by Bruce A. Smith
Taking the unfamiliar and unsolicited tabloid-sized newspaper out of my mail box, I skimmed through the first few pages until I hit an article about back-to-the-earth folks in Yelm, Washington. After reading their strident fanaticism regarding One World Orders and UFO conspiracies, I shoveled the paper into the waste-paper basket as if it was on fire.
“Christ,” I said out loud, “this newspaper’s a cult.”
Twenty minutes later, I dug it out of the basket. I was intrigued, pulled by an inner force to check it out again. With a strange calmness I smoothed the crumpled pages and turned to the front page.
Windwords proclaimed the masthead artfully, the lettering bordered by swirling clouds. Reading the main article titled, “The Nature of Reality,” I discovered this newspaper reported the latest spiritual teachings of a channeled fellow by the name of Ramtha.
Channeled…hmmm. Cool, I thought. Although I was no disciple of any guru, I had spent a lifetime floating comfortably in and out the New Age. I had read extensively, such as Edgar Cayce and the Seth books, and had two friends in Frenchtown, New Jersey who were top-notch palm readers and channelers. But I had never heard of Ramtha.
I liked Ramtha. He seemed to see the Big Picture in a way that made sense to me, like reincarnation and our journey to become God-Realized. When he started talking about earth changes my fascination ignited.
At the time, I was the owner of a commercial beachcleaning company based in Long Island, New York, and was becoming an environmental activist. Also, I had a close affinity with Native American traditions, particularly Sun Bear, and knew well of his earth-change prophecies.
I easily accepted Ramtha’s predictions of life ending as we know it because my professional labors taught me that the sea levels were rising, our climate was changing, and my local environment collapsing. I had witnessed a 90% decline in seaweed production in Long Island waters in the prior eight years, and nearly all shore life – especially the fish and clams – had declined decisively since I had been a kid swimming at the beaches I now cleaned. Ramtha validated all that I knew, and spoke with such an advanced insight that I knew he was legit.
I joyfully read the rest of the newspaper. Then, I put it away on a shelf.
A month later, a second issue showed up in my mail box. Hungrily, I read it at one sitting. Several weeks later, I began looking in my mail to see if a third Windwords would show up. It did, and I devoured it.
With this third issue I realized how much I enjoyed learning from Ramtha the nitty-gritty of unlimited consciousness encapsulated in his chief message: “Be still and know you are God.” The flip side of that teaching is if you take full responsibility for everything that happens in your life then you have taken full power to create everything in your life. I loved that perspective.
Sensing that I could not rely forever on the Fates to continue delivering my mystical mail call, I whipped out my credit card and called Windwords.
“Hello,” I said to the woman who answered, “I don’t know how you got my name and address, but I want to thank you very much for sending me a trial subscription to your wonderful paper, and now I would like to buy a year’s subscription.” I gave her my name.”
“Err…” she replied, “Are you the Bruce Smith that lives in Sea Cliff, New York?”
“Well, our computer shows that you already have a subscription.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I replied, “I want to get a subscription. I’ve been getting a copy for the past three months; I guess it must be a trial subscription, correct? But now I want to get my own subscription.”
“We don’t offer trial subscriptions. You’re getting a regular subscription right now.”
“I couldn’t have,” I said. “I never heard of Ramtha or you until your newspaper started showing up in my mail box three months ago. I’ve never called you and I have no records of paying you any money for a subscription. How could I have gotten a subscription without paying for it?”
“Maybe someone else gifted you with a subscription?”
“No way! Not only has no one told me that they’ve done such a thing, nobody I know would do it. None of my friends or family has ever talked about Windwords, or Ramtha, and everyone I know thinks this stuff is a cult. As it is, they think I’m crazy just for reading your newspaper.”
“Well, all I can tell you is that you are paid in full for another nine issues, so… enjoy them.”
I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say but social convention propelled me to say something. All I could utter was a weak, “Thanks”.
From that moment to this I have always felt that someone else did indeed send me the subscription to Windwords. But he probably didn’t use a credit card, cash, or pay for it by check. Probably just a little wiggle of energy on the magnetic computer tape encoded with the mailing list did the trick.
Thanks Ramtha—best mail call I ever got.
Note: Ramtha® is a registered trademark of JZ Knight, and is used with permission.
Editor’s note: “The Stories from the Journey” collection are destined to be combined with the recently posted “Campfire Tales” to form a larger compendium of personal stories, folktales and myths. Publication date will probably be mid-2017. In the meantime, enjoy them here at the Mountain News-WA.
Picture of Yours Truly, courtesy of Guustaaf Damave.