Should you ever decide to shake your fist at God and demand Truth, hold on to your seat and prepare yourself for a spiritual adventure the likes of which you couldn't imagine.

On Easter Sunday of 1971, I did exactly this and found myself propelled across the sea of tradition onto the foreign shores of another realm of reality. In innocent trust I opened a door, stepped over the threshold with no idea where it would lead.

Most stories have a beginning, middle and an end. My story is different I'm not sure when it began, perhaps on Easter Sunday, 1971, or perhaps hundreds of years before that date with a lady named Ellen, and I doubt that it will end with my death. It is my hope that this story will continue when someone else, perhaps a family member, will pick up a pen and find me on the other side