Ethiopian slave girl

Accustomed to recognition and honor

now eating off others’ plates and keeping generally small, though her voice inside raged at the shock of being taken.

Once entitled to respect on the basis of birthright, respected in her community for the sake of the family lineage.

Nothing remains of that entitlement. No more community, no more family. No one who looks like her, who speaks her language. Her language now voiceless, her tongue itself taken.

She takes in everything. No need for speech, only spoken to in commands requiring immediate obedience, she is a reflexive, taut-stringed wire of attuned energy, focused on the dynamics in the room dominated by those men of consequence.

This cat-like poise at all times, even while sleeping, displaces her ego. She is a servant and finds it relaxing not to be required to think, only to come when called and do as you are told.

Her ego was ever too proud and haughty to be displaced as easily as that! She compartmentalizes, of course, her body becoming the lapdog of the master, jumping when he calls (jumping out of the way when he is intemperate). Her mind watches, notices, records and counts every weakness and strength of all-male bonds. Her mind loses its own language and lets the rhythm and noise of this other language they speak, how they pause, how they gallop, how they slow walk back and forth, the music of their language without meaning.

I insert the captive slave girl into the room where Aristotle taught Alexander and see her as a silent–mute, in fact, her tongue cut out–witness, and a sponge for all they discuss, except for her pure outrage at the fact of them carrying on discourse of that nature anyway, while she worked as their pet, their little robot programmed to flinch at their slightest glance. The conversation she witnesses is the equivalent of an Aristotle tuturing an Alexander, in another lifetime, in the not so distant future, on a spaceship, learning the rules of commerce in the Greater Community.

I share with a friend who also peers deeply into story and legend for heroic archetypes. We ask, who is she? Who will she become as the centuries go by?


She witnesses this long conversation

Greater relationships yet undiscovered

While the mute slave-girl Maia takes in the wisdom from the objectivist’s school, she is unaware that her thoughts are not contained within her own little head. She is aware how they churn relentlessly, not merely whirling but working, working, working, mostly reactively to what she hears and experiences from the two men and her position as their servant.

Her thoughts are shared by other women, other places, also captive and contemplative:

  • a queen who watches from her prison tower as her countrymen are defeated against a cunning army.

  • daughter of decadence at a time of revolution, also in prison
  • the Cassandras of today seeing all things in revolution now

A Near Death Experience

She died in 2003 from a fatal heart attack caused by deep personal shock . Everything Katy knew was destroyed: family, community and church.

In her death, she was greeted by a receiving line of spiritual masters and multiple interfaith religious hierarchies who carried her collapsed body through vast swirling worlds of bright white light. As she began to awake in the arms of these magnificent, loving beings, she felt a flush of gentle flowing kindness reconnecting the torn, subjective tissues of her heart.

She was taken to an enormous whirlpool of energy – its core, a living void, pulsing steady sounds of strengthening harmonies encouraging her to live and breathe. Its outer perimeter poured forth thunderous, dynamic waterfalls of generosity as embryonic waves of love and mercy were rebuilding the intimacies of her heart. She soon realized she stood in the holy flow of our Creator – its Heart, its Love and Kindness.

She was then given a choice, to return to her present life on earth, or to continue home into the Light of God. A single mother at the time, she chose to return to earth for her young son. Upon her decision, she then heard this loving being of merciful generosity speak:

“Take my heart and give to others what I have given to you. Be the direction of your own Spirit.”


Here’s how she described it:

I awoke in a dream greeted by a vast receiving line of Angelic Hierarchies standing in a golden temple of white light. One I personally knew since the age of four, embraced me as I fatally collapsed. Holding my lifeless body close to his heart, he leaned over and with great tenderness kissed my cheek, then touched my spiritual eye with the pulse of his heart.

