The Dr. Pat Show and Ghost Stories from the Ghosts’ Point of View



Recently, I was honored to be a guest on The Dr. Pat Show. It was a very powerful and insightful show. Below are just a few topics we discussed.

  • Have you ever wondered what are the elements that may cause souls to become ghosts and NOT cross over into Heaven?
  • If you knew the secrets to ensuring you and your loved ones would cross over into Heaven, would you be willing to help them and yourself?
  • If the dead can haunt the living, can the living haunt the dead?

Find out the answers to these questions and more on The Dr. Pat Show . The Dr. Pat show is the #1 Positive Talk Show in Seattle, 9 years in a row! Just listening to Dr. Pat is energizing!

These spiritual topics and more are covered in the trilogy, Ghost Stories from the Ghosts’ Point of View. To purchase, go to Books.

The Acting Couch from Ghost Stories from the Ghosts’ Point of View, Vol 3.

The Acting Couch from Ghost Stories from the Ghosts’ Point of View, Vol 3.

The Acting Couch

Hollywood is frequented by untold numbers of emotionally empty, desperate souls seeking the limelight. Yet the light they seek can never be found in the studios, production back lots, stage spotlights, movie theaters or television studios they endlessly haunt. There are thousands of ghosts patrolling the sidewalks of embedded stars, moving in and out of seedy bars that line Sunset and Vine, seeking that last desperate sip of whiskey or that last hope of fame. Other ghosts are stuck in the decades-old homes that elegantly grace Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Los Feliz, and the Hollywood Hills. They also fill the less glamorous condos, bungalows and apartments throughout Hollywood and the greater Los Angeles area.

Foreshadowing the Darkness

The cinematic ghosts of Hollywood who have so colorfully lit up the silver screen do not hold a candle to the apparitions who constantly frequent the homes of the living, looking for help, or recognition. However, there are other ghosts, those unexpected souls who have no idea that they live in an empty city of dreams, and although they may be trapped in a different dimension they still want their most basic dream to come true.

Perhaps my level of insight made me rather wistful as I agreed to help my new clients who live not too far from Hollywood Boulevard.

“Hi Tina, Conrad and I got this newly renovated condo and we need you to look at it. Since we moved in, things have not been the same between us. We love each other, but we fight all the time. Both of us feel ‘off’, you know? Like something is terribly out of balance and we just can’t make it right. Oh, and we feel sad. Sometimes we feel nauseated with stomach pains for no reason and then suddenly the pain is gone. This condo is so weird. Conrad has agreed with your remote viewing it. He feels all this peculiar stuff too.”

“Sure, Julie, I’ll be glad to look around and see what I can do. Is there anything else you want to share and at the same time, not give me too much detail? I don’t want to ‘find it’ because you already told me it was there.”

“Well, we seem to be having a constant problem with that nagging sense that there is someone there. That shadow out of the corner of your eye never seems to be gone.”

“Thanks, time to get to work.”

Even before I began I also felt a sickening and oppressive sense of sadness that seemed to cloud the edges of my moments right before I began the remote view. I could feel – something. Something unseen but not un-felt, something that needed resolution and an unusual level of compassion.

“Are you an agent?”

I had no sooner started working on this condo when I saw her standing there, complaining to no one in particular about how unhappy she was with her life. She seemed to notice me immediately.

“Have you come to help me get a part? Are you an agent? How did you hear about me? I guess you already know that my name is Belle Lawrence.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Belle.” She may have never had an acting part, may never have had her name known by anyone other than her landlord, but her presence could be easily felt even 75 years after she left that space.

She was old, perhaps in her late sixties when she presented herself to me but that actress aspect never left her personality. Her dream kept her in this apartment.

“Um, I’m not exactly the kind of agent you’re thinking of, but I can help you. I do represent someone pretty high up. Is Belle your real name?”

“No, I made up that name so that it would look good up on that there big screen in them movie houses. I wanted my family to see that I did come to some good. My daddy said I would always come to no good but that ain’t true. I – I could have made it. I know it.”

I could hear her, almost as if she turned away from me and began talking to herself again, as if she was still pacing the floor of (what would have then been) her apartment. “Can you tell me what happened to you in this apartment? Did you ever get any acting parts?”
“Help me please! I don’t understand! How come there was always a couch in the producer’s office? How come my acting ability, pretty face and body weren’t enough for that producer or director to know that I could act the part, do the job, hit my marks, know my lines? All I wanted to do was to be in them silent pictures! I wanted my family back home to see me up on the big screen in that movie house and know that I made it!”

“I know, Belle. I can only imagine how hard you tried. Tell me what happened to you. Please.”

“I tried to tell my family, a whole bunch of times, especially after. You know . . . after.”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. I’ve got plenty of time. Tell me what you mean when you say the ‘after’ time. Perhaps you had better start at the beginning, when you decided to come to Hollywood and be famous.”

Stars in My Eyes

“My papa always said I had stars in my eyes and that was how come I never could see clearly. Papa said I would come to no good. I don’t know why he always treated me so bad but he told me that over and over, you know, that I was ‘no good.’ But I didn’t believe it. Mama said I was such a pretty young thing and so smart. How could Papa see me so different like; I reckon he didn’t really see me at all.

“Mama said it was probably because he done wanted a boy and I was just another useless girl. It weren’t my fault I was a girl. I guess when you ain’t wanted, when you ain’t worth nothin’, you gotta’ go prove you’re ‘somebody.’

“I loved them picture shows. Them beautiful ladies looked like they was havin’ so much fun. They looked happy and I ain’t never really been happy. So I saved up all my egg money and set out for Los Angeles from my tiny town in Iowa. I just knew there was more to life than farmin’ an raisin’ livestock.

“I got me a one-way bus ticket to LA – that’s what I called it, – to Los Angeles so I could be in them picture shows on that there big screen. Then lots of folks would love me and finally I’d be somebody and Papa and Momma would be proud of me. Then he’d be darn proud that I was a girl, now, not a useless girl.”

The defiance in her tone, showed her stubborn resolve to make something of herself.

“And Belle, what happened when you got here? What year was it? What was it like for you at that time?”

