Enlighten Me Free


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Who's Your Daddy?

Happy Fathers Day to all us fathers.

years ago I was bantering with ex-members of the I AM and CUT. Guy Ballard (died 1939) was called Beloved Daddy and Daddy Ballard by members (Edna B was Beloved Mama). I had the temerity to imagine Ballard on stage in one of his allwhite formals posing with his right palm out saying "Who's yer daddy?"

Images of God the Father are ingrained in western judeo-christian culture and calling God 'Adonai' or papa as Jesus did is part of that tradition.

I have come to see that ramtha and all the channeled gods (male) tend to replace every seeker's need for reparenting, for replacing our flawed biological dads with a possibility of intimate relationships with perfected heavenly fathers.

Whether some discarnate spirit is playing us or not is another question but we all get tapped in our conditioned urge for reparenting, to find someone that will finish the job for us, so to speak.

To me it is normal to replace our fathers with our heroes. Fathers cannot be authoritative in everything. Young scientists turn to Darwin or Oppenheimer perhaps. But heroes are not like the pseudo-perfected ramthas whose grandiose scheme is to trump all the heroes in our lives----all other heroes diminish in an RSE student's mind. What a shame.

Here's to all the flawed but good dads and heroes!

Re: Who's Your Daddy?

Wow did you ever hit the nail on the head , and not just for people in RSE , but for everyone that has ever deeply hungered for that perfect all knowing spiritual teacher . Thanks so much for sharing that !

Re: Who's Your Daddy?

it never occurred to me about "re-parenting."
Fortunately, my father was the best father/provider one could ever ask for.
Several years ago, I was housesitting for a fellow RSE student when I was overcome with the urge to call my parents (prime time no less) and thank them for what a wonderful life I had with them as I had noted that alot of RSE students had come from just horrible
familial circumstances. I had felt truly blessed with
having been given the gift of travel ( my father used to say that NO ONE could take those experiences away from me) and a very sound education.
So I tell my mom how grateful I am; she puts me on the phone with my father. I tell him how thankful I am and my mother grabs the phone in a very odd tone of voice and sais," I need to go. I will call you shortly." My mother hangs up.
My father had a stroke while I was on the phone with him and is now in a coma.
My brother calls to send me a plane ticket ( as of course, being in RSE, I had no spare money for such
an urgent situation).
I land across the country several hours later.
My brother picks me up at the airport and takes me to the hospital.
I get there about midnight.
Only my mother and brother remain as all other friends and relatives have gone home for the evening.
My mother asks me if I would like to have some time
with dad. I say, "sure."
(as a side note, I had no emotional upheavals the entire time).
I sit with my dad, who is still in a coma.
I feel at peace with him and our relationship.
10 minutes elapse and a transparent, whitish whisp of a vapor comes out of his mouth, floats to the ceiling,
my father's body lets out a gasp and the nurse races in trying to resucitate the body and declares him

I was never so grateful for such a loving father and
I was SURE he waited for me to see him.
Thank God for my father.