Perfect Timing

Life's journey is rarely smooth—it's more like a rollercoaster with unexpected twists, drops, and the occasional loop. The past 40+ years working in rehabilitation and acute care settings have been professionally and spiritually transformative. With my guardian angel, Daisy, by my side, I've witnessed profound resilience, heartbreaking challenges, and moments of indescribable grace. These experiences have not just shaped my career; they've transformed me as a person, highlighting the growth and learning that can occur on life's journey.

In my first 20 years of private practice, I worked with children and teens with special needs, from newborns to young adults up to age 18. I still remember one remarkable young man, let's call him John. John had autism and high-functioning cerebral palsy, a dual diagnosis that would be overwhelming for most of us. Severe oral motor disabilities made everyday activities like speaking, chewing, and swallowing monumental challenges for him. Yet, John approached life with a fiery determination, striving for independence and normalcy. He and many others I worked with reminded me daily of the extraordinary power of the human spirit to adapt, grow, and overcome.

The next chapter of my career brought me into acute care settings, where the stakes were even higher. I encountered patients near what I jokingly but respectfully called "Circling the Drain" (C.T.D.). End-stage Parkinson's, feeding tubes, breathing struggles, hydration, and pain management filled my days. These weren't just patients—they were vibrant, complex individuals grappling with the reality of life's final lessons. One common thread among them was their ability to summon inner strength in the face of sudden health crises, like a fractured hip that changed everything overnight. Their courage taught me lessons I'll carry forever.

In the early 90's, my spiritual journey took an unexpected turn. While working at a sub-acute care hospital in San Jose, I befriended a patient who casually mentioned his daughter, a psychic named Sylvia Browne. At the time, it didn't seem like a big deal. But a few years later, seeking guidance, I stumbled across her ad in the Yellow Pages and decided to give her a call. That single phone call turned my world upside down. Meeting Sylvia opened doors I didn't even know existed, pushing me further into spiritual growth and a new understanding of life's more profound lessons.

I was deeply immersed in spiritual work when I met Leo Jones—a man whose story deserves its own book. I had relocated part-time to my home in Murrays Bay, New Zealand. I set up an office on Waiheke Island, nestled in Auckland Harbor. My work on the island focused exclusively on channeling guardian angels to help seekers navigate their spiritual paths with as little pain as possible. It wasn't just about healing—it was about guiding people toward understanding, growth, and peace.

Whether I was helping a child find their voice, supporting a senior through their final days, or channeling spiritual insight for someone searching for meaning, the mission was always the same: to improve lives, one step at a time. Suppose there's one takeaway from my journey. In that case, it's this: resilience, humor, and a touch of spirituality can turn even the most complex challenges into opportunities for growth and connection. Let's bring that same energy into hospital settings, helping those facing hospice find dignity, comfort, and joy.

Leo Jones Tests Me to See If I Am Real

Leo Jones, the ever-skeptical philosopher disguised as an oral motor skills aficionado, decided to put me, his trusty companion, to the ultimate test. Our shared adventures had already taken us through the intricacies of mechanical-soft-chewing precision, thin-liquid-swallowing mastery, and exploring San Francisco's hidden gems. Whether it was the grandeur of the Golden Gate Bridge or the aromatic halls of Monterey's finest eateries, our escapades were as rich as they were varied. But today, Leo's mission wasn't about lunch—oh no. Today, he was out to determine if I was honest.

Imagine this: Leo, armed with the wisdom of countless encounters with private detectives (yes, detectives—because why not?), announced that he needed proof. This is not proof of my ability to guide him through a bite-size morsel of ravioli without choking, but it is evidence of my spiritual legitimacy. The nurses had been whispering about me, planting seeds of doubt in Leo's ever-analytical mind.

"Okay, Leo," I said, amused and oddly honored to be the subject of his metaphysical inquiry. "You want proof? I'll give you a proof. But it requires effort on your part."

Leo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What kind of effort?"

