I visited my friend Jacob a couple of days ago. I had not seen him in over ten years and he had recently purchased a new home. As I walked up to his door, I admired the tall white columns and the pristine red and white brick facings that graced the entrance of the door. His last place was a small Philadelphia walk up that served as home for him and his cats.
Jacob answered the door and gave me a big hug. He looked much younger than I remembered. Two big tabby cats rushed to muzzle my leg and Jacob picked them up and ushered me in toward the living room. He offered me a cup of apple tea and cookies. I love apple tea.
Jacob was the person that introduced me to astrology. In the year 1986, I lived in Philadelphia. My girlfriend at the time was into astrology and she told me about a man that in her opinion was the best in the city. I was skeptical about the claim, but I went to see him just the same. At that time, Jacob wore a long beard and he looked like the spitting image of Merlin. He proceeded to tell me about my life, my profession, my dreams, and my ambitions. The only tool that he had was my birth information. He told me more about myself in forty minutes than I could have gleaned with all of my medical knowledge. I was impressed. From that moment on, I was determined to learn all that I could about astrology.
I bought every book, software program, and brochure I could on the subject. I consulted several leading practitioners of the art. I took classes at the local Astrological Institute in Scottsdale. The owner Joyce became one of my good friends. She later died of cancer, but before she passed, I had become a professor at the school. Imagine me teaching astrology and practicing medicine at the same time.
Jacob and I talked for a couple of hours about life, the universe, and things in general. He looked at my chart and I looked at his. We laughed about our collective inability to see the big picture of all that we had been through, even with our vaunted skills as astrologers.
Jacob excused himself and went into a back room. After a few minutes, he returned with a newspaper. He said, I need to show you something.
Jacob carefully folded the paper and lay it down in front of me. He pointed to the obituary section. He had two children and I was afraid that one of them had passed. He then pointed to a specific entry. I read the entry carefully.
Jacob obtained a Master’s Degree from the University of Chicago, and then his Doctorate in Communications from the University of Illinois.
Jacob looked at me and smiled. He said:
“I wanted you to know.”
At that moment, I realized that I was dreaming.
Jacob had created a dream and invited me into it just so that he could tell me goodbye. When I woke up, I rushed to my IPad and checked the facts of the obituary. Sure enough, he had died on January 13, 2010. He had passed away more than three years before the dream, but there he was happy, healthy, new home, enjoying….life.
My senses reeled for a few moments after I read the obituary. I told Kathy about the experience and she smiled. She knew that those things were not unusual for me. She wondered why I was surprised.
My first encounter with Jacob changed my life. My first book was entitled Signs of Mental Illness. It was a pithy tome that chronicled my research on mental illness and astrology. One of the first chapters in the book recalled my encounter with Jacob. That book, and my work subsequent to it, opened my eyes to the world of the supernatural in ways that I could have never imagined.
After meeting with Jacob in his new home, I realized that I could see him whenever I liked. Dead or not, our meeting was as real as any other that I experienced. There was no difference between his afterlife and his physical life in my dream. They were one and the same. Only the realization that I was in a dream brought the reality of my dreaming to light. Before that, it did not make a difference.
I want to say I will miss my friend and that I am sorry that I did not make his funeral. I want to say that we should have kept in better touch, that somehow, we should have maybe written a book together or something. I wanted to introduce him to my new children and tell him about my life in North Carolina.
But then, I remember that I had just done that.
I learned a good lesson a few nights ago. Death, life, memory, friendship, reality, they are only what we choose them to be. The Buddha said that reality is an empty particle of consciousness. What we choose reality to be is exactly what it becomes.
Jacob showed me that he still had the power to teach.
First You, Then Me
Long ago, in the hills of the Himalayas near a lotus pool, the Buddha was once born as a baby elephant. He was a magnificent elephant, pure white with feet and face the color of coral. His trunk gleamed like a silver rope and his ivory tusks curled up in a long arc.
He followed his mother everywhere. She plucked the most tender leaves and sweetest mangoes from the tall trees and gave them to him. “First you, then me,” she said. She bathed him in the cool lotus pool among the fragrant flowers.
Drawing the sparkling water up in her trunk, she sprayed him over the top of his head and back until he shone. Then filling his
trunk with water, he took careful aim and squirted a perfect geyser right between his mother’s eyes. Without blinking, she squirted him back. And back and forth, they gleefully squirted and splashed each other.
