I debated with myself whether to write this entry, being reflective rather than an announcement of any kind. I suppose, if one is ever to write a reflective entry, it would be on New Year's Day. Here, it snowed overnight but then rained, so it's just slushy. Nothing is open; I have no family or friends here; and my cherished, 17-year-old cat is slowly dying of a colon tumor. No-one takes my work seriously, except for one internet radio show, which interviewed me a few days ago. Currently, their most recently-posted show is with the director of the "soulphone," under the supervision of Dr. Gary Schwartz. So I appear to be an obscure madman in good company (take that any way you want to).
This is a difficult time for me, but I won't belabor that personal aspect, here. Abby is with me in spirit, more strongly felt and "heard" than usual. I'm taking five days off work and lightening my work load, despite concerns about finances. I'm keeping busy with chores, and, at Abby's suggestion via prompting, I'm journaling privately whenever I feel like it. We practice piano; I take walks; and primarily, I am here to make my cat, Gwendolyn's, last days or weeks as comfortable and full of love and support, as possible.
In the radio interview with Graham Hancock I listened to recently, he was enthusiastically championing psychedelic drugs. The interviewer vainly attempted to sound a cautionary note. In the interview with the director of the soulphone project, the interviewer sounded a note of caution as regards people becoming too dependent on such a device (as, for example, Mary Todd Lincoln is said to have done with a resident medium, contacting her late son frequently). And in my interview, I was asked how finding my own past life had affected me, personally. I honestly replied that on the emotional level, it had complicated things for me--that issues I thought I had resolved in myself long ago, were coming up again, and that my past-life emotions were bleeding through to my present life. I said that it had given me a great deal of insight, but that because of the emotional effects, I wouldn't recommend it for everyone. She asked about my method, and I explained it briefly, referring the listeners to my article on that subject.
All this to say, that I wonder whether it would be too dangerous to release the information to the public, now. There is bound to be some collateral damage; but everyone backing me in the astral world, unseen, no-doubt wants to keep this to a minimum--and that, in turn, would be chiefly a matter of timing. I am not so reckless as Dr. Hancock is; but still, my study might inspire others less spiritually mature to replicate my results with their own self-study.
My own impatience would have to be set aside in such a case. But the work will have to be preserved; and as I sit here, today, I don't see a way to accomplish that.
I have also decided that it is useless to contact experts, i.e., either in the realm of literature, or of paranormal studies. Either I am deflected by their secretary; or else, if I get through to them directly, they don't believe me, and hence don't understand the importance and legitimacy of my work. My conclusion is that the only viable way forward is to let them discover me, on their own. If they initiate the contact, then I may have their ear long enough to explain it to them. I can't confront them with a pithy barrage in a query letter. Likely, if the letter were long enough to make a few necessary points, they wouldn't even read down far enough to get to those points. I think there are people who will be shocked to see what they so blithely dismissed--but it is predictable. "Who wooda thunk it"? Meaning, who would have thought I was actually legitimate...
I have become aware of a fellow, connected with my own spiritual path, whom I suspect of being the reincarnation of Nathaniel Hawthorne. He's an author and a poet, and his appearance would fit within the expected 85% similarity. Mathew Franklin Whittier, my 19th century self, appears to have visited him in Concord on at least one occasion (probably more, by the sound of the reference). I have told him of my speculations. He isn't convinced, but keeps an open mind. It doesn't seem to concern him much, one way or the other. He had read something of Hawthorne's, and thought it wordier than his own style (this, presumably, by way of skepticism). I told him that the style Mathew preferred, for poetry, seems to have been specific to his earthly personality, and isn't something I would naturally gravitate to, today. I sent him one of the best examples. He said he didn't have time now, but would get around to reading it.
Do you know when a person says they'll get around to something, and you immediately sense that they never will?* I got that distinct impression, here. Something else was at work. He has no intentions of ever reading that poem. In fact, I think he almost deliberately, as it seems, mis-remembered it as John Greenleaf Whittier's poem, not Mathew's. In other words, something is actually blocking his receptivity, beyond the normal operations of his intellect. Something is telling him, "Don't pay attention to this. Don't focus on it. Don't read it. Don't remember the name, 'Mathew Franklin Whittier.'"
