I have a confession to make. If someone asked me to recite The Lord’s Prayer or Ten Commandments, I would struggle to remember the words. Not that I was born into an atheist family. Far from it. My Estonian parents Karl & Maja Summer were Lutheran and my grandmother on my mother’s side, Johanna Tasso, was Orthodox. I guess that makes me a somewhat irreverent Lutherdox.
I can only assume that my other grandparents who remained in Estonia, were also Lutheran or Orthodox. My mother’s father, Aleksander Tasso, died in 1954 and my dad’s father, Arthur Johannes Michael Summer, died in 1969. We lived in hope that our father’s mother Linda Summer would visit Australia one day but the Moscow Politburo ‘gatekeepers’ doggedly denied her permission to travel. Without going into detail, this was primarily due to political complications stemming from my backlisted father’s ‘enemy of the state’ status that prevented him from safely returning to Estonia. In 1977, dad was notified by telegram that his mother had died. I saw him cry for the first time.
A year or so later, much to our surprise, dad’s older sister Helvi was permitted to travel to Australia, under strict conditions. Despite warnings from the Soviet authorities against any publicity about her visit, dad’s photographer friend captured the momentous reunion on film and they ended up in ‘The News.’
Sister and brother reunited after 45 years of separation” read the headline, accompanied a beautiful photo of my beaming father with his wife and sister upon her arrival at Adelaide Airport.
That’s just how it was.
My Famous Five Anchors in Life and Spirit
Clockwise from top left: Johanna Tasso (Nana); Maja Summer (Mother); Linda Summer cradling baby Dad, 1926 (unmet Nana); Karmin Kiploks (Aunty); Middle: Karl Summer (Father). Photo source: National Archives of Australia
From ‘Jesus Was Way Cool’ to Challenging the Narrative
I have another confession to make. Until 2020, my overall knowledge of religion was scant - borderline zip. Primarily due to a lack of interest. In hindsight, this can be partly explained by my liberated upbringing that largely bypassed religious indoctrination, allowing me the freedom to find my own spiritual path.
I grew up with an awareness of Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed and other standard religious figures, recoiled from ‘god-fearing’ stories and anything to do with the devil. The mere thought of Jesus and his friends being nailed to a cross was too cruel and violent to comprehend. Still is.
By the 1990s, Jesus was resurrected as a ‘way cool guy’ via a popular song on the radio. The only lyrics that didn’t resonate, were: “He told people to eat his body and drink his blood - That's so cool - Jesus was so cool”. More recently, I browsed through a booklet about Jesus that appeared in the letter box and which carried the same uncomfortable message. All these years later, it had the same effect. But this time, slight confusion came into play. I thought that Luciferians ate flesh and drank blood. Not ‘God’s children’. The only reason I knew about Lucifer was because of an esoteric book project in 2020 that opened my eyes to many aspects of religion, including the occult origins of religious and governmental establishments. I clearly have more research to do.
Controversial new ‘Jesus theories’ caught my attention in the 90s, thanks to bold, investigative authors who dared to question the official Christian narrative. Some concluded that Jesus disagreed with manmade religious doctrines, and even religion itself. To throw another proverbial spanner in the works, a friendly pirate suggested that the concept of communism originated from Jesus. He allegedly envisioned a harmonious world with a core foundation of love and family unity; where there was enough of everything for everyone - not just the notorious ‘one percent.’ My kinda concept.
From Kangaroos to a Kaleidoscopic Culture
I grew up in two worlds. The culturally deficient, remote island of Australia that primarily catered for fans of ‘football, meat pies, kangaroos and Holden cars’ - and cricket. Once upon a time it was a thriving musical mecca for but those days are unfairly on hold. While mindless sport plays on.
My parallel Estonian world encompassed a kaleidoscopic culture of folk dance, music, Estonian language school (Eesti Kool), glamorous balls at Eesti Maja (Estonian House) and nature adventures. First hand stories of unmet relatives, Nazis in my nana’s house, genocide, politics, firing lines and stupid wars. Three-day long music-filled parties with an amazing extended family of spirited, loving, European immigrants.
I knew what the Moscow Politburo was by the time I was about five years old. My Grade One teacher Mrs Wiffin asked me where my parents came from and I said ‘Estonia.’ When she responded with a quizzical look, I said, ‘You know. Behind the Iron Curtain.’ Like it was perfectly normal. She still had no idea what I was talking about. but when I mentioned Russia, I received a vague acknowledgement.
There was no escaping an early awareness of godless, loveless, lawless, politics; Marxism, Communism, Nazism, Fascism, Totalitarianism; how opposing religious beliefs can ignite heated arguments and escalate into unholy wars. In the late 1980s, I began to research my family history to gain more understanding of what my parents and relatives endured during the horrendous war years. The detail of the politics behind the unlawful annexation of the Baltic States of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania in 1939, and ensuing genocide, deportations and malicious deprivations, rattled me to my core.