Then they rested in the soft muck with their trunks curled together. In the deep shadows of afternoon, the mother elephant rested in the shade of a rose-apple tree and watched her son romp and frolic with the other baby elephants.
The little elephant grew and grew until he was the tallest and strongest young bull in the herd. And while he grew taller and stronger, his mother grew older and older. Her tusks were yellow and broken and in time she became blind. The young elephant plucked the most tender leaves and sweetest mangoes from the tall trees and gave them to his dear old blind mother.
“First you, then me,” he said.
He bathed her in the cool lotus pool among the fragrant flowers. Drawing the sparkling water up in his trunk, he sprayed her over the top of her head and back until she shone. Then they rested in the soft muck with their trunks curled together. In the deep shadows of afternoon, the young elephant guided his mother to the shade of a rose-apple tree. Then he went roaming with the other elephants.
One day a king was hunting and spied the beautiful white elephant. “What a splendid animal! I must have him to ride upon!” So the king captured the elephant and put him in the royal stable. He adorned him with silk and jewels and garlands of lotus flowers. He gave him sweet grass and juicy plums and filled his trough with pure water.
But the young elephant would not eat or drink. He wept and wept, growing thinner each day. “Noble elephant,” said the king,
“I adorn you with silk and jewels. I give you the finest food and the purest water, yet you do not eat or drink. What will please you?”
The young elephant said, “Silk and jewels, food and drink do not make me happy. My blind old mother is alone in the forest with no one to care for her. Though I may die, I will take no food or water until I give some to her first.”
The king said, “Never have I seen such kindness, not even among humans. It is not right to keep this young elephant in chains.” Free, the young elephant raced through the hills looking for his mother. He found her by the lotus pool.
There she lay in the mud, too weak to move. With tears in his eyes, he filled his trunk with water and sprayed the top of her head and back until she shone. “Is it raining?” she asked. “Or has my son returned to me?” “It is your very own son!” he cried. “The king has set me free!” As he washed her eyes, a miracle happened. Her sight returned. “May the king rejoice today as I rejoice at seeing my son again!” she said.
The young elephant then plucked the most tender leaves and sweetest mangoes from a tree and gave them to her.
“First you, then me.”
The Last Day
On the last day of meeting with his disciples the Master walked over to the bright light of an open window and looked out. Then he asked the student if there were any last questions. The young student laughingly asked him, “What is the meaning of your life?”
The older disciples laughed and stirred to leave. However, the Master held up his hand to ask for silence and then responded “I will answer your question.”
He pulled his satchel from his robe and removed a round mirror about the size of his thumbnail. Then he explained “When I was a small child we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept the largest piece. This one piece that I now hold.
By scratching it on a stone, I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun could never shine. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places that I could find. I kept the little mirror, and as I grew up, I would take it out at idle moments and continue the challenge of the game.
As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child’s game, but a metaphor of what I could do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of the light. But light – be it truth or understanding or knowledge – is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.
I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have, I can reflect light into the dark places of this world – into the dark places of human hearts – and change some things in some people. Perhaps others seeing it happen will do likewise.
James Barnett lived in a town called Ellerbe, North Carolina. The population was 1,021 at the 2000 census. It is perhaps best known as the one-time home of professional wrestler André the Giant, who operated a nearby ranch/farm in his spare time and retirement. According to the United States Census Bureau, the town has a total area of 1.5 square miles.
In his spare time, James often walked every square inch of this small town. He was born in 1916 in a small cabin on the west side of town, went to the elementary school in mid-town, and, as a child, he worked the tobacco fields that bordered the outskirts of the city. James worked for 30 years as a janitor in a furniture plant in a nearby town. He attended Sidney Grove Baptist Church, one of the 12 churches that graced the small plot of land that he called home.
He was married to his childhood sweetheart, Lucinda Barnett, and they had one child together, Mary Barnett. James never proceeded further in school than the third grade, and until his last day on earth, his signature never amounted to more than a broad and decisive X. He enjoyed sitting on his porch at the end of a long work day, sipping a cold beer, and watching the cars stream by. He enjoyed counting the number of trucks that passed his house. He seldom counted more than a couple dozen vehicles before passing out in his chair. Lucinda would wake him in time for supper, kiss him on the forehead, take his hand, and lead him into the kitchen.
