Covid Confessions & A Plea for Love

In the Winter of Corona, I got jacked up on fight-or-flight fear — not because my awakening equanimity was weak, but because the echoes of living through a pandemic were strong.

Believe it or not, I’d lived through the black plague as another iteration of my eternal self, and as a young child had a mysterious phobia about two things; radiation, and contagion. In later years, this lead to reading dozens of books of survivor tales from Hiroshima, and historical accounts of the bubonic epidemic that ravaged Europe in the middle ages, along with the Spanish flu that tore across the globe in 1918.

You could stay, I had a pre-occupation with apocalyptic pandemics.

This also meant that in 2020, I tracked the Wuhan story from mid-January onward and the dread in my bones told me that a global pandemic was inevitable. Add to that, in the summer of 2019 I had channeled a book in which one of the chapters addresses a coming near-future pandemic. (The Coming Age of Miracles, to be published this Fall).

Being the good citizen, I’d sounded a “here comes a pandemic alarm” on Facebook on January 24th, and was dismissed by many as a “fear–monger.” Soon after, I stocked my apartment with hand sanitizer, toilet paper and $600 worth of Costco food staples. I’d even nabbed five boxes of N-95 masks, the last in a hardware store, in late February because I’d done my research and knew already the virus was aerosol transmissible not just a droplet contagion. (I mailed one box to a friend in Maryland, one to each of my two children, one to my sister in Ohio, and the last box for me. In a pandemic, I share the survival loot. )

Seeing around the bend is my norm. I have often seen the future accurately for others, and parlayed this ability into a full time career as a professional clairvoyant in my thirties. I’d dreamed of 911 in the months before, replete with quaking on-fire trade towers, foresaw my father and mother’s sudden deaths, had precognitions of major airplane crashes and more.

I was used to knowing where things were going and just dealing with it.

But this Covid virus was different. This was me in an uncontrollable low grade panic with bouts of “the sky is falling” doom. It wasn’t until two things happened that this shifted.

One, I reached out in late March to a friend who is a professional healer. In one hour long zoom session, with effortless mastery and laser insight, Haumea de-escalated the past life overlay instantly. The fear ceased at once, never to return.

Two, I got Covid. (Or I am 90 percent certain I did).

This is where things get interesting, if not tricky. You see, on February 28th I left my apartment in Montreal, a city yet to become contagion central, in a province that at that time had by far the fewest reported COVID cases in Canada. But I had a bad feeling about the trajectory of Montreal, which now accounts, with the province, for over half of all cases in Canada.

With this daunting hunch, I left the city for the small Northern Ontario town where I grew up, in the very family home where I agonized as a child about radiation and contagion. Turned out that this was not necessarily safe by virtue of being remote.

First, there was the infamous early March prospectors conference in Toronto, a super spreader event attended by a colleague of of my brother in law (who I was staying with, along with my sister).

Next, a neighbouring town got hit hard by Covid because of an ill-timed funeral with a huge Covid blast radius. Given this town was a supplier of day labour for the mines here, it seems as if the landing of this dreaded virus in the town was inescapable. (There are currently 12 official positive cases in a district of about 32,000).

While my sister, brother-in-law and me are all pretty sure that the three-week illness we have had starting in late March was Covid, because none of us was sick enough to worry, we have not been tested.

In our quarantine together, we all had the same persistent and relapsing low grade symptoms: early on was the mild sore throat, fatigue, night sweats, headaches, throat tickle/clearing, light dry cough (like you are trying to clear your throat from dry air), some dizzy-ness and mild shortness of breath (when climbing stairs for instance) and mild to moderate body aches. Later, it becomes just a brain fog, tiredness and intermittent need to clear the throat, with occasional dry cough. It feels in essence, like you are perpetually run down.

We all had a mild illness. But we also all hit the vitamin C, D, and Zinc, oregano oil and more. I am still on 8 grams of C a day. None of us have serious underlying health issues (diabetes, hypertension, lung or kidney disease or are immune-compromised) and all of us are healthy no-processed, organic, non-GMO foods eaters.

The point is, the healing of my fear seems to have also ironically included getting the virus, the very thing I had so dreaded. When serology testing is available I will test positive for antibodies, of that I am certain. There has never been an illness in my experience with such a long persistent nagging recovery time. (Watch this interview with Chris Cuomo where he tells us that an expert SARS doctor who reached out to him to tell him that the symptoms can persist from 2 to 5 weeks).

