God’s Unconditional Love And Its Conditions

VISIONS: A Psychic/Medium Views on Organized Religion

By Angela Theresa Egic

I believe in the Bible . . . I believe it was written by men who had low opinions of women (most of them), nearly 100 years after Jesus walked around and said incredible things . . . I believe the stories were worded by the authors, to express their bias opinion, most of the time. In short, how they interpreted the words of a man some 100-years passed on and his words handed down from mouth to mouth to mouth. I know God/Source didn’t write it. Sure it’s in-spired! BUT, so is every book written before, during or after the time of the many scrolls of the Bible!

And, yes, there are incredible things in the Bible (and other books) — which probably should be heeded, are comforting and are good rules to live by. Yet, the Bible still allows that if a woman marries and she is found to not be a virgin, she can be stoned to death. A man, on the other hand, by Bible rules, has all the rights.

I also like to quote and sometimes try to live by the words and examples of Dr. Wayne Dyer, Doreen Virtue, Goethe, Shakespeare, some of the men in the Bible, Sylvia Browne and Julia Cameron, my mother, my father. Number one, though, I live by the beliefs and values of myself. I have valid points.

Nevertheless, I do not agree with every single word that came from my mother, Dr. Wayne Dyer or any of my guru’s. They, too, have opinions of which I do not agree. Many I do.

I have strong feelings about religion, the dogma – I enjoy some ritual(s) and/or rites developed by the churches and/or other spiritual practices and religions; some are valid for me and some is just not my cup of tea; because I can think. Much of it is ridiculous to an intelligent mind.

As much as I believe in a Higher Power, which is not some man in the sky…I know we are part of it; in fact, we are it — along with the plants, animals, soul strength and every other living source or being on the earth, and beyond the earth. Yes, we are G.O.D.; we are of the energy that surrounds the Universe.

One of my guru’s gave me the greatest explanation:

G.O.D., the Universe, Source is a beautiful cloud; then, when we incarnate, we are the drops of rain and pieces of cloud that come down here to experience physical life. We are the bravest souls! Truly, living a life incarnate where there is pain, horror, judgment and illness is a brave adventure for any soul to take on!

The only true judgment, of course, is when we crossover and we, our self, review our lifetime. I often say that hell is living here, on earth, and having to put up with the proselytizing groups trying to save my soul! If heaven is filled with these pests, I’d rather be in hell with the fun people!

My relatives, strangers and friends – of the dogmatic sects of Christianity; including my own mother – have verbally attacked me, argued and mostly judged me: I suspect, they feel they must “spread the Gospel” according to their standard and make me comply. Otherwise, they have not done their job to raise me, teach me and guide me to be a docile follower such as they are!

No, thank you!

Why I’m always amazed at the closed-minded fundamentalist’s attitudes of my very family? I’ve seen those very beliefs drive people to depression, suicide, mental illness and unhappy lives. When I was a Sunday School teacher, I became a very depressed, anorexic mess who nearly died at the age of 20-years-old!

If it’s a sin to be who you really are – faggot, dyke, single, slutty, childless, and psychic, actor, musician, and artist – then, let me be the sinner! As long as I can be who I am, then, fuck anyone who wants to tell me different. As long as my actions do not break the laws of the lands [murder, embezzlement, rape, robbery, abuse]; well, who are you, or them, to judge?

As the song in the musical, Rent tells us, “It’s between God and me!”

The proselytizing assholes in the tunnel at Port Authority, spouting their fire and brimstone, how we are all such vile sinners; drawings of people with bandages on every limb, walking with crutches to illustrate how not following “their way” leads to dis-ease, abuse and plague upon your very body – make me want to beat some sense into them! Their promises are not very inviting … if this “God” they’re selling me is going to do that to me for not following, or questioning; well, he’s a fucking bully!!! I don’t give in to bully’s!

Now, my proselytizing relatives . . . they’re of the sect that leaves no room for psychic gifts, those who speak to the dead or angels, at least, those of us who hear them! Yes, I have relatives who are exceptions to the rule; yet, we probably fit on one hand. Most of my relatives are “God-fearing”. I have never, nor ever will, understand being afraid of an unconditional loving source. If He, it or they love us unconditionally, why should we “fear” them! I fear living human beings with knives, guns and an agenda of war, forcing change and judging us who are different. Even my relatives who think it is their job to “save me.” When such zealous types get too much into religion, and they feel one is a sinner, they often feel justified in destroying the sinner’s physical body to save their soul.