This is partly why I am sharing some of my memories now. It became apparent to me several years ago that the same dark forces never went away.
Self Appointed Gods and the Divine Right to Rule
What is it with shadowy, kazillionaire families that fancy themselves as some kind of gods with a divine right to rule? Devil worshipers that think they can bulldoze their way into any country on earth, pay large sums of money to doormat politicians in exchange for enforcing immoral, often cruel totalitarian policies - and get away with it. Until 2020, I wasn’t aware of the existence of an unruly, self-appointed ‘ruling class’ or their unrealistic agenda for humanity that encompasses forced atheism and enslavement. Inarguably depraved and unconscionable behaviour. We are inherently free spirits with equally inherent rights to live as we please. Provided that a man or woman’s personal spiritual faith and beliefs emanate from a core foundation of love and ‘do no harm,’ what right does anyone have to judge them, let alone persecute them?
Whilst on the topic of self appointed gods, how hypocritical were the Nazi fashionistas who quietly obsessed over the study of ‘Scientific Occultism’? Yet anyone else who professed to have a direct connection to the divine or supernatural, landed in extremely hot water if they dared to ‘outdo’ the Nazis or contravene their political or ideological agendas. Back in those dark days, it took very little to upset militant tyrants and their filthy rich camera-shy financiers.
Little wonder I became a political ‘obliviate’ for most of my life. Fortunately, things have changed for the better in Russia since then but appear to be deteriorating in Germany at this time. Some circles are now suggesting that the United States, Australian and the Baltic State governments are ‘glorifying’ Nazism and Neo-Nazism. Sheesh. I can’t keep up. And I digress.
Is Sin Really a Hustle Which Frustrates Human Development?
One of the most articulate religious and esoteric educators that I discovered during my 2020 research travels, was US broadcaster and author, Chuck Swindoll. After forty years of faithful adherence to the Christian doctrine, he began to realize that Christianity only allowed a “very specific reality, a very specific spirituality, and an unnatural, conflict oriented, dualistic approach to life.” This eventually led to writing his first book which I have yet to read, Elucidating Christianity: A Heretic's Dissent: Triangulating Dysfunctional Religion. It primarily examines what happens to a person’s development and psychology when they believe they are a sinner and how an individual develops when they must identify through Jesus rather than themselves.
The book project I was working on partly dealt with the covert influence of dark occult rituals by a rather expansive, shadowy, self appointed ‘ruling class’ that I didn’t know existed. (About 3000 members from a variety of organisations & wealthy ‘bloodline’ families). Until viewing Swindoll’s succinct and compelling video essay, Lucifer and Luciferians, Masters of Deception, I thought Lucifer was a fictional character. My oh my. How wrong was I? Swindoll's essay is worthy of an article in itself but this passage about ‘sins’ from my notebook, will have to suffice for now. The reason I chose this topic is revealed a little later in this story:
“As the movie Dune proclaimed, “Fear is a mind killer” and indeed it is. Sin is a mind control technique... Western religion controls masses of people by limiting their potential through fear because every western religionist knows they are a sinner and cannot be trusted. That’s called inculcated fear. Sin is a hustle which frustrates human development in the universe. It’s a Luciferian fear technique to developmentally compromise prey - which is us. Believe you are a sinner, and you will act out, live, and die as one.” Chuck Swindoll
Religion Vs Nature Spirituality
Prior to researching the religious history of Estonia, I guessed that Estonians were predominantly Lutheran and knew for certain that fairies and fairyland featured prominently in Estonia’s ancient origins. According to the World Atlas, during the ancient pre-Christian era, Estonians were thought to be pagans or agnostics (labeled as naughty heathens in some religious circles). Calling themselves the ‘faith of the earth’ they believed in animism (existence of spiritual beings), and ‘worshiped in forest groves’.
Visit Estonia concurs: “Nature spirituality is equally and deeply embedded in the cultural history of Estonian people, in which the trees and earth are cherished objects that possess power. Forest has always been the source of life in this region and it was believed to be a sacred place in Estonia's primeval religion, with the ancestors of modern Estonians worshipping wood spirits.”
No wonder my parents were such nurturing nature lovers and why I Iove everything related to fairies. Cross-cultural ancient shamanic healing arts and spiritual traditions also resonate.
A Brief Estonian History of Religious Conquests
The oldest form of Christianity in Estonia is the Orthodox faith, introduced in the 10th and 11th Centuries by missionaries from Novgorod and Pskov. While many Estonians converted to the new faith, ‘fairy lore’ as I choose to describe my enchanted ancient ancestry, lived on through folk tales.
