June 13, 2017
I’ve rubbed velvet elbows with many a majestic musician, but the balmy afternoon I encountered Jimi Hendrix in a rambling mansion high in the hills was quite a blessed event. I’d met an eager young photographer at a love-in and he asked if I’d like to dance with a new band from the UK in a short film (early version of a music video). I had no idea who the band was, but I didn’t hesitate. I said Yes. Always say Yes, dolls.
Don’t hesitate when presented with a mysterious opportunity. Ever.
I threw on my fave blue velvet vintage frock and headed for the Hollywood hills. Entering the crumbling hideaway, I was instantly face to face with three skinny, frizzy haired musicians, decked out royally, playing along with a song that reached down into my bones and boiled the marrow. Foxy Lady. Good God Almighty. The main man grinned, looked me up and down and asked what I was doing later. As I said in I’m With the Band, even Jimi’s pockmarks sizzled and I thought he was too much for the likes of virginal little me. But at not quite eighteen, Pam Miller from Reseda, California, danced, cavorted, wriggled and frolicked all day with the Jimi Hendrix Experience.
As the moon rose in the sky, the bassist, Noel Redding had romanced me endlessly, and that very night we began a yummy relationship that lasted for years. I got to stand onstage with the band at the Hollywood Bowl, went on the road with them, and experienced many profoundly cosmic moments with Hendrix that still shimmer in my memory like blazing fireflies. One afternoon at a party in New York, my friend Chuck Wein asked if anyone would like to join him in the den to call the archangels out of the corners of the room. The first one to get up out of his seat was Jimi, and I watched him as Chuck loudly invited the angels to appear. His eyes were wide and watchful as he gazed expectantly into each corner, waiting breathlessly for Michael, Raphael, Uriel and Gabriel to join the fray.
But this blog isn't about events in Jimi’s short life, it concerns an encounter I had with him in the cosmos.
For the chapter on Jimi in my third book, Rock Bottom – Dark Moments in Music Babylon, I interviewed Monika Dannemann, the lady who’d given him the fatal overdose the night he left this planet. We met at her thatched cottage in the woods, where she’d surrounded herself with life size images she’d painted of Jimi, many of them featuring him in heaven, playing guitar on the rings of Saturn, or immersed in a lightning storm. She was a gifted artist, and it seemed he was in the room with us, his lovely face glowing everywhere I turned. Monika was deeply sad, her heart stained blue with guilt over her role in Jimi’s demise, and I left feeling slightly tortured, driving through the night wondering why he’d left us so early. Not long after our meeting, Ms Danneman took her own life, unable to bear the heavy burden any longer.
I’ve been working with my spiritual teacher, Light, for close to thirty years, and when I got back from my trip, I told her about my meeting with Monika, her dark sorrow, and my bewilderment about Jimi’s death. When she asked, “Would you like to try to contact him on the astral?” what do you think I said?
I have been through several past life regressions with Light, and settled easily into the semi-trance she created before asking Jimi if he’d be willing to communicate with us and answer a few questions. I hope this doesn’t sound to woo-woo to you, dear readers, but I have long believed the veil is very sheer between eternal souls, and this was proven to me once again when Jimi appeared in the ethers, playing a few inimitable inspired riffs to let us know he was with us. As he played, my solar plexus seemed to open wide, expand immeasurably, pulsating with a warm light that throbbed with each heartbeat -- each lick reminding me we are all connected with an unbreakable shimmering bond. “That was what I came to do,” he said simply, “it was as far as I could go with my guitar, so it was time for me to leave.” When I asked about the night he died, he insisted it was no one’s fault, that he’d made the decision to leave because he’d done all he could to open hearts as Jimi Hendrix.
I have no doubt that I was visited by Jimi’s spirit. I can close my eyes and see him, his head thrown back, graciously sharing his soul with a kindred spirit, creating sounds that will never be duplicated. Luckily we have records, cds, mp3s, itunes, YouTube, Pandora…so Jimi can still remind you that we're all connected. He can still open your hearts with his music.
So turn Jimi Hendrix up loud, dolls, kiss the sky, and always say Yes.
June 15, 2017
This is a beautiful account of Jimi Hendrix. It’s so special that Jimi visited you in the cosmos and it’s cool to read about someone else who believes in past lives!
Hi beloved teacher. I do believe in the thin veil. I’ve never traveled as you have but I have had moments, glimpses I suppose you could say of eternity. I hsvs had that experience with the looking over a long distance and seeing very clearly what is there or connecting with someone at bus stop as I drive past and our eyes lock and we are only people in the world but I’ve never had the complete travel. Of course, I had the out of body experience with my drowning but those were all out of my control. The work you do with Light sounds very intriguing.
Beautiful, Pamela! As you well know, Jimi was/is one of the loves of my life. His spirit certainly lives on through his music.
Talk About Experiencing Hendrix! A True Harmonic Convergence!
Beautifully written Ms Pamela!
June 14, 2017
Great story . I wish I was able to open up and have a visit by a spirit , one in particular, guilt is a horrible emotion to carry..
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