G. Michael Vasey's Blog: The Wacky World of Dr. Vasey, page 68

Unholy Vows

Is it possible to live

Without mistake?

Is it possible to be alive?

Live life for life’s sake?

Born to be a sinner

Growing to adulthood

Determined to be a winner

The downward spiral begins

It’s a fine line between

The losses, and those very precious wins

Temptation to tip the balance

Ever present in life

Increase the odds of a chance

To succeed

Sign here Sir

Your greed

Filled if you dare

The Devil has you now

No escape from hell

Made an unholy vow

Condemned

Dead already

My friend

Don’t make the same mistake

Strive, but learn

To be content for God’s sake

I have no escape

I must take my fall

Don’t leave it too late

Repent, repent

Time has a nasty habit

Passing fast and soon spent

My soul versus a feather

Weighed against

A decision as to whether

I am

To be

Free

Press Announcement

My Haunted Life, A Compendium of Strange, but True, Tales of the Paranormal is the new book from Czech Republic-based author G. Michael Vasey published by William Collins Publishing, London

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE / PRURGENT

Brno, November 10th, 2014, My Haunted Life, A Compendium of Strange, but True, Tales of the Paranormal is the new book from Czech Republic-based author G. Michael Vasey published by William Collins Publishing, London. The book features a number of strange events in the author’s early life including chilling meetings with ghosts, poltergeist activity, haunted locations and clothing and much, much, more. It is available in paperback and Kindle versions from all amazon websites and good bookstores.

“My childhood was a strange one. One of my first memories is of a little, blue man who emerged out of a mirror in my bedroom, shot me with a toy gun and then jumped out of the window into the backyard below. You might perhaps think that I imagined it, except for the fact that my parents actually heard the gunshot!” said G. Michael Vasey. “This book is a collection of events that happened to me. All are strange and all are true. When people say that “fact is stranger than fiction”– they weren’t joking.”

My Haunted Life follows on the success of his first novel – The Last Observer – published by Roundfire Books, a story of magic, the paranormal and the nature of reality that has received outstanding reviews. The follow up – The Lord of the Elements is planned for an eagerly anticipated 2015 release.

About G. Michael Vasey

With 14 books in print, G. Michael Vasey is an established author with notable contributions in poetry, metaphysics, and business. His first novel – The Last Observer (Roundfire 2013) – was published last year and is a thrilling cornucopia of mayhem, magic and murder.

A yorkshireman who has spent most of his adult life exiled to Texas and now the Czech Republic, G. Michael Vasey writes for a living as a leading analyst in the commodity trading and risk management industry. On the side, he writes poems, blogs, books on metaphysics and novels all with a theme of life and the nature of reality. Much of his inspiration comes from meditation and music.

G. Michael Vasey has appeared on radio shows such as Everyday Connection and X Radio with Rob McConnell, featured in Chat – Its Fate magazine and interviewed by Ghost Village and Novel Ideas amongst others. He also reviews books at Strange Book Reviews.

He is currently working on The Lord of the Elements – the prequel to The Last Observer – and another on the concept of the Fool in magic. His fifth poetry collection – Best Laid Plans and Other Strange Tails is now out.

http://www.garymvasey.com

Original is here.

Rigid Thinking

I read an article today on the BBC website (I googled paranormal else I never go to the BBC website). I was sad I read it really and it really doubled up my feeling that the BBC has some sort of agenda. It was an article about paranormal phenomena written by one David Robson. I suppose I should have realized what I was in for in reading the summary – In the 21st Century, why do so many people still believe in the paranormal? David Robson discovers that there’s good reason we hold superstitions – and a few surprising benefits..

I guess, what gets me is the premise that if something is labelled paranormal then its woo woo superstition! Is it just me whose brain suddenly kicks in with a thousand objections to what this writer says? Things like – Isn’t that what they said about a round Earth? Isn’t that what they said about the Earth orbiting the Sun? Has he actually read any physics at all? Has he ever read what Einstein wrote? I could go on but there is no point. Some people live in their safe little worlds and discount anything that doesn’t quite fit their physical materialistic views of the world as superstition. I don’t know why it makes me a little hot under the collar – its their loss, not mine. They will be the ones ridiculed in the future, not I.

