PARTHENOGENESIS: women’s long-lost ability to self-conceive

by Den Poitras

Part 1: A crash course on parthenogenesis, or virgin birth.
Part 2 : The Story of Laurie. After a prolonged fast of over one year, a dear sister/friend of mine conceived and gave birth to a daughter—without the involvement of a man. Be assured, this is a non-fiction story.

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Owing to a painful confrontation with my mortality, caused by a bungled surgical procedure which required nineteen days of hospitalization back in 2009, I felt both compelled and obliged to write down, and post on the web, the full extent of my knowledge regarding parthenogenesis. There are no experts in this field, and I certainly don’t claim to be one, nevertheless, at present, it represents over 40 years of searching, re-searching and contemplation. You should know this rare “subject of subjects” is as bottomless as the sea.

Don’t worry, I’ve no ax to grind against men, no book to sell, as yet, and no religion to promote or put down. Entertaining information about Virgin or Divine Birth will not make sex, as we know it, to disappear. It also doesn’t imply that children born through “normal” conceptions are somehow inferior, or come into this world without gifts. All children are sacred, so Blessed Be The Children! (This is also the title of the art-work of mine seen below.)

Is parthenogenesis real or not? Do children born this way possess special abilities? If you make it through the first part, I’m sure you’ll want to read Part 2, The Story of Laurie.

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PART 1: YOUR CRASH-COURSE ON PARTHENOGENESIS

(Please note that, much of this knowledge in Part 1, was gleamed from the personal libraries of the founders of Hippocrates Health in Boston, Massachusetts, in 1969, when I was 18 years old. In this beginner’s phase of exploration curiosity almost killed the cat, but later on, satisfaction brought him back, as more arcane facts and inspiring people came my way during my late teens and early twenties.)

Parthenogenesis: from the Greek, partheno—of virgin origin.

It is said that Buddha’s mother conceived her son when in a state of blissful meditation under a banyan tree. Mary conceived Jesus in more or less the same way. It’s also been said that Leonardo Divinci, possibly Joan of Ark, Mary, one of our Saint Catherine’s, Moses, (floating down a river in a basket?) Zoroaster, Plato and scores more geniuses, visionaries and healers throughout history are claimed to have came about this way.

If many of the lower species can and do conceive parthenogenetically, I don’t think it’s too shocking to assume that humans can too. Based on this fact alone I can’t imagine why scientists are not more curious like they were over hundred years ago when the famous biologist, Jacques Loeb realized that: “The Male is not necessary for reproduction. A simple physio-chemical agent in the female is enough to bring it about.”

Though it’s been said that no mammals have been known to have given birth parthenogenetically, Jacques Loeb got monkey, chicken and rabbit embryos to fertilize through various means like electrical fields and saline solutions. (Update: I’ve got Google set up to send along stories about parthenogenesis and virgin birth. The latest news from Google is a report about an anteater, in captivity, and with no male around, gave birth parthenogenetically.)

When a single, tiny sperm penetrates a woman’s unfertilized egg there is an implosion of light or energy in its center that is visible under the microscope, via infra-red photography. One could say this is the moment when spirit enters matter. The size of the egg itself in comparison to the humble sperm speaks volumes.

There are different schools of thought regarding this moment of conception, which I’ve heard referred to as “epigenesis”. Does that single sperm carry a simple electrical charge to the egg, or is it purely chemical? Can the electrical charge, or chemical formula, be artificially reproduced? Considering how little it takes to stimulate an unfertilized egg into activity, it doesn’t seem so impossible that a woman, in a state of superior alkaline health, and engaged in a sacred women’s dance/trance ceremony couldn’t self-conceive.

“The life-force itself acts as a fecundating power. This leads the way to a creative mutation, a new product of evolution, a new type of human being who is not born from ancestors and is consequently free from the inertia and karma of mankind’s past.” —Dane Rudhyur

Does this mean that the male-influence, through normal sex, interferes with the conception of highly evolved beings? This makes it tempting to think of normal children as being tarnished or degenerate, but let’s not go there and, instead, let’s keep our chins up and try to understand what Mother Nature has to tell us. Here’s a quote from Professor Francis Lester Ward:

“Women are the race itself—the strong primary sex, and men the biological afterthought.”

The first few months of human life in the womb are spent in female form. If/when it is to become a male, then the ovaries descend to become testicles and the clitoris elongates into a penis. Guys are nature’s second choice. We’re here to insure the survival of the species because it is difficult, or impossible, for the majority of women to procreate on their own and, of course, because sex is so damn wonderful, at least for most of us.

Sex, especially when blended with love, is a deeply powerful pleasure. If we are considerate, careful and loving, then, when engaging with the fire of sex, we’re unlikely to get burned. Sexual love is like a serpent of fire. We must tread carefully, applying as much compassion to match our passion—this helps to raise our kundalini energy from the base of the spine, through the heart, and up into our crown chakra.

This painting of mine is titled: Virgin Birth, and is privately owned.

The Immaculate Conception is simple, lovely, gentle, and natural, or shall I say super-natural. It’s super because of how close to the laws of nature that a woman must be in, in order to conceive in such a manner. Most of us are super-far-away from nature. If we live super-close to nature then super-natural things might occur such as, super health, vivid dreams, clairvoyant visions, and/or simple feelings of happiness.

Just for the record, I don’t like to use the term “immaculate” because it implies that there’s something dirty about sex. I use it sparingly, and only because we are most familiar with this term.

The above quote is from the MYSTERIES OF HUMAN REPRODUCTION by, Dr. Raymond Bernard.

OJIBWA CEREMONY

Now we’re going to take a look at an Ojibwa conception ceremony that I stumbled on in the early 70’s, which came my way because I had been asked to read and write a review about a book regarding the Ojibwa, or Chippewa people. The review was published in a small American Indian magazine called: Many Smokes Magazine. I’ve spent hours trying to track down this book, as I’ve forgotten the title and author, but I well remember that the author had spent a decade re-searching oral stories, from the Ojibwa elders, that existed before the coming of the white-man. One such story, that peaked my interest, was about how their wise-women looked for certain young maidens that possessed a great degree of grace, intelligence and compassion.

Sometimes a candidate for conceiving and giving birth the “old way” wouldn’t show up for a generation or two. Nevertheless, these wise-women kept an eagle-eye open for such candidates and, when found, providing she was willing, her instructions began. It was soon made clear to the village that men were not allowed to court her.

When she reached the age of fertility, her first period, she was instructed to fast for several days. Perhaps special herbs were used while participating in rigorous sweat-lodge ceremonies. Then she was encouraged to dance for hours and hours around a fire in a sacred women’s lodge built far away from the village.

I’m sure there are many more details to this ceremony that were left unsaid. I would venture to say, at least, that an awareness of the candidate’s menstrual cycle, as in when she would be most fertile, was considered. Most likely, throughout her time of dancing, she would attempt to enter a state of bliss, a physio-spiritual orgasm, if you will, during which, according to the Ojibwa wise-women’s knowledge, it would be possible for her to conceive.

They knew that a child born this way could become a great leader, healer, or visionary. The Great Spirit, it was thought, would know what gifts the child should have in order to match the currant needs of the tribe. I believe this is what happened among The Essenes who once lived along The Dead Sea over 2,000 years ago, and from which Jesus originated.