His life was simple, unencumbered, and, for the most part, serene. James Barnett had mastered the art of simplicity and harmony in life. He never cursed, he never got into fights with others, and, for the most part, he lived his life in quiet celebration of the things that he could do for himself and his family. James Barnett was my grandfather, and he was the only father figure that I had in my life. Oddly enough, we never really spent that much time talking. Our relationship consisted primarily of me helping him to chop wood, work the small farm that he kept near the house, and helping him with the banking and business transactions that he needed to complete in town. My father walked away from my siblings and I when we were very young, and my grandfather, my mother’s father, took us in.
My grandfather taught me how to drive, how to shoot a gun, how to shake a man’s hand, how to take care of my family, and how to love the Creator with all my heart. After my grandmother passed in 1985, he lived alone in the house that they had built more than thirty years before. He continued to sit on the porch, count trucks, and fall asleep as the sun set over the Chinaberry trees that he had planted in the front yard. At least now, he didn’t have to hide the beer that he loved to sip on as he rocked in his favorite chair.
My grandmother was no longer there to cook for him or lead him back into the house, but he learned to cook the meals that he liked on his own. When I visited home, I sat with him on the porch, often for hours staring at the highway, saying nothing. I always brought him a six pack of beer from the local store, and he appreciated that I remembered his favorite brand. I made it a point to visit him every time that I went home. He was not much for talking on the phone, and he did not like buses, airplanes, or trains. Since moving to Arizona, I realized that the only way that I would ever see him on any kind of a regular basis would be to visit him in Ellerbe once a year.
As my medical practice in Arizona grew, I purchased a small clinic facility in Tempe Arizona. Directly across the street from the building was a large nursing care facility for which I often provided psychiatric consultations. I suppose the care and love that I received from my grandparents had carved out a special place in my heart for the elderly. On many occasions, I visited my clients not so much as a psychiatrist, but simply because I liked seeing them and staying in touch. I met their families, their pets, their spouses, and their friends. Sometimes, we would just sit and watch television together or listen to music. Most of the time, I only had a few minutes to sit with my clients in the home. I often promised to return and spend more time, but as my practice grew, time became a rare and precious commodity.
My grandfather died in 1995. He passed away in his sleep, quietly, without pain. He had never been sick a day in his life. Ironically, I had very recently lost a wonderful older resident in the nursing facility whom I had come to like very much. She was Flemish by birth, and had been the wife of a wealthy European Ambassador before she retired to Arizona. After her husband died, she moved into the retirement facility and quickly made friends with a number of the residents. The staff called me in to help her with insomnia. Mrs. Van Damme was a well-educated, erudite, and wonderfully bright lady who smiled easily and loved to hug. When I first met her, she smiled at me and said;
“I have never touched a black man before, would you mind if I touched your face?”
I could not refuse such a humble and touching offer. From that moment on, we became friends. As I got to know her, I often thought that she and my grandfather would get along well. Even though he was about as far afield from her life as one could get, their warmth, caring, and ease of life seemed to bond them in my psyche. They died within days of each other. Even though they had never met, their lives had intersected in my heart.
The last time that I sat with both of them, they each gave me the same piece of advice. I will never forget their words. As a matter of fact, their words led me to the theme of this blog:
Remember to empty your cup once in a while.
Both Mrs. Van Damme and my grandfather James Barnett had reminded me to sit with the people whom I love while holding hands. As simple as that advice was, when they passed, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I remembered that my grandfather liked to hold my hand as we sat on the porch and counted the trucks on the freeway. Mrs. Van Damme and I used to sit and hold hands as she listened to classical music on the public radio station. As I mourned the loss of these two precious souls, I contemplated the significance of those quiet, often unassuming moments. In my busy life, I realized that I didn’t sit still very often, and when I did, I seldom took the time to do something as simple as holding another’s hand.
Contemplating the concept even further, I realized that I spent very little time emptying the cup of my life at all. It seemed that I always found time to do the hundred-odd things that always filled my plate. I was a good doctor; I took care of my clients. I raised my children, I was a good husband, and I did all the things in my life that one was expected to do as a dutiful doctor, husband, and father. However, I came to realize as I laid those wonderful souls to rest, that I almost never spent more than a few minutes just enjoying the beauty of the moment. I never just held my wife’s hand without watching TV, or doing a number of other things that we do while spinning through life together. I always found time to do several things at once.