The arrogance of this certainty is what gets to me. You meet people like this quite often. They are simply steadfast and certain in their views. Their minds are rigid and shaped by God know’s whatever experiences they have had out of life (and come to think of it, for them, God had NOTHING to do with it I am sure). It is intellectual stubbornness. They will cite science but if they were current with science they would know that is ridiculous except that they would call it pseudo-science because there is no room for argument with them at all. The funny thing is is that man evolved by experiencing and questioning – not by pretending to know it all.

More and more though, such views are being eroded. Eroded by science and experience. The bigger question is why the BBC supports publishes such authoritarian guff?

Anyway, I have had a few weird experiences myself. You can, if you insist, call it superstition and psychological, but those that do are denying themselves something very important. Their rigid view of the world creates a reality that reflects their beliefs right back at them – I think that is why sometimes, a doubter can actually stop a phenomenon from happening. Perhaps, it’s fear that stops these people from truly experiencing other worlds and dimensions, other ways of being, I don’t know, but I tell you this. If you open your eyes and allow yourself to look – it is a VERY magical place that we inhabit.

Creep Yourself Out!

My Haunted Life – it’ll creep you out and for just 99 cents on Kindle too or for free if you subscribe to Kindle Unlimited.

My childhood was a strange one. One of my first memories is of a little, blue man who emerged out of a mirror in my bedroom, shot me with a toy gun and then jumped out of the window into the backyard below. You might perhaps think that I imagined it, except for the fact that my parents actually heard the gunshot!

This book is a collection of events that happened to me. All are strange and all are true. When people say that “fact is stranger than fiction”– they weren’t joking.

Reviews…
5.0 out of 5 stars Spooky! 4 Nov 2014
By I love books
Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase

The author shares an intriguing collection of some of his own supernatural life experiences. Although the experiences are not sought after by the writer himself he clearly has a sixth sense and is able to unwillingly attract and acknowledge unexplainable phenomena. He offers no explanation for his ghostly encounters but presents his personal observations with humour and good reason. Thank you for sharing.




5.0 out of 5 stars Creepy, Fascinating and Truthful 2 Nov 2014
By Western Fanatic
Format:Kindle Edition

Fascinating little book from someone who has led an interesting life. “My Haunted Life” tells the story of G. Michael Vasey who has been fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to have had paranormal experiences. This is not particularly ‘sinister’ or ‘horrific.” It is a very matter-of-fact recount of strange events that have happened to him.

Mr Vasey strikes me as a guy with more stories to tell. I particularly enjoyed his experiences with a family bible given to his father. It just goes to show that items we inherit or become guardians of… Sometimes have more to share than we may believe. I will not be buying anything second hand again…

I hope the author writes a few more books about his experiences.

Buy it at any Amazon site – like here.

Hull, High Treason and Scrooge

I grew up in the city of Hull.  It was a grey sort of world back then in Hull in the 60’s and 70’s. The city was a grimy, working-class place replete with unrepaired war damage. Hull was I think the second most bombed city in England and it still showed. More than that, it was a back water. Cut off seemingly from the rest of the country both geographically and culturally. It is funny how you don’t see certain things until you go back to a place but Hull always seemed to be a good 6-months behind in terms of fashion and music back then. I will be honest. I didn’t like it and I resolved to escape from it as soon as possible. In time, I left and put over 6,000 miles between me and Hull.

These days, I look forward to going back. I have come to realize that Hull and its surroundings are really rather beautiful. In researching our family history, we discovered that our roots actually lie further north. My father’s family hailed from the village of Ebberston between Scarboro and York. The same research suggests that in the 16th Century, our ancestors lived and farmed the Yorkshire Moors not far from the radar installation at Fylingdales. We never could get further back than that, but in the 1590’s two Vasey brothers farmed at Fylingdales.

