Spirited Schoolroom: The Earthly Lessons and Adventures of a Healer.

Spirited Schoolroom: The Earthly Lessons and Adventures of a Healer.

by Marty Montes
Spirited Schoolroom: The Earthly Lessons and Adventures of a Healer.

Spirited Schoolroom: The Earthly Lessons and Adventures of a Healer.

by Marty Montes


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For years Ive been teaching and guiding that Earth is a spiritual schoolroom and the lessons are revealed in the cosmos. Every soul has a purpose and a mission and living a conscious life will unveil the answers.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781504336512
Publisher: Balboa Press
Publication date: 07/21/2015
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
Pages: 250
File size: 309 KB

About the Author

Marty Montes is an astrological life coach, public speaker, and spiritual writer. A born metaphysician, with an intutitve passion for psychology, Marty has studied under spiritual teacher Doreen Virtue and graduated from The American Federation of Astrologers, Inc.

Marty uses astrology has a spiritual guide in counseling many in the last two decades. He has lectured for Body, Mind, Spirit Expo, American Federation of Astrologers, Inc and other spiritual forums. He has appeared on numerous radio and TV shows across the country.

A graduate of The French Culinary Institute, Marty is true to his Cancer sign with his passion for cooking. He is an avid book reader and sports fan currently living in Tampa, Florida, where he provides insightful astrological consultations across the globe.

Read an Excerpt

Spirited Schoolroom

The Earthly Lessons and Adventures of a Healer

By Marty Montes

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2015 Marty Montes
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5043-3650-5



Three days after the death of my beloved cat, Cashmere, I had the following life-changing dream that awakened and shifted my consciousness:

I was having trouble falling asleep one evening. I tossed and turned for a few minutes and then decided to get up. When I entered the living room, I was shocked to see Cashmere grooming herself on the couch, illuminated in white light. She looked up at me with those piercing blue Siamese eyes and walked toward me.

I could not believe I was looking at my cat. She'd only died three days before. As she approached, I knelt in silence. I extended my left hand to her and looked in the opposite direction in denial. Then I turned back to her, and she walked through my hand. I felt her essence — her energy, her spirit — go through my hand, up my shoulders, and throughout my body. It was just incredible.

I walked back to the other side of the room. When I turned around, I could still see Cashmere, illuminated. Suddenly I heard a gentle female voice say, "We don't die. Energy transforms." In that moment, I realized Cashmere would always be around me.

I decided to get some fresh air, so I walked outside and sat on the front steps. The atmosphere outside felt very hostile, and I heard neighbors yelling at each other. I reflected for a short while about the sensation of Cashmere going through me and then went back inside. As I walked upstairs to my bedroom, I noticed my illuminated cat had followed me. She jumped onto my bed to sleep with me.

Then I was transported upward in a white elevator surrounded by many spirits, or energy fields, that did not conform to a specific shape or size. It seemed that the vibration around them determined the evolution of that energy. I felt peaceful and received impressions from these energy fields. I was told, "This planet, Earth, is only one of a wider circle of learning."

I strongly believed there were other places of being. At that point, the elevator stopped. The right side opened, and I saw planet Earth below me to the right. I found it odd that the elevator had opened from the side and not from the front. Then I was impressed with another telepathic declaration: "The reason for such a great number of souls on the planet is that earth is the greatest schoolroom for learning the most lessons of the soul. Many choose to incarnate on earth because they can learn the most there in the shortest period of time."

After that statement the elevator closed again, and I felt myself quickly ascending. When the elevator stopped, this time the front doors opened. A brilliant blue light blinded me, and it seemed to be vibrating around a male energy or presence. I strongly felt that it was a spirit guide, an evolved soul. I sensed that only another evolved energy could tune in to such a high vibration. As I stood mesmerized by the presence, the evolved spirit looked at me and entered the elevator, and the door closed.

I woke up from this dream at 2:10 a.m. As I opened my eyes, I smelled burning wax and knew that my candle had just burned out. What a coincidence that I woke just as my candle finished burning, I thought. I lay in bed thinking about my dream. Earth is just a schoolroom. Well, that would explain why I had to experience some of the worst and most painful earthly conditions. I felt comforted that Cashmere had made it to the other side and would always be with me. I then sat up in bed, turned on the lamp, and recorded this incredible dream in my dream journal.

After writing it down, I reread it a couple of times, in awe of what had taken place. Did I just leave my body and go on an incredible journey? Yes, and yes! I looked over my description and analyzed the dream. The quiet inside my home versus the hostility outside indicated that peace could only come from within. Looking externally for peace would only bring more discomfort. Cashmere was illuminated in white light, a sign that she was in pure spiritual form — happy and at peace — as white is the highest spiritual color. The elevator symbolized consciousness, or awareness. The right side of the elevator referred to the right side, or spiritual side, of the brain. The elevator ascending signified a journey through the levels of consciousness. The blue light surrounding the evolved energy indicated a master teacher or spirit guide. I had experienced a changing of the guides, I believed, and a new spirit guide was now assisting me to grow to a higher spiritual level.

What a gift, I thought. I ended my dream entry by thanking the universe for such a wonderful experience.

Earlier that evening I had wondered if pets were delayed in their transition to the spirit world, because I had heard that some human spirits became earthbound as ghosts. This was the first time I had lost a pet, and I really wanted to know if Cashmere had made it. These dream revelations were my answers and reward for allowing myself to grieve and let go. I quietly fell back asleep.

