Greetings my friends. Thank you for your interest in this site and in its messages. My responsibility is only to share what was left behind by Florence Mary Masotti. After the messages are disseminated my contract will be fulfilled. My mission will be accomplished. No strings attached, I came here to do this and so it will be done. In a sense, I am the scribe. A humble servant in the end. Telling a story that might never have been told. There have been many questions asked as to why I do this, or what my part was or is. So, I have decided to tell you my story in relation to Florence Mary. What impact she had on me, my life and my consciousness. How we met, drifted apart and then came full circle again. When Florence moved to Nelson BC, I knew why she had done it. She had gone beyond Hope and had come home to die. To finish her story and to pass it on. None of this would make sense until afterwards. When Florence learned there was no hope, she went away. She “gave up the ghost”. She went elsewhere, home. She was tired. She had “fought the good fight”. She had even warned me on that fateful day when she fell to the floor, “Steven, if this is a new wrinkle, I did not sign up for this”. (in other words, i’m outta here)
When I met Florence it was back in 1993. I was living in Trail BC and working in a local bookstore at the time. First off, I will say that I have never been a perfect human being and back then when I was younger I was full of ego and rebellion. I had separated from my wife and was struggling to keep it together as a father of a precious 2 year old little girl who was and still is my heart. I was haunted by my past. I had become the black sheep of my family at a very young age. Raised in a Christian home by good parents who loved me very much but I could always feel their disappointment because I had chosen a different path. Their main worry was for my salvation and so I was always in fear of their belief in hell and that maybe I was the devils because I did not see things their way. As a young child I went to Sunday School and excelled in some of it because I could teach what Jesus was saying. Mind you, tis the little children who are closer to the source. I never doubted that. My grandfather passed away after bathing me in a bath tub when I was six years old. For some reason, he had always tormented me. I do not think he knew what they were doing through him. One day while I was visiting my grandparents with my dad, things went sideways. I did not want to have a bath. I was afraid of being naked in the sight of anyone but my parents. I do not know why I felt this way. I just did. Instead of my dad coming in to bath me, it was my grandfather, who I did not trust. I put up a fight and then I felt my grandfather pushing my head under water like he was baptizing me or drowning me and I could not handle it. I couldn’t breathe. I wished him dead and screamed it out at him and I cried and screamed like a baby and soon after that hellish encounter he dropped dead while reading the bible amongst our family about an hour later. I was 6 years old and watched him die. I watched my father give his own dad mouth to mouth and try and save him. It did not work. I blamed myself for his death. My grandmother told me “you killed daddy”. I was crushed. After the funeral I felt lost. I felt evil. Like I had done something wrong. Because I had said to him, “I hate you, I wish you were dead”. At his funeral a 6 year old boy kissed the cheek of his cold faced dead grandfather and it would change his life from that moment forever. The only thing that would save that 6 year old boy and threw him a lifeline came in the form of a dream. I was playing badminton outside with my sister in my dream. Then the dark clouds rolled in. It got windy and my sister ran into the house. She was very afraid. I was mesmerized at the skies and at the blackest/bluest clouds I had or would ever see. Then thundering and with a loud clap a finger of lightning came out of the sky and wrote in those black clouds and the finger said ” I AM LOVE, GOD IS LOVE, THERE IS NO OTHER “. I started to run under the lightning and the thundering. I was laughing and filled with joy, electrified. I felt loved by something so vast, so great. From that moment on I knew I had something out there that loved me and wanted only to comfort me. That saved my life for a long time and it also would remain in the background of my life. Always a reference point in case I forgot I was loved. All of my life my dreams have been my messenger. They have never failed me. But, I digress. I tell you this story only because it was that 6 year old boy who would one day be healed, made whole again and sent back out to become a man. Without meeting Florence, that little boy would have died. He was self destructing. Breaking down walls only to build higher ones, stronger ones. Eventually that boys heart would have turned to stone itself. I had stopped paying attention to my dreams. Guilt and blame and shame would haunt me and wipe out every relationship I would form, didn’t matter how much I loved them. I felt angry and I felt hatred for every wrong done to me. I felt marked. It almost drove me mad. Then I met Florence and everything changed. It was magical and then hard and then sad and then happy and then something else. Neither of us felt our worth and yet we had been both touched by something and that something would bring her into the bookstore at just the right moment. My point in telling you this is that it is against this backdrop that our relationship would form and take new turns. We had both been battered by religion and life and fake reality and we both would heal that, but it was an impetus for what transpired and became a bond between us that would set us apart from even the people we loved the most.
