My Journey With Joseph

By Alan J Porter

This is a true story, which defies all logic, of a pre-destined journey to North America of over 16,000 miles that I, with a friend, had undertaken with an agenda utterly beyond our control. It depicts the power of fate, destiny, spiritual awakening, and travel to the homeland of Joseph and Ollokot of the Nez Perce Native American tribe, the consequences of which are still unfolding. Joseph had pre-ordained the path for this journey some two years before, when I received various visions to paint of places in North America of which I had no prior knowledge, nor had any images to work upon. Our journey ultimately took us to these places, several of which were not on our planned itinerary.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781326829483

Alan J Porter

Alan J. Porter is a recognized industry thought leader, balancing both tactical and strategic knowledge and a gift for storytelling. He is a regular contributor to various industry sources, webinar host, and podcast guest, as well as an in-demand speaker for conferences.

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My Journey With Joseph

My Journey With Joseph

Alan J Porter

Copyright © <2016> by

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the

express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: <2016>

ISBN < 978-1-326-82948-3>

CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1The First Pieces of the Jigsaw

Chapter 2My First Test of Character

Chapter 3A Change of Direction

Chapter 4A New Canoe

Chapter 5The River Divides

Chapter 6Swept Up and Cast Ashore

Chapter 7Spirit Gave Me A New Canoe and A New Direction

Chapter 8With My New Canoe Came the Rocks and Rapids

Chapter 9 From Rapids to the Waterfall

Chapter 10The Emergence of Light into Our Lives

Chapter 11Further Pieces of the Jigsaw Appear

Chapter 12Our Canoe Reaches a New Harbour

Chapter 13Another Dimension

Chapter 14Seeing the Silver Arrow

Chapter 15I Begin to Paint

Chapter 16A Dream Materialises

Chapter 17Follow the River

Chapter 18Other Lives

Chapter 19Further Challenges

Chapter 20Circle of Friends

Chapter 21A Further Sign Down the River

Chapter 22Help On the River

Chapter 23A Shooting Star

Chapter 24Confirmation

Chapter 25A Lady From the Higher Realms

Chapter 26Unexpected Artists

Chapter 27More Unusual Twists to the Painting

Chapter 28A Spiritual Intervention

Chapter 29A further Introduction to Other Master Artists

Chapter 30Reaching the Top of the Mountain

Chapter 31The Journey Begins

Chapter 32Harness the Energy

Chapter 33Fate Takes Hold

Chapter 34Our Arrival at the Wallowa Valley

Chapter 35Someone Is Waiting For Us

Chapter 36A Link to the Past

Chapter 37Home

Chapter 38Ollokot Touches His Descendants

Chapter 39We Enter the Inner Sanctum

Chapter 40Help to Find the Answers

Chapter 41Control of Our Journey

Chapter 42My Driver Makes Himself Known

Chapter 43A Meeting With the Past

Chapter 44Some of the Answers to Armand’s Prayer

Chapter 45Our Journey to Big Hole

Chapter 46Touching Another Time

Chapter 47Time to Leave Montana

Chapter 48A Revelation

Chapter 49A Symbol Is Given

Chapter 50The River of Life

Chapter 51The Train Will Continue

Acknowledgements

Introduction

This is a story which I would like to think will open the minds of those seeking answers regarding their own lives. I believe that through my story, further understandings and the purpose to the meaning of life will be given.

I mention in the story that I am not a religious person and for some, this may sit uncomfortably, particularly with regard to the message that I bring. I try to be a spiritual person, but I cannot be the judge of that. In fact, at times that doesn’t sit properly either, so I am who I am.

On many occasions when introducing my philosophy, I have invoked the question, what do all various religions have in common? The answer is that everyone is spiritual in addressing their beliefs.

The road of my life has been long. I have found so many pieces of the jigsaw which represents my life. Each piece has brought a further answer and I can envisage a forever growing picture of such unimaginable beauty which will incorporate everyone.

In the story, when I refer to spirit speaking to me I will try to make this a little clearer. In the earlier days when my spiritual understanding was limited, I believed this was just my imagination. My psychic powers increased and my clairvoyance emerged due to my greater awareness. Messages are received through what I can only describe as telepathy of the mind. It is hard to explain why and when this occurs. I must be receptive or sensitive, or dare I say, chosen. I believe that with my friend Gary, who makes his entrance later in the story, he has been chosen and I have no doubt about that. He has been the spiritual channel to allow words to flow that no other book will match on the spiritual meaning of life.

