There’s a small town in Central Florida called Cassadaga and within it, is a Spiritualist camp which was founded over one hundreds years ago,   It’s well known as a neighborhood filled with witches, psychics and mediums… it’s been on my bucket list of places to visit.   The day after Christmas, my partner Anthony and I set out to explore this supposedly magical and mysterious place!

Cassadaga is about 35 miles North of Orlando, which includes passing through some amazing wildlife areas and stretches of slash pine forest that border cypress swamps and large encroaching oaks.  Thick moss hangs from the trees, and the roadsides are dotted with signs warning of deer and bear crossing.  When we left the sky was mostly filled with clouds with the sun occasionally peeking through, giving the landscape a lonely and almost “spooky” feeling… which of course added to the experience of visiting a remote psychic town.   From almost the time we left we started seeing signs… the navigational system said we would be arriving at exactly 2:22 (which actually occurred) and I saw my first horizontal rainbow, which my friend AnnMarie revealed was called a “Sun Dog”

As we got closer to our destination, I became aware of the lack of diversity in this part of the state and that was troublesome for me.   I am old enough to remember being kicked out of a hotel for checking in with another man, and so these visual cues of no longer being in a major city, filled with almost every kind of person, made me feel uneasy.  I even asked Anthony to stop holding my hand in the car since the men driving in oversized pickup trucks could easily see us…  Florida is still very much a part of the “Deep South.”

When we finally arrived at Cassadaga I was super excited to see this community that has remained largely unchanged since the late 1800’s.  The homes make you feel like you’re stepping back in time, and some are in disrepair… the town definitely has a mystical vibe about it.   Some of the street signs use descriptions like Mediumship Way and it definitely felt like we were in the right place!  A posed skeleton dressed in Christmas attire on a front lawn seemed to validate the entire vibe.  As time went by though, this feeling would start to change into something rather unpleasant and left us wondering if we made the right choice to visit here.    

The Hotel Cassadaga had a very cool haunted house sorta vibe, complete with creaky wooden floors and lots of beautiful ornate wooden furniture covered in lavish cushions.   We were super excited to find the front desk, which is actually inside of a metaphysical gift shop.  This is actually where things started to decline… the people weren’t welcoming and we felt like outsiders.   I wouldn’t have been surprised if the ladies behind the front desk would have said something like “We don’t get many visitors in these parts…” Yet Cassadaga is a popular attraction, so I was caught off guard with this energy.  It just didn’t feel right and as she explained where we could get readings, I just felt so awkward and not “trusted.”

After we got our keys, we headed to our room down a long narrow hallway as the floors continued to creak and moan. I love this kind of sound so my initial reaction was very positive.   Our room had this super interesting energy and had a sink outside the actual bathroom, which was an empty room with just a toilet and a shower.   There wasn’t a TV which is totally fine and lent to the atmosphere, however we quickly found out that there’s not much to do in this very quiet town.   I almost got trapped in the bathroom as the doorknob was almost completely detached and our private entrance took us like five minutes to open… it was completely stuck from the intense Florida humidity.   We decided to walk around the tiny town and explore a bit before dinner.

 I felt increasingly unsafe and paranoid as we walked around, and I was terrified that someone would call the police about some Latino men lurking around town. 

There’s lots of very small parks in Cassadaga, some of which are no bigger than a living room.   They all have a posted sign that has like 12 rules saying the park is closed at Sunset and you’ll be prosecuted, etc.   This seems like complete overkill when you’re talking about an area so small, you can literally just walk 20 feet and be back on the sidewalk.   I seemed to be noticing lots of signs in Cassadaga that tell you what you can’t do… I just felt like I was being watched constantly, like the entire town was talking about the two guys that just arrived.   Yes, I was totally paranoid for some reason… however Anthony confirmed with me later he was also feeling unwelcome. 

One of the parks was called “Fairy Way” and it gave the first impression that it was a forested trail with the occasional house or offering along the way.   When we arrived at the trail it quickly became evident that what some considered honoring the Fae, was downright pollution to me.  I started to tell Anthony that you don’t honor the Fae by littering the woods with plastic and tiny keepsakes everywhere, you should become a steward of the land instead.   It was so disappointing and I started to get the feeling these people didn’t know what it was really like to honor the Fae… the feelings of disconnect just started to increase.

