An Inspirational Place

As a biographic memoir, I wrote all my personal and professional secrets in an open book.

In the Epilogue of the book of Carol’s Lives, I wrote:

Halfway through the first draft of Carol’s Lives, life became remarkably busy with my private practice. For the weeks I was in Vancouver from 2016 to 2018, I worked seven days a week, with many a late night. And when I was not in Vancouver, I was travelling extensively throughout Europe, Africa, China, and Central and South America. In 2017, I stopped writing the book for an entire year. It was not until late May 2018, almost three years after I had started this autobiographical journey, that I decided it was time to finish what I had started.

But my partner Tim and I had to take ourselves out of Vancouver to do it. I always have a hard time saying no to my clients when I am in the city. We ended up in a small village on the Richelieu River in southern Quebec, nestled close to the American border and not far from New York City—a prominent location in the book. For two weeks I wrote furiously in this little haven, so that I might finally finish the first draft of the book.

The little heaven, the small village on the Richelieu River in southern Quebec has a mouthful name. It is a boating community. And it is called Saint-Paul-de-l’ile-aux-Noix. Back in the spring of 2018, I stayed there for two weeks doing not much else but writing.

Writing the last few chapte

And in an earlier chapter, Chapter 20, “Richard Miller”, I wrote:

Sitting here by the beautiful Richelieu River in Quebec, while writing these words, so close to New York state, tears flow down my face. I know, Rick, as they say, rest in peace. It is my turn now to do things for you in living a rich, fulfilling, courageous life with Tim.

Sitting at Tim’s right-hand side and behind, in a hypnotic trance, he disclosed to me most of the material in Chapter 20
A Hypnosis Q&A I recorded in this inspirational place in 2018

After You Left

In January this year, right after my father’s death, I wrote a blog piece Before Your Left. Grief is taking its own curious course in me. Now again, two months later, I’m sitting down to dedicate a moment to my father.

In Chapter 6 of Carol’s Lives – “Tim, Keep Her”, I had a paragraph about my father:

Maybe Tim was referring to the fact that he was over ten years older than me. But ironically, my father and I are not that close. He provided for our family and worked hard, he was physically there, but emotionally and mentally he was a distant figure. We get along well enough and interact fine when I visit, but there is often a reserve between us. It may be that we are so different that I failed to really understand my father. Or perhaps, my father has never given me an opportunity to understand him.

Since I left home at the age of 18, I only saw my father out of the context of his own life. I remember how I noticed him getting more and more silent at the dining table, especially when we went out with other relatives, like my brother’s in-laws. I came to accept that my father’s character had changed. Like other family members, we all came to peace with it. After all, it seems easier to make peace with someone who talks less.

Until, that day when we buried our mother. I noticed father drift off to the side and he struck up a conversation with two young workers at the cemetery working on some stone carving. Father asked them questions, curious and interested, engaged and light-hearted. I was observing him from a distance, surprised at father speaking with strangers with such ease and confidence.

A few days later, I accompanied father to a local bank to deposit some money. The moment we walked in, I regretted not wearing more formal clothes. Almost all the people working in the bank came to greet father. And he knew all of them by name! Father introduced me to them with pride. I couldn’t believe what I saw. My father, smiling and alive, friendly and expressive!

Noticing the unreserved side of my father helped me open up speaking with him for the rest of my stay. I realized; all it had needed was for me to open up. I wondered why I had unnecessarily waited for him to do it first.

That was August 2019. I then planned to be back in China the first part of 2020, to spend more time with father. I had my ideas of what we’d do and how I’d relate with him. I was looking forward to it.

The COVID pandemic prolonged that plan. Dates shifted, although plan was not changed.

Dates shifted again, and again…

Something couldn’t wait. Father’s situation gradually worsened, based on occasional notes from my brother.

January 2, 2023, right before China loosened its COVID restriction, my 84-year-old father took his last breath. It was lunch hour. He suddenly collapsed from his wheelchair in a care home, right in front of the caregivers and my brother. They all thought he went weak in that moment, but maybe only he knew he went dead.