We did of course find a few interesting tales in our family History. There was one Matthew Vasey, a direct ancestor, who was held at York prison on a charge of High Treason in 1657. Here is the actual account:-

A stranger deposition is that which hints at the presence of Prince Charles in Yorkshire disguised, in 1657. Matthew Vasey meets a Mr. Anderson riding a fine horse, and asks him to give it King Charles, promising that it should be five hundred pounds in his way another day. And the said Vasey did tell this informant (Mr. Anderson) there were three men who came from Bridling ton-ward the other day, over about that place where his the said Vasey, his dwelling is, and one of these men was thought to bee King Charles, “the said men did lye down on a bedd there, and got some potchett eggs, and went before day northward upon horses, each of about ten pound price.”

In fact, there are multiple accounts of Matthew Vasey’s trial and they caused my Father and I quite a lot of laughs as Matthew was found not guilty on account of it being well known that he likes to tell – ‘tall tales’. Plainly, living in the age of Cromwell and talking of meeting Charles II was rather silly to say the least but Matthew was a character apparently.

Piecing together our family history was a shared project for us and one we very much enjoyed. The move to Hull turned out to have taken place in the 1930’s after the birth of my Father and was undoubtedly employment-related.

One of the funniest things though looking back, was the day we first visited the churchyard in Ebberston. Dad and I eagerly clambered over tombstones with notepads in hand while my Mother looked bored and a tad uncomfortable. Suddenly, I heard my Dad say quite loudly something along the lines of ‘Well, bugger me!”. This wasn’t like my father – he rarely swore. I found him looking at a particular tombstone. He looked pale and haggard. One look at that tombstone told me why. Written there was:-

Charles Neville Vasey

b. 15.8.1929

d. 12.1.1972

For my father, this must have been a ‘Scrooge-like’ moment. That was his name and his birth date…. but clearly not the date of his death. It was like seeing a ghost. His own.

Magic, Nirvana and Reality

I often think that the world looks like you expect it to.

If you believe the world a cruel place filled with hate then that is what it is and if conversely you see a paradise filled with beautiful people then that is what you get. The problem is that most of us run around thinking things more or less spontaneously. One minute the world is a cruel place full of hate and the next it can be a paradise filled with beautiful people. In other words, we continually run around in confusion sending mixed signals and, as a result, the reality that we create is, as we say in Yorkshire, ‘neither nowt nor summit’. We fail to to create with any consistency.

Magical training involves a lot of self examination and introspection, as well as a lot of thought discipline and control. It also aims to build and enhance the imagination. In essence, right there you have the keys to creating your reality. We must be consistent and willful in setting up what is it is that we want to create, we must remain disciplined and focused on that objective unwavering in its pursuit. We must also have the clarity of mind to stay focused and a powerful imagination to actually see and feel it around us. Finally, we must know ourselves and be in tune with our Higher Self in order to align what we think we want with what we actually need. If we can do all of this and do it willfully, purposely and yes, in love, I believe that we can and do create reality by magic (I am also pretty sure that one day, science will come to the same conclusions).

Before you discount me as a dreamer I want you to think about a few things that tend to suggest this really is how it works. First, psychological techniques proven to have an impact and used by sports people and others, use the concept of visualizing a result along with the bodily training to achieve that result. Athletes already use a form of this magic to achieve. I do think as well that people who are miraculously healed use magic to achieve their healing. They become so focused and so willful about their illness while constantly imagining being free of it that , in some instances, they achieve their objective.

When I read the new testament I am always also taken with how awake Jesus of the scriptures is. He is aware. Aware of himself, his thoughts, his mind and in tune with his Higher Self. His faith (will) and imaginative faculties are beyond, significantly beyond, that of those around him and he does create miracles – magic – through his mindfulness, his love and his will. This is something I have always believed and a reason why I do think that Jesus has a lot to teach budding magicians.

Every book that I have ever read about positive thinking and creating success. Hell, even that horrid little book called The Secret, they all teach aspects of this approach. Imagination, acting out, will, mindfulness, assuming it will happen, being grateful and thankful for it and so on. They use the same techniques, they use magic. Where they fall short in my opinion is that they forget to emphasize the knowing yourself part and, trust me, this is their weakness.