This virus also leads to a deep introspection and lack of drive or motivation —it’s as if you are the cosmic couch potato taking notes from God.

Which leads me to the plea for love part of this post.

The acrimony and rancour going on right now in the public discourse, as people polarize into conspiracy theory camps versus the what you see is what you get crowd, is a distraction from what matters. Friendships are strained as the battle ground of who is right rages, and in the midst of it all, we seem to forget that no matter how this virus came to be, it is here now.

Most of us who get it (which eventually will be most all of us ) will be mildly ill, if not asymptomatic. Already a Stanford antibody study points to the truth that far more people have had Covid-19 than testing numbers show. A few will be moderately ill, and a smaller few will require hospitalization. At this juncture, the rally cry to “flatten the curve” is simply the call to do the compassionate thing by avoiding hospital surge and health care infrastructure overwhelm we saw happen in Wuhan and Italy. This is just what will occur when a highly contagious aerosol capable pathogen circulates in a population with zero herd immunity — the weakest are culled, and quickly.

The catastrophic impact to the economies of the world, while painful in the short term, is a long over due wake up call to the utter failure of the capitalist free market system to actually work. Locked up at home, people are starting to use solitude for self-inquiry. What do we actually want to do with our lives? Is the job we hate, worth dying for? Does the the mediocre grind to survive have an option called thrive?

Add to the self-reflection en-masse, we are all seeing the amazing stories of environmental bounce back, as clean air replaces polluted skies, a stark revealing of how our ravenous consumptive consumer global culture, driven by unsustainable fuel of economic growth, has failed us all.

The next phase for humanity, The Coming Age of Miracles, is truly upon us. A friend of mine, Karen McMullen channeled a book last summer called The Alchemy of Consciousness, in which a whole section is dedicated to what is called The Grand Reorganization. Visionaries, seers and prophets all point to the same narrative: we are on the cusp of something new, and the old is dying.

I wrote a poem in December, not knowing what I was writing about. Now, I believe it was a poem about this new threshold for humanity. I will end with that poem.

The Crossing

There comes a time in every life
Where, all at once, you arrive.

You stand at the vacant threshold
of your Being, on the doorstep
of an abandoned Truth — no steps
left to climb, no remnant journey
from there to here.

The arrival itself constellates
lifetimes, collapses every mortal
breath you have ever taken into the black hole
of this Precious Crossing.

Notice the door that greets you,
wide open, and beyond, a shimmering
void at once terrifying and irresistible.

This moment is that Crossing to the place
of your Being, the place where Miracles live.

Few will dare to cross, forgetfulness
a comfort of the dream of you.

Yet, this is the Crossing for which
you were born.

Will you come in?

I have been waiting an Eternity
to meet you.

God.


PS: If you are feeling anxious, my friend Haumea is offering $200 off a healing zoom session with her. The $99 WTF special, good til May 1, can be found HERE.

PPS: My friend Joe Rutland, who channels Jesus of Nazareth, is also sharing a huge discount on his Zoom sessions right now. People have raved that the have entered into deep peace, even grace, during and after these sessions. Find out more, HERE.

PPS: I am raising funds to help a friend of mine feed his family in the middle of this Covid lock down — he is laid off his job, lives in a small town in Uganda, and has no savings. His daughter is 7 months old and they are out of food. Click here to get a half price Burning Question reading with me, only $25. There are 22 spots available. All proceeds go to John and his family.




9 thoughts on “Covid Confessions & A Plea for Love

  1. Sheilaa Hite

    Hello, Lori. I just purchased the discounted Burning Question session and I want to donate additional money to your friend. Please tell me how to go about it. Thank you.

  2. Eugen

    Hi Lori, the link for the discounted Burning Question doesn’t seem to work. I would be happy to just donate the 25$ if possible. Thank you.

  3. donsalmon

    This is a wonderful post, honest and much needed.

    Last year, Jan (my wife) and I had planned to make a short animated video to a poem by Pablo Neruda.

    After Covid (isn’t “time” – whatever that is – divided now pre and post Covid!) it struck us that, although the poem was written more than 50 years ago, it’s almost as though Neruda was writing for our time:

    for once on the face of the earth…
    let’s stop for a second,
    and not move our arms so much.

    It would be an exotic moment
    without rush, without engines;
    we would all be together
    in a sudden strangeness.

    Here’s the video we put together for it:

    https://beyondthematrixnow.wordpress.com/keeping-quiet-by-pablo-neruda/

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