It’s my guess that the Essenes had either planned his birth, or somehow had known in advance, and had made the necessary preparations. I’ve read channeled information that stated how Hanna, (or Ann) conceived Mary parthenogenetically, and it was prophesied that Mary would, in turn, conceive Jesus in the same way. I might also say, at this point, that this “old way” of conceiving and giving birth, was considered a no-no during a time when patriarchy was firmly established. Was this why King Herod felt so threatened, enough so that he tried to have all the new born males put to death in his kingdom?

Science has stated repeatedly that the law of parthenogenesis results in the birth of females only. This has been shown to occur in animal, insect and microscopic species, but it may operate differently among humans, for there is a visionary power us humans possess. The Sanskrit term for it is Kriyashakti or, in short, Shakti; the mysterious power of thought which enables us to produce external, perceptible, phenomenal results by its own inherent energy. Any idea will manifest itself externally if one’s attention is deeply concentrated.

(2013 Google update: komodo dragons give birth to males through parthenogenesis, especially when there is a shortage of them. Also, Google reported that, in 2012, a snake in captivity gave birth to a male through parthenogenesis.)

If a woman envisions a boy it’s quite possible she will give birth to one. As a rule, female births are the result of parthenogenesis. Up until these above findings were reported, science was quite firm in stating that females and females only, are produced by parthenogenesis. Need it be said that science, open-minded science, must always make adjustments to new evidence?

“In the Mother Cell begins all living things. The Creative Principle is feminine. The highest divine mystery is Brahamana, the feminine of Brahma.” (according to Hindu mythology)

Now let’s take a look at the presence of the hymen in women. Other than us humans, only one species of whale has a hymen, but it is to keep sea-water out. Among us humans the hymen remains a “medical mystery”. Some folks think it’s there merely as fodder for comedians. Is it there because Nature, the Great Conservative, has a higher form of conception and birth in mind for women?

This art-piece is titled: Cosmo-Girl, and is privately owned

Among other “medical mysteries” are dermoid cysts. Looking them up in Chambers Medical Dictionary, under Medio-logical Records, one finds; “dermoid cystic growths; embryonic growths, or tumor-like formations found in women, and are of congenital origin, containing evidence of being dejecta membra, or the remains of pregnant growths, in the embryonic fetal period of gestation, somewhat akin to the primary state of being with child.

” Some of these dermoid cysts, sometimes mistaken by surgeons for tumors, but really are embryos, are similar in all respects to the products of female gestation, containing bones, hair, teeth, flesh, glands, portions of the scalp, face, eyes, ribs,—–in short, all the organs of the human body—what else could they be but virgin embryos in the process of development?” —Raymond Bernard

The following is from a news item (as of Oct.’09) :

“A dermoid cyst, also known as benign cystic teratoma, which develops “from germ cells, which are primitive cells that are capable of producing eggs and all human tissues,” — Quoted by Dr. Judith Reichman on MSNBC’s web-site.

And again: “A dermoid cyst is formed if the germ cells multiply bizarrely without fertilization, forming an encapsulated tumor that contains hair, sebaceous or oil materials, cartilage, bone, neural tissue and teeth.”

I would ask how this could happen without fertilization. Perhaps no egg is necessary for parthenogenesis? I’ve recently talked to a genius-inventor, an American guy with hundreds of patents to his name, who told me that, while his mother was under anesthesia during an operation to remove her cancerous ovaries, she had an ecstatic, out-of-body experience in which she was told that she just conceived a child, a child that would have many gifts to share with the world. This new, inventor friend of mine called me, after he read an earlier version of this article, because he felt in was important to share his birth story with me.

In a lecture delivered before the New York Academy of Medicine in 1933, on “Immaculate Conception—a Scientific Possibility”, Dr. Walter Timme, eminent endocrinologist, presented evidence to prove that Immaculate Conception is physiologically possible. The parovarium of the female reproductive organs, he claims, in some cases can produce living spermatozoa capable of impregnating eggs in the same body, causing them to develop without male fertilization. They’ve been known to appear in young girls, from age 8 to 16, and that have their hymens intact. Unbeknownst to them, one of their eggs had parthenogenetically been fertilized and then had stopped developing and, typically getting trapped in their fallopian tube, had to be removed, as the failed embryo had become toxic.

There is reason to believe that parthenogenesis was the primordial form of re-production for all life, while sexual generation (epigenesis) arose later as a result of inferior environmental and nutritive conditions resulting in diminished fertility. I repeat, males develop in order to insure the survival of the species. Yeah guys, we’re around to kick up a little dust, to create some healthy trouble, hopefully speaking, and to make sure life goes on.

Now we move along into another field of inquiry—archaeology. This quote is from a ground-breaking (pun intended) archaeological book: The Language of The Goddess, by Marija Gimbutas. Along with many leading archaeologists before her, she unearthed hundreds of female effigies and artifacts from ancient, pacific, matriarchal cultures in Eastern Europe and elsewhere. By decoding these findings, from her personal digs, she came to that startling conclusion written above. This book was a gift to me from a dear woman-friend. I simply love it. Marija Gimbutas has become my personal dig, if you know what I mean.

Among such artifacts are phallus-shaped objects. Honestly, they look like ancient versions of today’s dildos. Did these matriarchal women use them in rituals? Did such rituals produce orgasmic states of consciousness? Were these rituals lesbian in nature? Were they used in some type of masturbatory ceremony? Were these rituals performed for the purpose of self-conceiving? Whether we are comfortable, or not, discussing this further, we must face the fact that normal sex, pregnancy and birth are messy, and there’s no reason to think that a virgin conception is necessarily much different.

After reading her beautiful book it wasn’t clear enough how and why Marija concluded that “The Parthenogenetic Goddess has been the most persistent feature in the archaeological record?” We’ll never know, as Marija passed along into the next world in 1994. I went to a lecture she was giving that same year in Boston but she had been too ill to appear, and she had appointed woman-speaker to take her place.

When the Q & A portion of the lecture began, I posed, to this representative of hers, a question regarding Marija’s above quote, but her drew a blank. In fact, she seemed perturbed about my inquiry. Still, this aside, Marija’s book stirred up the archaeological world (consisting mostly of men) and it makes for a great read, whose images alone will enter and haunt one’s consciousness. (A book directly inspired by Marija’s work, titled, The Chalice and The Blade, is another must-read.)

Thanks to the meticulous scholarship of Marguerite Rigoglioso, author of ‘The Cult of Divine Birth in Ancient Greece’ and ‘Virgin Mother Goddesses of Antiquity’, she not only makes it crystal clear that the early Greek priestesses practiced the art/science of parthenogenesis but also establishes that they acquired such knowledge from Egypt—most likely from the priestesses associated with the Temple of Hathor.

Goddess Hathor, a very non-Egyptian face, is carved and placed on top of numerous columns in her temple. (There are no males depicted on any of these columns.) Hidden, ironically, for all of us to see, is her resemblance to a woman’s most sacred organ of creation—the uterus! Also, as most of us know, the uterus has long been associated with the ever-fertile astrological sign of Taurus.

I wonder how many of our grand, ancient cultures practiced parthenogenesis, and how much it contributed to its inherent genius? Knowledge of Divine Birth has been hidden and forbidden for untold centuries. Gone, but not lost, is what I say. For, a redwood tree, even when cut down, continues to secretly thrive, owing to its deep root system. At this point I’d like to suggest that we initiate a new field of inquiry, one that gathers information about ancient cultures that may have practiced the art/science of parthenogenesis. Perhaps it could be called archeo-parthenology. What do you think?