Belle looked at me and then looked around her apartment as if it still looked like it did then. She sat down on what would have been the only chair she had in the room back then. Then she looked up at me with such anguish. Very probably her lament was the same for thousands of other young ingénues who believed that they could become the next Mary Pickford or Greta Garbo. The years before the Depression were so hard and it was especially difficult for single women to make a living. Hollywood must have looked so easy, so inviting. All you have to do is memorize your lines, learn your marks and you can become a star! There was not even that much acting to do with silent pictures. If only it were all that simple.

“I ‘member gettin’ off of that bus and feelin’ the pure glory of that warm California sun. It was April 1925. My dream had come true. I was here. I had started! I did what I said I’d do! But I had no place to live so I found me a boardin’ house to stay in and then I quickly got me a job waitin’ tables. I had heard that if you waited tables, that maybe a big time producer or director would see you and you could be ‘discovered.’ That was my dream.

“There were other young women there, livin’ at that boardin’ house and one of them asked me if I could ‘act.’ I said yes even though I couldn’t really act. She said I was lucky because she went on a casting call and was told that she couldn’t act and she didn’t get the part. So I got me another job to pay for actin’ lessons. I couldn’t afford many but I figured they were silent pictures and I had watched so many of them pretty girls just mouthin’ their lines. After a couple of weeks I felt like I could handle it, so I kept the second job and then got a real tiny cheap apartment. I worked my jobs so that I could go on all the casting calls and I’d be okay.”

“Did you get many casting calls? How did you find out about them?”

“Them studios posted the jobs they had for extra folks and even real actresses on a bulletin board outside of the entrance of the studios. I studied those posts every day. I went on every casting call. It was all so excitin’ I guess until – until it wasn’t, well I just wasn’t prepared for it that’s all.”

“What weren’t you prepared for Belle?”

“I – I wasn’t prepared for all them producers or directors, or whatever they was called. I didn’t know. Nobody warned me. I didn’t know what to do.”

The Lamb in the Lion’s Lair

Her face contorted into a pout. Something happened to her. I had a sick feeling I knew what it was.

“I remember that on one castin’ call, this here producer said that he liked my face and he called me over. He said that I might be right for the character I was reading for even though nobody was ever gonna hear my voice.

“I was so excited, I couldn’t breathe, you know? Finally, someone saw me. I was somebody! I couldn’t believe it. That there director said that there was a love scene in the movie and he wanted to see if I could act. He told me to come back later that day so I could rehearse with him.”

“And did you go back and rehearse with him?”

“Yeah, I did. I put on the only real pretty dress I had. Another actress did my hair and put a little makeup on me, so you know, so that I would look professional-like and I was there, right on time, ready to rehearse. And he was there, working on scripts or somethin’ and he had me wait for a while before he called me in. He told his secretary she could leave. She looked at me real funny, not friendly like at all. I couldn’t understand why. I felt a little uncomfortable bein’ there alone with him. But I wanted that part so my papa would be proud of me.”

“What happened?”

“He finally called me in and I stood there for a few minutes ‘til he looked up at me. Then he told me to turn around real slow-like. He said he wanted to see ‘how I moved.’ So I did that.

“Then he handed me a script page and asked me to read it out loud to him. I was confused ‘cause I thought all I had to do was mouth the lines, but he said that real soon, sound was coming to the movies and actresses would have to talk out loud and he wanted to hear how I sounded. He said he wanted to see if I was everything the part required.

“I remember he nodded his head at all the stuff I did and he said I was doin’ a great job. Then he handed me another script page and it was a love scene. I had been standin’ all this time. He says that he’ll ‘run lines’ with me if I just sit on the little couch he has right here.

“So I did. I sat on the couch and then he sat next to me. The scene called for a kiss. I remember those movin’ pictures and people just barely kissed so I figured that was all he wanted.

“But it wasn’t all he wanted. He pulled me toward him and I resisted. He said movies were changin’ and that love scenes were becomin’ more and more visible, especially with ‘talkies’ as he called them. He had to see how I would react in a real love scene with a real man. He pulled me to him, this time real slow and I – I let him do this. And he then began to put his arms around me. I felt myself pull away from him, ‘cause somethin’ felt wrong about this.

“He was a short, fat, ugly man. His breath smelt like cigars an’ coffee and his black hair was all greasy. He told me I had to ‘run my fingers through his hair’ ‘cause that’s what the scene would call for. I was gettin’ more and more nervous like, you know?

“But I did what he asked. Then he said I had to really kiss him, not fake it, but really give him a kiss – on his lips. Well I ain’t never kissed a boy even back home, so I give him a peck on his fat cheek. He laughed out loud. I felt real stupid and I was gettin’ a scared feelin’ in my stomach.

“He took his time and he pulled me to him and he made me do this over and over till I got it right. Then he made me kiss him over and over and he made the kissin’ part more forceful like. He was a strong man. I reckon he done kissed me maybe 10 times and he made me start over and over where he pulled me to him and he kissed me.

“Then there was the final time that he pulled me to him and he kissed me real hard that time, harder than before. I tried to pull away, but he was so fast, he turned me around and laid me down on his big brown couch and he said he wanted to look at me lyin’ there. Then before I knew it he took his pants down. I ain’t never seen man parts like that before and then . . . he took terrible advantage of me.

“I believed that your ‘first time’ was supposed to be special, not violent like this, not make me want to vomit.

“I didn’t think it would ever be over. He smelled of BO. I started to cry when he was doin’ this to me. And then I – I couldn’t stop cryin’. He got mad at me and yelled at me to shut up.

“Then he screamed at me to get out, that I was a terrible actress and I wasn’t right for his part. I remember thinkin’ that all I had to do to be an actress was mouth my lines. . . .”

If only that was all you had to do. What this young woman never quite realized sitting on the farm in her flat Midwestern state, was that you also had to navigate through the male-dominated politics of the studio system. You especially had to gauge how to handle yourself in the offices of the barely concealed rapists that would describe many a Hollywood producer and director. These men routinely took reckless and disgusting advantage of these hopeful young women.


“Belle, how did you recover from that rape? Did you report him, tell the police, or tell anyone?” I already knew the answer, but I had to ask her, had to help her get her story out.