My relatives may not murder me, yet, similar to the zealots who shoot doctors who perform abortions – claiming it was God who told them they could because they are “saving lives”, when really they took a life that had been here for 30 to 80-years and not a few weeks in the womb – Bible-thumpers — who are usually men – and think, once again, it is their right to put their finger, or other parts, in my vagina and in those of all other women; I know I want no part of such closed-minded, single-minded, stupid nonsense.     My relatives, and others, seem to want to kill my joy, murder my spirituality and call it sin – when it hurt no human or animal, it brings joy and guidance to millions. My gifts and my beliefs are for all…unconditional, safe and non-judgmental. We don’t proselytize, force or threaten you with fire, brimstone, stoning, hatred, anger for not complying with our ways. We guide, love you and let you choose your path. We don’t sick Satan on you or dis-ease. We enlighten, we guide if asked. Unlike those who want to call me “mislead” or “sinner” or “wrong” or “damned.”

So be it, then, my cousins and aunts, and uncles – then, all right I am damned. I will be in hell with all the Broadway stars, the gifted healers, psychics, mediums; pets – the homosexuals, the transgendered, the party-singles, the sexually fun, all the entertainers – bound to be fun!

In case, it wasn’t clear, hell doesn’t exist, either. This punishment my family fears doesn’t exist, anyway, not like they talk. Hell is here, a hell we chose – brave souls being inside a human body that can feel pain, emotion, physical and mental pain.

Death is not punishment, it is freedom! The soul is free, once again. It’s beautiful! I speak from experience, too! I had a near-death experience when I was 15-years-old. It is not, at all, what religious groups think it is – a punishment; it is a gift to return to our true essence.

We all go there! At least, if we do not purposely hurt others and are generally doing the best we know. For those who do purposely hurt others – as in murderers, rapists, embezzlers and perhaps those trying to force their beliefs on us – they do get judged, they judge themselves; with a group of souls who want to help.

Enlightened souls, us who are true to who we are in this life, get choices – we can come back here, if we choose or learn more. That’s heaven, having a choice. Hell is not having a choice of whether to come back here – to live in a human body; lower souls, who hurt others on purpose, have to come back. They get no choice. Which, all right…yes. Hell.

To my relatives, friends and those who wish to judge me. Keep it to yourself! Say no prayers for me, as I don’t need those types of prayers.

If you pray for me . . . you are welcome to pray for me to have abundance, love, light and joy in my life. Pray for me and all others to be able to freely be who we are, all the time, without judgment, without hatred, without prejudice from you or others.

Otherwise, say no prayers for me. My soul is saved, by me . . . and the angels, guides, saints, the Gods, Buddha, Allah, Jesus, the Powers-That-Be, Source, those who have passed-on, unconditional love and self-love (confidence).

As for what I am: I am spiritual, I am Christian, I am Atheist, I am Buddhist, , I am Jewish, I am Islamic, I am Muslim, I am Gay, I am Straight, I am Transgendered, I am Woman, I am Man, I am me, I am, I am God, I am Jesus, I am the Chosen One, I am a Psychic, I am a Medium, I am alone, I am you, I am all that is, I am the wind, I am the water, I am them, I am us, I am an actor, I am a singer, I am the animals . . . and I am all of that and none of those!

I just am!

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Curry Chronicles: Meeting The Man — Part I

DISCLAIMER: These are my experiences, shared by me, as they happened to me. People in these true event(s), may not remember them in the same way. Certain facts can be agreed upon by all parties, nevertheless. I met Tim Curry, in New York, on August 28, 1987. Beyond that, I do not, in any way, suggest, hold or express that anyone else experienced this event in any paranormal, psychic or unusual way. That is how my experience of the event(s) happened, though.