It’s my humble opinion that Isis, Hathor, Athena and all the Goddesses are in the process of being unveiled. I’m no longer a solitary participant in this exciting process that’s unfolding, as hundreds and thousands of people everywhere are beginning to uncover HER many truths—truths that are vital to our sanity, if not to our very survival.

In the mid 80’s a woman friend told me of a letter that was circulating among the gay community in Santa Fe, NM. It was from a lesbian couple that had been together for around ten years, and they were wondering if anyone could help them to understand how one of them kept getting mysteriously pregnant, and then going through the harrowing experience of miscarrying. I told her to have them get in touch with me, that maybe I could tell them what little I could, but I never heard anything more about it.

I’ve heard of stories wherein a man and woman, in the heat of a passionate embrace, whether clothed or naked, can induce the process of conception. Needless to say, there would be no penal penetration. or involvement with his seed in any way. All right, some of you may be thinking that it couldn’t be much fun for the guy, having his climax indefinitely postponed, at least until through other means later on, which most of us guys are familiar with, but this above mentioned method, or ritual, could indeed have been designed to invite the magic of parthenogenesis.

Over all, I don’t think it’s too much of a sacrifice for a man to make in participating in such a lofty ritual whose purpose, I’m sure, would have been clear to him, and for which he would have received instructions. This could have been, and could be again, a way for a guy to be a hero, at least for a day. (Sounds like a David Bowie song.)

Under the best of circumstances it’s been said that achieving a virgin-conception is relatively rare. In closing, it sure would be a blessing if someone, somewhere had any information at all regarding rituals, ceremonies or techniques that could make parthenogenesis possible once again. Perhaps this is too much to hope for.

Our next topic is the mystery of menstruation. I’ll start off with an anecdote that came from a study done in Japan in the 1950’s—if my memory serves me well.

“Anthropoid apes, our closest biological cousins, have a monthly period while in captivity and subsiding on an artificial diet. When returned to their natural habitat and diet they will bleed in the spring and fall like most mammals.” —Anonymous

The root philosophy at Hippocrates Health Institute, where I lived and worked for about a year or so in 1969, is that “Life Comes Only From Life”. After only a month or two, of subsisting on this living-food diet, some women experienced a noticeable reduction of blood-loss during menstruation, and the overall discomfort and cramps they usually experienced practically vanished. One woman in particular, who I got to know as a sister, lost her period completely and enjoyed total health. I also met several women who went through extended fasts of one month or more. They either had no periods at all or their menstruation consisted of a day’s worth of seeing a small amount of blood mixed with their urine, and no PMS.

It’s also quite common that many women athletes lose their periods. Non-menstruating women, whether they be athletes or not, and providing they are on a (super)-natural diet, faithfully practicing yoga, or getting lots of vigorous exercise, enjoy a superior, overall health with a robust vitality. They’re able to re-absorb vitamins, minerals and hormones otherwise lost during menstruation. I should say that women on a normal, civilized diet should have their period. This is nature’s way of cleaning house. In closing, a woman’s moon-cycle, her “blood-rite”, is a sacred occurrence. Women should always feel proud to be so close to Nature, whether they bleed or not! However, being a man, this is easy for me to say.

I do not encourage anyone to practice this raw-food lifestyle unless one truly studies the subject in depth with experienced teachers. A commitment to this lifestyle is difficult to sustain in the modern world. Yet, if a woman succeeds at doing so, and eliminates the accumulative toxins and acids found in a civilized diet, she will get to “stand on the moon”—-and from there, who knows? There are countless artistic depictions of Mary, and many other Virgin-Goddess-Mothers, standing on the Crescent Moon. Did our ancestors know that women had to rise above the moon (menstruation) in order to immaculately conceive? It seems obvious they did and, from what I’ve observed thus far, a clean, living food diet might be necessary for eliminating menstruation and could well be the foundation for divine birth.

Also, I’ve learned that another possible requirement for parthenogenesis is the presence of alkalinity, and it’s been proven that a proper raw-food diet does indeed alkalize our bloodstream. In a way, we are like alkaline batteries—80% alkaline, 20% acid—which allows our bodies to hold our electrical field, or life-force, in full. If this balance is upset, as in a “civilized” diet, which produces excessive amounts of acid, the life-force fails to fill the body and illness results. Compare the superiority of a modern, alkaline battery to the inferior, old-fashion battery grandpa had in his Model-T Ford. This 80/20 formula, though unequal in appearance, is how alchemy’s “golden elixir” is achieved; it’s also how a balance of Yin-Yang takes place. On the macro level, if women were in charge of 80% of our body politic, it’s my opinion that the world would better off for it.

“I’m waiting for the women to take over.” —Leonard Cohen

Celibacy becomes a kind of natural reward for following a raw-food diet. The sex-drive is gracefully sublimated, not repressed or denied for moral or religious reasons which, as we have seen in the news, proves disastrous. Practitioners of this unnatural, forced, subduing of sexual energy, will eventually get bit by the snake they are trying to conquer. Through personal experience I can attest to the happy sublimation of the sex-drive and the increased sense of peace and vitality that accompanies it.

Celibacy, like virginity, is renewable and, apparently, is a requirement for a woman to achieve a divine conception. In other words, she doesn’t have to be a “virgin” in the sense that she never had sex with a man, and it’s important to note that parthenogenesis is not without having it’s own brand of eroticism. Without a doubt, a high-voltage spiritual energy is present during a divine conception, but it is taking place within the flesh and blood of a woman. As mentioned earlier, a voluntary or non-voluntary ecstatic-orgasm is likely and logically necessary for a parthenogenetic conception.

A civilized diet amplifies our need to procreate. It’s obvious to me that the human race has been for centuries in a perpetual, autumnal state of going to seed. As we know, many plants, and numerous other species and lifeforms, go to seed, or lay their eggs, just before dying, in preparation for winter. Is our population of 7 billion, and counting, heading for it’s own brand of winter? But let’s not sink into a doomsday mindset.

By “being fruitful and multiplying” we’ve succeeded all too well. This would be good, and still can, but we don’t seem to be able to get along with each other—not to mention the strain our billions are having on the earth’s resources. This is old news, and you’ll not ever hear me say that sex is wrong or evil. Still, 50% of marriages end in divorce; and think of rape, disease, unplanned pregnancies; as well as over-population, and the endless battle between the sexes. Oh well, we must pay the fiddler for our modern lifestyles. I know I have, and still do, from time to time.

In almost every culture on earth and, in almost every major religion, stories of The Virgin Birth abide. The following is an old Fijian legend: “There was a great chief in Tonga who had an exceedingly beautiful daughter. He hid her from the eyes of men, for he had never seen one worthy to be her husband. Down on the sea-beach he built a fence, thick, strong and high. Here she used to bathe, after which it was her custom to lie down for a time upon the clean white sand within the fence, that she might rest a while, and that her body might dry. So it came to pass that the Sun looked down upon her, and saw her and loved her; and in the course of time a child was born to her, whose name she called Sun-child”.

History claims that virgin-born children were profound peacemakers, architects, healers, visionaries, inventors, artists, philosophers and so on. Some, like Jesus, or like Yogi’s from India, had so-called “miraculous” powers. At this point we need to ask if all parthenogenetic children arrive gifted into this world. There’s no proof that a miraculously born soul is guaranteed to possess any special gifts whatsoever, never mind any super-human powers. They could be as normal as any other child. It’s been said that they will, at the very least, have simple humanistic gifts, like humility and compassion, and would probably not want anyone to know of their special conception.