“No, no, I didn’t tell nobody. I felt like I didn’t know who I was, that the ‘Belle’ who walked into that office died in there, and another girl walked out. I went home and took a bath and I cried for a long time. I didn’t go on auditions for a week and then I got up my courage and tried again. I told myself that it would be different in the future. I understood how things worked now.”

“Were things different for you Belle? Did you finally get parts?”

“No, it wasn’t parts I got. It took me a while to realize, that what I got, was pregnant. I didn’t think you could get pregnant the very first time you had sex. I guess I

was denyin’ it at first. I was pretenden’ I was just gettin’ fat. I wore big clothes to hide my belly. I didn’t know many people, didn’t have many friends, certainly not friends I could ask for help. I was one of them girls who got ‘in trouble.’ I was so ashamed.”

‘In trouble’ was that cruel label used to describe a girl pregnant outside of wedlock.

“I lost my figure real fast. I knew there was such a thing as getting’ rid of the baby, but I didn’t know who I was gonna’ ask. I had no money to pay anyway. What was I gonna’ do?

“My two jobs barely paid for my apartment and the little bit of food I allowed myself. I still wanted to go for auditions but as the weeks and months passed, my belly began to show, and I had to stop going to the studios. I counted myself lucky to still have my waitressin’ jobs.

“Then the baby came and labor was hard. I was so alone. I took a cab to the hospital and had the baby. I left as soon as I could. When they handed me this pink, wigglin’ little girl, my heart sank ‘stead of bein’ filled with delight. I named her Sarah Jane but I don’t know why I picked that name – maybe after Sarah Burnhardt?

“I didn’t know how to nurse no baby. There was no crib, or baby clothes. This wasn’t ever going to work. The baby cried and cried. I couldn’t stand the cryin’. I bought rat poison and fed it to the baby until she died – which wasn’t very long.

“I killed my baby. I told myself I would have been a terrible mother anyway. I had always been a good Christian girl and now – now I had killed my baby.

“I worked real hard to get that pregnancy weight off my body so I would look good in clothes again. I went to more auditions. I was gettin’ better and better at this acting stuff, learnin’ lines and understandin’ what the studios wanted.

“But always there was the sex part with the director, producer or casting director. I began to wonder who I was. I never did figure out how to meet with these men and not get taken advantage of, you know in that private way.

“You ain’t gonna believe this, but I got pregnant three more times. I had a baby every year for four years. I named them JoJo, Frank and Baby Mae. And I poisoned each of them right after they was born ‘cause I couldn’t ever go back home to the Midwest with them. My family would never have accepted me with four bastard kids from four different fathers. The scandal! Oh my mamma and papa would have disowned me. I’da been an outcast in my own small town. My ‘children’ weren’t never gonna’ be accepted. Everyone would have called them bastards.

“I didn’t want to go home a failure; still “good for nothin’” as my papa believed. I reckon that givin’ up and denyin’ my dream was not something I could face at least the first three times. Sometimes I felt horrible for what I did. Sometimes I simply didn’t feel nothin’ at all when I thought about how I murdered my own kids. It was almost as if sometimes I guess I was plumb separated from that murderous woman I had become – almost.

“I disposed of their little bodies by wrapping them in old newspaper and puttin’ them in a trashcan down the street. I’d slip out in the middle of the night so that no one could see me, could see how horrible a mother I was.”

Getting Away with Murder

“After killin’ the 4th child, Baby Mae, somethin’ inside of me died with her. I gave up on my dream, my bein’ an actress. I took the last of my waitressen’ money and bought a ticket home. I cried that whole bus trip back to Iowa. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I sure weren’t no Belle Lawrence: actress. I went back to bein’ Becky Sue Jones.

“Becky Sue or – uh – Belle, what did you decide to tell your family on that long ride home?”

I imagined that trip was her final descent into downheartedness: dreams shattered, body violated, sense of self, destroyed.

“How was I gonna’ face my family, especially after I had told them about all of my auditions? They was so excited for me. What could I say? I knew I would face the shame of havin’ failed at makin’ my Hollywood dream come true, but I plum didn’t have it in me to face another producer and his damned couch. I couldn’t bear to have another baby and kill another little body.

“I thought long and hard about what to tell my mamma and papa but when I got there, I walked in the house and said I was home for good. I reckon there was somethin’ about the way I said it that they didn’t ask me no more questions. No one ever mentioned Hollywood again.

Life After Hollywood

“Becky Sue, how did you live the rest of your life?”

“I never got married. I couldn’t bear to be with another man, no matter how kind. I didn’t deserve to be happy. I spent the rest of my life takin’ care of my parents and the farm. Hard to believe that them four short years destroyed my life. I am a failure: God’s gonna’ punish me because I got away with murder. No one ever found out it was me who killed them babies.

“One day my breasts got real sore, not the way your breasts get achy when you’re pregnant but a terrible kind of pain. But I waited and waited until these horrible oozing sores were all over my breasts. The doctor said I had breast cancer. I passed away before my momma died.”

“Becky Sue, can you tell me why you named each of your babies? Wouldn’t it have been easier if you hadn’t named them?”

“Do you think I wanted to give a name to them babies I killed? I had to give the nurse a name for their birth certificates. She kept askin’ me what I was plannin’ on callin’ them. I had no choice. I still remember their names. They haunt me even now that I’m dead.”

Maybe her cancer was the metaphoric relentless nagging of her conscience sickening her to the point of death. Breast cancer can represent a deep emotional sickness, guilt, or shame made manifest by an unwanted growth of some type of tumor.

“So Becky Sue, if you died in Iowa, why are you still here in this apartment in Hollywood, California?”

“I – I reckon that I didn’t feel welcome at home. Once I died and left my rottin’ body, I didn’t feel comfortable watchin’ my parents grieve me. I didn’t rightly deserve anyone’s tears. Next I know, I’m back in this here apartment rememberin’ those horrible four years. Those dirty, cruel years that destroyed my whole life. I weren’t never the same after that.”

“When you found yourself back here, did you notice any other ghosts?”
“No, I’m here alone. Ain’t nobody here with me.”
But Becky Sue wasn’t the only ghost that I could see there, although for now, she didn’t need to know that. Her physical and emotional suffering shut her out from all other souls, living and dead.