In August 2004, I had almost finished a large painting which was inspired by spirit when I was told telepathically to get a book on Albert Einstein. As I was not knowledgeable as to any of his books, I can only think that at this time, spirit wanted me to read some of his wisdom. I visited my local book shop and they gave me a choice of six titles. I picked one randomly called, ‘The World as I See It’.

After reading this book I found absolutely nothing that enlightened my thoughts, as this was a book of correspondence between his friends and academics. On the cover of the book was a black and white photograph of Albert. For some reason I was drawn to this photograph, especially his eyes.

At this point in time, there was no hint or thought of myself writing a book, as certain events had not yet happened. In December 2004, I wrote to my spiritual friend Caroline who was in Italy at the time, telling her about the journey Gary and I made to America. It began as a letter yet finished with over one hundred pages. Only after this was I directed to try and put everything into context.

In January 2005 I began to write of my experiences and after a couple of weeks of writing, I mentioned Albert’s theory on logic and I felt an urge to go and find his book that I had previously purchased a few months prior to this. For some reason, I placed it by my side and unconsciously I had my left hand on the front of the book. Unbeknown to me, I had veered from what I was originally writing and the thoughts that I now wrote were not mine. I looked at the book cover and Albert’s smile and the light in his eyes conveyed to me that he was channelling his thoughts through me. This happened a few times while I was writing, whereby I was conscious it was Albert’s thoughts and not mine. With each occasion that Albert made his thoughts known to me, my left hand was on the cover of his book.

He was giving help by allowing his knowledge and understanding to be known, to show that there is no death in life, but only a change of worlds. The reader must do as Einstein says, You have to open your mind and then you can unlock the doors that will provide you with the answers.

Chapter 1The First Pieces of the Jigsaw

The tale that I have chosen to tell has evolved from the day I was born, and today the story continues to unfold in many pieces, the way it has always done. The difference is that now I understand how and why these pieces of jigsaw are fitting together, forming a picture so elaborately designed it will encompass everyone when it is fully accomplished. I have picked out the experiences of my life which have been psychic, clairvoyant and spiritual. I have also come to discover that I am a seer, which allows me to witness events that take place in the future. I feel privileged to have been given these gifts, yet I also understand that with them, comes an implicit responsibility which enables me to see the path that we will all eventually walk. My story is bringing the pieces of the jigsaw together.

I will begin by saying that I was one of the many babies who entered life just as peace was being declared at the end of the Second World War. Finally the horrors and barbarity the world had witnessed was coming to an end. I was born in a small, industrial town named Leek, which had a population of approximately twenty thousand. The location was in the North of Staffordshire, at the base of the spine of the rugged hills and mountains that weave through the middle of England known as the Pennines.

The town was scattered with a cluster of late Victorian textile mills which the owners greatly prospered from up until the start of the First World War. The class dominance still remained thirty years later while the workers and their families remained at a respectable distance. So in this working class area of town my life began. My home was one of the many endless terraced houses; the toilets were on the outside and we had no bathroom facilities. Everybody faced the same hardships. I was not aware of the rationing after the war, and as a child what you didn't have you didn't miss.

My mother had four sons and I was the second eldest. My eldest brother was six years older than me which left a gap between us; a gap that never closed even in later life. Sadly, I didn't really know him then and I don't know him now. My first school was next to one of the satanic looking mills, which was about five minutes running time from home. I vividly remember my first day at school. Within a couple of hours of being there I was running home and behind me was a school prefect chasing me the entire way, trying to take me back but he didn't succeed in catching me. That first initiation of disliking school continued throughout my school life. My childhood is better remembered for the fun and adventure I had out of school.

I was raised to know right from wrong; I can not remember taking part in anything classed as bad. Some of the lads I used to hang around with would today be called lovable rogues; there would be mischief but never any activity that would cause the police to be involved.  I think my imagination was always in overdrive, constantly thinking of how to entertain myself and friends. In those days, television didn't exist so initiative, imagination and intuition would be the buttons to press to conjure another adventure. We were never at a loss when it came to enjoying ourselves, this was a period of my life where there was no cares or worries.

My competitive nature began to emerge in the final year of junior school. I was motivated to do well in lessons as I didn't like girls beating me. Motivation and battling against the odds were to become a very important part of my life. I have as the Americans say, a 'can do' attitude, 'can't do’ is an anathema to me. Self belief is everything if you intend to be successful at anything, but you have to enjoy and love what you do. Money should not be the prime motivation.