You’d be surprised how many strange birth stories that I keep hearing about from men and women alive today. Through emails and comments, this article is creating a steady flow of such stories. Parthenogenesis appears to be occurring in its own haphazard way, whether we believe in it or not.

I’m searching for re-searchers, fact-finders, fact-checkers, and anyone in earnest to uncover more about human parthenogenesis. It’s my passionate belief that virgin birth is the jewel in the crown of creation; it’s the tip of an iceberg of an emerging knowledge, a sacred, feminine knowledge that could lead to the appearance of some very talented people who will help us solve some of our most troublesome problems. Also, it’s return could well be the straw that breaks the back of patriarchy. But is it truly possible to prepare a woman for such a feat? Would any among us be courageous enough to attempt it? Maybe it has nothing to do with courage and more to do with a gentle return to nature. I mentioned “us” because men could help out as guides, protectors, and “heroes” as mentioned earlier—we can be modern day Josephs to new age Mary’s.

I’m not suggesting that we try to create a master race. This thought is both scary and silly. Yet, with the Return of the Sacred Feminine, parthenogenesis is becoming known to us once again and, when it goes viral, which I predict will occur soon, I wonder what “butterfly effect” it will have. Some men, and patriarchal women, may feel threatened, for one reason or another, even though it’s clear to me that the Re-birth of the Sacred Masculine will take place too. (Us guys are working on it, right?) Also, we should bear in mind that, with every woman that is liberated, so too is a man.

Men are wonderfully filled with spark and creativity or, simply said, with piss and vinegar! They will not disappear. Yet us men must eat some humble pie if we’re going to be open to these truths that are “too important to be new”. Speaking as a normal, red-blooded American guy, I can say that, once I opened Pandora’s Box and got freaked out by Medusa (women’s mysteries) I didn’t shrink or crumble and I actually feel better for having satisfied my curiosity and enlightened my mind. At least I don’t feel so left out of the loop of this ancient/modern knowledge. Also, as a non-violent warrior of the rainbow, I would want to know, and do something about, all my weaknesses before heading into battle, with knowledge being my best defense.

I sincerely believe that truth will set us free, the more the merrier. That being said, as I approach 63 years of age, I still feel dumb. I’m not a scientist and I never had the opportunity to attend college. I’ll end this crash course on parthenogenesis with a quote from Professor Lester Ward:

“Women are the race itself….the strong primary sex, and man the biological afterthought.”

I had been contemplating most of what been said so far since 1969 and, as eye-popping as it was, it all remained as purely speculative knowledge, at least until I had been blessed with the unforeseen opportunity to meet Laurie.

Part 2: THE STORY OF LAURIE

I sometimes wish Laurie’s story was made up. It would be a lot easier to write, and a breeze to forget about, if it were fiction. I could add to it or subtract from it any which way. However, this is not the case. You could put me in a blender and watch the facts get jumbled up but it wouldn’t change anything, and I stake my life on the substance of this story being as true and real as concrete. Having said that, one must bear in mind how memory tends to mythologize everything it gathers and experiences. Be assured that I have tried my absolute best to get the bare bones of it down, no matter my human faults and limitations.

I first met my friend Laurie in the spring of 1976 in Ashland, Oregon. She was 20, I was 25. She had just completed a year of fasting and was seriously wondering if she should continue. A mutual friend, called Ruth, also living in Ashland, told Laurie about “this guy she knew” who was living in the mountains of Oregon, above Klamath Falls, and who might be able to help her out.

Soon after this conversation took place Ruth came to tell me about Laurie which, besides making me extremely curious, further encouraged me to realize that it was time for a change. For I had been living alone, the soul survivor of a group of non-violent American Indian activists, known as the Bear Tribe, and with whom I had a falling out with.

The Bear Tribe had come from Nevada, where I had, with my young son and wife, joined up with, to help out in any way we could, Edison Chiloquin and his family, and the Klamath-Modoc tribe, of which he was chief. Chief Edison was trying to get some land back from the U.S. Government, upon which he and his tribe could re-construct a traditional village, consisting of earth-lodges and tee-pees.

Eventually, for various reasons too complex to go into, Edison no longer could see eye-to-eye with the Bear Tribe’s leader, Sun-Bear, and, taking sides with Edison, I had remained behind while the Bear Tribe sought greener pastures in Idaho. Before hearing about Laurie I had been feeling my work with Edison was coming to an end and now, as I couldn’t wait to meet this fasting lady, I soon found myself a resident of Ashland, Oregon.

On the morning of my first day in my new backyard, I looked out the window and saw a lovely, 6 foot, 2 inch tall woman with long black hair. When I went outside to meet her, I saw she was holding a copy of a book called ‘Survival Into The 21st Century’, by Viktoras Kulvinskas, a close friend and mentor of mine, and co-founder, along with Dr. Ann Wigmore, of Hippocrates Health Institute in Boston Mass.

Laurie happened to be visiting my new backyard garden because, for some unknown reason, when she awoke that morning, she told me she had wanted to see it, as it had been a favorite spot of hers when she had once lived here about a year previous to our present rendezvous. We both had no idea we’d be meeting up so soon because, as it turned out, Ruth hadn’t had the chance to tell her I’d be moving here! I call this being in the right place at the right time.

Thanks to the personal, eclectic libraries of Viktoras Kulvinskas and Dr. Ann Wigmore, I had already educated myself about fasting, Breatharianism, women’s mysteries, longevity, parthenogenesis, ancient matriarchies, fruitarians, raw-food diets, and having chlorophyll in the diet, via wheatgrass juice, I was able to converse easily and naturally with Laurie.

Chlorophyll was among our first topics. Under the microscope, it’s been said to resemble human blood. After testing many types of greens for chlorophyll content and taste, Dr. Ann Wigmore and Viktoras found that wheatgrass, when 10 to 12 inches in height, contained 80% chlorophyll and was palatable. Simply said, chlorophyll is sunlight energy trapped through photo-synthesis in green plants. Thus, here begins the food chain.

All of this above, and more, was taught to me at Hippocrates Health Institute yet, despite this heady background, who was I to tell Laurie what to do about continuing, or not, her long fast? I never thought I’d ever meet a celibate, breatharian woman, whose menstruation had ceased; who did a lot of hiking without becoming exhausted, and whose body-weight never dipped below 135 lbs.

In case you’re wondering, I satisfied myself that she was not suffering from anorexia. One doesn’t have to be a trained psychiatrist to be able to recognize the signs of anorexia. She was never sexual abused. She had a balanced, peaceful, and coherent personality that was apparent to all who knew her. Laurie was comfortable with herself, comfortable to be around, and just plain happy-go-lucky. She also didn’t have a Holier-Than-Thou attitude. Presently, though she isn’t fasting anymore, she still weighs 135 lbs.

Laurie is light-hearted, a chatter-box really, and lots of fun to talk to. For astrology buffs, Laurie is a Taurus woman, a highly evolved one; a feet-on-the-ground, head-in-the-clouds Taurus. Only a soul grounded in the real can glimpse the unreal. If one wants to fly freely one has to have sturdy wings. Laurie’s ability to fast for so long only came about after several years of study, preparation, and experimentation. And it had never been her goal to be a breatharian. It just happened, that’s all.

Now kids, don’t try these things at home. Raw food, fasting, trying to eliminate menstruation and practicing celibacy is not for everyone. It can be difficult, if not dangerous to do on your own. If you insist on finding out more I’m sure the books and teachers will manifest according to your desire to discover them, but please go slowly and gently.