In the 13th century, Christianity became firmly entrenched by both the militant Catholic Teutonic Knights that ruled southern Estonia, and the Danes that ruled the north. By the 16th Century, the Reformation era and Germanic influences saw the establishment of the Lutheran church. Liturgical reforms of the Russian Orthodox Church in the 17th and 18th Centuries caused many believers to flee Estonia, while 19th Century "Russification" era, forced many peasants to convert to the Russian Orthodox Church.
The 1917 revolution ignited the ‘Red Terror’ era; a rigid communist regime that destroyed millions of innocent lives and ruled with an ‘iron fist’ until the fall of the Soviet Union that began in the late 1980s. By 1991, the legendary ‘Singing Revolution’ peacefully and rightfully restored Estonia’s independence, along with neighbouring Baltic States Latvia and Lithuania. Why a man or woman’s chosen faith poses such a threat to atheist and/or devil worshiping political institutions, baffles me. Perhaps they should try love some time.
These days, Estonia is free of religious restrictions and one of the least religious countries in the world. According to Estonian World: "In the last national poll in 2011, only 19 per cent of Estonian speakers said they “ascribe to” a certain religion (of those, 72 per cent indicated they were Lutherans).” The 2005 Euro-barometer study found 16% of the Estonian population believed in God but around 64% said that they believed in a higher power or life source. So, it appears that 70% of Estonians believe in "something" which could class them as “believers without belonging”.
Detaching From Religion at an Early Age
I attended Sunday School at the Adelaide Faith Chapel (now Gilberton Chapel) but all I remember is a kind lady in a white dress. She could well have been a fairy godmother in disguise. After my last Sunday School lesson, I clearly recall standing with my dad on the footpath opposite the chapel. In his booming Estonian accent, he said something like:
“Now that you have finished Sunday School, you can start going to the grown-up church if you want to. I don’t have to go to church because I don’t make sins but I want you to make up your own mind.”
I told my dad that I didn’t want to go to church every week either. And that was that. (Maybe my dad knew what Chuck Swindoll knew about the origin of sins.)
My decision to detach from religion at such an early age also stemmed from some of the scary stories and imagery in the children's bible at home. I have vivid memories of feeling overcome by fear whenever I looked at certain pictures. Religious Instruction lessons at primary school didn’t serve their intended purpose either. If anything, the tall, somber man in his long black dress frightened me so much that I constantly fainted during his classes. That’s not to say I didn’t believe in God.
Why Did God Take My Dad Away?
My dad died from a massive heart attack on Boxing Day, 1980, on the banks of his beloved Murray River near Waikerie, South Australia. I died when mum broke the shocking news. The next few months are still a blur. A prolific teen poet back in those days, I tinkered with a special poem for the death announcement in the local newspaper. So many questions bombarded my stricken mind: Why did God take my dad away? How could God do this to my mother and shattered family? Where did my father go? How can you love someone so much and never see them again? Is this it? A heartbroken 17 year old naively playing the blame game with God.
My stoic mother wanted to remember her husband as a living man but I begged her to take me to to see him at a private viewing because the shock and loss was so colossal that I simply didn't have to capacity to believe or accept that my father was dead. As my father lay lifeless in his coffin, I read him my handwritten poem and placed it in his hands with a branch of ivy leaves from our garden. This is what I wrote:
I didn't want to leave my dad alone but as mum gently coaxed me away, I said my last goodbye. (And yes, there should be an apostrophe in ‘Gods’; and in hindsight, how did I know that ‘his soul remained with us’? Wishful thinking, perhaps. But I guess that’s part of what happens when you feel that you are dying from the pain of grief and nowhere near ready to let go.)
Understanding My Nana’s Faith
We affectionately called our Estonian grandmother Nana. She stayed close to her Orthodox faith until she died in August 1982. In hindsight, her spirituality must have played a pivotal role in helping her stay so strong, gracious and centred throughout the turbulent, traumatic, often war-torn years of life in Estonia.
In her early twenties, she lived through the horrors of the First World War. From December 1918 to the spring of 1919, she endured communist terror during the War of Independence where Chekists murdered hundreds of Estonian civilians. When the Second World War reared its ugly head in 1939 and Estonia was unlawfully annexed by Soviet Russia, Nana was now a wife and mother of two teenage daughters, Karmin and Maja (my mother). She was also a passionate writer who spoke about six languages and whose destiny could well have been a most gracious diplomat.
In the early 1940s, high ranking Nazi and Soviet ‘officials’ used in her family home in the Estonian village of Tartu as their ‘headquarters’ during separate unlawful occupations. From her living room, they covertly plotted the arrest and execution of anyone deemed to be an ‘enemy of the state’. Little did they know that my fearless Nana secretly listened at the door through the keyhole and whenever she heard a familiar name mentioned, she quietly slipped away late at night to warn them.