One is tempted to force the issue, but I won't. One must try to respect these things. They are probably happening for some reason.
I have proven my past life as Mathew Franklin Whittier. I've proven that he published upwards of 1,500 pieces (and not just any old pieces!), from age 14, in 1827, to his death, in 1883. I usually say 1875, but I remembered, this morning, that I have one article which a co-worker published for him--under the man's own name--which Mathew must have written the year before his death, in 1882. There are clear indications that it's Mathew's writing. So I have all that--digitized, and in many cases, photographed and/or physically archived. I can prove, to varying degrees of certainty, that Mathew and his first wife, Abby, were plagiarized by--or that their work was claimed by, or for--some 15 or 16 different writers. I can come very close to proving that they were the real, original authors of "A Christmas Carol"; and I can outright prove that Mathew was the original author of "The Raven."
I can prove that Mathew's higher mind, and mine, are essentially the same. My proof is that I have countless essays and travelogues written by Mathew, and I can compare them in detail to my own writings, including writings dated from before I discovered Mathew's existence in the historical record. And the point-for-point comparisons are very, very tight and specific, as I have demonstrated in this blog. But I just gave one example--they are legion.
I can prove that Mathew's emotions bleed through to my own emotions, subconsciously. And I can show that his physical visage, and his physical personality, were approximately 85% similar. I can also absolutely prove that the case is genuine, with a handful of strongly veridical memories, and about 90 impressions which range from plausible to nearly definite. Finally, I can show that the cryptomnesia, or false memory, objection is soundly defeated in my study--as much so, as with Dr. Ian Stevenson's work with young children.
Having re-established my marriage with my soul-mate, Abby, across the Great Divide, is a whole other realm of success. Dr. Schwartz wants to create the phone that Thomas Edison was working on before his death; and he has explored collaboration with people in the astral realm. But Abby and I have been collaborating for years, using "yes and no" communication, signs and telepathy based on learning to receive Abby's "thought-bursts." My work would not have a fraction of its power without her contribution (just as "A Christmas Carol" wouldn't have had a fraction of its power without her contribution). They claim to have achieved "yes and no"-style communication with 90% accuracy. Abby and I had that nine years ago; and I've been channeling her public journal for years. One friend had a visitation dream from Abby, early-on, which convinced her that Abby is real. When we first got together, Abby gave me one visitation dream. I objectively proved it was real--perhaps the first time that has ever been done--by downloading 13 portraits which looked like her in some respect or other, before I knew what she looked like. After I identified her historical portrait, I was able to compare it with the downloaded images, and the similarities are far beyond chance. So I was able to validate the objective reality of visitation dreams. (That's presented in my first book.)
All this, and I can't get a single expert or leader in either field to give me the time of day.
This is nothing short of bizarre. I have told you that when I got into an online forum of academics, who were specifically debating whether anyone besides Edgar Allan Poe could have written "The Raven," they blew me off. The beginnings of my attempt to explain my evidence, have been frozen into a "chat room" which nobody ever went to, and which has been disabled due to lack of interest.
I am similarly frozen out by every expert I have attempted to contact--some politely, some less so.
But the work is done. It only takes one prominent person to recognize that this is real work, and not delusional megalomania or fond imagination.
So that's the retrospective. As far as the personal side, I feel "at sea" at the present time. I was very strong and clear in the interview--I'm good with interviews. It would take more practice and exposure to remember how to give talks to a group. I'm not even sure I'm up to that traveling lifestyle, right now. I'm struggling with insomnia, which Mathew also struggled with. I think I understand why. Mathew remained in terrible grief for Abby all his life. He already had insomnia, and "dyspepsia," but these increased exponentially after her death. What he did, I gather, was to stay up late and read or write, compulsively**; either that, or take late-night walks. He worked two or three jobs; or, he traveled, so that he was often on trains. When he tried to adopt a normal day job, he couldn't sleep in the city, and had to go to a house on or near an island off Portland (this, from his biography).
Now, I am struggling with the same habits, which are subconsciously bleeding through because of my immersion in Mathew's life, and in his writings. If I can't sleep, I can't manage a traveling, speaking lifestyle without my health breaking down. The whole thing is far worse, at the moment, because my cat's impending death is reawakening Mathew's feelings regarding Abby's death, as well as the death of their infant daughter which occurred two weeks before her death. If I stand at my front window, here, I can see a gap between two buildings where that occurred. So in a sense, I have placed myself in emotional harm's way, by coming here.