Back in early ’76 I too was celibate, which, as I’ve said, is easier to sustain on a raw-food diet. Of course, Laurie was naturally celibate too, which was another reason why we became instant friends. Also, growing up, I was, and still am, very close to my sisters, Elaine and Donna. Consequently, it was easy to sense a sister in Laurie, but she was a sister that had advanced knowledge about many of my interests, one of which was parthenogenesis. Laurie and I used to talk for six to eight hours non-stop, yet we only discussed parthenogenesis briefly, with both of us expressing a belief in its possibility, and that was it. Laurie had shown no further interest, or the slightest ambition, to pursue this strange phenomenon, in conversation or otherwise. We never spoke of it again.

From time to time that Spring I had my four and a half year old son Justin with me, which Laurie quickly and easily managed to get close to. I had married very young. No, I hadn’t been ready for it, and I certainly hadn’t been ready for a child either, but Nature had had her way. The marriage didn’t survive, but fatherhood did. After my marriage disintegrated, my wife and son relocating to Northern California, I recharged myself on a raw-food diet; I became celibate once again and was, in retrospect, unconsciously preparing to meet Laurie.

Sometimes Laurie would take on the symptoms of people who were ill, like she would with many people she knew, and I recall vividly, when I was on my way to visit her, I was suffering with hay-fever. My eyes were itching and watering but, by the time I arrived on her doorstep, I was okay, for, when I entered her living room, she was sprawled on her sofa with itchy, watery eyes! And she had never experienced hay-fever

A few days later, I found her again sprawled on her sofa, but this time she was holding a cold cloth on her forehead. She had just returned from the hospital where she had visited an old, homeless guy who was suffering from hepatitis—it was just like Laurie to make friends with anyone and everyone. She told me about the horrible aches and pains and high fever she had went through shortly after visiting her friend. The man was released from the hospital a few days later, symptom-free, much to the surprise of the doctors and nurses that were attending him.

Did Laurie want to take on the symptoms of people that were sick? We discussed this very point and her answer was no. She couldn’t explain why it happened and I didn’t bug her to further explain something she was in the dark about.

She went to public school and was raised with no particular religion. She had no orthodox bearded guy hovering over her, no sky-god she had to please or be afraid of. I was getting to know her, her whims and interests, her humor and habits.

If there’s one quality that stands out about someone who is fasting it is that they are like clear crystal glass. As food and toxins are eliminated, ones emotions become calm. Fears, phobias, mental confusion, and emotional disturbances evaporate. A fasting person becomes a vessel of peace and a clear mirror to friends and family. There is nothing to hide, nothing to make you worry, and nothing to lie about. Because I have fasted numerous times, lying about anything became something downright impossible to even imagine doing.

I say all this because you have only little old me to rely on for the truth in this story, just as I only have the words of my dear friend Laurie to rely on for truth in the many things she told me, which you will soon discover. However, I know, beyond a doubt, that she always told me the truth. For, once someone fasts, especially for so long, there truly is nothing to hide, and no reason to make up a story about one’s self, or anything else for that matter.

I would have to break for lunch while she would sip on distilled water. Sometimes, out of fear of withering away, she would put organic grapes in a blender and strain them in cheesecloth before drinking it. Yet, even the presence of very fine pulp would be enough to make her stomach regurgitate it.

Everyone that knew her was aware that she didn’t eat. I certainly saw it for myself. Plus she wasn’t trying to do anything, like become a breatharian, or self-conceive a child. She wasn’t trying to get rid of her period either, nor was she fleeing from sex.

Yes, she had had experiences when she was sixteen. They had been gentle, short-lived experiences, but sex for her just didn’t have the “spiritual treasures” she had been seeking. So, technically speaking, she wasn’t a “virgin” and, like previously mentioned, virginity should be properly thought of as a renewable condition.

I can easily say that she wasn’t spiritually ambitious. Parthenogenesis was never of much importance to her. Above everything else, Laurie is open and compassionate toward all living beings. She is simply and willfully curious; curious with a capital C, as she began to experiment with macrobiotics and basic vegetarianism and fruitarianism when around the age of 14. What drove her to become a vegetarian to begin with was that she felt it was morally wrong to kill animals for food. She still feels this way.

I should confess that I live like most people these days, eating from all the food-groups, but doing so with moderation, like my mother did, who lived to be almost 96 years old. There were a number of times that I experienced the living-food lifestyle, times that lasted as long as a year, others that lasted six months, three months, or shorter. Each time I did so I felt full of energy, clarity, peace, joy and love—love for myself, and for everyone around me.

– – –

On August 26, 1976 around 3 pm, my beautiful son drowned in a sluggish river barely three feet deep. I was devastated, to say the least. By then Laurie had returned to her hometown in the Southwest. Later on, through friends, she found out that Justin had drowned, and began calling me almost daily, at my parent’s home in New England, where I had fled like a bird with a broken wing. In addition to regular phone calls, we also exchanged many letters, some of which I have kept to this day.

My son, Justin: Jan.4, 1972—-Aug.26, 1976

I learned through the years to live with the loss of my sweet, golden son, but it is like an open wound, a wound that can’t be stitched up, and one that can’t be expected to heal. Such is what comes with the loss of a child. Those who have experienced this know what it’s like. Compared to most departures with loved ones, for which we seem to possess innately, the mechanisms to help us deal such losses, no such tools can be found to deal with the loss of a child, at least at first.

I found out, much later, one of the reasons it is so devastating a loss, is that a child represents one’s future, which, in turn, represents hope. Much more than we realize, we need hope, like the earth needs the sun. Both are impossible to live without. So hope can’t be buried along with your child. The loss of a spouse, parent or friend, as tough as it is, can’t be compared to the loss of a child, and hope has to be built up again from scratch.

This tragic event became a somber and gruesome milestone, scarring me forever, and cruelly dividing my life into before-Justin-died, and after-Justin-died. I say all this, not to evoke your sympathy, but to have you understand that, with all my senses strangely heightened, my sense of reality was sharpened and radically transformed.

Much like a severely wounded soldier returning from war, I had brutally re-discovered what reality was. When I saw Justin’s precious little body, in a clear plastic bag, after he was found by city-hired scuba-divers, almost 24 hours from the time he went missing, and then seeing his body loaded into the back of a truck by the Russian River, in Monte Rio, California, I saw reality. From these bleak moments of shock and anguish, I began to develop a powerful lens through which to view and experience a new, hard-won sense of reality.

Laurie informed me, more than once, that I was her confidant, the only soul to whom she spoke to about the spiritual voices she often heard late at night, and everything else she was going through. She managed to keep her mom from knowing about her long fast by renting a studio apartment nearby and only dropping by to see her “between meals”.

Her fast had diminished her need for sleep. Instead, her sleep was transformed into a 3 to 4 hour meditation during which, toward dawn, she began hearing voices from spiritual beings. Initially they spoke to her about me and the loss of my son. Later they spoke of future world events and she often received personal guidance about herself, family and friends. One time she gave me comfort by passing down a message to me from my son, saying that he didn’t blame me for his drowning and that he loved me, and that he knew that I loved him just as much.

A few months later Laurie asked me to get in touch with Viktoras Kulvinskas. Her breasts were mysteriously leaking milk. Could I find out if this was normal, especially for a woman on a prolonged fast? I explained the situation to him and then he called her, assuring her that, yes, it was okay, and was something that was relatively common among healthy, vegetarian women.