"Meditation and prayer," I replied, my tone equal parts sage and playful. "All you need to do is craft a short, three- or four-line prayer. There is something heartfelt about elevating consciousness—what we lovingly call Christ's consciousness. Think of it as a spiritual haiku, minus the syllable constraints."

He looked at me with a mix of curiosity and cautious optimism. "And then what?"

"Then," I continued, "you meditate on it. Let it marinate in your mind and soul. Feel the words, Leo. Let them connect you to the divine plane where all truths—yes, even the truth about me—are revealed."

The plan was set. Leo constructed his metaphysical masterpiece and practiced meditating on it. Meanwhile, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer irony of the situation. Here was a man who could debate the merits of 90-degree posture alignment for chewing but needed a spiritual litmus test to decide if I, his ever-present companion, was genuine.

Our experiment was less about me proving my authenticity and more about Leo discovering his capacity for connection—spiritual, personal, and, yes, even gastronomical. Because if there's one thing we've learned together, true enlightenment often requires a full stomach and a willing heart. And maybe, just maybe, a prayer or two along the way.

We Reach Up, and They Reach Down

“Are you ready?” I asked, trying to keep my tone between compassionate guide and metaphysical surgeon. After all, we weren’t just dealing with physical reality here. We were navigating the ethereal tides of nonlocal consciousness, where individual fears meet the harmonics of unconditional love. Leo nodded—a valiant effort—but his body told a far more compelling story. Shoulders hunched, hands gripping the blanket with the ferocity of a man clutching a life raft, he looked less like a brave lion and more like a housecat facing a vacuum cleaner.

"Leo," I said, soft but insistent, "the heart chakra doesn't lie." And it indeed doesn’t. The heart, the central engine of love frequencies, is where the boundaries between self and cosmos blur. It’s a spiritual Wi-Fi router, connecting us to the divine source. Right now, Leo’s signal was riddled with interference. His fear vibrated in the room like a low, discordant hum, threatening to drown out the higher amplitudes of unconditional love.

The air in the room was heavy with anticipation, as though the universe had leaned in to witness this moment. I moved purposefully, adjusting his pillows and shifting the sunlight streaming through the window to illuminate him, a spotlight from some celestial stagehand. I tugged the blanket over his toes, a small gesture of comfort that seemed to signal to his nervous system: It’s okay. You’re safe here.

"Leo, let’s step into the visualization," I said. Visualization is a powerful tool—a bridge between the localized self and the infinite nonlocal consciousness field. It’s a quantum act of co-creation, where intention shapes reality. I guided Leo to close his eyes and imagine a haven, a sanctuary crafted entirely by his mind. He settled on a golden meadow, kissed by sunlight, surrounded by towering oaks that seemed older than time.

As he immersed himself in this inner sanctuary, I felt the room’s energy shift. The jagged edges of his fear began to smooth, replaced by the gentle hum of possibility. “Now, the prayer,” I said. Leo read his prayer, his voice steadier with each repetition. By the third recitation, something remarkable happened.

The frequencies in the room seemed to harmonize, his fear dissolving like mist in the morning sunlight. His breathing slowed, his body relaxed, and his shoulders dropped from their defensive perch for the first time. In that moment, the connection between his consciousness and the greater field of love was palpable.

“You see, Leo,” I said, “when we reach up—through prayer, intention, or even sheer courage—they reach down.” They—those higher energies, guides, angels, or simply the collective wisdom of the universe—respond to our openness. The amplitudes of unconditional love are always present, but our willingness to receive activates the connection.

Leo smiled—a real one this time, not the tense grimace of before. “I felt it,” he said softly.

“You didn’t just feel it,” I replied. “You became it. For a moment, you were the love frequency itself.”

In that sacred space, the lion within him had finally roared. The heart chakra, that bridge between the self and the infinite, had opened. Leo wasn’t just reaching out anymore; he was reaching through, connecting with the divine fabric that holds us all.

