over the news of it being kept secret, for I knew the havoc keeping it secret had wreaked in the subconscious of Christendom and humanity. This revelation came about after I kept telling that wife that I was hearing there is an evil greater than Lucifer, and finally she told me that Michael told her, if Sloan can conceive an evil greater than Lucifer, it exists. Shortly thereafter, Jesus and his mother came with the news that she had molested him. They came to two people who had been molested, I by my mother, my wife by her father. Two people who had been healed of it by Jesus and Michael. Healing unknown to religion, mental health and spiritual development circles today.
Shortly after Jesus and his mother came to us with the news, maybe a dozen awful open boils sprung up on my wife’s inside thighs. Proof that what had been told to us was being processed through her, and through me – I felt so sick that I wondered if I would die. After several days I was moved to tell my wife that we needed to make love, which was the very last thing she wanted to do with those nasty boils still in full bloom. I said it would help her move past it, if we made love. She saw what I meant, and slowly we moved into it and she had a very powerful orgasm. The next day the boils were receding, and in a few days the boils were healed over, and in a few more days the blemishes were gone, as if it had not happened.
I connected the dots back to the pejorative way Jesus spoke to and of his mother in the Gospels; and back to the first miracle Jesus made in the Gospels: he turned water into wine after being badgered by his mother to do it. I saw the linkage from the first miracle back to when Mary dominated Jesus sexually. I saw the linkage back to the three temptations in the wilderness, where Jesus was taunted to make miracles and did not, so the devil left him to return at a more opportune time. I saw maybe but for the incest that opportune time might never have come and Jesus might not have used miracles to sway people. He might have just taught people the correct way to live on this world. Maybe Christendom might not have become a religion based on miracles, including the miracle salvation formula it claims provides eternal life in heaven.
Later, the angels told me when Jesus finally told his father what his wife was doing to their son, Joseph’s heart failed and he collapsed and died in Jesus’ arms. That’s why Joseph disappeared from the Gospels.
Morticia wrote:
OH my that is heavy duty.
Thank you for this email. I am very sorry about you and your ex wife being molested. That is so sad.. VERY VERY sad.
As far as Mary that is very interesting. I never thought anything like that.. I will now.
I replied:
I had never thought anything like that about Mary, either; it came as a total shock. However, I had long wondered why Jesus spoke poorly to and of his mother in the Gospels, when it was said Jews should honor their mother and their father so their days would belong. The more time distance I have had since being told that, the more it says to me that child molestation is very old and it is in all strata of society. In fact, when it was revealed to us, we were told it was not all that uncommon back then; people lived in close quarters, etc.
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Same day post-script, not sent to Morticia:
Jesus and Mary came to Cathy and me in June 2000, when we were laying over on the Indian Ocean island of Mauritius, west of Madagascar. We had come there from South Africa, and before that we were in Costa Rica. From Mauritius we went to India, Mumbai (Bombay), and from there we flew via Tokyo to Hawaii. During the entire trip we did very heavy spirit work, even as it look to people around us that we were vacationing.
We ended up on Maui, where the credit card companies finally cut us off. After the remaining cash we had used the cards to get from banks ran out, we lived on the street until finally a family who owned a lodge where we had stayed a few days let us live on their land in a tent. I did gardening work, Cathy helped clean rooms and babysat the couple’s children.
I told the angels yesterday that was a hell of a reward for bringing down and processing through us the incest Mary inflicted on Jesus, and no wonder there were so few God workers on this planet, if that’s how it goes for them.
It finally went south between Cathy and me on Maui, when I was told to ask her, at what point during the time from when she was 3 to when she was 18 did she become a knowing accomplice in her father having sex with her? Even after the incest had been shown to her by Jesus and Michael, and even after the really volatile healing they did inside of her, Cathy did not recall the incest. All she recalled was when she was 18 she knew she had to leave her parents’ home and never go back there again.
