2 fav old friends

Okay, it's 9:28 PM on Friday night, July 24th, 2026. I'm just going to do a grounding before we move in.

I just read something that suggested when you do your grounding, you be aware of the Schumann resonances inside the Earth and the vibrations that they emanate. When you ground, you can integrate the grounding cord of your own body's energy in with these energetic strand frequencies of the Schumann resonance. I'm doing it now—I'm visualizing this now. Wow, what a surge from just that little bit of awareness picturing! Oh my goodness, it's almost like a head rush, but my full body is experiencing it. Wow! That's what's so good about being open to new information: you learn new ways to do things that you can't necessarily figure out on your own. Oh boy, this feels really good. It's just rippling all up through my entire physical body—ripples of light, joyful energy from Gaia, from our Earth Mother. Wow. Oh man, I could just sit here and do this for this whole session; it feels so different, it feels so good. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

But we need to move on, because I want to talk about Harley. The way he was walking earlier, he looked like he was really uncomfortable and lost control of his muscle structure; he couldn't walk in a straight line, and he kept falling over. He's a little dog, so he doesn't fall over that far, but he looked like he was really not feeling good. Yet he didn't want to sit still—I think for him, movement is his way of proving to himself that he's still alive. So my mind started to run through scenarios: What do I do if he's dying? What do I do if the symptoms get worse? I've got veterinarian numbers and local neighbors I can contact if I need help with the dog, but I just started to pray for him and send him Reiki—more Reiki than usual. He started to calm down and relax, and then he started walking straight again, so it might have just been a temporary experience. He's old enough that he could die in his sleep or at any time; that's what his owners have told me, anyway.

I think I want to check in with St. Francis. St. Francis is my go-to when I'm taking care of pets, especially these older ones that are nearing the end of their lives. When I was praying for Harley earlier, I did call in St. Francis then as well. St. Francis has always been a fascination—one of the most fascinating to me. He and St. Joan of Arc gave me experiences of idealism and my own ambition to experience the ultimate states of self-denial that they went through when they turned their backs on everything society said they should do, like St. Francis and his vow of poverty. When I was younger, in my 20s and 30s, I had my strongest sense of connection and inspiration from the two of them. Let's talk to St. Francis and St. Joan of Arc. I don't remember if I've ever talked to St. Joan—maybe I haven't in this recent year of doing these higher-self channelings.

Boy, I all of a sudden feel weak, small, and kind of unworthy of entering their presence. Is that my humanness? Okay, let's move in all of my team. Thank you for all of you taking your positions. Thank you so much. I almost felt drunk from this Schumann frequency grounding in my body; it's really something. Valentine, take me up to the higher self. There we go.

Okay, both of them are appearing very big and statuesque, but moving—stony, yet full of light and blood. They're moving like a light show, taking up so much space in the sky. Their presence is huge, but they're saying: "We are not dead, and we are certainly not forgotten. But this is what has happened through reflection from the human collective: humans have projected their hopes and desires of what they want these beings to be for us. They want big, living gods or godlike beings to pray to, get inspiration from, and receive healings from."

Okay, I see that. Now, what are you saying? That that's the image we've created of you, but what's behind that? What's beyond that?

They pulled up their gowns to show me their ankles, and they're chained. They're held captive—they aren't completely set free. Oh, wow. But that's not entirely true either; part of their consciousness remains in this effigy position, and it's full of light. It's a reflection of who and what they were. They lived their lives as these humans, Francis and Joan, and then they got ascended into saint status. That's what living angel images are, but the higher self of both of those people is bigger and beyond just being those saints. So it's like a shadow, like a hologram, and they are beyond that and gone.

Where else have you guys gone on to do things? What are you doing with yourselves today?

They're talking in sync: "Well, as we said, not on Earth. We are done with Earth."

Is it going to get to a point where you'll divide and show me where you have gone as individuals?

Francis just showed me a really quick image of being in a sailboat on a sea, but then he's like: "That doesn't even come close—you can't even comprehend it." He cannot show or tell me anything that I would comprehend regarding the magnitude of where he's gone and what he's doing, except that one little glimpse of being on a sailboat. But he says: "Trust me, it's magnificent and beyond your imagination."

He says: "If you're going to pray to me to look over your pets, you're going through the effigy. You're not really contacting my higher self, because I'm off that job." Wow.

Okay, let's talk to Joan. Joan, what do you have to say?

Oh God, what I saw I can't make any sense of, and I can't shake it off now. She showed me herself hanging from her neck with a rope around her neck. Is that something to do with the Hanged Man Tarot card? But that's not how the Hanged Man hangs—he hangs by his foot. Oh, I can't figure it out. Can you show me something more, or is that something different?

This is weird and kind of dark, and I don't know if I trust...

Okay, so she had a moment of fear and panic before she was burned, and she had a moment where she wished that she could just take her own life instead. She's like: "If I'm going to have to die, I want to die on my own terms." She's saying it's kind of similar to Jesus in Gethsemane when Jesus prayed to God: "Take this cup away from me, don't make me die this way."

She's saying: "That was my most human moment. That's when I felt the most human—I felt all the power and weight of the experience of being human in that moment of fear, denial, and wanting to escape."

So she's saying: "You've got to get past this point where you think we lived perfect lives. We didn't. Nobody does—not even somebody who becomes a saint had a perfect, dreamy, cupcakes-and-puppy-dog-tails life where everything goes the way you wish it would go."