After our walk it was time to grab some food and we headed to the restaurant located next to the lobby of the hotel.  “Sinatras” was laid out really nice and we decided to sit at one of the two bars.   There was an elderly man at the end of the row of stools wearing a baseball cap, and he just stared at Anthony and I.   His energy was absolutely horrible and he reminded me of those horror films where there’s this quiet older man that just sits in a corner at a diner or a gas station, and you know there’s people buried in his basement.   Our dinner was good and the bartender was courteous, but there’s nothing really spiritual about this place that’s located in the this ghostly town.   This man’s energy was so bothering me and I was grateful when a lady started chatting with him.    I caught part of the conversation and she was trying to say that a person’s belief system was personal, and that you can’t think everyone is going against the Bible.   It was then that he said “There’s some that believe messing with little boys is okay… and it’s not now is it?”  When the lady replied with “That’s completely different..” he responded with a chuckle and said “It’s exactly the same!”  I couldn’t wait to get out of there.    

We decided to walk around the town once again and it was now dark.   There are no street lights in Cassadaga and everything starts to close really early… it was only like seven!  As we walked down the street we saw some people outside a store and they didn’t even acknowledge us… otherwise the entire place felt completely abandoned.   I felt increasingly unsafe and paranoid as we walked around, and I was terrified that someone would call the police about some Latino men lurking around town.   I had felt this kind of feeling  in a small Florida town decades before, and I often forget that I don’t look anything like the locals.  Anthony and I walked back to our room and I started reading reviews of the hotel which just made things worse.  Anthony told me he didn’t have a problem leaving early, but let’s see what the next day would be like since we had multiple readings scheduled. When we finally decided to get some sleep, I had weird dreams the entire night.   

The cemetery was yet another pivotal moment in adjusting my energy for the upcoming day… it was exactly the kind of cemetery you would expect in a small town, complete with crows calling and the sounds of hawks in flight.

The next day was cold and dreary, there was a misty kind of rain everywhere and Anthony and I decided to take a short drive into town to get some breakfast.   After about 10 minutes it felt like we were in a “normal” city again… strip malls, grocery stores, people of every shape and color… it was feeling like a totally different day.   We went to this breakfast place and it was there that Anthony and I firmly decided to see what the day would bring and that leaving Cassadaga after our readings would totally be okay… just as we had discussed the night before.   That entire conversation seemed to be the start of a very strange shift in our energy.   Only minutes later I would receive a reply from AnnMarie acknowledging my overall initial feelings… she explained to me that “…you needed to experience it for yourself..” and that she didn’t want to get in the way of what this trip might bring. This validation really increased the feeling that our energy was shifting… all of this wasn’t in our imaginations after all.   As Anthony put it, “Well at least we know we’re not going crazy.”

Before heading back to the hotel we decided to stop at a cemetery and view “The Devil’s Chair.”   This was supposed to be a supernatural hotspot and perhaps I would get better results doing EVP recordings and using my various ghost hunting tools on my phone.  I had done some briefly the night before in our room which totally seemed haunted, however it didn’t yield any results whatsoever.   The cemetery was yet another pivotal moment in adjusting my energy for the upcoming day… it was exactly the kind of cemetery you would expect in a small town, complete with crows calling and the sounds of hawks in flight.

The Devil’s Chair is actually a gravesite with a brick feature that allows mourners to take a seat… these are usually called “Mourner’s Chairs.” Legend has it that if you sit in the chair you will summon the Devil and unless you leave an unopened bottle of beer behind, he will follow you home.  It didn’t take long to find this very famous location, complete with beer bottles and symbols… most likely left behind by kids wanting to scare others away.  Apparently local teens use the chair as a kind of right of passage when dared by their friends to sit on it.  