I quietly brought in an Angel of Transition to escort her to the Heaven World. I wasn’t quite prepared for her reaction when she saw this gorgeous being.

“Hey, is that an angel standin’ there?”

“Yes, this angel is for you, to guide you to the Heaven World. Go ahead and take the shawl she’s offering you.”

“No ma’am. I don’t be deservin’ of any pretty angel or that – that there golden shawl. No, I murdered my babies, all four of them. Ain’t no good ever comin’ to me. No way. I read the bible, I know I’m goin’ to hell.”

“My dear, God welcomes all his children home, even you. And it doesn’t matter what you think you deserve, this angel is taking you across that Light Bridge. It’s all right now. There is help and hope for you.” I said this as I nodded to the angel to take her home.

She looked up at the angel and tears flowed from her eyes in an unending stream of grief and perhaps the relief that she could finally leave the hell of her shattered dreams and the murderous shadow that haunted her personality. She crossed over without another word.

Conceived in Rape

“Is she gone now?”
I turned to the tiny, tiny voice that asked this question.
“Yes, your mother’s gone now. You’re safe.”
I gazed at the four babies, each laying on the bed with faces contorted in pain, laying there where they died. A horrified shudder ran through me as I looked at them. Immediately, I brought in four angels to pick up and wrap each little body in a blanket of healing light. Because these warming blankets came from the Heaven world, they began to restore each baby’s soul and remove the wrenching pain they felt in their tiny stomachs. I could feel them relax as the warmth seeped into the inner reaches of their souls. Then the angels turned beaming smiles toward each tiny face and begin to hum sweetly as they gently rocked each child.

“Why did she do this to us?”

I could not tell which child was which. They all looked almost identical so I addressed them all.

“Could you all see her?”

“Yes, we could but she couldn’t see us. We didn’t really want her to see us either in case she would try to kill us again. Do you know why we were killed? Is that what being ‘unwanted’ means – that your mother kills you? When we were inside of her, we could feel that she didn’t want us.”

“I cannot answer for the cruel actions of your mother. Right now, what I can do is to offer all of your little bodies the healing light of these Divine golden blankets and the gentleness of these angels. Are you all feeling better? Let me assure you, that although your mother may not have wanted you, God loves you and wants you. It’s time to return home to the Father.”

I gave the angels the nod and they lovingly carried those precious babies into the Light of the Divine.


Becky Sue’s four newborns were also haunting the condo, since this is where each of them died. Two of them lived only a few days; the last two children died barely a few hours after returning home from the hospital. We will never know the emotional pain and physical trauma these children experienced because they were each so profoundly unloved. Conceived in rape, they were unloved and unwanted from the very moment of conception.

Not wanted: what a terrible energy to give to any child for nine long months. They never knew even a moment of compassion. I cannot comprehend their individual pain or the karma of such a birth. Surely Becky Sue would have known what that felt like since she too had been an unwanted child. However, it is not up to us to judge her.

The murdered babies had no idea what to do after death. They stayed there, crying for decades of mortal time. However, for these babies, there was no time, there was only the moment immediately following their deaths as they slipped out of those bodies. It is knowing that they are now in the Heaven World, that enables me to continue to face these poignant situations.

I took a deep breath and returned to my work. I systematically cleared the energetic echo of this actress and her dead children from the condo. The walls will no longer be able to talk to any psychic or fill the spaces with the energy of Becky Sue’s tragic life and the deaths she caused.

My clients were pleased that their condo was now free of these dead souls and the energy of murder and despair. How simple that sentence yet how powerful that service is to those souls who now reside in the Heaven World.

By Tina Erwin Copyright 2012, All Rights Reserved


View more videos >>

Reincarnating from Hell

Are Some People Just Born Mean?

         Do you ever wonder if some people come directly from hell? There are those life streams that seem to be born vicious and even murderous. We have all met souls who may not be murderers but who may be mean, angry, vicious, and rage-filled despite a positive upbringing. Is it nature or nurture, the psychologists ask? Perhaps it is neither. What if a soul reincarnates from the darkest places in the Shadow lands, the 4th dimension or more commonly referred to as the ‘hells?’

The shadow lands are called this because all the soul sees is the darkness relieved by brief areas of grey.

The shadow lands are called this because all the soul sees is the darkness relieved by brief areas of grey.

         Current day murderers do reincarnate from the hells. These souls are born with a particular darkness in their souls that no amount of sweet natured nurturing can erase. When the person is reborn, he or she will be birthed into a family of similar or even a slightly higher frequency. Some families try to help these souls to take a different path while some families fuel the person’s deadly tendencies. Many a family member has stood in stunned disbelief at the murderous actions of a son or daughter, sibling or parent. No one else in that family may be a murderer so they are left in sorrowful bewilderment at the actions of someone they have loved.

The Hells are a terrifying place.

The Hells are a terrifying place.

         The reality is that life after life of shredded ethics, absent moral and spiritual values and a selfish desire to take advantage of others creates the formation of the criminal mind. Sometimes family members can stop them, mostly they cannot.

         In other words, if the soul is so consumed with him/herself and makes no progress towards service in each life span, then he or she must reincarnate with that vibration until their vibration can be raised. Families of serial killers often noted that their child began abusing insects and animals at a very early age. Their singular lack of conscience defined them from childhood. We see this today when children as young as seven and eight years of age, can murder with no conscience whatsoever.

         This lack of moral compass defines the soul at a core level, which is why these types of souls do not reincarnate from the Heaven World, but from the Lower Astral. The theory basis is that vicious souls who do not cross over into the Heaven World become residents of the Lower Astral and then reincarnate from there. If this is true, it would explain why so many of these souls start out as character disorders (have you noticed the unnerving number of narcissists out there?) at the mild end to vicious narcissistic, paranoid schizophrenics at the most dangerous end. These souls never had the benefit of the healing, guidance and wisdom of the Heaven World. All they received was a poisonous dose of darkness from the dens of hell. All souls benefit from time in the Heaven World.