MEETING THE MAN

By Angela Theresa Egic

  •  The psychic also said, “Tim Curry is just a breath away, just turn around and he will be there.”
  •  I understood, I would meet TC while I was still 23 years old and nearly 24 years old.
  1.  Tim’s niece became ill and Tim brought her out to the lobby.
  2. It was apparent to me, the time was close at hand – time for Tim and me to come together again [after many lifetimes]. I knew three things my first visit with one of my most important [i]soul mates had to have:
  • It was to be just Tim and me, alone – no other fans around.
  • I wanted to leave a lasting impression on Tim, to remember me by. I’ll decided to write him a personal ad on the back of the Village Voice! It was original, different and I never heard about a fan doing that for a celebrity.
  • I would leave a lasting, positive, impression on him so he’d never forget meeting me.

Why the Village Voice? It was 1987, we were all into the Village Voice weekly paper, at least, in New York. This was before the internet and texting; the Back Page was the 1980s version of texting/Facebook! You’d see notes on the VV Back Page:

 Looking for the cute guy I saw on the F train at West 4th. Meet me at The Gap at 4:00pm.

I posted this personal ad a couple of days before I actually met him. I knew it we were meeting, I had no hesitation to go ahead and place the ad.

My Dearest Tim . . . Read my lips! I’m glad we finally met. How about drinks, sometime? . . . Your Angel

Thus, as our day to meet approached, I went to the ‘Village Voice’ offices to pay for and place my ad, to TC. So, it would appear the Wednesday after we would meet. This way, I could tell him of my gift for him when I would meet him the end of the next week.

Then the day before I met him, which, as I predicted would be while I was still 23 years old and nearly 24 years old; it would occur [the meeting]. EXACTLY one month to the day before my September 28th birthday! I wrote him a thank you note . . . which read, in part:

Thank you for taking the time to talk to me and sign your autograph! This is the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten — to finally meet you! And be sure to check the ‘Village Voice’ this Wednesday, I left you a special message.

I also enclosed the poem I wrote for him, in my best handwriting on a stationary paper with a beautiful white unicorn on it! It looked like it was from the film “Legend”!

Then, work was over and I head over to 1515 Broadway on August 28, 1987. There I am standing in the third floor lobby of Minskoff Rehearsal Studios. Three seems to be a recurring number with Tim Curry and I.

The security guard observes me and said nothing. I suspect my appearance much like any other young actor coming to rehearse in these studios. I look at the ‘board’ seeing who is rehearsing and where.

 “Me And My Girl”–Room 6

I act like I’ve found what I want and go into the inner lobby. Tim is there . . . like an angel calling in the mist; I hear his voice, singing . . .from just down the hall! My heart skips a few beats; I am weak in the knees, euphoric, dizzy. I try sitting, it’ not working.

I hear footsteps coming down the hall. I compose myself and prepare. It’s an elderly couple and they come right to me.

The elderly British woman says to me, “You must be here to see Tim! He’ll be right out, luv!”

You all know the rest . . . she and the gentleman think I am TC’s daughter. They take their leave, I go to the pay phone [before the invention of cell phones] and call my best friend, Liz Bank, to quell my nerves or keep me from running screaming into the street.

With one ear I listen to Liz, while hearing Tim’s velvet-like singing and powerful speaking voice coming clearly down the hall. Then I hear goodbyes. I know Tim is on his way out! Liz insists on holding and begs me not to hang up. I lay the phone down on the little tray below the phone.

Quick footsteps approach the waiting areathe wall holds me up as butterflies explode inside my stomach. I think to myself, if I don’t talk now the opportunity is going to pass right by. Considering Tim’s rapid movement, I was not mistaken. I end up right in his path as I propel myself off the wall. Because I am in his way in the narrow area, he halts and smiles broadly, yet nervously.

I think he must also think I am his daughter and/or a teenage girl or both, as did Tim’s friends !

In a voice much too squeaky to be mine, I blurt out the first words that come to me. “Hello Mr. Curry, I’ve been waiting five years to meet you!”

He looks me up and down curiously, and says, “Yes?”

We stand together, in the middle of this room. I ask questions and he nods or says “Yeah.”

He says it a lot, in fact. I notice his Cheshire grin the whole time and at some point, I realize, he is looking at my chest!!!