The junior school period came to an end and school friends changed. Looking back, I have many fond memories of this short time in my life. The long summer holiday began and I was now eleven. There was always invariably a gang of us, equipped with food, a scout knife, matches and potatoes to roast on the camp fire that we would always make. The hills, fields and woods were not far away and we would eventually find the perfect location to build our shelter or hut. I remember one occasion where we found a shallow hollow and with our knives we took enjoyment in constructing a log roof and covering it with turf. We created a ladder from various branches which allowed us to descend in to our new abode. Candles were produced, potatoes were roasted and our shelter was hidden from view. It became our own secret world; a world in many ways that I would associate with in later life through regression, reincarnation and spiritual experiences.

Another part of our day involved the excitement that came from apple raiding. Apple raiding was going into gardens that you were not meant to and to see who would be the first boy who would dare to climb over a wall, with some often over six feet high. We would conduct it like a military operation; we inspected the place, leaving one or two of us to keep a look out whilst the bravest ones climbed over. We had our successes as we clambered back, pockets and jumpers bulging with our booty. It was the initial dare, beating the fear and then relishing the moment as we sunk our teeth into the juicy delights. Yet disappointingly, more often than not they turned out to be bitter crab apples that left us with stomach ache. Of course there were times when our plans failed. Many times we climbed the walls of allotments only to find the allotment owner waiting for us on the other side. This usually brought a different kind of fear, one of being caught and smacked. I remember when we were caught in the act one day and were then chased for over half a mile. Luckily on that particular occasion we managed to escape.

There was never a day that passed when we didn't do something different which resulted in an adventure. To carry our scout knives, candles and matches allowed us to dig out shelters and tunnels wherever we decided to set up camp. I feel that my childhood days were very similar to that of Mark Twain’s characters like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. We, like them never had a dull day. When I look back, such a large part of our holidays entailed creating huts from sheets of corrugated metal and any other scraps we could utilise. Building a new camp site always gave us great satisfaction as we were using our imagination and initiative. Some of these early traits I believe were already forming parts of the jigsaw of my life.

After the holidays my next stage of schooling began and I started Mountside High School for boys which I associated with a Russian Gulag camp. The physical education teacher we had was almost sadistic; if you failed to bring one part of your gym kit he would literally knock the hell out of you. His favourite weapon was a baseball bat which marked the backside of many pupils. My school had a fair share of would be S.S recruits. One particular biology teacher ran his class similar to that of a workhouse farm. The school garden produced everything from potatoes to turnips, all of which were then sold. Subsequently, biology lessons involved gruelling manual labour such as strenuous digging and removing barrow loads of garden rubbish. The punishments which this chap regularly gave to pupils made us all shake with fear. Luckily he left after two years, yet in this short amount of time he had regularly beaten any boy that he thought did not work hard enough. The lessons became long, tedious and boring yet we were kept alert by hearing the constant flow of screams stemming from the corridor. The screams came from boys who were receiving the cane from cruel teachers who seemed to lack all traces of sympathy and compassion. Thankfully, life after the school bell involved games that kept us happy and amused for hours.

I remember one afternoon after school when I was twelve, it was a very hot day and I happened to be on my own on an area of waste land that we used to play on. As it was so hot I took my shirt off and I immediately felt a strange sensation of being overwhelmed. Looking back I can only describe it as energy that mentally transported me into another dimension. Even at that age it gave me the feeling that I belonged elsewhere. The experience was not frightening as I felt exhilarated.

As I was so young at the time I lacked any understanding of the situation and simply embraced the brief moment. It left me bewildered but it was enjoyable and unforgettable. I went to the same place the following day, hoping for a repeat of yesterday’s event. The weather was the same and I went to the same spot and again a fusion of energy consumed me. Although the temperature was still high I felt like I had to remove my shirt, as if it was part of the re-enactments of this exciting freedom. This sensation lasted for only a brief moment and I didn't mention it to any of my friends as they would have thought that I had gone mad, nor could I even begin to try and explain it at the time. I find it difficult now to try and capture the moment and convey it in words. Yet I know now that spiritual energy can form around you and create a presence that is out of your control. It is a power that will display itself throughout my story.

I recall similar experiences happening three more times as a young lad, yet I became afraid of what the consequences of these strange occurrences would be. I was scared of disappearing or somebody witnessing me in this bizarre state. The area where this happened was on a steep bank which was part of a valley. The landscape in this encounter is important as later in my life, I would find myself to be placed back into an almost exact situation, meaning that this piece of the jigsaw would later find its own place and significance in the bigger picture which was already being created.