They lay his body straight on the ground. CPR was performed, but it just appeared the time had come.

It all happened so quickly, or should I say, easily, that there was not much to think about or talk about. A drama-less death, just like the drama-less life he lived in his last years.

Maybe Tim had an intuition, when he was making the promo video of Carol’s Lives in 2022, he inserted the picture for my father into the tapestry of images and films in the video. 

Can you see it?

A Free Parking Lot in Downtown Vancouver

Even though I practice hypnoTHERAPY, occasionally I get a phone call from someone who needs some other interesting services.

A man called me one early morning. He wanted to book an appointment as soon as possible, meaning, “Now!? Please!? How soon can you see me? I can get to your place within 20 to 30 minutes if you’d like.”

I replied, hoping there was no panic sound in my voice, “No, I would not like it.” I checked my calendar and decided that I could see him in two hours. “What’s the hurry?” I asked, curious what case I was dealing with here.  

“I want to find out where I parked my car… It’s a long story… My friend said I could call a hypnotherapist to help me so I googled… I need help. I don’t remember where I parked the damn car…”

He spoke fast, and I was trying very hard to process, or to make sense as I listened. I asked him a few more questions to slow him down. And the whole picture finally came to me: This man wanted to find out, or to remember, where he parked his rental car in downtown Vancouver two nights ago.

It was his first day in Vancouver. He had flown in from Calgary in the morning, checked into his hotel room in Burnaby in the afternoon, picked up his rental car, and drove to downtown Vancouver in the evening. It was his very first trip to Vancouver. He came to meet someone – A business meeting, he told me on the phone. Later, when he felt more comfortable with me, he said it was actually a date. Google map helped him get into downtown. After he saw he was close enough on the map, he parked the car in a covered parking lot, and used the same Google map to walk him to the meeting place, a restaurant.

A few hours and a few drinks later, for the life of him, he couldn’t find where he parked his car. After searching around on foot for a couple of hours, he gave up, and took a cab back to his hotel.

The next day, he thought daylight could help him locate the parking lot better. He went back to downtown Vancouver, first walked, and then hired a cab to drive him around and around. Neither he nor the cab driver could find the mysterious parking place or his car. “That was the only time I wished my car were towed.” He said dry humorously on the phone, “Yesterday and this morning, I kept calling the towing company every hour, but oddly enough, the car was not towed. I mean, how can you park in a downtown parking lot for free for over 24 hours?”

A friend in Calgary suggested that he see a hypnotherapist for memory recall.

So, I became his last resort. The poor man’s trip was becoming very costly. He asked for a guarantee from me. I told him I understood his situation and could guarantee that I would do my best to help, but what I couldn’t guarantee was his own mind. “It is your mind that I have to work with,” I told him, “Subconscious memory recall is like tracing a footprint. There must be a print first for this to work.” I felt the challenge in this situation – He had never been to Vancouver before. It was nighttime. His mind was preoccupied when he was driving. But also, I felt a genuine curiosity in me and a sincere desire to help – I mean, what else could he do?

Now he seemed to be so desperate. I told him that I was going to take $80 off the service, “Because,” I told him, “I am intrigued by this myself now.”

He showed up on time, eager to get right into the process, despite an old concern that associated being hypnotized with mind control. I also realized, being new to the city, he wouldn’t be able to tell me street names such as Dunsmuir, Howe, Robson, Seymour, West Pender…. Even though in regression, he would be able to recall he turned left, and saw that sign, and then right…. Spatial thinking is not my strong suit. From a map to a real location I normally lose myself in translation. Even if he could tell me those street names, I’d still be quite easily confused. All I had was regression skills, and all he had were unconscious memories of how he followed the Google map. Two confused people could unlikely lead each other to the desired destination.

We needed someone else to put it all together.

My partner Tim came to my mind. The whole streets in Vancouver downtown are on his mind map. I often thought he could make himself a decent cab driver. And he has this spy-like detective mind too (If you don’t believe me, read Chapter 14 in Carol’s LivesA Spy in the Sky”).

