Doreen Virtue:  a creature of fear

It is not difficult for a large population of we human beings to believe a different realm exists.  Scientifically, It makes sense that other life forms are out in the Universe in the various galaxies.  I mean, why not?  One can search and read Stephen Hawkins’ fascinating thoughts on the matter.  Are we so arrogant as to think otherwise?  That we are IT?  Highly unlikely. Those of us who witness serendipity more often than can be attributed to coincidence, or sense the love of one who has died, can easily believe in a different realm of pure compassion and love.

Decades ago, a friend who read spiritual energies and auras, gave me one of Doreen Virtue’s books on being an earth angel. Doreen worked as a psychotherapist specializing in healing eating disorders, until 1995 when she created Angel Therapy, a type of therapy based on the premise that communicating with angels can move a person in the right direction. She wrote over 50 books on the subject and her insights.  I read Earth Angels with great curiosity, and it resonated in a deep part of my soul. My interest in angels has only increased over time.

Doreen has a real gift. Present tense, as things have changed her attitude towards it recently. 

On impulse, I recently searched Doreen Virture for some wisdom, and found her on FB. Well, I’ll be danged. Since 2017, Doreen has taken to renouncing all her past comments, books, inspirations, etc., on angels.  Doreen now only writes scripturally.  What I read stunned me. There she was, in all her right-conservatism, denouncing all religions and spiritual paths but hers, and demeaning and smearing not only her previous works, but the help and guidance she provided to others. Talk about unappreciative. I was critical and rejecting of her decision. I had no doubt that what she had shared with the world came from a higher source, came from the angels.  And here she was, denouncing them to the world as if they didn’t really exist! Well, I would have none of that, thank you kindly. I became outraged. How could she accept and utilize such a gift, then turn into somebody who lumped everybody into a label and denounced them as ridiculous or inferior or just plain and arrogantly, wrong?  I tried a few times to post comments, but ended up thinking better of it and discarded each one.  Now, I am thankful I did. 

As I pondered this abrupt change in personality and perceptions in Doreen’s dismissive attitude, I began to acknowledge that she would not have lost her gift.  She herself, though, was lost.  In the physical world, she always was, or so it seems. She earned numerous certificates then “cancelled” some.  She has been married four times, and suffered abuse in at least one of the relationships. 

Obviously, spiritual gifts are not given to a specific personality or intellect. The gift to connect to higher energies is given freely to people from all walks of life, personalities, beliefs and political persuasions. Doreen’s gift was given to her, probably as a child. More than likely, it felt natural to her to communicate to angels.  At some point, she fully embraced her knowledge of angels and shared it with the world.  This gift is powerful. And because it connects to a higher realm of love and infinity, it continued to grow in power. Doreen spoke, she wrote books, she counseled, she advised.

Doreen has a gift of infinite wisdom, love and joy. When connected to the Highest Powers, it is an empowering connection. She was that power and living it. What was it like for her to be so powerful? Did it give her a high? How did she feel? In reading her comments now, it is clear that she wants to be controlled by a book that was written by men in a time when women were subhuman and an inferior class, interpreted over 15 times, and not ever meant to be taken literally.  When a person defaults to a religious strictness like Doreen has recently, it isn’t to find enlightenment or love.  It is to find control. Why would she give over control of her life to others? Why didn’t she feel confident about herself before?

The desire to be controlled by others is irresistible to some people.  Some people are just born followers.  Sadly, Doreen now has something outside of her that will control her mind, make her decisions, dictate her behaviors, and encourage her to feel superior and reject others for not following along with her.  She needs to believe one specific path is the ONLY path, and she is on it, and if you are not, shame and hellfire on you. And when a belief is dictated in black and white with no gray, there is comfort to followers. There is purpose. There is also an undeniable urge to spew all the rejection, cruelty, bullying, and hatred one has oneself endured by others, out and onto “nonbelievers”.

Now I get it.  She was alarmed.  She lived in fear of the power of her gift.  And like her past, the only thing she knew was to run. In Doreen’s case of connecting to the angel realm, she was terrified by what had opened up to her.  She turned away from the connection and rejected the powerful energies that were cursing through her and her spirit.  She gave up the responsibility of her internal power and turned over any self power she may have been experiencing, to the external world, and the leaders in a movement that would tell her exactly what to do and when to do it.  Her freedom is gone.  She now bows to the external version of what her spirit should be. 

I don’t feel the angels are angry with her.  In fact, I think they are nonchalant.  Doreen served a powerful and beautiful purpose, and reached millions of people in the way the Higher Power meant them to be reached. Her newfound attraction to labels and her subsequent belittling of “New Age” and the angel-speak that went with it, is of no concern to them.  Let her be where she wants to be.  There are others in this world who will see the gift as it was meant to be, embrace it, grow it, and live in happy and respectful honor of it.

I am full of deep appreciation in discovering that the gift is a stand-alone energy, that any one can be given it.  I am comforted and soothed in knowing that there is a choice as to whether you develop it, ignore it, or reject it. And when it is given to others, even in the slightest amount, or in the many years Doreen dedicated herself to it, it profoundly affects people for the better, and will live on in them.  

I am grateful.  In a bright light, I will live, and let live, Doreen. May you find the peace you crave, without causing harm to others.