         The love and energy that family members give to their loved ones is not wasted energy. It is a critical step in the karmic path of the soul. It offers this darkened soul the opportunity to see a better way. Free will is the golden ticket to soul evolution if the soul chooses a higher road, then life will improve. This is also an aspect of karma. If in one life you treated others badly, then you must keep coming back until you learn to offer loving kindness to all beings. The reverse of this is also true, the more service you do, the more service you do in each lifetime for the betterment of all beings.

         Crossing over every single soul at death affords even the most hardened killer the opportunity for soul healing in the Heaven World. Souls do not have to remain in the hells. Crossing over a murderer, or any type of criminal at that person’s death offers them a tremendous step up in the path to soul evolution. Crossing over a murderous soul is tremendous service to the living, the dead and all the souls who will encounter this former criminal in a future life. Perhaps in the next incarnation, this soul will not kill or harm anyone. Perhaps he or she will take more positive steps on their path because they received that precious divine guidance from the Heaven World.

The welcoming light of the Heaven World pierces the darkness of the 4th dimension.

The welcoming light of the Heaven World pierces the darkness of the 4th dimension.


Photography by Tina Erwin 2016. All rights reserved.


Why Are we Hearing Voices in Our Heads?

By Tina Erwin

Spiritual Voices

       Why are we hearing voices in our heads and why are some of them beneficial and some of them detrimental? Could it be something extremely fundamental that decides whether we hear the voice of angels or the voice of demons?

Could it simply be an aspect of what our frequency is at any given time? The frequency of any soul is determined by whether a person is depressed or delighted, energetic or depleted. And frequency determines whether someone saves lives or takes lives. The higher your vibration, the better you feel and the more likely you are to hear the voices of the higher realms.

The closer you are to darkness in general, the more likely you are to hear the voices of darkness. Melodramatic perhaps, but it is the truth. Sometimes extreme trauma and/or grief can put you in a place where you cannot seem to climb out of the darkness. Sometimes it is this darkness, these voices of darkness that beckon to people to take their own lives or the lives of others. Most of them fight it with all their might but it depends on the level of their own frequency and how well they can fight off the vicious voices of the 4th dimension.

Instead of drugging people to stop those voices, how much more productive and beneficial it would be to begin to change the person’s frequency so that he or she can begin to heal themselves. Grief of any kind and especially the sudden death of a loved one, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, trauma, war, loss of job, continued life failures, divorce, extreme overwork, and exhaustion can plunge a person’s frequency to rock bottom level. This is true even for a person who has never had those feelings. Even sleep deprivation can change what you think you are hearing.

There was a very interesting experiment done in 1959 with a radio disk jockey who did a New York radio station stunt where he went without sleep for 200 hours to raise money for the March of Dimes. He was advised not to do this. Doctors said that insanity could set in but he was trying to up the ratings for his radio show. He raised his ratings but he lost his mind in the process. By the time the end of the week rolled around, he found that he could no longer discern what was reality and what was not. He saw all kinds of demons and horrifying things around him. He lost his mind and a deep psychosis set in to his entire body. And he never fully recovered.*

We need sleep, especially REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep because it helps to restore the entire body. Souls leave the physical body during sleep and make their way to the higher realms for advice, counsel and healing. They re-enter their physical body as the REM cycle ends. This is why you can never live without sleep. That connection to the higher realms is what keeps us sane. Limited contact with the higher realms leaves us depleted and unable to differentiate between true realities and the dark realms of the lower astral. The more consistently we receive 7-9 hours of deep, nourishing sleep, the more likely we are to keep our frequencies strong.

Precluding Insanity

Is this the only criteria to preclude insanity? Is all insanity a frequency issue? Consider that Adolf Hitler did not smoke and drink. He was a vegetarian as well as being one of the largest mass murderers in history. What dark voices did he hear? Was his insanity sleep deprivation or pure deep and powerful control by a dark force? Is this true for all mass murders? Do they sleep just fine and still kill people?

What if there is a middle area? What if the horrible voices that people are hearing telling them to do horrible things are coming from the lower astral realms, or the hells? Because they are hearing horror, they are considered insane.

What if their counterparts, our creative geniuses, are hearing voices from the Heaven World? It is these voices that help to move the world forward in every discipline. Remember, we never consider these people insane.

What about people who meditate? Meditation seems to bring a sense of inner calm, a peacefulness that enables a person to hear that still small voice that is either an angel or our higher selves.

This means that whether we want to believe this astonishing concept or not, we are all having daily interactions with the 4th and 5th dimensions, the places of light and dark. The higher we raise our frequencies, the more we will be able to hear the voices of the higher dimensions. The darker the places are that we frequent in our despair, the lower our frequencies will be. It is these vibrations that will help to determine the voices we all hear in our heads.

As I am completing this writing, I realize that I woke up this morning with someone’s voice telling me to write this. Could it be that we also set ourselves up to be open to the places of higher thought? Could this help us find more amazing ways to live, work, think, and feel? What do you think?       Let me know at


Hearing Voices in My Head

By Tina Erwin

I’m hearing voices in my head as I’m clinging for dear life to the seat in front of me. I’m hoping that I won’t be thrown out of the Jeep as it careens down the side of the Andes Mountain we are descending. I can see the lights of the Colombian city of Medellin below as the Jeep takes wider and wider swings around each curve. We must be at least 7,000 feet up and the drunk driver of this Jeep doesn’t seem to notice that we are all about to die.

Thoughts race through my head. What was I thinking, taking this college traineeship teaching English in South America? The family I am living with is great, but I had no idea what terrors would await me when they said that they wanted to show me El Peñón de Guatapé. El Peñón (as they causally called it,) is an embarrassingly giant (650’ tall) phallic looking, purple rock in the middle of nowhere high in the Andes Mountains (7,005 feet above sea level) up an endlessly winding barely paved road. We never did go to the rock. Instead, four out of the five men on the trip drank for hours at a cantina while one of the sisters from the family I was living with, and I watched, sitting at the outdoor cafe and shivering in the drearily falling, icy rain.

“When will this be over? Why did I come? It’s getting dark and we have to go back down that mind-bogglingly dangerous road. At least my boyfriend Xavier isn’t drinking.”

