The SEVEN STORMS BOOK - INTRODUCTION

THE SEVEN STORMS Book
(Working Title)
By Cindy Kubica

Hi Soul Gang,

Below is the introduction to the Seven Storms book I'm working on.  This introduces my anchor story which I will refer back to throughout the book (hence the name anchor story). 
Please let me know what you think by leaving your comments in our Common Room.

Be kind, of course, BUT be honest. These are the pages people read to decide if they want to read/buy the book. I need your help in making this the best it can be.

Thank you 💜🙏💜
Energy hug,

C 

Introduction

It all began with an unintended pony ride.

I was laying over my pony's back, brushing his underbelly when I heard the gunshot. It spooked Duke so thoroughly that he went from standing still to a full-out gallop in a nanosecond. Still draped over his back, I managed to grab his mane, and with all the might my skinny little 10-year-old body could muster, I pulled myself upright onto his back. There I was, barebacked, with only a bridle, heading for the woods, and all I could think about was how pissed dad was going to be. He warned us not to ride while he was hunting. I promise it was an unintended ride.

My sister, Becky was riding in the woods (intentionally). Her pony, Goldie, didn’t spook as easily as Duke. But when he went charging towards her, Goldie began to buck. Becky, more daring than me, jumped off, yelling for me to grab her reins. Duke suddenly veered to the right, thrusting his head downward and stopped abruptly—but I didn't. That is, not until I hit the big gnarly Oaktree.

An electrical shock coursed through my head, neck, and down my arms. I thought I landed on the electric fence, but later learned it wasn't on. Then, everything went black.

The next thing I knew, I was flying. I was able to open my eyes wide enough to witness my left arm flopping around like it was untethered. I don’t know who moved faster, Duke or Dad. He held me tight in his arms as he levitated through the air. I felt safe and drifted back into unconsciousness.

I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke, I was in my own bed with a full-length cast on my left arm. All I wanted to do was sleep, but Mom made me stay awake because I had a concussion. As far as my arm, the ball (humeral head) of my shoulder had a clean break all the way through. The weighted cast was simply to hold the ball in place so it could heal. That was 1967--before they started putting in pins and plates.

Two vertebrae in my neck were fractured along with nerve damage in my neck and left eye, but I wouldn't discover that until years later, after my third near-death experience.

A week or so later, I wiggled around in bed, trying to get comfortable. Finally, I started drifting off to sleep.  From the darkness, I heard someone say, "Do you know you can't see your own face?”

I laid very still thinking about what I just heard. With only the moonlight shining through my bedroom window, I moved my eyes around trying to see my face. I discovered that if I closed one eye, I could see the side of my nose, but not my whole face. For some reason, that realization freaked me out. I ran and got in bed with mom and dad, cuddling between them. To my memory, that was the only time I ever slept with them. Once again, I felt safe.

I realize now, that when I was young, I seldom felt safe. My older sister, Becky, was both a rebel and a bully—descriptions she proudly claims to this day—more on that later.

 The next night they made me sleep in my own bed. As I was drifting off to sleep, I heard that voice again, "Do you know you can't see your own face?"

I laid very still as I asked, "Who is this?"

"This is God."

"God? I can't talk to you, I'm Catholic, I have to pray to Mary; Mary goes to Jesus, and Jesus comes to you." 

"No, you can talk to me anytime,” God said. I am your friend and I'm with you always."

“You mean I don’t have to kneel?”

“No.”

“I don’t have to do the sign of the cross?”

“No, just talk.” 

"What do you mean by I can't see my own face", I asked.

"You can't”, said God, “Not without a mirror. But others can, and they'll know what's going on inside you. Your life isn’t going to be easy, Cindy, but find the wisdom and use it to help others."

As I look back on that time, there are three things I find interesting. First, I was never afraid of the disembodied voice, only the fact that I couldn't see my own face. Second, what God said that day demonstrated great wisdom, wisdom I'd revisit again and again throughout my life. And third, hearing voices, seeing visions, and knowing future events would become a normal part of my life.

Was this event actually a near-death experience (NDE)? Spirit says yes. I chose to come back because dad carrying me, and sleeping between mom and dad, no matter how brief, made me feel safe.

My First Vision

A few weeks after being thrown from my pony, I started having strange visions and dreams. I learned to pay special attention to the ones that are reoccurring.  As a professional speaker and talk show host, I’ve been sharing this one with my audiences for 30 plus years.

Join me in my Vision…

It’s daytime. Yet the dark sky makes it appear as though it’s night. The air is thick. I hear thunder all around me—or is it gunshots—maybe both. The silence between the distant sounds brought an eerie calm. It is during that calm that I hear people quietly crying as they struggle to breathe.

 There are cots with thousands and thousands of people lying on them for as far as I can see. I know they are dying; some are ready, some are scared, and others refuse to believe. Nurses, nuns, and doctors are talking to them, but they're hard to understand. There’s something covering their mouths. They are too busy to notice me, but I can see their eyes and know they are deeply distressed and exhausted.

Every now and then, one of the caregivers simply walks out of their body. They don’t even bother to turn and look at their discarded remains as they crumple to the ground. They just continue giving care as if nothing happened.

I see another group of caregivers; they seem to glow. I believe they are angels. Unlike the others, they are not wearing anything over their face. I can see their lips move as they talk softly to their patient.

Once someone’s strangled breath stops an Angel begins communicating to them without words. Their gentle smile comforts the newly freed soul, and they ascend hand in hand. The body that’s left on the cot is quickly wrapped and removed and someone else, struggling to breathe, takes their place. 

I see a flash of green out of the corner of my right eye just as someone hands me a stack of neatly folded green blankets. They are the softest I have ever felt. I think, “Army blankets?  So, this is what war looks like?!”

Someone asks me to hand out the blankets.  So, I do. Row after row, after row, I give out blankets, being waved to move on if the person in the cot no longer needs the warmth.  For those who do need them, the blankets seem to give them Hope. Oddly, I never run out of blankets.

Lightning flashes again, or maybe its bomb going off. The light reveals a dark figure being welcomed to some of the beds. It appears to be a man dressed in a long black coat, black pants, and black shoes. He looks like a shadow.

Over my shoulder, in a low voice, I hear, "Beware of the salesman in fine silks."

Every now and then he looks over his shoulder at me. I can’t quite see his face, but I feel his pull, and I know I could easily be drawn in by his mystique. I know he is both powerful and deadly and has something to do with the storms.

I know this man has been here since the beginning of time. I know I will have to dance with him during my life—I could even become him. He is the Dark Side of the Ego.

I quickly look away and continue to hand out blankets.

I realize now, it is both the dark and the light that create the lure of the storm.