In truth, I never really fully emptied my cup enough to enjoy the simple harmony of the moment.
I often held my daughter’s hand when she felt sick, or hugged my son after a long day. My wife and I held hands while we watched television, and sometimes we would hold hands while we sat in the car. But I realized, even with all of these good, attentive moments of endearment, that I never really let go of the world around me long enough to fully appreciate the beauty of simply being with another person. My cup, as it were, was always full.
I wanted to stay well read. I wanted to stay in shape. I wanted to be well traveled. I wanted to see the best movies, the best plays, and listen to the best music. I wanted to build my practice, meet my financial goals, and be the best father and husband that I could be. In short, I had become adept at keeping the cup of my life full to the brim. I did not ever really stop to think about the fact that, at some point, I was going to lose all of those things. At some point, my life in this world would stop, and I would have to let go of all of those things that had filled my cup. In the same way that my grandfather and Mrs. Van Damme had slipped away, I too would slip away from this world. As a matter of fact, so too would everyone whom I’d ever met.
The process of emptying my cup would, at some point, be done for me, whether I wanted it done or not. Those two wonderful souls had given me a precious gift before leaving this world. The insight that they left me had given way to a sense of peace and harmony that remains with me to this day.
The cup of life has the capacity to fill itself each day with a myriad of tasks, both big and small, that we struggle to complete as best we can before we sleep. The reality is, however, that we can never really get it all done. No matter how hard we try, something remains undone at the end of the day.
Those little undone tasks consume the waking and sleeping moments of our lives and, without realizing it, we often surrender to worry and anxiety the serenity and peace that we truly deserve.
If we choose, we can let go of that cup and fully empty it at any moment that we choose. In a moment, we can choose to contemplate the silence of togetherness, the beauty of sharing life with another. Let me suggest a few methods that you can use to gradually learn to empty your cup:
1. Take twenty minutes a day to sit, close your eyes, and do nothing. You don’t have to count your breaths, say a mantra, or visualize anything. These minutes are yours. Allow your mind to drift for this special space in time. Try to incorporate doing this each day no matter how busy your day becomes.
2. Share your twenty quiet minutes with a friend or loved one. If you like, hold their hands while you share this time. Let your minds drift together. Try not to talk. Remember to smile.
3. Take two hours each week to do something that you absolutely love. Write out a list of things that you like to do. I mean truly, absolutely like to do. Make an exhaustive search inside your psyche for those things that ignite your passion. Then, clear two hours once weekly to indulge yourself in one or more of the items on your list. You will come to find that these times will become some of the most precious and special times of your life.
I flew back home to pay my respects to my grandfather after he passed. I sat alone with him in the funeral home, and reminisced about the times that we had spent together. During those times, it seems that words are never sufficient. It always seems that we wished that we had more moments to spend. As I looked at my grandfather, he seemed to be very much at peace. I knew that those moments that I shared with him would be our last. I had a strong belief in the afterlife; I believe that all of us continue in some form or fashion after leaving this world.
I thought about the peace and security that he had given me as a boy when he took us in. I thought about the strength and courage that I drew from him as I grew. I thought about the days that we sat on the porch and counted trucks. After an hour or so, I made myself get up and say goodbye to James Barnett. Before I left, I slipped a five dollar bill in his coat pocket. No one would ever find it, and if they did, they would not know why it had been placed there. Wherever he was going, I was sure that he would need money for his favorite beer.
Why Did the Pope Really Resign?
Is there a Conspiracy?
Pope Benedict XVI made history this week by becoming the first Holy Father to voluntarily resign because of old age and deteriorating health. The last pontiff to resign in office before death was Gregory XII, who in 1415 quit to end a civil war within the church in which more than one man claimed to be pope.
According to church law, as long as a pope is able to conduct Mass, he can continue to do so – even if he is suffering the pain of failing kidneys and is otherwise bedridden, like Pope Alexander VII was in 1667.
Pope Alexander VII’s surgeon and confessor tried to persuade him not to go before the crowd on Easter Sunday of 1667, but he did it anyway. The pope died three days later, according to “The Deaths of the Popes,” by Wendy J. Reardon.