I also happen to think that aspects of quantum physics seem to be pointing in a similar direction. We create our own reality and if we just knew how to do it properly and if we could do it without ego, in love, that reality would be heaven on Earth. It would be Nirvana. But it would be our Nirvana as I also believe that each of us have the potential to create something slightly different – unique. It is this that divides us and separates us and yet it enriches us. It affords us an ability to co-create endlessly parallel worlds of Nirvanas.

The Power of Music

Music is very important to me. It is my healer, my inspiration and often, helps me get to places I otherwise wouldn’t. I write to music and with music. I work with music too. Music makes my soul soar to the heavens and back again. It also triggers memories as well as feelings and inspiration.

Just a couple of bars of a song and I can be transported across decades. There are songs from the 1960’s and late 50’s that instantly put me in a small front room in the house I was born in. I can see the valve radio sitting on a shelf with its complex mapping of wavelengths and stations across the front of it. I can see the large box-like TV with essentially curtains that could be closed and opened to display the screen. It sat on huge legs and when switched off, you could watch the dot for minutes afterwards. I can feel the atmosphere too – my mother invariably in the kitchen preparing dinner, lunch or a snack, the gloomy front room with its cacti growing in some rather strange wire-based stand, waiting for Top of the Pops…..

Some songs remind me of people – my Dad of course. If a song got under his skin he would whistle it in a strange little whistle between his teeth of click his tongue to make a drumming sound. I recall the day I played Hello by Status Quo in the front room on his stereo. He left the room in disgust but by gradually grew to like the Quo too and at his funeral, thats what they played him out with…

Right now I am listening to Bryan Adams and I am transported back to Wembley in 1992. It is me and my 5-year old son Paul patiently waiting through boring bands and music for the headliner Mr. Adams. Paul adored the song from the Robin Hood movie and the LP it came from. I recall we bought a tour T-shirt for him. It probably fits him now!

There is music that takes me to the edge of darkness and music that lets me explore the deepest recesses of my psyche. There is music that makes my heart ache for times gone by; people, places and good times. There is music that brings a lump to my throat and stinging tears to my eyes.

Not sure what I would do without music.

Believability versus Gullibility

Last night, I happened on a long discussion on Facebook and my eye caught a particular comment on the story. The comment was to the effect that whatever had been posted was not only ‘nonsense but dangerously misleading’ but that he doubted anyone would actually listen to him, an expert in the field. He went on to say that using his expertise in such conversations had already “cost him friendships”. Several others had then made similar comments about how as a vet his friends were often more liable to listen to their neighbor, the village gossip, or his receptionist, than him. This is something I have written about before yet feel strongly about.

The decline of the expert opinion and its believability parallels in many ways the decline in respect for experience and the aged. Instead, we appear to have become a society fed a constant diet of myth and half-baked theory because we are gullible enough to believe it. Once upon a time, society respected its elders. With many decades of life experience, we valued their wisdom gained over those years. Not any more. Old people are well, old, smelly, slow and stupid. Who wants to listen to them? Similarly, with expertise except in this case the expert is biased, bought and rigid in their thinking and not to be trusted.

The problem with this is, if I may be blunt, humanity is in decline going round and round in ever decreasing circles to destination stupidity. Once, many childhood diseases were largely a thing of the past, then someone with an agenda decided inoculation was responsible for a myriad of issues, out on social media it goes and now… all these terrible diseases are back and many parents will argue until their blue in the face that they read or heard that vaccinating your child is a bad thing to do. Even if their doctor tells them the opposite, they would rather believe what they read or their neighbor told them. They are being lied to and they believe it.

This is just one example there are many, many others.

Let’s be clear, I am not sanctioning belief for the sake of belief here. Asking questions is always good. Getting a good education around any issue that worries or interests you is also good but the source should count for something. People with years of experience and expertise through learning got their because they cared to. Their viewpoint is of more value than the blogger who writes with a lot of angst but no actual knowledge.

The Facebook post was about Ebola and an American who had been to Kenya who resigned her job as a teacher after facing a lot of parent pressure some of which verged on the side of hate mail and threats. You see, most of these parents had no idea how big Africa is and wouldn’t know that Kenya is nowhere near Liberia and Sierra Leone. She had been in Africa – that’s enough as Africa is where Ebola is. Actually, Kenya is 1.5 times the distance from Sierra Leone as New York is from LA. There was no risk of Ebola at all but someone started a social media campaign and this poor lady felt compelled to resign as a result.