Not that I mind, still, I’d also like him to notice my face or know my eye color at some point! I finally get frustrated with his glances downward at my minimal assets [at the time]. Not sure if Tim is even listening to me, I go to where his eyes are and point up and say, “Tim, my eyes are up here!”

I laugh and think to myselfDid I say that out loud? [Pause] My God, I did!”


[i] I believe we can have several soul mates in one lifetime.

Curry Chronicles: You Must Be His Daughter — Part II

DISCLAIMER: These are my experiences, shared by me, as they happened to me. People in these true event(s), may not remember them in the same way. Certain facts can be agreed upon by all parties, nevertheless. I met Tim Curry, in New York, on August 28, 1987. Beyond that, I do not, in any way, suggest, hold or express that anyone else experienced this event in any paranormal, psychic or unusual way. That is how my experience of the event(s) happened, though.

 

TC reminded me of something deep in my soul . . . a soul mate, yes, but more than that! A long-lost love, friend, brother, father, a voice in my very soul, a guide, a comfort and the spirit which accompanied me through lifetime after lifetime in so many ways. Crazy maybe, certainly it couldn’t hurt to meet him, to befriend him or to date him.

The psychic informed me of several past lives: TC had been my brother in one lifetime, my husband in another. These lives seemed to bring out memories in me. I wondered; would I remind TC, too? Would he feel a spark with me, too? Or was all this just my wishful thinking?

I had this dream that night:

I was walking, coming up on the Marriott Marquis. There were billboards on the front of the hotel, all photographs from Me and My Girl. People where everywhere. Of course, that is the way it is in New York.

Standing still, in front of one of the photos of Jim Dale (the Broadway star, at the time, playing the lead in Me and My Girl) was a man. His back was to me as he looked at the photos. I recognized it was Tim Curry, anyway.

I moved closer, through the crowd toward the back of TC. Suddenly, I was aware I was dreaming.

As I reached TC, put out my hand to tap him on the shoulder, he turned around and said, brightly,Hello, my angel! I’m here!”

Here?” I repeated, “…at the Marriott?”

He grinned, “I’m here.”

We did this back and forth a few times.

I woke up feeling energized, truly connected.

It was time to meet the man!

The next day, awake and happy, I just knew it was time: I went to find my friend Perry.

Perry had been working, as an usher, at Cats since it opened.

My intuition was so strong now; I knew that had changed after years.

Not too long before, Dream Girls are re-opened in NY. My instincts told me:

1)    Tim Curry had seen Dream Girls

2)    Perry had moved to usher at Dream Girls

3)    Perry had seen Tim Curry there, tried to contact me.

NOTE: Perry Dell ’Aquila and I met at AADA. In 1987, I hadn’t kept in good contact. I would stop by Cats from time to time, still, I had moved and he didn’t have my new phone number. It has been awhile since I stopped by Cats.

As I walked past the Winter Garden Theater and to Dream Girls, knowing Perry had moved – I went to the stage door of the Dream Girls theater.

Is Perry here?” I asked a crew member.

He told me, “He went on break, probably be back soon.”

Any minute!” I just knew it.

As I went to the front of the theater, Perry was walking toward me, a huge smile on his face!

Perry started, “I was trying to call you on Thursday night! You already know, right?”

Perry is well aware of my intuitive nature, and ties to TC. “Yeah, Tim was here, at the show.”

Then, I heard what happened! TC didn’t see the show. He was in the lobby all evening with his niece! She had taken ill right before the show and told her uncle to stay and watch the show. But, Tim, being a good loving uncle wasn’t going to leave her alone in the lobby.

Perry also told me, he nearly called my name upon seeing Tim and his niece. Apparently, I look just like his niece!

It makes sense, since in 1985, at a Rocky Horror 10th Anniversary convention, I was asked several times if it was “true” that I am “Tim Curry’s niece”!

To this day, I have no clue who may have started this rumor. It certainly wasn’t me! My feelings for TC were not familial. Definitely not! Of course, I was a bit skeeved out watching Clue. TC does look remarkably similar to my mother’s brother, Curly, in the film. I am not, in any way, attracted to my Uncle Curly!