I couldn’t decipher the intention of a symbol prominently drawn in the sand, if it was meant to be anti-Semitic (this part of Florida is notorious for that) or a reference to other spiritual symbols of the same shape.  I decided to exclude it from these photos because I honestly didn’t like the energy associated with it.   I did some EVPs here and used some ghost hunting apps like word generators and capacitive touch responses.   Other than some areas of very high electromagnetic fields, I didn’t get anything significant   The area actually has more of a sacred feeling, and any energy associated the Devil’s Chair has been placed there by humans… not the supernatural.   To put it mildly, it’s just people being stupid above anything else.   The entire outing though really peaked my senses though, and our combined energy continued to shift towards the positive.

After getting back to the small streets of the spiritual camp we decided to stop by a place across the street from the hotel.   A psychic there, Karen Beach, was recommended by our friend Randi and so he headed over to see if we could get a couples reading.   The energy in this small trailer like building was so obviously different than the hotel… it was uplifting and we almost instantly met Karen.   We noted the difference in energy and the staff there cautiously agreed with us… we felt totally welcomed and appreciated!   Karen brought us into her very tiny office with low ceilings that was draped with spiritual cloths and signs, about 10 tarot decks were on her desk.  There should have been a crystal ball there because this place vibing with amazing energy straight out of the Wizard of Oz… but it was absolutely perfect.

I opened my eyes and said “You’re so very connected to the Fae, they just greeted me.”  She smiled so big and did a kind of courtesy and said “Thank you, I am Fae!”

Karen gave us an incredible reading and instantly touched upon so many aspects that we wanted to know about… our upcoming home purchase, our deceased parents… Spirit was just pouring out and she was nailing absolutely everything,   We felt amazing after the reading and we couldn’t wait for the next readings we had scheduled separate from one another.   The trip trip to Cassadaga started to fill with purpose, and our spirits were high.   Everything seemed like it was falling into place,  we both had the feeling that we were meant to be here, even if for this very reading by itself.

When we checked into the gift shop in the hotel for our readings, everyone was different.  Same people, different energy.    Suddenly everyone was kind and accepting, Anthony and I even bought matching Amethyst rings.    We talked about the Devil’s chair and I shared my experience about only feeling the energy that was placed there by people trying to scare themselves,  one of the ladies laughed and said she used to go there as a teen to drink all the beer people left as offerings for the Devil.   I was laughing and just further amazed at how everything had shifted.  What was going on here?   Why all the confusion and horrible feelings the day before?

At 1:30 I had a reading with a total light being named Kellie.   She was dressed like a belly dancer and I instantly felt connected to her.   We went up the creaking wooden stairs to her office, which was door number 13.   While she was doing a sound healing, I saw the Fae in my mind and they greeted me.   I opened my eyes and said “You’re so very connected to the Fae, they just greeted me.”  She smiled so big and did a kind of courtesy and said “Thank you, I am Fae!”  I didn’t even remember that her last name was actually Fae until hours later when Anthony reminded me.  Kellie proceeded to tell me about all the feathers she saw around me and she mentioned birds and then owls.   I freaked out because if you’ve caught my earlier posts, owls have been showing up big time for me the last two weeks.   In fact the day before we found an owl garden along the Fae trail.

The reading continued with just one mind blowing experience after another.   Everything I wanted to know was revealed in the most perfect of ways.   The 45 minutes flew by in an instant, and I felt so amazing and uplifted.     She knew I was a medium and acknowledged my gifts with respect and said she loved reading other higher vibrational people.   She spoke of the owls and what they meant, not surprisingly her words were in total alignment with what everyone here had been saying.    I was collecting knowledge… lots and lots of knowledge.  The best part was she was equally as blown away with the reading and how accurate she was… she said she had a blast reading me and I knowing exactly what that’s like, I totally appreciated it.   She let me know the hotel feels so awkward to so many because of all the energy coming and going and having a vortex so close by.  She acknowledged all my feelings and explained how she even has issues at times. Once again the validation of my feelings felt amazing.  Afterwards  I went downstairs to meet up with Anthony and to see how his reading was.   We took a walk and chatted about it.