As I put these words down, I feel myriad emotions. It is not easy for a man to share his story and communicate without reliving it in his mind or his heart. The depths of my feelings are boundless and it is humbling for me. As memories come up, tears well. Sometimes they come out, sometimes I choke them back. It always ends in a smile and in my heart turning.
It was an early Spring morning and I was at work. A bookseller I was. I had been at work a week and when I looked at the spiritual section I cringed. Catholic Bibles, Freemasonry Keys, Norman Vincent Peale and so on. My boss gave me free reign of that department and so I cleaned it up and left a few bibles and the like but brought in things with other thought waves to them. The Art of Zen, Bringers of the Dawn, Ramtha, Urantia Book, William Cooper and many diverse messages and writers. It was going well. I had taken the religion section from number twenty up to the number 3 best selling section. Even though I was angry and messed up, I still got on well with the strange ones. I have always been able to feel people deep in my heart. Psychic energy has always hung heavy about me. I had it from birth. It made me aloof, with people I didn’t want to know, didn’t want to feel. There was always a connection to spirit, the unseen, no matter how bad life could get.
As Florence came into the book store she was wearing a long wool cape and her hair was frizzy. She bounced with an energy as she strolled through the store, section by section. I was at my station serving customers and answering the phone, etc. I had just hung up the phone when I heard a slam of books on the counter. As I walked to the counter I could feel her probing me. Her eyes were wide and she had a big smile on her face. I had never met her or seen her before, but when I looked in her eyes I saw a twinkle. She paid for her books and then grabbed my arm and then introduced herself to me. “My name is Florence, I’m new here in town, I co-own an Art Gallery. It is called the Inner Eye Art Gallery”. Then she said ” I don’t know who you are but you need to come and see me, I like you.” Later that week when I had a day off I went up to the top floor of this old building and knocked on the door to her studio. I could hear soft classical music and then got the wafting smell of frankincense that she had lit. She was painting a painting and stopped so she could visit with me. I felt stupid because I did not know this woman. She was a stranger, what does she want with me I thought? And yet I felt a pull like a giant magnet.
Florence and I were having small talk at first. Then it got a little deeper. She poured me a cup of tea and sat it next to me on a table and with a twinkle in her eyes said to me , “let me see your palms”. I held my hands out and she clutched them strongly and said, ” your heart line and your head line are connected by all these x’s, see?” Then she looked at the mound of skin under my thumb that connects to my hand. “Oh my god, look at all those issues and trials that run through here”. I began to feel like I was being probed again. I decided to hear what she wanted to tell me and with an open heart I let her speak. She was speaking to this little boy inside me. She started to weep. Then she asked if she could do something. “You and I will never be the same again but I have to do this”. I told her to “go ahead”. Florence grabbed my face and pulled me towards her. She was weeping. She pulled at my face until our foreheads were touching. For the first time in my life I felt what a third eye was. She pressed her third eye against mine and held it there. I began to feel unsteady and to give way and in an instant it was like lightning, a flash of light between my eyes and I felt every emotion she had ever felt since the day she was born. I felt her pain, her joy, sorrow. Everything life had given her good and bad, I had felt her feelings, her heart. She had felt mine too. It broke her heart. Yet it was the beginning of my healing and I would never be the same again. From that day on Florence has been a part of my life. It drove us crazy when we were apart because of the heart connection. Life would teach us much together, then we would part only to reconnect because we knew few others like us. Our bond transcended the physical realm far into spheres and realms. We knew each other before this existence. It is because of this that I no longer grieve her loss for she is everywhere and I feel her still. When I am quiet and open, she reaches through. The mind meld transcended this experience and this dimension.
This is just my first little writing about how I met Florence and why I care. It’s just the beginning. It is a drop. When I mention my story of my grandfather, I will let it be known that I healed that issue a while ago and forgave him. He played his part perfectly and I wouldn’t be who I am now if he had not put me on that path through his actions. We bring the tests of our own experience with us here and we continue them until this experience is gone. Release and let go and you set them free, too. Even to future generations freedom is born through forgiveness. My grandfather was a good man, don’t get me wrong. He helped the downtrodden and the widow.
In the end I would be the rock he smashed himself against, nothing more, nothing less.
I will write more later. Thank you for reading this.
Steven