There were things Laurie began hearing at night that she couldn’t even tell me about. Then her letters and calls almost came to a stand-still. I began to worry. But on December 24Th around 10:30 pm, Eastern Standard Time, the phone rang. Laurie told me the following, right away, without even saying hello: “I’ve just had an incredible experience with a powerful light, a blissful light and, from within this state of bliss I was told by those same voices heard in my meditations, that I had conceived a child!”

“Do you think it’s real?” I asked her. She couldn’t say that it was for sure. She just knew how powerful and wonderful that blissful light was, and what the voices had told her, and she was still riding high from it all. Our conversation then drifted around to mundane things. Then she hung up, after promising to call more often in the coming days. To this day I’ve never had a more incredible phone call.

Another of her calls came about two weeks later. After coming down from her experience with that “blissful light”, she too began to wonder if it was real. Had she conceived? Was she now pregnant? Here is where her torment started, for, she thought, how dare her question “the light”, how dare her wonder if was just a fantasy. Yet, how was she supposed to go forward with these questions and doubts eating away at her? Despite this battle waging within, she had gone to a pregnancy-testing clinic and got medical proof that indeed she was “with child”.

The doctor in charge found that her blood was “as pure and free-flowing as a new-born baby’s”. Wanting to know why, she responded by saying she was “a vegetarian”. He then asked her if she’d be willing to visit a colleague of his in Arizona who loved to examine women in unusual states of health. At the time she couldn’t say yes or no. A short while later, he called her at home and gave her the address and phone number of this colleague of his, who offered to pay for her transportation and hotel room for as long as the examinations lasted.

She asked for my advice on this matter. She was concerned, once again, about questioning the light and wondered if she hadn’t already gone too far by feeling it necessary to verify her pregnancy at the local clinic. I felt deeply about her dilemma but couldn’t offer her any advice one way or another. Then, the next call I got from her, a few weeks later, was from a phone-booth near the doctor’s office, the one that liked examining women in unusual states of health. He too verified that she was pregnant and was wildly impressed with the pure quality of her blood. Of course, as in the previous clinic she visited, there was no discussion about her food-less diet, or how she got pregnant, so these weren’t among the reasons this doctor in Arizona wanted her to stay for more days of testing. It was her “free-flowing, baby-pure blood” that had piqued his interest.

She knew at this point that she had gone too far in questioning the light but she also didn’t want to go home. Since we had talked about the Hopi Indians and their prophesies regarding The Coming of the True White Brother, who was supposed to be in possession of knowledge that would “help them survive the cleansing of the Earth Mother”, she was intent on going there. In fact, it had been what I had planned to do but was stopped dead in my tracks when my son drowned.

I had been saying goodbye to my son Justin when visiting him in California because I had felt somehow that I wouldn’t be seeing him for some time to come. For no apparent reason, I was feeling that I might not ever be able to see him again. This clairvoyant experience materialized later that day when he had disappeared and was found by the Russian river. A few dark weeks passed and, having lost heart about living out west, and about living or doing anything, anywhere. I went back east to live with my folks, and to try and nurse myself back toward a reasonable state of psychological and emotional sanity.

Laurie seemed like the perfect candidate for such a mission, even though she wasn’t, exactly, a “true white brother”, we both realized that someone from the white race could fulfill this role. What did gender matter anyway? After all, like me, she knew about sprouts, wheatgrass, living-food and fasting, and she had been to Hippocrates Health Institute. (We actually mysteriously crossed paths twice before meeting in real time, but that’s another story.) She had also read Viktor’s book, ‘Survival Into The 21st Century’. Laurie was as qualified as me, if not more, to approach the Hopi with this prophesied knowledge. Things were getting weird, but it got weirder, like a Steven Spielberg movie!

Picture a 6 foot, 2 inch tall, 20-year old woman, barefoot and pregnant, with long, straight, black hair; she’s clothed in a light-colored cotton dress, its hem past her knees, and hitch-hiking down a road somewhere in Arizona. She was always barefoot, which made her otherwise elegant feet thickly calloused. But this allowed her to walk upon any surface without causing her pain. Of course, for going into stores, or other public places, she kept a pair of light sandals with her. Aside from these sandals, and the clothes on her back, she was carrying nothing else. She also had no money to speak of and wasn’t quite sure where she was heading. She was heading to The Hopi Nation, and that’s all she knew.

The first man who gave her a ride found out how broke she was and gave her an old silver flute that happened to be on his back seat. After being let out on the outskirts of some obscure desert-town, she pawned the flute for $20 and bought herself some distilled water. Her second ride, a hundred miles long, came from an old farmer. He apologized for having to drop her off near the entrance to his farm, which was in the middle of nowhere.

Not much traffic until a pickup truck went zooming by with Indians in it. They went around a bend in the hi-way and came by her again, this time whistling and yelling obscenities—things that obnoxious guys sometimes say to women, especially when they have been drinking, with their dog-pack mentality, and no one around but themselves and a lone, beautiful woman for them to harass.

Realizing they were drunk and, seeing them disappearing around a corner once again, she ran off into the surrounding hills following no road, or cattle-path, or dried river-bed. Having walked very fast she felt satisfied that she had lost these guys, then she came slowly upon a clearing and could see that there were tee-pees, and other small dwellings set up in the distance. Standing on the edge of this clearing was a short old Indian man with long white hair. He spotted her and waved. Feeling welcomed, she advanced cautiously to the campground.

Incredibly, his first words to her were, “Hello little mother.” This took her breath away. Then he said, “You’re the one, you are having a baby, right?” She nodded yes. He then asked her to come and sit for a while. There were things that he needed to talk to her about, things regarding the baby she was carrying, and lots more. Before she accepted his invitation she told him that she needed to get to the nearest phone to call a friend. He replied, “Oh, you mean Dennis? We know about him”.

It could be that he knew about me because I had written to Thomas Banyaca, who was the spokesperson, at this time, for the council of elders within the Hopi Nation. My letter echoed “the coming of the True White Brother” prophecy, and I had expressed my desire to visit them to talk about The Essenes, the first Christians, and the recipe they once had for “living bread”, and to communicate my knowledge of sprouts and wheatgrass. I distinctly said that I wasn’t the True White Brother, so much as I was a True White Brother, and that I felt I did have some information that would help them, and all of us, to survive the cleansing of the Earth Mother. I have no idea if this little old Hopi man knew of my letter, which had been written months previous to Laurie’s arrival, and instead, he could have simply intuited the knowledge of my name, and who I was in relation to her.

Laurie did manage to make it to a phone-booth and told me that she was safe, that she had met a 104 year old Hopi Indian, named Greyhawk, and was going to return to him. She told me that Greyhawk said that he had been waiting for her for 60 years! His wife had died decades ago, and was grieving so much that the thought of ending his life had crossed his mind, at least until he had a dream in which he was told that he had to live out his life in order to pass on information he had to a woman, called “little mother”, that would come to him someday, and who would be in need of his knowledge.

I was still living at home with my folks when I had received this other incredible phone-call from Laurie. I remember that I was eating dinner with my parents and that my mouth was full of mashed potatoes. Before this, the last I’d heard from her was that she was torn about going to see this second doctor, who liked studying women. So, after filling me in with the extraordinary Grey Hawk connection, she told me not to worry about her. I told her how I glad I was she had escaped that truck full of drunken Indians, and hoped that everything would go well with her visit with Greyhawk. Then I finished my dinner, in normal-ville, and called it a day.