Social media is a good thing in many respects but it is helping in a decline in critical thinking. Memes and stories get passed around and somehow people are gullible enough to believe the most ridiculous of stories. If an expert suggests that these stories are in fact nonsense, they are verbally insulted and bullied. We no longer value expertise that education brings nor the wisdom that comes with age. Instead, somehow we place more value of the crowd. That nebulous, often anonymous mass of people who have no expertise and little wisdom. Could it be that our ego wants us to believe that we really are experts and can make good decisions on everything? Do we dislike experts and expertise?

Would you really hire me to do your plumbing and not listen to me on matters involving geology?

If this trend continues there are troubled times ahead. Sheep are easy to manipulate. Critical thinkers are not.

Little Blue and Green Men

I had a good conversation by phone last night with my Mother. She was keen to know more about my new book – My Haunted Life - and it prompted a discussion of some of the events described in the book and in some articles on this blog. I thought I would pass them along because, if nothing else, they are intriguing.

In the advertising for the book, I claim that one of my first memories is of a little blue man jumping out of my mirror, shooting me, and then leaping from my bedroom window. My mother remembers this very well but she says it was a little green man not blue! She told me that she and Dad had more or less just gone to bed when they heard a gunshot. Dad leapt out of bed immediately and ran to my bedroom followed by my mother. I was only 3 or 4 years old and I was stood up in bed looking out the window when they arrived in my room. I told them that a little green man had jumped out of the mirror on the door of my wardrobe, shot me, and laughed before leaping out of the window into the yard below (through the glass window I might add). I was still looking out of the window when they came in.

What my Mother found strange was that I wasn’t frightened by this and told, them matter of factly (as if little green men were quite usual things) that I had no interest in sleeping with them, but insisted on staying in my own room. She told me that I seemed quite comfortable with the event. I have a vague memory of the event and could swear the man was smurf blue, but I was only 3 or 4, so I could be wrong.

She also recalled many other incidents including the one with the second hand jacket. Apparently, my parents visited me that weekend and my girlfriend told them offline about the incident including she says that the curtains in my room were all billowing horizontally into the room. She had been pretty scared by the event. My parents did reassure her….

That these sorts of things were quite normal around me!

You can buy My Haunted Life and all of my other books on Amazon.

Bonfire Night

The last Bonfire night I attended must now be what – 1991? Tonight, all across the UK, bonfires will be set, effigies burned and fireworks set off. People will have BBQ food perhaps or a special dinner. Families and friends will be together and hopefully, fun will be had by everyone. But not here. Not in Brno. Instead, I will be thinking back as I usually do to the bonfire nights of my past.

The ones that I recall most vividly were those on the damp banks of the River Humber with the local camping club. It would be the last outing of the year and the caravan would be hitched and the tents packed for a short haul down the M62 towards Goole. There, somewhere in the countryside – I do not recall where exactly – about 15 hardy families would convene on a farmers field and pitch up. A huge fire would be built by fathers and excited kids. Mothers prepared good things to eat. Later, the bags of fireworks would come out and an evening of fun would be had by all. No worries that it was bloody cold and damp. I slept buried in sleeping bags, blankets and clothes in my tent next to the Caravan with a full belly and memories of making fires and setting off bangers (and eating a few too!). Those were the days.

I think it is those memories that are behind my love for this time of year. The colors, the smell, the low hanging Sun. Fall or Autumn is beautiful and early November for me sort of marks the end of Fall as we slide into winter.

For me, November 5th was never about the history but about family and fun. A celebration of togetherness on the long winding road of a year heading towards its death. as a child, it was a pre-curser of Christmas which was now just weeks away. As for poor old Guy Fawkes and his conspiracy to blow up the Houses of Parliament? Did he really deserve to be burned in effigy thousands if not millions of times every year for centuries? Who knows, but one year soon, I will be present at a bonfire somewhere near the Humber once again….