More than a century later, Pope Clement XIV complained of pain and wasting away before he became known as the pope who drooled and had eyes that “darted in their bulging sockets” as he fearfully clung to walls for fear of a Jesuit assassination attempt, according to Reardon. He died after correctly predicting his own death in 1774.
Then, in 1958, Pope Pius XII died after enduring hiccoughs and strokes for five years. The hiccoughs became so intense, that they tore the lining of his stomach, Reardon wrote. He died of complications from pneumonia at 82 years old.
For the first time in history, the Catholic Church has witnessed the resignation of a pontiff while still in office. The Pope is 85 years old. He has no major illnesses but he has stated that he is weak and unwilling to continue his work in office. He has had some trouble with his prostate, and he recently had a pacemaker implanted. However, as noted above, his condition is very similar to many men of his age who have held office until death. He could have reduced his duties, slowed his pace a bit. He could take some time off and lighten his work load. He could eliminate some of the travel that he has elected to do as part of his job. He did not do that. He chose to quit. This is historic, and spiritually, the move must be examined.
The works of Saint Malachy have received a great deal of attention in light of the Pope’s resignation. Saint Malachy was born in Amagh Ireland in 1094, he lived a religious life as a monk, then he was ordained priest and finally Bishop. He was canonized in 1199 by Pope Clement III. His biography was compiled by Saint Bernard, a contemporaneous saint.
He made a pilgrimage to Rome and during the end of the year 1139 and the beginning of 1140 had a series of visions about 112 Popes from Celestine III, elected Pontiff in 1130 until the last Pope who is described in his list as Peter Romanus.
After the last Roman Pontiff, Saint Malachy predicts the end of the world.
The Benedictine historian Arnold Wion was the first person to mention these prophecies in his book Lignum Vitae, published in 1559.
These prophecies are short, but they have demonstrated to be very accurate, even though in the time of their publication they caused much controversy as some claimed that they were falsified.
The book of prophecies of Saint Malachy was published originally in 1969 by Colin Smythe Ltd. in England, with the title “Prophecies of St. Malachy and St. Columbkille.”
Saint Malachy’s short prophetical announcements, in number 112, indicate some noticeable trait of all future popes from Celestine II, who was elected in the year 1130, until the end of the world. Pope Benedict XVI is number 111 in that lineage.
The prophecies of Saint Malachy end like this:
In the persecution of the Holy Roman Church, there will reign Peter the Roman, who will feed his flock among many tribulations after which the seven hilled city will be destroyed and the dreadful Judge will judge the people.
Pope Benedict XVI departure from the office leaves one pontiff destined to take the throne. Why does he leave now? We are all aware of the scandals that have plagued this Pope’s tenure. Money laundering, child abuse claims against the church, declining membership rosters all over the world, difficulties with same sex marriage, and a host of other controversies have plagued the Pope for years. Is it possible that there is yet another larger scandal looming of the Church that we have not yet seen?
Some authors write that the end of the world is near. Ironically, an asteroid is bearing down on our planet as we speak. A near-Earth asteroid – called 2012 DA14 by astronomers – will pass very close to Earth on February 15, 2013.
Astronomers estimate that, when it’s closest to us, it’ll be within the orbit of the moon (which averages about a quarter million miles away), and closer than some high-orbiting communications satellites. 2012 DA14 will be about 17,200 miles (27,680 kilometers) away. It will be one of the closest passes of an asteroid in history. Even if 2012 DA14 were to hit the Earth, civilization as we know it would continue.
Some authors write that we are nearing a time when aliens will intervene in the course of human history, and reveal themselves to the masses. If this were to happen, the ramifications on the religions of the world would be catastrophic. How would the masses accept such an intervention? Could the Church survive?
Some authors write that the Church is on the verge of revealing a series of far ranging secrets that will rock the foundation of the institution. Did Jesus really exist? What role did the Council of Nicea really play in the construction of the Bible as we know it? If the Church were to reveal secrets of this nature, how would this affect the Papacy?
Whatever the case may be, I believe that there are hidden reasons for the Pope’s resignation that we will soon discover. He has chosen to resign under a cloud of questions during a time when the Church is under siege on a number of fronts. The Pope is an honorable man and a strong leader, and I respect the fact that he has made a choice and is willing to stand by it. The fact that he chose to resign during Lent is interesting. I predict that we will see major changes in the Church associated with his resignation.