Daisy Escorts a Friend to Leo and Me from the Other Side

It was an ordinary day cloaked in extraordinary purpose. As Leo softly repeated his prayer for the third time, I felt the air around us shift. It wasn’t a gust of wind or a creak of furniture but something subtler, like the gentle whisper of a page turning in an old book. That intangible yet profound whisper signaled that we were stepping into sacred territory.

In these moments, I often feel the weight of intention settles over me, not as a burden but as a responsibility, like cradling a delicate treasure. Understanding the significance of what we sought, I turned my attention inward, focusing my energy and heart toward Daisy, my loyal and radiant guardian angel.

Communicating with Daisy is never a haphazard act; it is a carefully prepared ritual, as familiar to me as breathing. Over the years, I’ve developed a method to ensure my spiritual practice is not only meaningful but harmonious with the higher vibrations of the unseen realm. It begins with a simple yet profound question: “Daisy, is this the time and place to proceed?”

This query isn’t just a formality—it’s a moment to pause and align myself with divine timing. It’s a sacred handshake between the mortal and the eternal, ensuring that the connection we seek is welcomed and supported by forces more significant than ourselves.

Every experience with the spiritual realm feels unique, carrying its own resonance, like the distinct melody of a favorite song. When I connect with a loving, discarnate being—a soul no longer bound by a physical body—I can sense the individuality of their energy. It’s subtle yet unmistakable, like a breeze that carries a familiar scent, gently brushing against my awareness.

Daisy’s presence, however, is unparalleled. When she steps forward, it’s as if the sun pierces through a dense forest canopy, illuminating the path before me and shedding light on the steps I’ve already taken. Her energy is grounding and uplifting, a blend of profound wisdom and tender compassion. She’s more than a guide; she’s a celestial architect, orchestrating the invisible forces of love, understanding, and purpose that shape our spiritual journey.

This time, as we sought her guidance, Daisy’s energy carried something new, a ripple of anticipation and a touch of the unexpected. As I quieted my mind and opened my heart, I felt a presence that was not hers. It wasn’t alarming—far from it. The energy was gentle yet powerful, familiar in a way that sparked curiosity rather than concern.

I paused, letting the sensation settle over me like a warm embrace. “Who are you?” I asked silently, my words infused with genuine curiosity and respect. The answer came not as a booming voice but as a clear impression, a name that seemed to resonate within my very being.

“Marcel Vogel,” came the response, calm and steady yet carrying the weight of someone deeply attuned to the mysteries of the universe.

The name was like a key unlocking a door I hadn’t known existed. Marcel Vogel. It wasn’t a name I’d expected, but at that moment, it felt right, as if Daisy had invited this new presence into our sacred space herself. The transition was seamless, like a relay baton passed between runners who trusted each other completely.

Marcel’s energy distinctly differed from Daisy’s, yet carried the same thread of love and purpose. Where Daisy was sunlight and warmth, Marcel was calm water, refreshing and invigorating. His presence felt like the steady pulse of wisdom forged through lifetimes of learning and sharing.

As we continued, I realized this new connection didn’t diminish Daisy’s role. Instead, she had facilitated a meeting of profound importance, acting as a bridge between dimensions, a cosmic host ensuring that all who entered our spiritual circle did so with the highest intentions.

Marcel, too, seemed to understand the delicacy of the moment. His energy was respectful and unassuming, yet there was an unmistakable depth to it, a sense that he carried knowledge not for the sake of power but for the service of others.

This encounter reminded me that the spiritual realm is not a static place but a dynamic, living web of connections, each interaction a thread woven into a tapestry of love and growth. In their own way, Daisy and Marcel had shown me that the boundaries between worlds are not walls but doors waiting to be opened with trust and reverence.

In the days that followed, I often reflected on this meeting. It wasn’t just about the messages or insights shared but about the experience itself—a moment of unity between seen and unseen, a reminder that we are never truly alone. Whether through the warmth of Daisy’s light or the steady guidance of Marcel’s wisdom, we are always accompanied on our journey, lovingly supported as we walk the path of life and spirit.