So, I said to my anxious new client, “I’ve never done this before, but I’m going to suggest that I have my partner Tim sitting in this session, because…”

“Whatever it takes to find my car.” He didn’t let me finish.

I could almost assume that Tim would love the opportunity. Challenging this task might sound to everyone, but it suited Tim’s inquisitive mind.

Tim came into my office with a pen and a pad of paper in his hands.

I used hypnotic confusion induction to get this man’s conscious mind out of the way, so his unconscious memories could surface….

As they surfaced, very soon this young man found himself driving downtown. He described the traffic, the weather, his mood… Vividly he was reliving the moments. Only this time, my voice was with him every turn of the way….

As a regressionist, my job was to ask the right question at the right time. The Calgary man’s job was to answer my questions as the first thing that came to his mind. Tim started to draw a map on his paper…. The session went on for two hours, and the man went deep…

I finally brought the Calgary man out of the trance. Tim showed him his drawing map, and suggested a few highlighted areas to investigate… I looked at them, with a little more clarity but still uncertainty about where exactly he could find the car, or whether he could, based on Tim’s map. I knew I had given him my best shot, as I “guaranteed” him.

Still intrigued, I decided to volunteer Tim to go with him on his next search, with the drawing map in his hand. Tim had been involved this far, and his curiosity was piqued, so he agreed.

Carrying on my other appointments for the rest of the day, I didn’t have too much time to think about it. I could only imagine the best-case scenario: a text message from Tim saying, “We found it.”

It took them an hour. A text message buzzed in, from Tim. It read, “We found it.”

When I met Tim later that day, he showed me 80 dollars, and said it was a thank-you gesture from that Calgary man.

“Unbelievable,” Tim exclaimed, “Two days and two nights in that parking lot, with only paying for a couple of hours, the car was still there, no parking ticket!”

I think we have found a secret free parking place in downtown Vancouver.

The Journey May Have Started with Greece

This whole Journey with my work somehow started with Greece, a place that I have never been to, to this day when I’m writing this.

Some manifestations take many years to come into shape. But I was confident that Greece was a place worth waiting for. Even though I don’t actually know how long I have waited for it, maybe lifetimes.

Back in March 2009, I had my own first hypnotherapy experience, inspired by Dr. Michael Newton’s book Journey of Souls (details are in chapter 15 Onto the Promised Path in Carol’s Lives). That was before I knew I was going to become a hypnotherapist. I found a hypnotherapist in town doing Life-between-lives sessions. The hypnotherapist said to me that since I never had hypnotherapy experience before, she was going to relax and condition my mind first, so when I went back, she would have an LBL session with me through past life regression. In that “relaxing and conditioning” session, she instructed my mind to go to a personal relaxing space, so my mind took me to Greece. I imagined a whitewashed rooftop terrace on the cliff looking over the blue Aegean Sea. I had a hammock on the terrace. I was just hanging in there, literally, doing nothing else particular.

As you’d read in my book, I never went back to that hypnotherapist after the “relaxing and conditioning” session. And it was not her fault.

The next year, I requested a birthday gift from Tim: a digital photo frame (To the readers of my book: Yeah, that was before I took the hypnotherapy course). My imagination was that I was going to find many photos online, add inspirational words to the pictures, use an app that is called “automotivator”, and then load up the final poster style versions to my digital photo frame, so that I could bring it to the office desk, let the slide show of my beloved Greece and inspirational words brighten up my otherwise a little dull paperwork hours in the office at the time.

The brightening-up-office-desk-slide-show project didn’t last long. In the same year 2010, I left that office. No more dull moment. And the photo frame went into storage.

Very recently I happened to find the folder on my computer holding those pictures of Greece, that faraway dream of mine in the year 2009. Here are just a fraction of them.

This was how I started.

Looking back, these words have truly shaped me.

Still the words of wisdom

Still gives me goosebumps

Weren’t I cute?

And now grateful I am. The Greek dream is coming so close! Can you believe I’m leaving for Greece in less than 10 days? I wonder what my own photos of those beautiful islands will be like. Maybe I’ll post some of them here after my trip. Overly photographed as the Greek islands are, they never lose the amazing attractions to people like me.