St. Malachy predicts that the days of the Church are numbered. He predicts that Rome will fall shortly after the tenure of this Pope. One thing is certain, the Church is in for some tumultuous times ahead.
Mike Tyson Appears on Law and Order: Special Victims Unit
What price forgiveness?
Mike Tyson will appear tonight in a new episode of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit entitled; “Monster’s Legacy”. He will play a character named Reggie Rhodes, a sympathetic victim of child abuse who murdered one of his attackers. This is the first time that Mr. Tyson will play someone other than himself in a screen role.
Tyson’s role has some similarity to his real life. The former undisputed heavyweight champ was arrested in connection with the rape of an 18-year-old beauty queen, Miss Black America hopeful Desiree Washington, in July of 1991. In February of the following year, he was convicted of one count of rape and two counts of criminal deviate conduct. Tyson served three years in prison for the convictions.
The move has drawn considerable outrage from more than 12,000 viewers of the show who have signed a petition demanding that the episode be pulled or Tyson be removed from the role. The show was originally scheduled to be aired on February 13 but it has now been moved up to February 6. Tyson continues to deny raping Desiree Washington and states that he is innocent of the crime.
Since his release from prison, Tyson has retired from boxing, moved to Arizona, and started a family. He claims that he is five years clean and sober. He has remarried and pursued an acting career. He has appeared in “The Hangover”, “Entourage”, and stars in his own one man show on Broadway.
Many fans of the Law and Order series are outraged that the network would cast a convicted sex offender in such a high profile role. Some protesters view the move as a slap in the face to victims all over the world.
In examining this question I ask myself, at what point do we forgive a person who has paid their debt to society?
There are 2.2 million people behind bars in the United States. Sixty percent of them are people of color, mostly African American and Hispanic. The fact of the matter is, once these individuals serve their time they often find that rebuilding their lives is another issue altogether. They cannot vote, they often have great difficulty finding employment. They have difficulty in their homes. They are often estranged from their spouses, families, and communities. This huge population of estranged people sends a shockwave of chaos and disharmony through our communities.
When do we forgive a person who has paid their debt to society and allow them to rejoin the community?
Mr. Tyson is a man of color. He represents a sector of the population of this country that is often demonized and is disproportionately incarcerated. Tyson has chosen acting as his new career and his role on Law and Order takes courage. He was abused as a child and he has publicly discussed his history on a number of television shows. Tyson is a victim of our society who has profited from a singular skill, his extraordinary athletic ability. However, his sometimes erratic behavior has often detracted from what could have been an even more stellar career. Many people in America want to metaphorically “keep him behind bars” for what he has done.
As a nation, we incarcerate more people than any other country in the world. More than China, South Africa, Russia, Rwanda and Nigeria. Part of the reason that we do not often examine this statistic is that we do not have to look at the people we incarcerate. Mr. Tyson will appear on national television tonight and he will portray a man who is not easy to like. However, he too is the face of America.
He too represents a portion of the soul of this country. We paid millions to cheer “Iron Mike” on when he was a fighter. We paid millions to watch him in “Hangover”. We filled theaters in Vegas and New York to watch him in his one man show. Those venues however, did not show the gritty, deviant, criminal element of life that is depicted on Law and Order. Those venues allow us to laugh and cheer the life of a person that many now protest.
Forgiveness is a word that is integral to the process of healing. If we are to heal the scars that lead to the crime, mental illness, and racial disparity that plagues our country, we have to examine our hesitancy to forgive. In particular, we need to examine our hesitancy to forgive those who do not look like us.
In a haunting and somewhat poignant episode, Law and Order has given all of us a chance to look into the face of one of our own and ask the question; am I ready forgive this man?
Mitchell Earl Gibson MD
Dr. Mitchell Gibson is the author of The Enlightened Perspective. He is the
bestselling author of Your Immortal Body of Light, Nine Insights for a Happy and
Successful Life, and The Human Body of Light. Gibson received his
medical degree from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and completed
his residency training at the Albert Einstein Medical Center in Philadelphia. More than
3.4 million people have downloaded his YouTube videos and millions of people have visited his website http://www.tybro.com The Enlightened Perspective was launched in late January 2013 and in a few short months has grown to attract almost 200,000 views.