And my mental health is pretty solid. Should a person with shaky mental health attempt this, and get real results--because my method can yield real results--they might not be able to maintain their emotional equilibrium. There might be casualties.
I don't know whether this is why every single expert I've attempted to contact has turned a deaf ear. But then, that begs the question of why one radio show becomes the glaring exception. I was ignored by about 15 radio shows, which I approached a few months back. One said "middle of next year." Another fellow, who has interviewed a lot of big names in the paranormal field, was interested, and said his co-host (his wife) would contact me--but she never did. I didn't press the matter. Had I made enough of an impression, he would have asked his wife about it. My guess is that she, being Indian, recognized my Guru, and disapproves of him. And that she nixed the interview.
So why did this one show accept me--and moreover, why did the host ask precisely the best questions, so that I was really able to present my work in depth? Why just this one?
Maybe hardly anyone will listen to it, but it will be preserved, along with the rest of my legacy and Mathew's legacy, for the future. That way, people will know what they missed.
I won't wish anyone Happy New Year. Year 2019 will be precisely what it is fated to be, for each of us.
I'm leaving in the same theme music as I used for the previous entry, not as an oversight, but because it seems apropos.
Incidentally, almost everyone I've contacted, or tried to contact, has "gone commercial." You know the marketing methods, I won't describe them, here. Only a very few have eschewed them. I refuse to use them, just as Mathew refused them, in the era when they were being developed. People will have to recognize what I'm doing with their own powers of discernment. There is no flash, pizzazz, third-person superlatives, or calls to action. I proved my own past life, who turns out to have been a significant, hidden literary figure of the 19th century; I found my soul-mate from that life, still waiting for me in the astral realm, and we have re-established our relationship, with communication; I was the first to discover and present Jeff Keene's case; I was the first to film an interview with a man (Jeff) seated before his own past-life grave; I may be the first to ever objectively validate visitation dreams (there may be other instances, but I can't recall having read of any). I was the real past-life co-author of "A Christmas Carol," which I can come very close to proving; I was the original author of "The Raven," which I can prove outright. You will not see these things splashed with gaudy graphics on my website, or my letterhead (if I had letterhead), or my business cards (if I had business cards,) or on anything else. Any one of these should insure, if not fame, at least that I could fill a small auditorium. But it is too much, isn't it? I've achieved too much.
Stephen Sakellarios, M.S.
*We had been messenging back and forth about MFW, etc., and I had offered, "I can send you some of his writings, if you'd like to see them." He responded, "Sure," and stupid me, I took that literally and sent him one. "Sure" translates to "I don't really want to see it but I'm trying not to insult you." He wasn't consciously trying to fool me--it's more like he was fooling himself, I would say.
**As with many other examples, where you see this depicted in the opening lines of "The Raven," it is near-literal autobiography. Poe would have us believe, in his bullshit-laden "Essay on Composition," that he thought out all these details as literary contrivances. Actually, Mathew was writing about 95% from his own personal experience, including, as I gather, owning an actual miniature bust of Pallas, which he probably kept over his chamber door as a symbol of Abby's guiding wisdom, symbolically guarding the door to his mind like a personal Palladium. There is a reference in B.P. Shillaber's "Blifkins the Martyr" series--loosely based on Mathew's disastrous second, arranged marriage--of him trying to telepathically communicate with Abby (i.e., the "Widow Thompson") through the bust of Pallas over the chamber door. Mathew may have daily visited the famous statue of the "Greek Slave" where it was on display in New York City, for the same reason. I could keep on writing this footnote for several pages, because the back-story is so deep. The "bust of Pallas" comes originally from Herculaneum, which fascinated Mathew. Copies were actually available. That bust looks somewhat similar to Abby's portrait (as Shillaber also says "Blifkins" told him regarding the bust and the "Widow Thompson"). The "Greek Slave" likewise looks similar to Abby. Mathew appears to have given away Abby's portrait shortly after her death; but in the years following, he would be powerfully drawn to portraits and sculptures which looked like her.
Music opening this page, "All About You," by Eric Johnson,
from the album, "Venus Isle"