I recall at about the age of thirteen being on holiday with my family at the seaside resort of Blackpool. One day we passed a sports shop and in its window was a display of magnificent bows and arrows. There was a full array of different varieties, all with metal tips and feathered flights accompanied with beautiful leather quivers. I was transfixed by the sight and sheer excitement of firing these fantastic arrows and the adventures they would inspire. The fact that they were lethal weapons never crossed my mind as being thirteen I was I was still influenced by the likes of Tom Sawyer. I was totally spellbound by these bows and arrows. I have often wondered what made my father go and purchase these for my brothers and myself. My younger brothers were two and four years younger than me and we had all had been given one bow, arrows and a quiver to match our heights. I think that my father must have seen the awe and fascination in our eyes which persuaded him to buy them. The bows alone cost £¹³.⁰⁰ each and with the other components, each set must have totalled at least £²⁰.⁰⁰, which in ¹⁹⁵⁷ was an awful lot of money. My father was by no means a wealthy man yet something compelled him to do as he did.

As soon as we got home, my brothers and I made our way to a place named the 'Seven Valleys', a place which was literally just that. There we were free to fire the arrows from valley to valley. The pure thrill to pull back the string and feel the power of the flight really did seem to be of second nature to me. To witness an arrow hit its target, regardless of whether the target was a tree or a distant clump of shrubs was exhilarating. Sometimes we thought that we were good enough to hit a rabbit in its dash for freedom but at that age it was just our imagination. Simply carrying the bow felt right and instinctive and it allowed me to transport myself into another world, away from school and everything else. These distant memories were to gradually come back to me as I grew older, again providing more pieces for my puzzle.

At the age of fourteen, with help and encouragement from my art teacher, Mr. Holdsworth, I came to find satisfaction and enjoyment from art. He introduced me to oil painting and gave me direction which I have never forgotten. Cross country running also became a passion of mine. I used to train every evening which resulted in me competing for the county and coming second in the school race. My character was beginning to take shape and finishing in second place was not good enough for me. It is a pity that I could not have adopted this approach in every subject yet it was not meant to be.

It was around this time that my mother mentioned that she had been talking to an old lady who was a medium and a clairvoyant. She told my mother that I had three spiritual guides, one being a Native American Indian, another being a French painter and the third an Egyptian Pharaoh. At that age I didn't understand the meaning of it all. My mother tried to explain by saying that they would be with me in life and they would influence and help me.

The thought of a Native American Indian being with me filled me with intrigue. Looking back now it reveals why I was so captivated with my bow and arrows. My mother was a firm believer in spiritualism and the afterlife, as was her mother. Apparently, my grandmother witnessed on several occasions a Native Indian standing by her bed in the night. To this day, my mother refuses to take any kind of medication as she asks spirit for healing; she is nearly ⁸⁶ years old and is in fantastic health.

In 1960 I was fifteen years old and my school days were coming to an end, which unfortunately are not remembered fondly. With regards to job prospects, I had had the idea to join the Merchant Navy which would have enabled me to see the world. One of my school reports had stated that I tend to dream. Yet the teacher who wrote that failed to understand that those who have no dreams have no life.

Chapter 2My First Test of Character

My first week after leaving school was still consumed by thoughts of joining the Navy and seeing the world. However, a friend of my fathers had mentioned a job vacancy in a design office at a large textile printing company in my home town of Leek. Before I knew it an interview had been arranged for me, for which I had to present a range of my drawings. I sorted through all of my collection and decided on a few of the best, yet I still was not happy with the selection as I knew that I was capable of doing better. So, I had five days until the interview and in a mad panic I attempted to do better and created seven drawings, all of which I was proud of.

The gentleman who conducted the interview (I later discovered that he was the director) looked closely at me and said, Is this all that you have? To that I replied, Yes, feeling rather embarrassed. To my utter surprise he calmly said, Alright, they are good. I would have liked to have seen more but you can start on Monday and we will see how you go on.

On my first day I was introduced to those who worked in a glass petitioned office and as soon as I walked in I had a strange feeling. I heard the words, You will work here for two years and learn as much as you can but then you will move on. I dismissed this mysterious voice as my imagination. The first few weeks in my new job were hell. I recall having to copy a fabric design through photo film using a black line. It had to be exact and subsequently it took me nine times to get it right. It was a job that required a lot of patience, yet gradually I began to improve.  In the office there was Vernon who was the boss; he was alright in his own way. Then there were three men and a woman, all of whom later turned out to be cretins. 