I asked Perry, about his sighting of TC and his niece. “Where would the cast for a Broadway tour be rehearsing?” Certainly, Perry would know.

He gave me two possible addresses, saying the use one of the two. One was a downtown address; the other was called The Minskoff Rehearsal Studios.

Minskoff’s address: 1515 Broadway!!!

Remember, those big glass doors with the escalator inside going to the movie theaters? Minskoff Rehearsal Studios is RIGHT NEXT DOOR to the Marriott Marquis MM.

August 28, 1987: I’m going up one of those escalators at 1515 Broadway, to an elevator to—what? The third floor! The security guard, on the third floor, observed me enter the acting rehearsal studio lobby. He said nothing, went back to reading his book.

I suspect my appearance much like any other young actor coming to rehearse. Tim was there, somewhere, too.

Like an angel calling in the mist, I heard his voice, singing . . . from just down the hall!

I went to a near-by bench, to sit down and wait for TC to finish his rehearsal.

Hearing TC’s voice coming down this corridor, this elderly man and woman came out of an archway which leads to a hallway. The hallway where TC’s voice was floating into my ears and soul.

The woman, in a thick English, laugh-like voice, bellowed, “Oh darling! You must be here to see Tim Curry?!”

She hugged me! The kind man, also with a thick English accent, jollily, “Yes, he will be here shortly!

Seeing as I wasn’t wearing any badges, shirts or pins, which showed my obsession with TC, I wondered how they knew and asked, “How did you know?!”

The woman curiously said, “You look just like him! You must be his daughter!”

My only response, “He has a daughter?!”

The man said, “We thought you were!” with a bit of seriousness, “You’re going to scare him, then!”

Scare him? Why would I scare TC? I was very well-mannered, I thought.

The couple explained to me that fact I looked just like him would scare him as he would think the same thing . . . I look too much like him.

I asked the most important question at that point, “Is there any other way Tim can leave this building?”

My thought was he’d skip out another exit.

As if I stepped into a Monty Python film, the older gentleman replied, “Only if he jumps out the window!”

I laughed nervously.

Day Fifty-Nine (59): Special 14th Birthday Today…

Day FiftyNine (59): Wednesday, April 28th, 2010

59) Blaming The Victim?

If you break your leg, did you attract that into your life? A plethora of books and DVD’s such as The Secret by Australian author Rhonda Byrne, which was featured twice on Oprah, have ignited a national discussion about the Law of Attraction and the simple premise that you are attracting everything into your life through your thought. Yet some scientists and critics disagree with that concept. They say it blames the patient to suggest that he or she attracted the heart disease, death of a child, or plane crash.

Today is a special birthday . . . a birthday wish I cannot give to the birthday girl.

It was early December 2003. Fredy and I were in Pennsylvania (from California) to meet his daughter, Anika.

Fredy did not know she existed until she was 5-years-old; and we didn’t know she was in foster care until she was nearly 7-years-old. In December 2003, after a lot of phone calls (on my part) all the way to the office of the Governor of Pennsylvania — a meeting with his, then 7-year-old child was arranged.

At another time, I will share the whole story — of a year and a half of seeking bonding and promises made and broken (by officials and others). That said, Anika turned 14-years-old today, only days after her biological father’s 47th birthday. She is happy in her adopted family, from what we know.

Fredy nor I have made contact with her since 2005. He was promised a P.O. Box to reach her once she was adopted. This promise, one of many, was broken by the adoptive parents. Nevertheless, we both know they were, despite broken agreements, were ideal parents.

After Anika was sent “home” to her foster, soon-to-be-adoptive parents; Fredy and I went through our own grieving process. It ended our relationship as a couple and we remain close friends today.

I’ve kept the same email and keep myself, and Fredy, online so that Anika can find him (or me, and I will connect them) when she is 18-years-old; if she so chooses. It would be great if she could reunite with her father, her half-brother and grandmother in Guatemala, too.

I certainly will keep the door open as long as I am able. I will also be friends with Fredy as long as time permits. His family also keeps in touch with me and him. She looks just like Fredy; thus, if she needs to know her history, we will keep it safe for her and available.

Love, Light and Laughter,

Happy 14th Birthday, Anika!

Angela Theresa