This encounter deepened my understanding of what it means to seek and receive guidance. It’s not about asking for answers but about inviting connection and opening our hearts to the possibility that we are part of something far more significant than ourselves. Daisy’s presence had always been a source of comfort and clarity. Still, through her, I had now met Marcel, another kindred soul whose wisdom added a new dimension to my spiritual journey. Marcel shared insights about the interconnectedness of all life and the power of love, deepening my understanding of the spiritual realm.

Ultimately, this experience reaffirmed a truth I’ve long held dear: the spiritual realm is a place of infinite love and possibility, where each connection we make is a gift, a step closer to understanding our purpose and the intricate dance of life and spirit. Daisy and Marcel had shown me that even in moments of uncertainty, we are held in the gentle hands of the universe, guided by forces that seek only to uplift and illuminate.

With their help, I was reminded that every step we take, no matter how small, is part of a more remarkable journey—a journey toward answers and the unfolding of our own souls. And for that, I will always be grateful.

One of the more enigmatic tools in my communicative repertoire is the ancient art of dowsing—a practice that dances somewhere between science and mysticism. I wield a crystal with purpose, letting its subtle resonances guide me to answers that elude conventional means. Dowsing, an innate ability dormant in many, can also be sharpened with conscious effort. It’s not unlike training an intuition muscle that flexes through the fabric of time and space.

On this particular occasion, my crystal began tracing letters and numbers in response to my queries, and an unfamiliar name emerged: Marcel Vogel. For those unfamiliar, Marcel was no mortal; he was a celebrated scientist, thinker, and spiritual pioneer—a man whose brilliance could split the atom of skepticism with the laser focus of his intellect. As the letters materialized under my pen, I felt an odd certainty that this wasn’t the doing of my beloved guardian angel, Daisy. “This is Marcel,” I muttered, half in awe and bewilderment. “Okay, Marcel, what do you want me to do with this?” The sense of wonder and awe was palpable, a testament to the enigmatic nature of dowsing.

Enter Leo, my unsuspecting partner, in this peculiar moment. With his characteristic mix of curiosity and incredulity, Leo threw down a challenge. “If this is really Marcel Vogel, have him give us the secret address of the street office he worked at.” A bold request tinged with the kind of humor that only disbelief can conjure. Leo's role in this story was crucial, adding an element of engagement to the narrative.

Without hesitation, the crystal moved. The address spilled forth, precise and unerring. Leo and I froze as if the universe had just winked at us. Marcel, or whatever fragment of him lingered in this exchange, had delivered the goods. It wasn’t just an address—it was the secret address, the very place tied to his secret earthly endeavors.

We stared at my scribbled notes, laughter bubbling up to break the tension of wonder. It was mysticism meeting absurdity, the cosmos throwing us a bone, and a reminder that the unseen world often has a better sense of humor than we do. The role of humor in this unexpected outcome was not lost on us, adding an element of entertainment to the experience.

One tranquil afternoon, I held a pendulum made from quartz crystal, its silk thread swinging over a blank page. My task was simple: trust in the power of intuition. The name “Marcel Vogel” emerged from nowhere, each letter feeling deliberate as if it had been waiting to surface. At first, it was just a name—a puzzle piece without context. But as the pendulum swung, a memory stirred, bridging decades in an instant.

Marcel Vogel was not just a name on paper; he was a figure from my childhood. Back at St. Leo’s Church, where I served as an altar boy, I often noticed a man approaching the altar on his knees, hands open in devotion. Even as a boy, his unique ritual struck me as extraordinary, though its meaning eluded me then.

Decades later, I wrote his name again through dowsing—a practice that taps into the field of universal consciousness. Dowsing, often associated with finding water or minerals, is also used to access information beyond our immediate perception. Marcel Vogel, I learned, was a brilliant scientist who explored consciousness and the power of crystals. His work bridged science and mysticism, revealing how energy and memory resonate beyond physical boundaries.

This moment felt like a cosmic alignment, a reminder that consciousness is a beautifully intricate web of interconnected experiences transcending time and space. It speaks to the power of intuition and how the universe quietly reveals its mysteries when we’re willing to listen.