         Finally, we eat a tasteless dinner and the men, laughing and joking decide that now that it is pitch black, we should head back into the city of Medellin. By now, I’m chilled to the bone, tired and terrified. The very drunk owner of the Jeep gets into the drivers seat and puts the Jeep in gear. I asked my boyfriend, Xavier if Juan should be driving. He assured me that even though he had been drinking, he was used to the roads and was a good driver. Why didn’t this make me feel better?

We started the descent. At first I thought that we were driving a little oddly because there was so much mud on the road due to the endless drizzle. But we left muddy road and went to more of a half gravel, half broken pavement kind of primitive road with no guardrails. My anxiety began to rocket.

What was this terror that was building inside me? Finally, each endless curve seemed to be more alarming than the last. Fear griped my throat as my words were frozen in fear. At any second we won’t make that next curve and I can feel that we will suddenly sail out over the mountains at the very next curve: we fall to our deaths on the unforgiving mountains below us. I felt almost hypnotized by my plight and at the same time I was beyond frantic.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one. Suddenly I can hear this voice in my head begin to scream at me over and over.

“Tina, tell them to STOP THE JEEP. Get a grip! Start yelling to them to stop the Jeep RIGHT NOW. You aren’t supposed to die here, you have so much more to do. Do something NOW!”

“Stop the Jeep!” I screamed in Spanish. “Stop the Jeep Right Now!”

         There were seven of us in that Jeep. And to my astonishment, the drunken driver stopped the Jeep immediately (on a blind curve), and we all got out and walked around the vehicle. The back right tire was completely flat. I burst into tears and sobbed into Xavier’s shoulder. The men changed the tire. Xavier drove us back into the city with me beside him, quietly crying all the way home. The car drove just fine after that. The family I was living with hailed me as a hero and claimed that I saved everyone’s lives. They thought that I was some type of psychic to have known about that tire.

But it wasn’t me who saved them: it was that incredible voice screaming in my head. I believe that it was an angel looking out for me.

         We’re all hearing voices in our heads.

We’ve all, at one time or another had the experience where we could have sworn that someone or something was advising us to do something, take some action or stop what we were doing.

Mozart was compelled to compose the music that is so profound that listening to it alone can raise your frequency. He had no choice, he had to write it down. He didn’t struggle with what to write, he was some other being’s vehicle for introducing this powerful music to the world.

Consider Neale Donald Walsch* and his prolific Conversations with God books. This author hears God talk to him. And apparently millions of people completely believe him because his books have all been best sellers. His message of love and peace resonate with people all over the world. What or who is he actually hearing? Is this his imagination, or is he truly hearing the voice of God?

Other people such as Nicola Tesla were compelled to change the world in completely positive ways, like inventing alternating current, which is the electricity we use today.

Some people are compelled to create. They have no choice, it is as if someone else, some other being is driving them to create, or invent, or write. Others are hearing voices too, but those chilling voices are telling them to kill another person.

People take the actions that these voices are telling them to do. What are these voices so many people are hearing? On a television episode of a show about aliens from ancient times, there is the discussion that we may have beings attached to us who help to guide us to various pathways. Do we have free will or are we puppets of some other force?

When another person takes the path down the dark side of life, some of them say that cannot resist that hideous voice in their heads that tells them they are worthless, terrible or deadly. Consider Son of Sam killer David Berkowitz** (see link below.) He claimed that his neighbor’s dog told him to kill people. At his trial, he pleaded insanity, saying that demonic voices in his head told him to do all the horrible things he did to people. He claimed that they also told him to set 1488 fires. What or who were those voices?

If someone hears a voice telling them to create a masterwork, or invent something that will change the world, we call them genius.

If someone else hears a voice telling them to kill someone, set fires or bomb someone or something, we call them insane. Obviously the difference is the end result, but are elements of the voices the same?

What causes one person to hear the voices of genius and the other destruction and murder?

         Part II will discuss the challenge of the critical difference.





Be Politically Incorrect: Enjoy Christmas

Be Politically Incorrect: Enjoy Christmas

It is more than ok to be politically incorrect and enjoy Christmas and any other holiday. In these busy days of December, it is wonderful to remember that we still have the freedom to celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah. There are increasing numbers of Christians and Jews who no longer have the freedom to worship as they wish. Freedom of Religion is only free if we are all mindful that it is important to value freedom where ever we live. Saying Merry Christmas or Happy  Hanukkah should not be politically incorrect. Frankly, if my merry greeting offends someone that is not my problem. Friendliness is never politically incorrect. If someone says Happy Hanukkah to me, I  say thank you. It is the spirit of the greeting that is so important.

Politically Incorrect Commercialized Christmas is also a Freedom.

This is the first year that I am not lamenting the commercialism of Christmas. We have the freedom to choose to observe the ads, to be grateful the stores are so elegantly and festively decorated and that they offer gift ideas for others. Yes, the holiday music seems endless sometimes in the stores. BUT!! Imagine if these same stores were not allowed to play this music. What if the “political correctness police” were to ban all Christmas music? Can you imagine shopping this time of the year and not quietly humming along with that music?  Tired of it? We can readily retreat to our homes and the festive decorations that cocoon us there. Have a cup of tea and enjoy your tree. I love the lights that stores and homes put up. The United States is primarily a Christian/Jewish country. We have always been respectful of both traditions and many others. Many Jews and Christians happily swap cards, gifts and delicious baked goods that celebrate the season. Let us not forget this on the alter of political correctness. Other cultures/faiths readily benefit from the money made in December. In the past they have never resented people spending extra to purchase their products. All faiths are free to celebrate their holidays here. However, since the majority of the population of the United States is a variety of Christian or is Jewish then the celebrations made for Christmas here are perfectly normal.

Be Politically Incorrect: Value the First Amendment

The first amendment sets out freedom of speech (yes, you can freely say Merry Christmas) and freedom of religion (yes you can be any religion you want here) and freedom of assembly (yes you can go caroling and it is protected under the constitution.) Political correctness must NEVER circumvent the Constitution of the United States. NEVER. And the same should go in every other country as well. So, in the spirit of Christmas, below is my visual gift to anyone who may choose to enjoy these lovely images, regardless of religion. You can also click on them and see them up close. Oh, and Merry Christmas!