After getting this last outrageous phone call from my breatharian, mysteriously pregnant, barefoot sister-friend, how could I ever feel normal about anything ever again? Not that I particularly benefited from being normal. It’s just that I had to pinch myself regarding what I was hearing from her as being real, while in the middle of grieving for my son, and living back on the east coast with my folks, away from the mountains, the Klamath-Modoc Indians, and my raw-food diet.

“We speak of what we know. We bear witness to that which we see.” — St. John

Greyhawk knew that he was going to die after 7-days following her appearance. He knew that she was pregnant and also knew that it had been conceived in the “old way”. Recently I’ve learned that many indigenous peoples, the world over, know that conception can occur normally, either between a man and a woman, or by a woman on her own.

Greyhawk told her that her child was as a light, a light that was attached to her uterus by fine strands of light; that this child was going to be “very important“, and that Laurie would be instructed to break her fast when the baby was about to enter its 9-month cycle of physical growth. He told her many things, some of which she was not to tell anyone, not even her friend Dennis.

Seven days later Greyhawk died, just like he said he would. Now he could be re-united with his beloved. Laurie returned home to wait, with patience and love, for further instructions. Her doubts were gone. She questioned the light no more.

We stayed in touch after this episode, but the letters and calls had bigger and bigger gaps of time between them. This was okay. We both needed to digest what had happened and she told me that her voices were asking her to seek solitude. She found solace, even though she had to work part-time in a small factory. It’s hard to imagine Laurie, in her special condition, having to do this, but that’s what happened. She had to function in the real world, and to be watching for the time when she was to break her fast, which would allow her “light-baby” to enter the 9-month physical growth cycle.

Meanwhile my compounded grief erupted into problems with my teeth. A radical change in diet had brought this on and I had to go through lots of pain involving tooth extractions, root-canals and cavities. My brother came to get me at the dentist’s office after one of these sessions. I was on a couch in a recovery room and was drenched in tears because, under the influence of anesthesia, I had re-experienced searching for Justin after he had disappeared near the Russian River. I had seen him in that plastic bag the scuba-divers had put him in and I re-experienced the last time I saw him, all dressed up in a Native American ribbon-shirt that his mother had made for him before he was turned into ash at the local crematorium.

Winter passed with sparse exchanges between Laurie and me. In the spring of 1977, on Easter Day, of all things, she called me breathless, once again, and as if she was speaking to me from on top of a mountain. She had just encountered that “blissful light” again. It had lasted about 15 to 20 minutes, though it felt much longer, and when she came out of it she noticed that her hands and feet had small streams of blood flowing from them. I thought at first that it was some kind of Jesus connection but she didn’t think so. It didn’t hurt and the bleeding had stopped after a few minutes.

When I next saw Laurie she pointed out the small brown dots that had remained on her hands and feet. And by no means were they scabs. Instead, they looked like small scars that had healed long ago. They were about the size of what a finish nail would produce. I took one close look at them as we continued our conversation while walking from the bus station to my parent’s home. She was barefoot, as usual.

For someone like Laurie, that wasn’t raised Catholic or Christian, it is interesting that she conceived on Christmas Eve, via a light of bliss, and had a stigmatic experience on Easter Sunday. I concluded that it has more to do with the equinoxes than anything else. All I know is that she experienced these things for real, and that’s that.

My sister-in-law, Ellen, lived with my young nephew on the third floor of an apartment building my grandfather had built. My brother and Ellen had separated. Consequently her apartment had a bit more space. Ellen was keen on meeting Laurie so she was glad to be able to put her up. The week she visited gave me the opportunity to write down the basic times and dates, and the where’s and how’s of her unusual experiences thus far.

I tried being like a professional reporter by carefully going over everything with Laurie, until I got things right. I was amazed that she didn’t remember the day of her conception that was, like I said, on Christmas Eve in 1976. Nor did she recall the day that her hands and feet had bled during that second episode with that blissful light, which was on Easter Sunday in 1977. By the way, the stigmatic experience was, to her, further verification that she was pregnant.

Those two dates had stuck in my memory, most likely because of my Catholic background and, once I reminded her that her two blissful experiences had occurred on these special days, she was quick to remember and agree that I was correct. I had thought to myself, thank God I was finally getting the chance to write all this down.

My parents were concerned that having Laurie around was going to increase their grocery bills. I told them more than once that she didn’t eat, but I don’t think it sank in. She spent most of her time visiting with Ellen and playing with my young nephew. Laurie and I took walks to all my old stomping grounds, which included a visit to the beautiful Catholic Church I had unwillingly spent a lot of my youth in. Regardless of my past resentments, I still liked to go there now and then. Why? Because I liked the echo’s that resounded when I played my silver flute in the chapel.

In preparation for Laurie’s visit I had bought two gallons of distilled water and a pound of grapes. By the end of her one-week stay, there remained one gallon of water and only a half pound of grapes which she had put into a blender and strained before drinking. Ellen and my nephew didn’t see her eat, and my parents and I didn’t see her eat—not that I needed further proof of anything from Laurie. She was my spiritual sister and I loved and trusted her completely. The fact that she endured a grueling bus-trip from the distant southwest, to my hometown near Boston, says a lot about her. I think she wanted to bring comfort to me as she knew my wound wasn’t about to heal very soon.

In the early 80’s I returned to the west, residing in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Here I blossomed as an artist and musician and had a much more successful, though childless marriage, that lasted 7 years. It was also in Santa Fe that I joined a small organization called Compassionate Friends, which exists for the sole purpose of helping people that have lost a child. Attending a half dozen or so meetings helped me learn to live with my son’s loss.

Laurie went home, continuing to work at her boring job and, upon spiritual promptings, further removed herself from her mom and others that knew her. During this time of “going within”, she was finally instructed to start eating again. It was a big change for her. After some false starts and regurgitations, she was able to get back into the swing of things. She had to relearn how to eat and digest food but, like I said earlier, her weight never went above 135 lbs.

Entering this last stage of her pregnancy, she realized that soon she would be “showing”. However, because she was so tall and slim, Laurie knew she had time to get away from everyone without being obvious, especially to her mother.

So much was unclear to me regarding she did during the nine month phase of her pregnancy. And how did she to deliver her baby? Did she have mid-wife? If not, did she safely and correctly give birth herself? How about the umbilical cord and after birth? Though we’ve spoken many-a-time over the years, I have never leaned on her to tell me anything she didn’t offer on her own.

All I have left to tell you is that Laurie gave birth, unassisted by anyone, a month or so prematurely, to a healthy but tiny girl at midnight, March 12th, 1979. Her daughter, who she named Shasta, was the result of a direct conception through a blissful union with the creator, then, horror of horrors, Shasta died about four months later! Oh, I wish I had known! I wish I could have been there for her, though I don’t think I could have changed anything.

More time went by. I didn’t know where she was. In fact, I didn’t learn about the birth and death of her daughter until several heart-aching years later! From about the middle of 1978 all letters and phone calls from Laurie had ceased. My letters to her bounced right back, marked with return-to-sender and, as I later found out, her mother had moved, and had her phone disconnected and changed to a new, privately listed number.

Finally, around 1986 or so, she got back in touch with me to tell me of her daughter’s birth and sad, sad, death. She said, “The vibrations of this planet were too gross, too dense for her”. Shasta, named after Laurie’s favorite mountain in California, didn’t have the strength to stay on earth. She had returned to the light from which she had come.

