July 9 1994-AKIANE


Akiane Kramarik was born on July 9, 1994, in Mount Morris, Illinois, to a Lithuanian mother and a non-practicing Catholic American father.[6] Kramarik professed she saw the face of Jesus Christ in her visions. Her education began at a parochial school, but she was later homeschooled.[4] Regarding her influences and motivation, she states:

Religious art of sculptures, reliefs and paintings in one of the parochial schools I attended greatly influenced my later attraction to legendary figures. For the first time I got to encounter the world’s view of what divinity was supposed to be, but deep down I felt that I perceived everything in a much broader and deeper sense. It appeared to me as if most people were completely ignorant of other realities, or that the realities they perceived were seen only from a very narrow angle.[7]

One PAIR of Hands
Akiane Painting of Heaven

Excerpt from “Beyond The Broken Door”

Dooley had set course–the compass directed east. Our stay up at the cabin had concluded with a celebratory round up at a cozy little spot in Mount Morris–a small, unassuming town near enough the rolling farmland to ensure its rustic sensibilities. Anchored amidst the town square sat the “Illinois State Freedom Bell — a replica of the Liberty Bell,” Dooley said as we slowly passed. Cousin Jed, mood on the upswing, peered out delightfully at the “mark of liberty” and turned to me, his smile brimming wide.

“Roman, now that’s what it’s all about.”

“Freedom definitely is what it’s all about, Cuz. As I had iterated on various occasion freedom is paramount to the achievement of unbridled contentment. And, as I had learned contentment is too often compromised to artifice.”

“You mean like some of the reasons for the bullshit wars,” said Johnny Littlefeather. He, not one to reference the politics of the world had broken his refrain the other night.

Finally, after enough submersion of mood by the then rankled Cousin Jed, Johnny broke his silence. Enlivened by a split or two of the spirit juice (apricot wine and rum) he took up in the discussion.

His ruminations concerning the histories of his own people turned swiftly Cousin Jed’s sour notes into a sustainable melody and throughout the rest of the night the bongos and the tom-toms were more attuned to the upbeat.

Gathered all in complete remission we danced near the hearth. Any sign of previous engagement with disconsolate thought had been put to rest. Carpe Diem!

“Yes, I’d say that artifice had played a role in a few of the most recent wars. But beyond that, I am talking about individual freedoms.”

“Like freedom of choice,” remarked Little Sis. “At least, I have that now.”

What a difference in her demeanor, her outlook– now the gentle contours of her soft, angelic-like face in great contrast to the shadowy skull of humanity portrayed to me that one night while she, still under the spell of the two-bit pimp, knew not of freedom.

How grateful I am for that night– the night my life intersected with hers. If anything, the bailment I offered upon her wearying soul that night gave a boost to her self-esteem–the first step in the gaining of her freedom.

Just at the outskirts of town with the Thank you for Visiting Mount Morris sign fading in the distance The Mayor emerged from his quietude and excitedly pronounced his religion: “I am a believer. If God isn’t responsible for the miracle of that little girl then I will close my eyes for good.”

I knew to whom his praise was dedicated. While in the library on the computer I received an e-mail from one of my correspondents — a writer who also lives in the Chicago area. He related to me his convictions of the Renaissance– “then it was Michelangelo, Divinci and now we have those like Akiane,” he wrote.

I followed his link to her website and it wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn Ricky was truly on to something. I knew this girl was born in Mount Morris but somehow it had slipped my mind. I took a deep breath, then turned to The Mayor.

“Are you talking about Akiane?”

“Yes. So you do know of her. What’s your take?”

“Akiane Kramirik– the precocious and prodigious artist, poet and as of late, musical composer –had been provided these gifts for good reason, I believe. Messenger perhaps? Are there Messengers? Predestined? Preordained? Manifestations of the Greater Power for the Greater Good? Yes, I truly believe these propositions are valid enough to reinvigorate my own convictions.”

The Mayor sat up more into a rigid configuration. “I had heard that the girl’s mother was an atheist. What’s your ideas on the religions, Roman?”

“Akiane’s mother was an atheist — it was her right. Freedom of choice. Whatever your belief it is your right. Atheists, Agnostics, Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Jews, Buddhists–freedoms of choice. As it should be. Diversity of ideas is highly commendable. Differences in belief systems to enslave, harm, or cause ill will toward another is not. “

Ricky J. Fico

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