Day Eighty-Seven (87): Wednesday, May 26, 2010
86) How Shamans Have Used The Law of Attraction
To achieve the manifestation of the greater good, a spell might be cast, a blood-letting undertaken, a sacrifice made, or a dream incubated. For example, the shamans of several Native American tribes underwent vision quests, performed shamanic healings, sat in sweat lodges, and engaged in sun dances. They chanted incantations to ward off attacks by aggressive Europeans. That’s not to say that they always got what they wanted because the law, when opposite poles of attraction are set up, responds to the more powerful vibrational pull or yields a less strong or, in some cases, a mixed result. Native Americans performed incantations but were still attacked and lost battles to their powerful enemies whose forces, goals, and intentions proved stronger.
Yesterday, I spoke of some of my gifts . . .
Since it is day 87, it reminded me of 1987 as that was a pivotal year for me, regarding spirituality, Law of Attraction and beginnings and endings.
Most of it began pretty early on, February 1987. My father has been ill, with cancer and a strange accident in the hospital in October or November and wasn’t expected to live. He was laying, in an open-eyed coma at the Veteran’s Administration Hospital in Phoenix, AZ. I was back in Astoria (Queens), New York waiting to hear from Mom of any changes.
At Christmas, I flew home to visit with my parents. Daddy was already in the Veteran’s Hospital. A couple of months earlier, when, after a major surgery to remove his lung and part of his jaw — in ICU; my father had, in the middle of the night, fallen out of bed [according to a nurse’s report] and died for 15-minutes. After they resuscitated him and place Daddy on life-support they phoned my mother, announcing him brain-dead.
Before pulling the plug, Mom and I decided to make sure and had several neurosurgeon give their opinion; including, two top ones’ from New York. He was, indeed, by all accounts, brain-dead. We pulled the plug. From that day forward, my father was breathing on his own and only had a feeding tube and other tubes to sustain life. His breathing was his own.
This all happened at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Phoenix, AZ. I was told, by my mother, to stay in New York with my job and life, etc.
All the while, one of my dearest friends from Roosevelt Island, NY, Susan “Susie” Schwartzberg, only age 19, was battling her cancer. She had a tumor in her face; a tumor that first appeared when she was 5-years-old, was treated and went into remission and re-emerged at the age of 17.
My life, at this time was Rocky Horror Picture Show, Tim Curry and my job at a fashion showroom, as an Administrative Assistant. I worked in New York’s Garment District; just above Calvin Klein. At work, on the old-fashioned man-operated elevator, I saw people such as: Joan Rivers, Calvin Klein and Angela Jagger (one of Mick’s former wives). I was also involved with a cabaret act, began by good friend, Andrew Martin Arnold. Susie and I were both in this act.
Admittedly, the cabaret act was a great idea and Andrew’s baby. He, at that time, was a talented young gay man, one of my first Rocky Horror friends in New York who, through the years, has done a lot in the cabaret world of New York. He also has dealt with many of his life demons, some of them very well and some of them not so well. We had re-acquainted a few years back [three or four years ago] and a few months ago; after some on-line conversations that were, to me, rather condescending, childish and rude [not unusual, unfortunately, for Andrew] — I decided to unfriend him on facebook. I didn’t block him, nevertheless. Anyway, long story for another time.
In 1987, he and Susie were a huge part of my social life. We spent a lot of time together and the rest of my cast at my Brooklyn theatre, Marboro. Near Bensonhurst (Brooklyn). My Rocky Horror cast performing one night of the weekend and the other night we hung out the infamous 8th Street Playhouse in Greenwich Village (with the NYC Rocky Horror cast).
In the meantime, I felt, in my gut, I was getting closer and closer to living my dream of meeting and getting to know Tim Curry. I was not wrong!
In the early hours of February 4th, I was awoken from my sleep by a familiar voice. I heard my father say, “Wake up, little one. It’s time.”
At the foot of my bed stood my father, Michael Egic. He was a bit translucent and appeared similar to the Star Trek tv show; we used to watch together, right before they were beamed back completely–and my father stood there. Seeing as my father still lay in a coma in Arizona and I was there, in my Queens, NY apartment — it occurred to me quickly, he was passing on and stopped to bid me goodbye.
Daddy and I had a conversation, which I’ll share another time; he went “into the light” which, he told me, he kept seeing. I went back to sleep, forgot it all until I got to work later that morning — and it came flooding back.
My father died the same day as Liberace. February 4th, 1987
A few months later, August 28th, 1987 . . . after five years of hoping, praying, imagining the day. I finally met the man: The one, the only TIM CURRY! I met him, just me and no other fans, at 1515 Broadway (now MTV Studios), which, at that time housed Minskoff Rehearsal Studios. Tim was there rehearsing the Broadway touring show ME AND MY GIRL.
On my birthday, September 28th, I turned 24-years-old; I went to see Susie in Sloane Kettering Hospital, where she stayed because her cancer (tumor) had progressed. She was legally blind now, due to the location of the tumor and going deaf in one ear. Prognosis was not good. In fact, when I arrived at the hospital, Susie was all excited to tell me about her bouquet of flowers from her favorite actor, Christopher Reeve [before his tragic accident, mind you]. I told I met Tim Curry; but played it down for Susie to have her moment and celebrate Christopher Reeve’s gift to her.
In November 1987, I received a call from Susie . . . from her home on Roosevelt Island [I had lived with her and her family briefly the year before]. She was inviting me to her 20th birthday party. Her voice, now very damaged from the tumor, was barely understandable.
A note on Susie’s voice: When she had the tumor at age 5. The chemotherapy and the placement of the tumor damaged her nasal passages and she had very buck teeth and the highest voice . . . so high, we called her “Squeaky” . . . but wow, what a high soprano she was when she sang in our cabaret group! Now, due to the progression of the tumor; she slurred her words and the high pitch was just difficult to understand.
My friend, Arleen and I, attended Susie’s 20th birthday party. It was evident, Squeaky would not be with us much longer. She died a few days later.
In late 1986, too . . .my poor mother lost her brother, Curly [Everett Collins] and her sister, Mary Margaret Ream to cancer, also. Both in Arizona.
Curly was an interesting uncle and caused much problems in my immediate family. I’ll elaborate at a later time.
Mary was good, as I remember her and I was close to her children, my cousins and keep in touch with one, to this day. I talk to her other three children, too . . . just not as often as my cousin, Linda.
Love, Light & Laughter,