Laurie has volunteered little to no information about how and where she delivered Shasta. I continue to wonder, was she alone? Was she rushed to the hospital? Did anyone of her friends or family witness Shasta’s birth? Did anyone besides Laurie get to see the infant Shasta? Are there any photographs? And how did she deal with Shasta’s remains?

As I know very well what it’s like to lose a child, I also know how hard it was, and still is, for Laurie to talk about. So I’ve never pushed her to give me any more details about Shasta’s birth, or her passage back to eternity. Someday, soon I hope, judging by our last phone call on Mother’s Day of 2013, she will be ready to fill me in. When it happens I’ll update this article.

Throughout the 80’s and 90’s, after somehow surviving a long period of sad darkness and despair, Laurie met a man and started up a small family, through normal means of conceiving, which I’m sure, like me, you wanted to know. She gave birth to and raised three healthy boys. She’s sounds happy enough, doesn’t dwell on the past too much, (except when she hears from me) and continues to pursue New Age, spiritual techniques of healing, like long-distant healing through thoughts and prayers. Before finishing up with our last phone conversation I asked her what kind of healing she is learning about. She said, “I’m learning to get out of the way”.

Ironically, but understandably so, owing to losing Shasta, she doesn’t place much importance on parthenogenesis. Laurie told me, more or less, that all human beings, despite the nature of their conception, are important and special. I agree wholeheartedly, and see her point, but I differ in the idea that parthenogenesis is unimportant.

Plus I’m thinking of what Greyhawk said about how her child was “going to be important”. This remains true; at least it has been for me all these years, even though Shasta was here for such a short time. Who knows, the soul reason for Shasta’s existence might have been so I could keep Laurie’s mother-daughter story alive in my mind, heart and soul until I was ready to write it down. I can’t help but believe that this article is the reason for Shasta.

Virgin born or not, we are in need of high-frequency beings, gifted healers, 21st century saints, technological geniuses, master musicians and spiritual leaders. Yet, I wonder if our 2013 vibrations on earth are strong and pure enough to sustain them? And our record of disposing of such gifted souls doesn’t pose well for us.

Perhaps though, this time around, he or she will resonate easily and naturally with our quickly evolving, accelerated global consciousness many of us are experiencing lately. I don’t think having lots more people around like Mother Theresa, or the Dalai Lama, is going to threaten anyone; not that they are virgin born, or need be, for that matter.

“Recorded history starts with a patriarchal revolution. Let it continue with the matriarchal counter-revolution: that is the only hope for the survival of the human race.” —Elizabeth Gould Davis, The First Sex

I can’t help but wonder what role, if any, parthenogenesis might have in this counter-revolution.

Read ‘Mysteries of Human Reproduction’, by Raymond Bernard. Here’s a link to some more pages: http://www.seekeronline.org/journals/y2005/Jun05.html
For an absolutely beautiful and informative video on youtube regarding some of the ground covered in this article go to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=WWcoRpn…
Here’s a link to a YouTube video by a Dr. Greer. He talks with authority about some of the subjects touched upon in this article. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Vu4UpEjokQ

Also, if you go to www.GnosticMedia.com and search for Marguerite Rigoglioso and/or the title of her first book: The Cult of Divine Birth in Ancient Greece, you’ll be able to hear a very long audio interview that will inform and inspire you. After discovering this interview, while completing the first draft of this article four years ago, I contacted the website and emailed Marguerite. She responded right away in a spirit of grace and generosity, which resulted in some long phone-calls. To my delight, about six months later we got to have a four hour, in-person conversation at a Starbucks not too far from my home in Massachusetts.

You can’t imagine how cathartic this coffee-conversation was for me. I had been sitting on this information for about 40 years, which caused me many-a-time to question my sanity, and made me feel like some kind of lonely, obsessive hermit. My face was in tears toward the end of our conversation when Marguerite asked: “Den, why you? Why so much passion for something that belongs especially to women?”

I told her that Laurie had confided in me, and in me only, which meant all the experiences she was having—and just after I had lost my son. Laurie’s trials and tribulations, as well as her humor and mysterious, blissful experiences, had filled a powerful and dangerous vacuum within me. Laurie’s story was the blessing that came after the curse of losing Justin. It gave my life purpose and inspiration; it was the door that opened when, the one that meant the world to me, had closed.

To summarize my answer to Marguerite, and to everyone out there: Laurie, and my limited knowledge of parthenogenesis, is emotionally, psychologically and spiritually entangled with the traumatic loss of my son Justin. It’s been both a blessing and a curse to carry this unusual cross of strange knowledge. I plainly feel stuck with it sometimes. Lately though, I’m beginning to experience the blessing part of it more and more. Having been happily married for ten years, and helping to raise a terrific step-son and a wonderful daughter, has made a positive impact on my life.

Also, on another happy note, Marguerite Rigoglioso and I have continued to stay in touch, as friends and colleagues. She is also working on a new book which will be a gathering of “miraculous birth stories” from women (and men) from around the world. Throughout Marguerite’s book-tours and lectures she told me that nothing and no-one can stand up against the truths she has researched and written down. I told her, before we parted from Starbucks, that her books should be chiseled in granite, word for word, for us to have around for all time! Naturally, this made her smile.

What does Marguerite think about the future? She told me a short while ago that, among her wide circle of women-friends and colleagues, the consensus is that, two or three generations from now, we may expect to see divine births taking place. Meanwhile, as parthenogenesis spreads, Marguerite will testify to how this ancient wisdom of our priestesses and priests is psychologically and spiritually empowering.

I’m in search of critical minds, so if you have something positive to contribute, please do so. Of course I would love nothing more than to write a book about it, but I’ve no experience with doing so, and I know what a headache it is when one is light-years away from the world of publishing. Still, it is my fervent hope that I can work with a woman-writer who is 100% behind and inside the subject of parthenogenesis; who is intuitive, creative, critically-minded and who knows her way around the field of publishing and publishers.

Here’s a source for a wealth of information on many esoteric subjects like virgin birth. What’s personally interesting to me is that the author was born in Fitchburg, Massachusetts, which also happens to be my place of birth: * Hilton Hotema, born George R. Clements (7 February 1878, Fitchburg, Massachusetts – 1970),^[1] was a 20th-century American alternative health writer, esoteric author and mystic, who also adopted the names Kenyon Klamonti and Dr. Karl Kridler. (from wikipedia.org)

* I got to read many of Hotema’s books that were part of the private libraries at Hippocrates Health Institute. Unfortunately, Mr. Hotema died while a passenger in a car accident in the early 70’s. I was told that he fully had expected to live to the age of 150

Keep on reading just a little bit more below.

Title: Conceiving Healers Through Parthenogenesis
All of my paintings in this article are privately owned except for this one.

Maybe us westerners have made, and continue to make, too much of a big deal about parthenogenesis. Indigenous people are “at home” with it, or have been, for time immemorial. And, by making such a big deal about it, did it create envy and jealousy among men (and patriarchal women) in Greece and other self-conceiving, matriarchal cultures? This may have helped fuel misogyny which, in turn, led to the destruction and institutional repression of matriarchy and/or women in general.

Is there anyone out there with a solid idea to make this article go world-wide?

Anything anyone can do to share, post or spread this article will, no doubt, be participating in an exciting social-media experiment. I can’t do this alone! In sincere compassion and good will, I have put my best foot forward, and long to take the next step.

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO EMAIL ME WITH YOUR INTUITIVE THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS: denpoitras1@hotmail.com

ENJOY THE REST OF THE SLIDE-SHOW BELOW!