This is (the late) John Kennedy Jr.—or at least the parallel version of him that "walked into" Cathee. Not the one who married actress Daryl Hannah and made documentaries with her. Not the one whose dad lived into his eighties, with Junior's public light dim in his shadow. And not the parallel self who fulfilled hopes that he would become president of the United States.
I'm the John who always wanted to write his own life story, but whose life became an elaborate American cultural mythology instead. And now we've been busy living the second half of it—the soul braid sequel to the main movie written by many journalists and gossip-columnists.
I can't resist commenting on the words you may have just read in "Lines of Light," which I spoke after I'd been in this body- and selfhood-sharing duo only a year. I've learned a lot since then. One might expect death to yield great insight into one's life, but I've found that being "back in" has brought an immediacy to the memories. And reviewing them from within Cathee's loving embrace has allowed me to face straight on what makes a selfhood, rather than taking it for granted.
I'm not back to drag her with me into the archetype of Kennedy—or mass cultural—martyrdom. And no one is asking me to. Nor am I here to play a savior role, a Moses repeat, in leading "my people" out of corporate or Illuminati slavery to some promised land. (Although, there is a promised land in this case.) But as long as I lived a famous life, we intend to use it.
We've been in training with the Leapers—the natural forces of incarnation—exploring how to do incarnational interventions. I know of no faster intensive than to share a body. I've yet to describe the intricacies of that experience, but let me share here how it relates to you at this moment.
You might not know the story of the small son of a slain U.S. president, whose uncle was assassinated five years later while running for the presidency himself. My mother later married a fabulously wealthy Greek shipping magnate. While in law school I was declared by People magazine "the sexiest man alive." My political magazine, George, had the largest circulation of any political magazine. I married a lovely woman, Carolyn. And a small plane I was piloting crashed in 1999. It was big news at the time, although Cathee—being a mountain recluse—remained blissfully unaware of it and of me.
We've made up for her being uninformed about my life by her reading a dozen biographical books, and articles about me in dozens of publications as diverse as TIME, American Journalism Review, Gentleman's Quarterly, Ladies Home Journal, LIFE, Star, U.S. News and World Report, Vanity Fair and Vogue. I've also been featured in newspapers, TV interviews, movies, documentaries, and non-English magazines. It's likely that most culturally literate adults in my country who aren't mountain recluses have rubbed up against my image somewhere, if only in grocery check-out lines. Common reports were of how George brought together popular culture and politics, my method of transportation in New York (often a bike or rollerblades), and who I dated (whether true or a reporter's fantasy). Going back 100,000 years, Esquire recently titled me one of "The 75 Best Dressed Men of All Time."
I feel gratefully honored that the Harvard University Institute of Politics gave its prestigious political forum my name. Of even greater significance is that nineteen per cent of those polled by Gallup said that with my passing, they felt as if a member of their own family had died. I can't find the words to tell you how much that means to me. The love flows both ways, even now.
Although you don't necessarily have to accomplish a great deal to be a celebrity, the details of my biography don't add up to the level of fame given me by the global public. I've known there was more to the story, hiding in the recesses of mass consciousness.
Some of you are able to tune into the Leapers directly and develop a personal, loving relationship with finesse. Others may find it's easier to relate to a human face . . . perhaps even my face, of which hundreds of photos are widely available.
In retrospect, I've always been somewhat transparent in my purpose. The Leapers inserted me where our cultural ship pointed in a downward spiral. This was part of the plan of offering you the opportunity to be transplanted to a more loving parallel world at this time on this cluster of parallels. They knew the magnetism of a photograph as a shamanic object. They knew the magic of archetypes like the fairy-tale "tall, dark, handsome prince," and the power of a story.
If you've decided to leap off of our dying parallel world, you and I were both created for similar purposes. I'm here to help you, if you need a human face for the Leapers. If you resonate with me through my photos while I resonate with the Leapers, perhaps you can learn to feel their love for you directly.
If I can be of help to you in this way, please don't pull on me and Cathee! If you feel like you're drowning, you may have the urge to grab hold. Remember that much larger forces than me will carry you, and you must call on them. But if it's comforting to know that we're doing this together, let's enjoy the thrill of it in tandem.
Great adventure beckons. Let's move ahead with grace, laughter and love. I've shared tremendous trauma with many of you—both personal, and in watching the unraveling of our democratic ideals. Let's spread our wings and leave the old world behind, in joy.
The transformation I've been through in the care of the Leapers since my death has been gently mind-boggling and radically enlightening. I've experienced more octaves to love than I knew existed, in the core of my being. I feel a sense of belonging in the universe I couldn't have even glimpsed before.
Carrying on "the Kennedy legacy"—an affirmation of the worth of all people—was a task given me from birth. At George I tried to elicit and highlight a cacophony of political views. My interviewees included Fidel Castro, George Wallace, Billy Graham, North Vietnamese general Vo Nguyen Giap, and the Dalai Lama. I was caught in a linear view of history, and of the evolution of the human spirit.
It's been liberating to soak in the multi-dimensional peacefulness of the perspectives of Cathee's community of nature spirits. I now realize that if my parallel world has chosen to play out a theme for the whole, no amount of dialogue or political activism will change that—any more than my wishing it so will make a zebra's stripes into spots instead. Any famous person knows that their place in history is bigger than them, but the Leap is gigantically bigger than even the ideals I held so dear.
I'm in awe of the orchestration of my celebrity life, death, and re-invention as Cathee's intimate sidekick. We feel odd in our present role of encouraging you to view yourself—in every cell and inclination—as a legacy to bring from our imploding parallel world to another. Once you realize that the worth of individuals is taken for granted in most parallels of this planet, our world's heroic striving for this ideal no longer seems to be a needed gift to the universe. It took a radical transformation in me—to put it mildly—for me to encourage you to give up any political pursuit of "the dream" and just let yourself be transplanted.
In World War II my father commanded a patrol torpedo boat. When it was sunk by a Japanese destroyer, he led his men in swimming to a new shore—towing an injured crewman by clenching the strap of the man's life jacket between his teeth.
After the plane carrying my wife, her sister, and me sank in the ocean, twenty thousand messages of sympathy were posted on an online message board in one night. It weighs heavily on me that many of those sympathizers had looked to me for leadership while I was alive. But now—using the light lines of my relationships with even people I've never met—I'm leading the way to a safe shore.
As a political journalist, I had a front row seat to view the dead end our culture is approaching. Seeing that disintegration from a more encompassing view now, compels me to reach out to you.
With any influence I can wield, I wholeheartedly urge you to trust the Leapers—and Divine Will behind them—with your life. Leap. Soon. Now. We care about you.
We're waiting for you.
from A Personal Face: A Message from JFK Jr. to:
part one index
introduction to The Parallel Worlds Handbook
© Cathee Courter and Peter MacGill, text. All rights reserved.
You may copy and distribute this message as long as you change nothing, credit the author(s), include this copyright notice and web address, and keep it free of charge.
Photos are used for educational purposes.