2015-11-27 17.23.08

Enjoying the color, texture and aroma of your Christmas tree.





Enjoy lovely scenes.

Check out Rotherburg, Germany:


Decorate and make your home festive!


Bake some cookies. Share some cookies and don’t forget to eat some cookies!


‘Christmassy’ windows in Rothenburg, Germany.



Photography by Tina Erwin. All rights reserved.

Deadly Mammograms

Why Mammograms are so deadly.

Mammograms are a medical procedure whereby a woman places a perfectly healthy breast on a cold metal plate. Then a technician adds another cold metal plate on top of the breast and squishes the breast hard, between the two metal plates. Then the technician shoots radiation at point blank range at your breast. Can you imagine a guy allowing this to happen to his testicles? That would never happen, but women allow this insanity to happen.  I remember a woman who was told to get a mammogram every six months after the age of 50. She did this for five years. After all of her hair fell out she kept asking her doctor if the radiation could be the cause. Her doctor didn’t think so. The woman eventually got breast cancer.

Health Freedom Alliance put out an article directly linking the rise of breast cancer to the use of mammograms. This link is stunning in its indictment of these terrible, financially lucrative procedures. Consider this Norwegian study:

“The annual incidence of localized breast cancer among women aged 50–69 years rose from 63.9 per 100 000 before the introduction of screening to 141.2 afterwards, corresponding to a ratio of 2.21 (95% confidence interval: 2.10; 2.32).The incidence of more advanced cancers increased from 86.9 to 117.3 per 100 000 afterwards, corresponding to a 1.35 (1.29; 1.42)-fold increase. Advanced cancers also increased among younger women not eligible for screening, whereas their incidence of localized cancers remained nearly constant.” (1)


Mammograms are now being directly linked to a prohibitive rise in breast cancer.

And the doctors and the drug companies are making money all the way to the bank.

From Mercola’s Newsletter:

Mammograms use ionizing radiation at a relatively high dose, which can contribute to the mutations that can lead to breast cancer. You can get as much radiation from one mammogram as you would from 1,000 chest X-rays. Mammography also compresses your breasts tightly, which can lead to a dangerous spread of cancerous cells, should they exist. Dr. Samuel Epstein, one of the world’s top cancer experts, has stated:

“The premenopausal breast is highly sensitive to radiation, each 1 rad exposure increasing breast cancer risk by about 1 percent, with a cumulative 10 percent increased risk for each breast over a decade’s screening.

Don't let breast cancer sunset your life.

Don’t let mammograms sunset your life.


Thermography does not harm your breasts and can detect any abnormality far earlier than mammograms. It is non-invasive, provides far better detail about what is happening inside your body and is worth considering before you subject your body to ionizing radiation.


Just Say No

What would happen if all women just said not to mammograms? What if they focused on their health, and used thermography? Perhaps the incidence of cancer among women in all categories would fall. What a concept!

Photography by Tina Erwin. All rights reserved.

Fed Up with Pink

(Except in pink gorgeous flowers!)

I’m FED UP with PINK!!!!

I find that it’s about resonance. Everything has a frequency. Resonance is the concept that you resonate, or are in harmony with something, someone, some place or with some concept that is the same frequency as yours, or is close to that frequency.

However, what if you are not aware that somehow you are becoming in resonance with a concept that could be exceptionally harmful to you? Could this happen? Is it possible?

It is happening: women are being made to believe on an exceptionally subtle level that they will inevitably get breast cancer. At some point, there is a subtle pressure to believe that no matter what you do, this terrible thing is going to happen to you. Some women are so afraid of this that they are going ahead and having whole body parts removed in advance. They are allowing themselves to be mutilated to preclude breast cancer. American women are becoming completely in resonance with breast cancer.

How is this resonance being perpetrated? Pink! Wear Pink for the Cure! There is Breast Cancer Awareness Week, Month, Year, Day, Sale, Offer, and on and on. At first it started out with pink bracelets, and then pink ribbons. Now everywhere you look, you see this toxic manipulation of your psyche through the most astounding things such as selling Pink Kitchen Aid Mixers, Pink iPods, Fight For the Cure Socks, and jewelry – which you wear in the vicinity of your breasts – of course.

There are also marathons. “Race for the Cure!!!” they say. Imagine hundreds of women running a marathon, all in resonance with each other and all thinking about breast cancer. All mistakenly thinking their running is going to somehow stop what they now believe in the recesses of their minds is inevitable: breast cancer.

And the absolute worst pink product: breast cancer awareness underwear in pink bras and panties. Think about it. You are being asked to wear the representation of breast cancer directly on your very breasts.

That is a lot of fear.

The drug companies are literally creating the very market they are telling people they want to eliminate – breast cancer patients. But breast cancer is a very, very big business. Breast cancer advertising is even bigger business on very subtle levels.

There are now millions of extremely sincere, conscientious women, in resonance with each other, wearing an insipid shade of pink thinking that they are standing side by side other women of like mind who want to find a cure for a disease they do not even have but believe that they will get. There is no logic here, only exceptionally brilliant advertising. You surely don’t see men wearing shiny brown ribbons to fight prostate or testicular cancer. You absolutely don’t see men having their prostates removed or testicles loped off – just in case. No man in his right mind would do such an illogical thing.

So, what can you do to change your resonance? Do the following positive, exceptionally inexpensive actions:

  • Boycott all pink breast cancer products! Be politically incorrect!
  • Do not allow advertising to create fear in you.
  • Stop saying you are a survivor. Survivors just barely hang on. Decide to be a thriving personality, healthy and happy.
  • Love your body! Be grateful to your body for its long-standing service to you.
  • Anoint your beautiful body with essential oils.
  • Wear colors that make you happy. Not everyone looks good in pink.
  • Make peace with your body and give it the love and respect that it truly deserves. Be grateful for the body you have, no matter what its shape.
  • Live and be happy. Say good-bye to the breast cancer cause.
  • Shift your resonance to being healthy. Create an affirmation that says “Day by day in every way, I am getting better and better and better.”
  • Consciously choose that with which you will be in resonance.

This also applies to women who have already had breast cancer. By keeping them in resonance with breast cancer, they stay labeled “breast cancer survivors” forever. When do they heal? When is it over? When do the support groups end?