He then carried me through vast swirling worlds of bright white light along a pulsing artery of sparkling blue sound. Spiritual Masters within the angelic hierarchies very quiet in nature would appear periodically in subjective study of my lifeless body. Each visited upon me the gentle mercies of their particular spirit, as I gradually awakened into a flush of gentle kindness flowing reconnecting the torn subjective tissues of my heart.

This Great Master of the Heart then stood me upright, and breathed into me a vast wind of centered purpose. In this I revived and experienced the synergy of a vast mercy positioning me in direct observance of an enormous whirlpool of energy.

I observed its core to be a living void, pulsing steady sounds of strengthening harmonies rebuilding the intimacies of my heart while encouraging me to live and breathe. Its outer perimeter poured forth thunderous dynamic waterfalls of sparkling generosity strengthening my outer form in the regions of the subtle bodies healing the agony and despair.

I surrendered into the primal magnetic resonance of its most precious glory, realizing the cellular realignment occurring distributed itself as the embryonic waves of love and mercy. I did not resist, thus, found myself being carried deeper into the core of this most beloved being transforming me into the heart of its truth. This Spiritual Guardian of my transformation, realizing the intent of my surrender, reached out and kindly pulled me back whispering, “no, its not time, listen.” Then this enormous being of merciful generosity spoke to me:

“Take my heart and give to others, what I have given to you.

Be the direction of your own Spirit.” 


The seeds for this site

Thirty years ago, plus some

1985-86 was a pivotal year for me, one of several when I only knew to move and knew not where. I do remember in that year being fascinated with a branch of contemporary Christian thought about narrative as a key to, well, the stories we tell ourselves. Even at that time, I thought, this could work, long-distance, in prisons.

Twenty years ago

A family member is removed from the streets–that’s the good news–and incarcerated–that’s the bad news. I hire inmates for home renovations. Things could have gone better.

Just about 10 years ago

Sending books to inmates. Setting up this blogsite. Things still crashing in a pile of ashes.


What drives the urgency now? Not enough. The Prison Book Project will need dedication to get that locomotive in motion. The movement has begun!

More of the story leading to this website

Here, the shifting sands of 2008 and what was dislodged in my memory

Here, this development of this site from the same time period onward.




Example of foundation story


My Mother was a very tough woman as I was growing up. Reflecting back from the time we were staying in Buruburu when I was like 6 years or so. She could not take jokes for reality, especially if another child accused me of doing something. I bet you know what would happen to me. She was working as a Civil servant in the office of the President, then Daniel Arap Moi.
I was then taken to live with my grandmother in Shags to Join school from class one. It was very nice living with her, and she loved me so much. When I reached class four (Primary Four), all hell broke loose, I had some friends that my grandmother didn’t want me to associate with, If you have watched the comedy “Everybody hates Chris”, all relatives could just wait for my mother to visit and report me. My mother could beat me thoroughly. It went that way, until I did my Class eight exams. Then it was time to go for high school.
In 2001, My Mother was called by God, to leave her work, Pension, Salary and any other benefits for retirement to go to Bible College to serve God, work in God’s Government. She was hoping that when Moi retrenched civil servants in 2000, she could be on the list, she was not retrenched. She had to hear the voice of God and did as God said. Then I was also to go to school in form one. Thank God to her late friend Jemima Marende who was very supporting of her? After her college, she knew that “The work is plentiful, but the laborers are few”. She was received by Men in charge of the “Work”, at some point she felt very frustrated in her calling, But God in his own timing shown himself to be faithful.
Several things common between My Mother and Grandmother is that they were all jovial, hospitable, honest, women of integrity and could speak truth to power no matter the consequences. For my mother “Men in Charge of the Work” could not intimidate her with being fired. She could speak her mind, as long as she knows who called her.
As I finish, I want to say that, her death was and still is a big blow to me, for I was not prepared for her to die, before she passed on, on Monday 5th July 2017, I work up, And there was a bird on the roof, you know these black birds, I took a stone threw at it and rebuked it’s message. But when I went back to the house, my inner Spirit told me, “today you will be fired from the campaign for a week”, are you prepared. Then I said, yeah I can get another Aspirant to work for. When I reached town, I was truly fired by the person I was Campaigning for, for a week, I came home to make contacts with other Aspirants. One of them agreed to give me appointment at 6:30 Am the next day. I woke up at 6 Am on Tuesday 6th July 2017, sent a message to the Aspirant to ask if we are still meeting, He never answered until 7:Pm when he gave me a call that he has been waiting for me since 6:30 Am, I quickly changed and went. When we just finished the meeting, I saw my sister calling, I said, God I hope the worst has not happened. When I picked the call, I could hear her screaming and crying loud, she told me, Jimmy Our Mother has passed away. I got very confused and shouted, but I didn’t want people to think that I have gone mad. I calmed and started singing some songs my Grandmother use to sing, every time she was told that someone had passed away. Given time with her again, I have some questions to ask her. GOD GAVE AND GOD TOOK AWAY, MAY HIS NAME BE PRAISED ALWAYS.