Although Anthony’s reading was completely different in nature it resonated with him and he needs additional time to process what came through.   I’ll let him share his discoveries on here when he’s ready to.   Needless to say the day felt absolutely amazing… and then something else happened.   Anthony and I both instantly agreed it was time to quickly pack up and leave, we had received what we needed to out of our journey and there no reason to stay anther minute.   We packed up and checked out early, the ladies at the front desk were super concerned something was wrong.  Anthony simply replied “No, it’s just time to go.”   As we drove away we thanked Cassadaga for the experience and held it in gratitude… it was time to leave and we were happy how everything evolved into the most amazing spiritual experience.  Everything made sense and everything has purpose.  It was like the town itself was saying to me “It’s time to take what you’ve learned and run with it… thanks for stopping by.”

Growing up as a gay kid in school was probably one of the scariest experiences of my life. Going far back as elementary school, I knew something was very different about me compared to other kids, and I did everything I could to avoid confronting the realty that awaited me. I wasn’t great at sports, I didn’t like girls, I wasn’t even into the same music or cartoons as other children my age were. I couldn’t relate to the rowdy boys that pretended to be soldiers at war, or the ones that talked about He Man – Masters of the Universe… I just wanted to learn about science and watch the Smurfs. I wanted to hang around girls and enjoy the bond they seemed to share with one another, to experience being shameless about being creative and good at sewing. I just wanted to be myself… and I was terrified to do so. I was so frightened to let anyone see the real side of who I was, else run the risk of being bullied and ridiculed. It was bad enough that when it came time to form teams for group sports, I was ALWAYS the last one picked, always the one person in the class to endure the longest session of public humiliation. One by one, as each person was chosen and the available pool of students became smaller and smaller, the unspoken became increasingly obvious… I was not wanted, I was not good enough. With each new sport played, the process was repeated… month after month, year after year. Through a cruel election of my peers, through the visual display of fingers not pointing in my direction… I was not wanted, I was not good enough.

Junior High eventually came around and a new horror was brought into existence, we had to change clothes in front of other boys in the locker room. Suddenly I was immersed in the reality that if my eyes should accidentally look in the wrong direction, I would be called out and even worse, pulled from the closet that had protected me for so long. I found a false sense of safety by changing with other “nerds” that weren’t good at sports and engaging them in conversation. At least we had the appearance of being normal, of just two guys getting ready for physical education class, but even that proved to futile in preventing episodes of outright personal assault. I can remember my friend Raj being picked up while still in his underwear and thrown into a trash can, clearly singled out because of his ethnicity and the color of his skin. On another occasion, still fresh in my memory, we were surrounded by a group of at least 20 while we sat with our backs against the wall next to the outdoor eating area. There was no where to run while a tall male student stood over us, thrusting his hips back and forth while repeatedly telling Raj, “go ahead, suck my dick… go ahead, I know you want to.” His vulgar actions provided a show for the other students, and instead of anyone running to our aide, we were laughed at and mocked… the crowd only dispersing after a teacher noticed the large group huddled around the wall. Indeed, physical education class provided an open arena for bullies to do their thing, largely unsupervised.

Going into the 10th grade and fastly approaching the darkest years of my life where I no longer had the desire to live, I absolutely refused to experience this kind of repetitive harassment again. In the beginning of the school year I approached my physical education coach, someone the other students nicknamed Mighty Mouse because of his short and muscular stature, and told him I wouldn’t be attending class because I was working on getting a note from my doctor to exempt me from taking the course. I explained that I would be in the library until this could be finalized, and he could find me there if need be. My coach accepted this reasoning at first, and would issue me daily passes to go to the library. My mother went to our family doctor to get the necessary documentation, however the amazing school board of Dade County, Florida, had decided to treat those not wanting to attend physical education class like an adult trying to obtain disability payments. Suddenly there was a process to be followed with all kinds of assessments of my abilities, and what I could and couldn’t do… something that a kid / family without health insurance could not afford. I kept asking for hall passes until one day Mighty Mouse asked me “So what are you going to do when you get married? Is your wife going to give you a hand job or something?” Yes, apparently at Miami Sunset Senior Highschool, it was acceptable to say those kinds of thing to students in the 10th grade and thankfully, I still had some fight left in me. I informed my home room teacher of the situation and she became livid, telling me she would get to the bottom of it. The next time I would see Mighty Mouse he verbally questioned my masculinity by asking “Are you a sissy Robért?” So yeah, being bullied by teachers is also a thing kids experience in school.

