The Rock Of My Death

I put it out of my mind that I had died. My coming back was horrendous. It all came back when I had a reading at the Berkeley Psychic Institute in 1987.  I sat in a chair facing two Readers. There was a guide in the back of the room. A young woman was agitated. The guide asked her what is wrong.

“It’s his mother. She’s right here in my face. She doesn’t want us to read her son.”

“Put up a white shield of light!……………………Make that two!”

Rosemary knew I was carrying a spiritual issue the day I was born. The nurses beckoned her to the window to behold the amazing star shower. She told me she was too spent. I owned what she wanted. My mother would throw many devious obstacles in my way.

Note the narrow bridge over the eye. I had just read Tolkien’s Trilogy, and was reminded of Frodo’s climb to the top of Mount Modar. After my fall, my two friends had to carry me across this bridge. I was going into shock.

When Marilyn heard I was going back to Oakland to visit my family, she suggested I go for a reading at the Berkley Psychic Institute. In 1987 I was read by two young people in their twenties. There was a man in the back doing a chart. A young woman sitting ten feet in front of me began my reading by saying this;

“You own your own creation. You died!”

The room filled with a light, and after a long silence, the guide said;

“Are we in heaven? Is this proof there is a heaven?”

I looked at the readers, and the smiling guide. I had this vision of us being infants in our crib, we in a glowing light as we look at one another in a knowing way. We were so – new!

Suddenly, we heard someone rushing upstairs. She burst into the room and said;

“You can’t stay in this place. You have to move on!”

She looked alarmed. We wanted her to go away. When I closed my eyes, the guide said;

“Don’t close your eyes!”

In the second half of this reading I got to ask questions. I was a skeptic until I got the answer to my first two questions.

If it is true I died, where was I – And, why did I die?”

You were on these beautiful rocks by the sea. You were carrying much guilt that did not belong to you. You were in great pain. You had to let it go.”

I was born October 8, 1946 in Oakland California at 6:02 P.M.  a minute after sunset.

Threading The Eye of the Needle

When I found the property on Bodega Bay, yesterday, and beheld the two photos above, I knew my angel led me to the Promised Land. When God puts you in front of His powerful enemy, how much power do you own? The more powerful the enemy, the more powerful God’s champion. God loves a good story!

“All’s well, that ends well!”

Jon ‘The Nazarite’

I may have saved the world in 1967. How many times will this task fall upon me?

The Needle’s Eye

Last night I discovered there exist a passage on Skellig Michael called ‘The Needle’s Eye’. In 1988, I took a photo of the eye in the rock I climbed at McClure’s Beach. It lie under a narrow bridge to the top. This more than a coincidence. God has – TWO EYES – and SEES the end that is coming. He bids His Seer to speak out, and give a warning!;;doc.view=print

Note the two arrows! What more of a SIGN do you need?


Jon ‘The Nazarite’

“Smith’s account of the pilgrimage to the island is concerned primarily with the dangers of the South Peak climb. For him one of the terrors of the ascent was the point where pilgrims have to squeeze through a hollow called the Needle’s Eye, which resembles the funnel or shaft of a chimney. After clearing this hurdle and negotiating several other perilous passages.”


William Tirey, Bishop of Cork from 1623 to 1645, records a pilgrimage to Skellig Michael among the events of his life (Foley 1903, 16). Friar O’Sullivan, a Franciscan from Muckross who wrote the Ancient History of the Kingdom of Kerry about 1750, mentions in that work “the great Skelike formerly very much noted for pilgrimage over most part of Europe” (O’Sullivan 1899, 152). Soon after, in 1756, Charles Smith published the first account of the South Peak, describing the ascent of it in detail. The South Peak stations were to be visited after those of the monastery. Smith’s remarks on this part of the pilgrimage suggest that a tradition of long standing was coming to an end: “Many persons about twenty years ago, came from the remotest parts of Ireland to perform these penances, but the zeal of such adventurous devotees, hath been very much cooled of late.”

The Death of Creative Siblings by the Sea

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Jon ‘The Nazarite’

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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1 Response to The Rock Of My Death

  1. Reblogged this on Rosamond Press and commented:

    The magic csn now come home! The lies have been vahquished – along with the liars!

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