Letters for November 21, 2002

Psychic babble
Re “We Hear Dead People” [RN&R Cover, Oct. 24]:

In reading this story, it is quite apparent that evil is alive and well. And this evil infects the backbone of a spiritual truth—that each of us is part of the great whole of life. While the cover exclaims: “We hear dead people,” it appears that the Reno Psychic Institute doesn’t listen to the living.

False psychics have existed since the beginning of time. And professional psychics make their living by preying on and telling others things that they have no power to know. The only power a professional (or false) psychic has is the ability to convince you that you don’t have any power.

The kind of interview that RN&R conducted at the Reno Psychic Institute exemplifies the worst kind of psychic behavior—talking to the dead and channeling Princess Di and Mother Teresa. This psychic-babble entertainment should never be mistaken for truth. Information of this kind only serves to further destroy real spiritual truth, the truth that each of us contains a spark of God, that which is all and everything.

Each of us is irrevocably connected to the creative source and being connected we can choose to access information or not.

This is a matter of choice, not divine prophecy. Each of us is capable if we make that choice. To suggest that only professional psychics know this is false and insulting. The sad truth is that dark forces do exist. And those forces do not want spiritual truth or awareness.

People who remain in the dark are controlled by the dark. It is only in the light that people can discern what is valid, noble and worthy of consideration.

I hope that, in the end, your article serves to point out the absurd and sad reality that the Reno Psychic Institute is definitely in the dark.

The real crime of the article is that it purports the institute as a spiritual center, but that it disregards the healthy alternatives that refuse to pander to the ridiculous.

I challenge the RN&R to interview a real center for spiritual truth and enlightenment; a center that speaks directly to the soul and whispers the truth that each of us is capable, worthy and divinely connected to the eternal circle of creation.

Lisa Sauls
Reno

We’ll cry if we have to
Re “Quit Yer Damned Lib’rel Crying” [RN&R Letters, Nov. 14]:

I’ve considered Robert Ramos’ advice to us “leftists” to quit crying about the election, and I’ m afraid I have some problems with complying.

Evidently Ramos shed no tears over Yucca Mountain being crammed down Nevada’s throat. That must have been what he wanted to happen since it was his party that (almost) elected George Bush as President. But when I see the state I was born in shafted by the feds, I weep.

Maybe Nevada’s Republicans will feel some sorrow when the U.S. Senate mounts its assault on our gaming industry. Or perhaps they all bought into the charade of the Republican party being a “states’ rights” group.

As for me, when I see our ability to control our own economic destiny threatened, I weep.

And when the religious right begins packing the courts with judges bent on taking away a woman’s control over her own reproductive organs, will it cause some melancholy?

When I see our individual and civil liberties being eroded, I weep.

And as the big business, big oil, pro-logging controlled Congress and administration continue to gut the EPA and destroy our natural resources, will it matter to Nevadans?

I can’t help but look at the beautiful wilderness areas of our country and wonder if they’ll be here for my grandchildren to enjoy; and the possible loss of this beauty makes me weep.

When the healthy, vibrant young men and women we send to Iraq (to protect our right to drive gas guzzling SUVs) begin coming home in body bags, how will we bear our sorrow?

As for me, I have a daughter who may soon be in harm’s way, and so I weep. All in all, I don’t think Ramos quite understands what he requests.

Because, just as it’s natural to cry when bad things happen to loved ones, when I see the country I love in serious trouble, I weep.

David B. Hubbard
Reno