Great Tidings to All People of Good Will

Great ideas here!

In a nutshell:

  1. Young people, your lives matter, and all you have to offer to a world in need.
  2. There are many freedom fighters here among us.
  3. Study the history of your world.
  4. There is no justification for war, not for efficacy to begin with.
  5. The internet can be a force for good to unite the world in instant communication.
  6. Compassion, collaboration are activities that unite for mutual support, igniting forces stronger than dissonant forces.
  7. This is the Age of the Individual.
  8. Know your mind and train it well to be a force for good.
  9. The Age of Women is also emergent.
  10. Remember, follow no one who does not support your individual contribution and responsibility.

What Works: Extraordinary Means


God Does What Works

When nothing else will do, Divine Messages do get through, sometimes through extraordinary means:

  • Miracles of divine intervention.
  • Extra Sensory Perception.
  • Having a “sixth sense” or an intuition.
  • Paranormal experience, Seen and unseen, falsifiable and unfalsifiable.

If It Exists in the Imagination It Has a Demonstrable Reality

Extraordinary events and abilities are found in the world in the form of reports, at least, which is a minimum threshold of existence, to exist in people’s minds as a thought.

Memes, rumors, reports of unusual events become objects of ridicule, yet this very existence in the cultural awareness is a reality in the thought environment.  The imagination as a field in the mental environment needs management and control.

What Works: Setting Intention

Thoughts, words, intention. Do these things have a corporeality? In this era of internet communication when ideas travel the globe at roughly the speed of light, the power of thought and word behind action–which is only an opportunity away–are brightly evident. Words are preceded by intention; they can signal or mask intention behind action.

Remember, we have said that God does what works. –Greater Community Spirituality: Who is Wisdom meant for?

Things Do Go Bump in the Night

A humanistic, rational, science-based way of knowing dominates the mainstream mindset, with some tolerance for individual experience outside the norm. In this culture, unusual or unexplained phenomena could well be under-reported because they exist outside the norm; as not normal they exist in the realm of the  “weird,”  somewhat shameful, and not mentionable. Yet the reports of unexplained and extraordinary phenomena persist.

Demons by Any Name

Exorcism and reiki work attest to entities existing on some other level than manifest reality as commonly understood.

The Placebo Effect

The power of suggestion can be demonstrated to satisfaction. To every and anyone’s satisfaction? Well, perhaps not. But for those who avail themselves of this power can

Energy work, energy balancing, any or all techniques involving unseen forces and energies–acupuncture/acupressure, allopathy, chiropractics, nutrition, and kinesiology–use non-invasive, drug-free, natural solutions to alleviate pain and allergies.


More on Medical Hypnosis

The most recent presentation on the placebo effect from Radio Lab looks at medical hypnotism   Mesmerism, “animal magnetism,” the “white coat effect” on doctors who wear them and on those around them.

And Paranormal Experience

William James. The Varieties of Religious Experience



No Permanent Enemies