Do Not Be Small

Do not feel small during your time upon this earth.

You were born with a soul and in being so born, are worthy of all love and all that is good, healthy and affluent.

Life was not created to give you meaning.  You were created to give meaning to life.

Your purpose is to serve your soul, to transform into its personality through all your thoughts and actions.

Your soul is less than no one’s.

Do not be small during your time upon this earth.

Be powerful.

Power to manipulate and demean is given by others, by the media, or by money and possessions. It is temporary and vulnerable.

The power to overcome all manipulation and demeanings is not given, but taken by you in living your soul.  This empowerment is infinite and undefeatable.

You were meant to be powerful, to be fulfilled, to be content in your strength.

Do not be small during your time upon this earth.

Wild Horse of Childhood

The wild horse of childhood reared up its forelegs

And kicked back the rage that rushed towards me.

I held on with trust and never fell off,

Never fell down there in the dirt.

The steady strong breathing of my steed quieted me, kept me above the foray on the ground.

But I still cared, I still saw.

I reached my hand down to lift them up

So they could be above it, too.

But they slapped my wrist and the flank of my horse.

It reared up its forelegs

And kicked back the pain that rushed towards me.

I held on with trust and never fell off.

My horse raced away, carrying me with aching heart

To a safe and peaceful place

Where I breathe strong, on the ground, near my steed.

And the world is suddenly mine.

— ( c ) St. John 2009

Courage Called For

Courage is demanded

to stare into the darkness of an airless tunnel of despair

where no light shines, not even at the end…

Courage is demanded

to be a door for fears and despairs to pass through,

and open you to your separateness…

Courage is demanded

in the airless tunnel of despair

that separates you from yourself…

Courage is demanded.

to become the light…

if only because otherwise there would be none.

 — (c) St. John 2012

Whose Eyes Do See Me

Someone tells you

You are smart

You are kind

You are good.

Seeing yourself in someone’s eyes like that

Is a wondrous thing…

When the eyes belong to someone

Who is smart

Who is kind

Who is good.

But when the heart behind the eyes is




It shatters your reflection like glass,

Pieces falling to the floor,

Shards beneath your feet.

Sliced and cut

Your soul bleeds as you walk away.

The only eyes that mirror a true image of who you are

Are your own.

— (c) St. John 2012

In Pain

Life has torn the bark from my trunk

And the leaves from my branches.

I am stripped bare and vulnerable

To life’s blows and cracks,

Bent and weeping,

Trembling under the onslaught.

I was once tall and straight.

I stood against the wind for others,

Buffeting, covering, protecting,

While life slashed and dismantled me.

What have I done?

I have stared a monster in the eye.

It turns its strength on me

And hacks at my trunk,

Searching for my life’s vein.

And all the while it taunts me with its power over me.

And so I stand alone,

Rejected and rejecting now,

Semi-dead and hurting,

Wounded and bare against this brutal attack.

But a new wind blows.

A gentler wind, a healing wind.

I look at the missing leaves and bark torn from my trunk.

I look at what is left of me,

Bared to me.

And now I see,

It is the best part of me,

The strongest part of me,

The infinite part of me.

The wind continues to caress.

I stand tall now.

I will thrive another day

To color the life that is before me,

Green and thriving,

Red, yellow, orange, and shining,

Loving and giving.

For I have seen my soul and know

It can never be broken or breached or compromised,

But will always be.

Stripped of all that I had,

I have,


Seen me.

— (c) St. John 1986

The Woodpecker in the Tree

Sheets of dry leaves rustle in the trees above me.  The breeze spirals them to the ground, making a sound like far-away static, coding a secret out to the universe.

Lasers of sun shine through the thinned foliage, warming my shoulders. The sky is bluish milk.  No clouds visit.

The leaves continue to turn and spin showers of color

as begins a dull, rhythmic whack…vibrating the stillness… over and over.

No one else is around and I am quiet.  Who, then?

A puzzle for the mind.  But the soul is calm and wise.

It aims my eyes upward and straight, zeroing in on the creature so like itself:  open, free, expressive, natural.

The red crown of the woodpecker pierces through the golds, browns and oranges, and my mind instructs me to chill out…the sound is only a bird.

My soul has a different opinion.  It is not just a bird, it is a piece of me, too.

I sigh in happy contentment with the paradox of mind and soul struggling to be what truly matters, and the woodpecker’s fierce intensity against the wood.

I would have had a headache by now if I had been the bird entirely.

— ( c ) St. John 2009

Music to my Ears

Toting thick slices of banana bread

Slices of hard and soft cheeses

Strong black coffee

And of course…always…my notebooks.

I nestle into my chair as

Two birds, at each end of the grove of trees

Call to each other in identically pitched notes.

A female cardinal came straight at me

Perched for a few seconds

Then sprinted off to the nearest tree and began to sing.

The air is full of the soft lilts of multiple birds

The screeching of the cicadas

And then voila!

No sound but light and quick vibrations as a hummingbird hovers near my leg

Dancing its flight for me.

A passing train sirens its hello,

A shout among the lowest of rumbles.

There is a whole orchestra tuning up for the day,

And I cannot decide if

I am the conductor

Or the audience.

— ( c ) St. John 2012