There was no where to run while a tall male student stood over us, thrusting his hips back and forth while repeatedly telling Raj, “go ahead, suck my dick… go ahead, I know you want to.”

When I reached 11th grade I was tired of fighting. I was tired of fighting the truth of what I was, I was tired of fighting with others telling me how wrong I was. I was tired of going to my friend’s grandmother for some kind of consolation, only to be told “You have a demon inside of you Michael.” I was tired of my Uncle Gene seeing how depressed I was and one day telling me that he’d always love me, no matter what… “as long as you’re not a god damned homosexual.” I was tired of my cousins being so incredibly kind to me, letting my guard down as result, and then randomly blurting out some bullshit like “I just pray for you so much Michael, because I don’t want you to go to hell.” Because nothing says I love you like telling someone they’re going to hell with a smile on their face. I was tired of seeing my entire church youthgroup, a church that I CHOSE to be baptised in at the age of 14 in front of an entire congregation, turn their back on me when a bitter girl I wouldn’t kiss decided to tell everyone I was gay. I was tired of my own brother handing me a loaded gun and telling me to go kill myself in front of him, while his closeted Baptist Minister twin lectured me on morals…raiding my porn collection for his own use when I wasn’t home. I was tired of my sister calling me a faggot because she knew how much I hated it, and my only retalitory response was to call her a fat cow. Upon which she would cry and go running to my mom… and yeah, you guessed it, I’d be the one to get into trouble. I was so tired… I was tired of hate and just wanted nothing more than to die. I couldn’t experience another day of the constant fear and blatant two faced love by relatives in the name of religion.

Writing this was harder than I expected… I realize now there is so much anger left inside me. There is much pain associated with those memories and looking back, I have no clue in the Universe how I made it through. I used to think kids had it easier these days in school… after all, there are shows where being a gay teen is wonderful and accepted. However now there is a new evil out there, an evil that seeks to take back the years of work and progress that we as a community, have made in the fight for equality. There are those in the highest levels of Government that want children to know they’re not normal, and are validating the hate that some of their fellow students feel. A door has been opened that can not easily be shut, a door that once held back the darkness and told people it wasn’t okay to hate others and commit acts of violence against them. Somewhere out there, in the State of Florida, there’s a little skinny Michael experiencing the exact fears, emotions and inner conflicts that I did, and on top of that, now has to deal with someone like Govenor Ron DeSantis making it against the law to address those issues through education. Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” law is sending a deadly message to gay youth, and it needs to be repealed.

My high school counselors saved my life… period. A female counselor whom I’ve tried to remember her name for years, and a social worker named Mike Miller did the work with me to get me functioning again. Together they showed me how to respect and love myself, to be proud of who I am. Had this happened today, chances are I wouldn’t have even made it to the counselors office that day my aunt forced me to go. I wouldn’t have been able to handle the hate coming at me from all sides, including the government itself. I would have taken my life, exactly as I intended to do when I realized I was gay.

It’s not really surprising to see the recent actions of our government, De Santis didn’t want to protect our children during COVID, so why would gay youth be any different? Watching so many high school students marching in yesterday’s pride parade made a huge impact on me… however the darkness of the reality that awaits so many still rings true. I wonder who the next parent will be to suddenly discover that their child, the bright light that carried them through the darkest of times, the person they brought into this world, the person they watched grow into a remarkable human being, the one they loved more than life itself… was gay,

… through their suicide note.

To anyone reading this going through something similar, trust me, it gets better. Don’t let fuckers like DeSantis win. There’s so much life to live, and as hard as it may seem, I got through it and so can you. We need you alive to help continue to the fight… until we don’t have to.