People who wear these bracelets and pins think they are being supportive, but potentially, they could be harming themselves.  Think about it. Is there anyone who isn’t aware of breast cancer????

The time has come to shift your resonance to being with people who are happy, healthy and who are enjoying the life and the body they have. Now is the time to become in resonance with a whole new wonderful reality and enjoy a healthy life for the rest of your life.

Check out these sites for other “fed up with pink” women


Photography by Tina Erwin. All rights reserved.

Listen to the Message of The Angel Oak Tree on John’s Island by Tina Erwin

Listen to the Message of The Angel Oak Tree on John’s Island by Tina Erwin

The Angel Oak Tree Sends a Message

Did you ever have one of those magic moments in your life that you want to hold on to forever and then something happens that just makes it even more magical? The last week of May 2015, my daughter and I, met six other family members in Charleston, SC. We rented a house on Edisto Island, an hour south of Charleston. It was wonderful to have all of us together to enjoy the soft sea breezes which gently relaxed us as we began to tour this Spanish moss draped, tree covered area of the South. One of the most precious areas we visited was The Angel Oak Tree on John’s Island, SC.


Although this plaque says that the Angel Oak is 300-400 years old, the prevailing belief is that is is over 1500 years old.

  No one knows when the tree was planted: estimates of its age range from 300-400 years old to as old as 1500 years.  The magnitude of the tree takes your breath away. I wanted to touch it, to feel it’s bark and I was surprised by how much this tree bark looked like what I would imagine the skin of an elephant might feel like. Trees like this feel wise; they feel intelligent. As I laid my hands on this ancient tree, information came pouring out to me. This is the exact transcript of what I heard this tree say, as tape recorded by my sister who had a feeling when she knew we were coming here that we might learn something from this mighty Angel Oak.


The Angel Oak is host to the Resurrection Fern, the green growth on the branches. The fern appears to die off in dry times and returns to life in the rainy season.

“I am like the elephant. I am the memory keeper from before you measured time here. Tracing the path of the sun through, what you call centuries; the only time there was peace was before there was man. Before there was man, there was only peace and nature was completely balanced.

         “I am a home for the Devic kingdom because I am in balance. But I could not be in balance without protection. Before you measured time, all of nature was in balance and I did not need protection.

The Angel Oak is so massive that people look tiny next to it!

        “But nature is out of balance now and I can only survive with protection. I have witnessed unspeakable actions of cruelty, brutality and murder, but not next to me. Trees see beyond their circumference because trees communicate. Trees are able to see far and wide because they communicate in a network grid of other trees. So the triumph and the violence, the calamities and the natural disasters, are communicated one tree to another in a line that only ends at the mountainous tree line and at the water’s edge.

         “When massive blocks of trees are cut down, it represents a hole in our healing grid. Trees heal one another. Matriarch trees are like elephants. They maintain the healing knowledge of all trees and of all nature. The preservation of anchor trees, of Matriarch trees is what keeps nature in balance. New trees that are planted restore the grid, but they can do it faster if a Matriarch tree is present. The grid operates above the earth in what you can see and below the earth in what you can’t.

         “Trees never depleted the earth. Trees restore the earth and manage water. When too many trees are cut down water supplies begin to dwindle, for trees breathe, and in the breath comes the knowledge of how to maintain the water balance on the earth. Without trees, the water balance is destroyed. Without water balance, planets die. Not all planets have trees. Planets that support trees support all life, no matter what kind of tree there is. All trees are connected, regardless of species. Every species of tree communicates with every other species of tree. Trees are placed in areas to give the earth in that area what it needs. Without trees, human beings don’t realize that they cannot live. Human beings need to maintain Matriarch trees need to be maintaind, for without them, the entire planet will perish.

         “Areas without a Matriarch tree present will perish faster than all other places even when young trees exist. For Matriarch trees (like elephants) provide corporate memory, the eternal memory of what it means to survive. When a Matriarch tree is destroyed, the knowledge of how each tree can heal itself is destroyed with her. Infestations of destructive beetles, psyllids, and everything else result when the matriarch tree is destroyed and the knowledge of how to heal is destroyed with her.

The massive arms of the Angel Oak extend up to 82 feet.

” All trees communicate with each other constantly. The wind carries this information. The Amazon rain forest communicates with the Redwood and the Oak. This is how the Amazon communicates with the Redwoods and oaks, palm trees, Frankincense, Dragon’s Blood and Eucalyptus trees, trees located all over the planet. Redwoods and Sequoias are  Matriarch trees. Trees communicate with rivers; trees communicate with birds and insects. All insects have a purpose. The beetles that destroy trees are a spiritual darkness that befalls an area. But restorative insects can be returned and trees can be restored if Matriarch trees are planted. Seeds of Matriarch trees can grow new Matriarch trees. Matriarch trees exist because the Earth is a mother for all living things. All living things are life forms. All things are life forms. Some life forms are detrimental and some are beneficial.

         “Human beings aren’t vermin and can be saviors. We need to educate everyone on this information. No one knows this knowledge and it needs to be passed on. You must pass this on. It is the most important mission that people understand the need for trees. Millions of trees need to be planted and the earth and rain and water can be restored in all areas. And that is all for today.”

     This astonishing information left me stunned and bewildered. My sister and my niece were listening as I was speaking out loud, sharing the information from this remarkable tree. Nature has so much to share, if we would only listen. The ability to touch a tree, plant or even an animal and hear what that living being has to say is an element of having psychic ability.  I had such a strong feeling when I approached this tree that it had information to share, which was why I put both hands on it. When I touch a tree, after a few minutes, the tree is all I can hear. I cannot hear anyone talking to me or anything else going on around me. I am able to completely see and hear what the tree wants me to know. Perhaps on a psychic level, I am connecting to the vibration of the tree. I would like to encourage everyone to ‘tune in’ to nature around them. Who knows, maybe you can hear the trees talk to you too!

To Read more about this Matriarch tree, this mighty Angel Oak:

Please share this with everyone you know. Save the Trees, Save Water, Save the Planet.

Photographs courtesy of Andrea Harris. All rights reserved.