Let’s Go Benching

There’s a photo of Tim and I benching on our book cover Carol’s Lives.

Summer 2018, our photographer Silmara found us this bench in Kitsilano in Vancouver and took this picture to be used in the book cover. Of course, looking from Vancouver, to the direction of Manhattan; or looking from this life, to the direction of that life.

I consider myself a Shaumbra. If you don’t know that word, that’s okay. It is not an English word. If you happen to know what I mean, it would put a smile on my face. It probably means we had a dream together, long ago, like Adamus would say, “an Atlantian Dream”.

And Adamus would say, “Masters bench”. So I bench.

Everywhere I go, I take some time benching. Even my book cover, I felt I had to do something about benching. Like Memoir of Masters would do.

I did a quick photo search, and here are some of my benching photos…

Benching Oregon Coast

Benching in Redwood National State Park California

Benching in Dinosaur Provincial Park Alberta

Benching in Mount Riverstoke National Park BC

Benching in Labin Croatia

Benching Lake Bled Slovenia

Of course benching in New York

Benching in Gaudi Park Barcelona Spain

Endless bench in Budapest

Benching in Arnarstapi Iceland

Benching on the stairs Xativa Spain

Benching in Valencia Spain

The City

This book is coming along. It really is.

I have promised myself to focus on finalizing the book this summer, which means, no travel until September.

Some days, my hypnotherapy client work can be intense, in both its depth and the volume. I try blocking at least one day per week to dedicate my time to the book.

A long way to come, but it has come to the last round of editing.

Today I had a last-minute cancellation with a client, and it gave me some room to reorganize where I’m at on the journey of this book-writing time-travelling project.

It brought my mind to New York again. Tim and I were visiting it in April, for his birthday.

Struggling to remain objective, I am aware of a strong and ridiculously comforting sense of familiarity, in New York, even though it’s only my second time visiting it, in this life.

I have judged the city, before I even came here. Now I’m madly in love with New York.

I am standing in a portal between memory and reality; it was clear at last that the only gap between the two was of time, of past and present.

Let me bridge the gap now by presenting a book, of me and Tim, in the present, and Carol and Rick, in the past.

P.S. I have made a little video on memory recalls in this city full of memories, for me.

History Drifts by the River

Standing by the Richelieu River flowing to NY

Looking back, I truly couldn’t have asked for a better place to finish off the first draft of the book Carol’s Lives.

The Richelieu River can be as still as a mirror

It was in late May, 2018, invited by Lorraine and Daniel, I went to a small riverside community called Saint-Paul-de-L’île-aux-Noix in Quebec for two weeks, a perfect place and length of time to finish the book that had taken me too long to finish.

Enchanted Canal of Richelieu River

On the shore of the Richelieu River, 45 minutes away from Montreal, I got up every morning, settled in the screened gazebo, and opened my laptop. It felt like a boathouse, with an enchanted canal and the Richelieu River all around me. Here I was 10 kilometers away from U.S border and 500 kilometers away from New York, writing about that hectic and sentimental life in Manhattan, in a peaceful and quiet setting. It felt surreal. A lifetime had come to an end. Here I was again.


For two weeks I did nothing else but write. My body and mind felt quite relaxed sitting and writing by the riverside everyday, yet my heart could ache with the darkness and hardship in the life of Carol and Rick. Like the wide river itself, peaceful and calm in the morning and evening, often full of waves following the whims of the wind in the afternoon, yet never giving any indication of the direction it flowed.

Sunrise over Fort Lennox

The act of writing was very smooth and inspirational. Words flew onto my computer screen as I watched the ever-changing sunlight drifting over the water and the procession of boats going in and out of the canal and down the river.

Across the river I could see Fort Lennox on the island called Ile-aux-Noix, a fortification still standing on a structure that was completed in 1829. History must have witnessed battles here. But right now, it has all come back into this single moment of peace where my finger hit the last key on the first draft of my book.

Final pages of Carol’s Lives

So close to New York

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