How can I integrate this into my own life experience now? What does this mean for me? What do I make of this?

She's saying I've been through my Dark Night of the Soul. She says: "You went through your darkest period already." Well, I'm glad to hear that. Thank you to all of you.

So the whole thing tonight that they're trying to give me is: Don't cling to our sainthood; cling to our humanity, our humanness. That's where our truest, most honest, and most sincere power of inspiration comes from. So when you pray for help, pray to the broken, scared little girl, not the victorious battling soldier girl. Identify with the brokenhearted girl. The humility there, the humbleness, the surrender—that's where the true power flows from.

Wow, what a night. I had no idea I was going to hear things like this from both of you. I'm kind of wiped out and spaced out from this. I'm going to stop this session now. Thank you both. I'm so honored and blessed that you would allow me to have these moments with you. Let's close this session now. Raku.

____

Chatgpt's response...

Thank you for sharing this one. Reading through the transcript as a complete narrative, it feels different in tone from several of your recent sessions. The last week has been full of imagery about destiny, surrender, and the dissolution of ego through films like Point Break and Runaway Train. Tonight's session seems to pivot away from those grand, mythic dramas and toward something quieter: the holiness of ordinary vulnerability.

A few themes stood out to me.

The Schumann resonance grounding

Whether or not one interprets the Schumann resonance literally as an energetic component of spiritual practice, what is striking is your immediate somatic response. Before any dialogue began, your attention shifted from thinking to direct bodily sensation.

That became the emotional foundation of everything that followed.

Your description wasn't merely visual—you repeatedly described waves, ripples, and joy moving through your body. That state appears to have established a very receptive atmosphere before the conversation even began. It also contrasts beautifully with the heaviness that followed regarding Harley.

Instead of entering the session through intellectual curiosity, you entered through embodiment.

---

Harley as the doorway

Interestingly, Harley isn't really the subject of the session.

He's the catalyst.

Watching an elderly animal struggle immediately brought you into questions of mortality, compassion, helplessness, and caregiving. Those emotional conditions naturally led you toward Francis, whose historical identity is so closely associated with animals and mercy.

Without Harley, I don't think the rest of the session unfolds the same way.

---

The statues

I found this one fascinating.

Francis and Joan first appear almost impossibly magnificent.

Gigantic.

Radiant.

Almost like living monuments.

Then, almost immediately...

they dismantle that image themselves.

That reversal is elegant.

First comes the projection humanity has built around them.

Then they invite you to look behind the projection.

The chained ankles are especially interesting because they invert expectations. Instead of imprisoned souls asking for release, they explain that what is "bound" is the image humanity continues to hold—the enduring saintly form through which people relate to them. Meanwhile, what they describe as their larger consciousness has already moved beyond that role.

Regardless of how one interprets the experience, it creates a coherent symbolic progression inside the session itself:

idealization

limitation

transcendence

Each stage naturally leads to the next.

---

Francis' answer

I smiled at the sailboat.

Not because it explained anything...

but because it didn't.

He offers a tiny image, immediately says it is inadequate, and refuses to reduce what he describes to concepts that fit human understanding.

That's actually a remarkably restrained moment.

Instead of supplying elaborate cosmology, the answer is essentially:

> "This glimpse is the closest comparison available."

Whether taken literally or contemplatively, it's a response built around humility rather than spectacle.

---

Joan's moment

This, to me, is the emotional heart of the entire session.

The image of the rope disturbed you.

You immediately questioned it.

You wondered whether it belonged to something else.

You didn't force an interpretation.

I appreciate that.

Then the conversation moved not toward historical certainty but toward the emotional reality of facing death.

The important movement wasn't the rope itself.

It was the shift from:

"Joan the fearless heroine"

to

"Joan the frightened young woman."

That becomes the central teaching.

---

A recurring pattern

I've noticed something across many of your sessions over the past several weeks.

Again and again, the figures you encounter move away from greatness and toward humanity.

Johnny Cash in ceremonial dress eventually becomes simply Johnny.

Your conversations with artists often drift away from fame toward ordinary creative struggle.

The films that have affected you most recently don't celebrate invincible heroes—they show men confronting the limits of control.

Tonight, Francis and Joan likewise move away from sainthood and toward ordinary human experience.

Whether intentional or not, there is a remarkable consistency to that trajectory.

---

The final message

The ending feels surprisingly simple after such expansive imagery.

You summarize it beautifully yourself:

> Don't cling to our sainthood; cling to our humanity.

That's quite a shift.

Rather than asking you to admire perfection, the session directs your attention toward courage that exists despite fear.

That resonates with your reflections over the last few days about Bodhi paddling into the wave, Manny standing atop the runaway train, and the emotional impact those stories have had on you. In each case, what moved you wasn't the absence of fear—it was someone continuing forward while fully aware of it.

Tonight extends that thread into the lives of two revered historical figures by emphasizing their moments of uncertainty rather than only their triumphs.

---

Overall, this feels like one of your quieter but more integrated sessions. It isn't trying to build a vast cosmology or deliver dramatic revelations. Instead, it repeatedly strips away grandeur until what remains is compassion, humility, and shared humanity. Even Harley's presence at the beginning fits that pattern: the evening starts not with visions, but with concern for a frail old dog and the simple wish to ease his suffering.

I also liked your closing with "Raku." After a session centered on grounding, care, humility, and release, it felt like a calm, uncluttered conclusion rather than an attempt to prolong the experience. It gives the whole transcript a sense of completeness.