My mother was about 11 years old at the time. She described how terrifying it was to have those intimidating men in her home, always having to stay quiet and out of sight for her own safety. She also believed that it was Nana’s mastery of languages, her intelligence, inner strength and sheer grace that probably saved their lives.
As the Soviet iron fist tightened its most unwelcome grip upon Estonia, Nana seized the opportunity to leave her homeland. Together with her daughters, she embarked on a bewildering journey into the unknown, eventually starting a new life in Australia. Whenever I asked after my grandfather, Aleksander Tasso, I was gently told that he stayed in Estonia ‘to keep the home fires burning’ which really meant that he and Nana decided to part company. I wasn’t aware that he died in 1954 until I resumed researching my family history in recent years.
How Spiritual Protocols Build Inner Resilience
My mother often reminded me to never buy red flowers for Nana because the colour red bought back traumatic memories of unspeakable bloodshed. And for as long as I can remember, our whole family, including my dad, accompanied our dear Nana to Orthodox Christmas Mass gatherings in Adelaide every year. We were always asked us to be quiet and respectful because the service was so important to Nana. While I wasn’t old enough to fully understand my grandmother’s circumstances, I didn’t mind church at all on those special occasions.
Little did I know that my feelings about church would take a radical turn in 1980. Just days after dad’s funeral, my grief-stricken family and I attended a wedding on New Year’s Eve of dear Estonian family friends. Being a close knit community, the collective grief of losing our much loved ‘life of the party’ was palpable; the church energy stifling. But everyone bravely wore their best smiles for the new bride and groom. Myself included. As I silently fought back torrents of tears that threatened to burst their banks, the ceremony concluded and the bittersweet celebrations began.
Churches consequently became a no-go zone for me for over a decade because they subconsciously triggered immense trauma and sadness. Ironically, the next time I would enter a church was in St Petersburg, 1992, when I travelled to Estonia via Russia for the first time. Nana often worked in St Petersburg and cultivated harmonious relations with both the Russian monarchy and the people. She worked as judge’s assistant and governess for some of the Tsar’s officer’s children.
Before we left St Petersburg, my British travel companion Bob Jack persuaded me to enter a historical Orthodox church. Initially resistant, I thought of Nana and how she would have wanted me to experience such a soothing healing, sacred space. From the moment I entered the church, I felt strangely comforted. As I lit a tall slender candle for her, I felt gently cocooned by an all encompassing energy. A powerful moment of healing at the deepest level. I’m sure Nana’s spirit was near.
I didn’t intend to share so much of my Nana’s story, but she serves as a shining example of how spirituality can cultivate an inner resilience in the face of immense trauma, terror and upheaval. In whichever form it comes.
My Nana’s Spirit
I have also sensed my Nana’s spirit in recent months, encouraging me to draw upon her strength, wisdom and grace during this strange time in Australian and world history. Perhaps the greatest irony of all is that I have also been contemplating the remote possibility of emigrating, just as my parents and Nana once did. But I do know for certain that the little known, 233 year Satanic stranglehold on Australia is now being forced to loosen its devilish grip with each passing hour. We are moving toward our God given destiny of the Permanent Age of Light. And you don’t have to be religious to understand this momentous transition. But that’s another story.
Family, Books, Wars and Archbishop Viganò
Revisiting my family history to write this article has been an enjoyable and unexpected trip own memory lane. The more I research the lives of my parents and grandparents, the more I understand where my resilient spirit comes from. A nourishing reminder of how my ‘famous five’ rock steady anchors continue to support and guide me. If it wasn’t for reading The Wisdom Codes, which inspired me to reflect upon how religion shaped my own spiritual journey from a childhood perspective, I may never have sat down to write this article. Thank you Gregg Braden. Such is the power of a book.
While I have had my fair share of turbulence in life, nothing matches the horrors of brutal wars, invasions and criminal subjugations. Acts of pure hatred that benefit no one apart from the greedy, profiteering ‘ruling class’ that covertly manufactures and finances unnecessary wars and ‘crises’. To them, a war is a ‘blood game.’
In closing, I would like to thank the authentic science-meets spirit pioneers, scholars and authors across the globe who dedicate their lives to unravelling significant esoteric theories, mysteries & controversies. I am also grateful to emerging spiritual voices such as Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganò who has “become like a polar star of hope for those Catholics and even non-believers who have thirst for justice and common sense in this upside-down world.”
In the meantime, please stay close to your faith, whatever that looks like. No-one can take it away from you, no matter how hard they may try.
“This too shall pass if we are willing to pass through it.” Shirley Smith