My mother at this time would occasionally go to spiritualist meetings and one particular night she took me with her. There was a display of psychic drawings which were shown on a large screen. It made an impression on me as I knew that it was extraordinary. I went another time and witnessed a transfiguration whereby the medium was taken over by their spiritual guide and their facial features actually altered (I even saw a moustache appear on the lady's face). On another occasion, one that I vividly remember, an Irish man came through from the spirit world and sang 'oh Danny boy'. I continued to visit the spiritualist church with my mother for approximately three months; this was the time when the seeds of spiritual nature began to germinate within me.

At the bottom of our garden we had a small summer house and I spent most of my weekends there, consumed by painting. I named my first real oil painting ‘The Overgrown Garden’. It was thirty six inches by twenty four inches and depicted various gardeners trying to restore this garden back to its former glory. I often worked on this piece until the early hours of the morning, even then I felt like it wasn't solely me who was creating the painting and I still believe today that the standard is far higher than a fifteen year old boy could create. It now hangs on my son’s mother’s wall.

The firm that I worked for decided that I would learn something if I attended the local art college for one day a week, yet eighteen months later, I still disagreed. I felt like an outsider as I was from a place of work and none of the other students were. Despite this I was determined to learn whatever I could, whereas the other full time students did not share my ethic. In fact, work was often the last thing on their minds. This may seem like a narrow view of them on my part, but I felt like I was approaching art from a different direction. I loved the beauty of Raphael paintings and this standard was not available at college.

In those first eighteen months I had improved in my job to the extent that my work was equal to those who I worked with, who had been in the industry for years. The working relationship was amicable but this would soon alter. The nature of the job occasionally required that certain fabric designs had to be completed extremely quickly in order to improve orders and sales. This entailed working at weekends, which the other staff refused to do. The tension was fraught between management and the workers who were adamant not to comply. One day the manager approached me whilst I was on my own. He asked me if I would like this extra work as he now felt that I was capable. I hadn't forgotten the generosity of the director as he had initially given me the job and given me a chance to prove myself. I was now seventeen years old and felt that I had the opportunity to repay him. He promised to pay me above the normal rate, yet I did not do it for the money, I did it because it felt like the right thing to do. 

It was at around this time that Cassius Clay emerged on the boxing scene and he became a celebrity and was famous for stating which round he would beat his challenger. With Sonny Liston, the world champion, Clay predicted his downfall, yet this was David calling Goliath in the boxing world. A few days before the world title fight, I was at work and a sensation of a vortex of energy seemed to surround me. I was being told that Cassius Clay possessed spiritual powers far beyond his comprehension and that he would win the fight. I accepted this insight yet I didn’t understand why or how I was receiving it. I mentioned this 'tip off' to those who I knew regularly placed a bet but they all thought I was mad. Yet as the announcement of Clay becoming the world champion was heard, the fact that my prediction was correct was never mentioned. I have often wondered whether Cassius Clay ever considered if his power and gift were provided by spirit, or understood its origin.

My working weekends continued as I did not want to let the director down and I was also glad of the extra money. The director used to give me a nod when he passed, as if to say thank you for the extra hours I was working which in turn led to the company's increasing orders. The intimidation I felt from my moronic colleagues intensified. They chose to ignore me but I didn't let their harsh comments or childish flying pellets which were specifically aimed at me bother me. What they failed to understand was that they were somehow threatened by a young lad who they viewed as a traitor simply because I chose to do overtime. Their little minds and little worlds tried hard to break me each day, but in turn I only grew stronger. I decided to join a weight lifting gym but I was by no means a weed, I already weighed eleven and a half stone and was five feet and eleven inches in height but I was determined to grow bigger and stronger. This motivation has stayed with me as the moment I see a challenge, I believe nothing can beat me.

The first evening I was introduced to weightlifting, I noticed a young chap who was built like a bull and he seemed to take delight in seeing me fail when asked how many pull-ups I could do. I discovered I could only do two and then I heard a voice telling me that he would last three months and then he would leave the gym. Again, I dismissed this voice as my imagination and thought no more of it. In the next three months I progressed and gradually the weights I lifted grew heavier and heavier.

The 'bull' was ever more conscious of me as I could now beat his total weight in the squat lift. This was loading weights on your back and gradually increasing the weight the stronger you got. Within these three months I surpassed his performance and his scathing smile was no longer on his face as it was on my first day. He soon left the gym and never returned; he was no longer the best. In six months I put on thirty pounds and felt stronger and more confident in myself, particularly at work where I now waited for a wrong word to be said about me. In the following two years, when I was nineteen and twenty years old, I became the Staffordshire heavy weight junior champion. I eventually took over the running of the weight lifting club as the man who had ran it for over ten years