I did not recall what my mother had done to me in my crib. But the internal healing work done in me by Michael and Jesus, in the fall of 1998, was so caustic and so volatile and so terrifying that there was no doubt in my mind what they were working on in me. They told my then best male friend, who was following all of it psychically, that what was done to me was “the work of the Devil.” There were 2-3 terrifying internal healing sessions a day for 6 weeks.
Cathy’s internal healing was 3-4 sessions a day, for about a month. She lived in another state and I held her hand on the telephone as she went through each tumultuous healing session. Who else could have held her hand but me, who had already been through it himself? At that time, Cathy was only someone who had come to me for help. We did not know we would end up together.
Cathy was referred to me by a professional psychic in the Mid-West US, whom I had known since 1990. The psychic wanted me to teach Cathy the soul alchemy ritual St. John of the Cross had used to trigger the dark night of the soul alchemy in himself. The psychic had not picked up the incest with Cathy’s father. However, when Cathy called me, she said she felt she would die if I could not help her. Could I help her? I said yes, with God’s help, but she would have to die. Did she know what I meant by that? She said she understood.
I did not teach Cathy the soul alchemy ritual. Jesus and Michael took her over and she died to everything she had been and known. It took about two months. I never saw or heard of anyone changing that fast. It helped that Cathy had not been raised in any religion and did that have that to shed.
However, Cathy had been a follower, no sex, only devotion, of a yogi from India, and he was shed in a spirit dispossession ceremony conducted for her by Michael and Jesus. That came about after Cathy dreamt of seeing her old then deceased guru sitting in the lotus position over her head, sucking her energy out of the top of her head. She tearfully watched Jesus and Michael escort her old guru off to wherever he needed to be instead.
Cathy became violently ill in South Africa, after we went to the Indian embassy in Durban to apply for visas for India. As a result, we reversed the time we had planned to spend in Mauritius from 3 days to 30 days, and we likewise reversed the 30 days we had planned to spend in India from 30 days to 3 days.
On the ride to the waterfront from the Mumbai airport, Cathy, who had excellent spirit vision and hearing, said all she could see in the air were serpents. I said, not the nice friendly kind of serpents on the Saturday morning cartoons. Cathy said, no, not those kind of serpents.
We both felt awful the three days we were in India, and we were very happy when we left for Tokyo. There are worse things than being homeless, and for us being in India was one of them.
After it went south between Cathy and me on Maui, I was told in my sleep at dawn one morning to go to Big Pine Key. I woke up, said okay, but I have no money. In three days time I was on a flight to Los Angeles. After laying over a few days with my old friend who had held my hand during the healing of what my mother had done to me, I was on a Greyhound bus headed to the Florida Keys. I did nothing to cause any of that to happen. It just happened and I went along with it.
As the bus reached the outskirts of Tallahassee, I fell asleep and dreamt of the US District Judge for whom I had clerked. He had run the Democratic Party in Alabama. No Democrat in Alabama ran for state or national office without his blessing. He told me in the dream that he thought he might get into politics. I replied that I didn’t think that was a good idea, but knowing him, he was going to do it. I awoke in shock. I hated politics.
That’s how I ended up in Key West in December 2000, living on the street. That’s how my involvement in homelessness, and in politics, began. I would advise people who, as I did in early 1987, tell God they want to be used for human service, that they don’t have a clue what all that can entail.
Today I live on Little Torch Key, about a mile as the seagull flies below Big Pine Key. I’m on Big Pine Key doing something almost every day. In spirit, I am working all the time, even when I’m asleep.
I told someone the other day that I am a human Waste Management operation. Human spirit waste is run through me. It makes me sick physically. There is nothing I can do about it but write what I am given to write about it, and endure. The angels healed me of the sex sins of my mother and my father, but the angels did not remove the karma from what I did to my sister.
Sloan Bashinsky
sloanbashinsky@hotmail.com
Javier Jaén