From that point, I noticed more "coincidences." I felt as if a light switch had been turned on inside an extrasensory room in my mind. I didn't know yet, but that instructive dream from Cashmere would start me on an amazing journey, punctuated by an astrological event. The divine secrets revealed to me were incredible. Unbelievable experiences presented themselves. This was the beginning of my true spiritual awakening. I didn't yet know how tough this voyage would be or how active the afterlife had become.

At the age of five, I witnessed a séance held by my maternal grandmother. Our regular babysitter was not available, so I had to attend.

Mother told my sister, Alexis, my cousin Dean, and me to sit still in a corner of the room while the séance took place. Grandmother lit a cigar that smelled awful and a tall yellow saint's candle. Next, she placed a glass of water in front of her. Someone turned off the lights, and she started speaking in Spanish, which I did not understand, in an imploring tone, inviting whatever spirit she was seeking to contact.

Suddenly my aunt Nancy screamed, "Oh my God!" and fell off her chair onto the cold floor. The Spanish that had buzzed around the room among the family members abruptly stopped.

I froze on the hard chair in the dark room. I had no idea what was going on. There I was, almost scared out of my pants. Indeed, I was ready to wet them, especially when I heard the howling wind from an early winter storm, as it was a cold evening in New Jersey in December 1973.

Intuitively, I felt the spirits would speak through Grandmother. However, one must have come through Aunt Nancy. I stared at her body curled up in the fetal position on the floor, gasping for air as if a spirit had choked her. Suddenly she rose from the floor like a ghost and sat in her chair again as if nothing had happened. I was amazed that nobody reacted to her and wondered if everybody was in a trance. I wanted to help Aunt Nancy but was afraid to move.

Grandmother gestured with both hands in a slow, circular motion. I would later learn that this movement was designed to lower the vibration of energy in the room. "Completa!" she intoned, ending the ceremony.

Someone turned on the lights, and the room looked normal again, if heavy oak furniture crowded into every square inch can be called normal. Indeed, in every room in Grandmother's house, furniture had to be stepped over carefully, and no one could touch the ugly brown paneling or the smoke-covered paintings that covered the walls like a layer of cheap wallpaper.

Today, that experience seems a crucial part of my destiny — I was fated to be there at five years old to witness Grandmother's connection to the spirit world, not yet knowing how strongly the spirit world would subsequently affect my life. My dream state later became a conduit for spirit communication. More on this later.

I didn't think about the séance again until I spoke with Aunt Nancy many years later. She told me that Grandmother was a powerful medium who communicated with spirit guides and often lit a cigar and let it burn in an ashtray during the ceremony because one of her spirit guides enjoyed them.

The séance left a vivid imprint that my five-year-old brain stored away forever. In a recent meditative state, snapshots of my life experiences suddenly and swiftly flashed by like double-exposed photographs of a buried past through my mind's eye.

An early memory surfaced, showing me at the age of two and a half. The photo became a video, and I was running down the hallway of my grandparents' house. I stopped suddenly in the open space that bridged the living and dining areas, and my stomach sank. I looked around the empty room and sensed hostile energy surrounding me.

"Oh crap! Here I am again!" I said to myself and dropped a load in my diaper.

My inner voice responded, "Welcome to another earthly incarnation, Martin."

I had known I was reincarnated before I could comprehend the meaning. Between the ages of five and seven, I had recurring nightmares that my neighborhood was being invaded. I would hear tanks and bombs, which frightened me. I would often hide in the closet and put garbage bags full of clothes on top of me so the invaders wouldn't find me. Then I would wake up. I was finally relieved when these awful dreams stopped.

The age of eight was meaningful. Mother and her family (parents and four siblings) became estranged over a financial disagreement that year. I had never felt comfortable around them and, quite frankly, didn't miss them. My grandparents emigrated from Puerto Rico in 1950 and only spoke Spanish, and since I was never taught the language, I hardly communicated with them. My grandmother often snarled at me. My grandfather was mostly absent, only surfacing from the basement to eat. I had three uncles but saw only one of them regularly. I only had a relationship with my aunt Nancy and her son, my cousin Dean. But my relationship with Aunt Nancy soured the last year we were in contact, and the only member of this side of the family I did miss and thought about occasionally was my cousin Dean.

My parents divorced harshly when I was a toddler, and I had no conscious memories of my father. I knew only that he was eighteen years older than my mother. My household consisted of my mom, sister, and me, so I was elated at the thought of meeting my father for the "first" time at the age of eight. I wondered what he was like.

One spring afternoon, Mother arranged for me to finally see my father. We met at my grandparents' house before the estrangement, and he immediately hugged and kissed Alexis and me, filling me with indescribable joy!

Alexis and I sat on his lap for the next hour; I on the right side, Alexis on the left. I stared at his face — the white hair on the side of his head, the wrinkles on his forehead, and his beautiful brown eyes. As we sat and talked, he leaned over a couple of times and kissed my eyelid. It is one thing to kiss someone on the cheek, lips, or forehead, but a kiss on the eyelid was a new sensation. It left an imprint. I had craved a father's affection, and it felt great to finally receive it. It was a magical and loving memory.

After that day, I was a different boy. For a week, I felt like I was walking on clouds. I'd fallen in love with my daddy and desperately looked forward to seeing him again. I could not remember if we had made definite plans to meet, but I felt optimistic. Even as the weeks went by without a word from Father, I lived in a constant state of euphoria. I had a father!

I finished that school year on a high note and looked forward to the summer. I'd made some friends and had started playing sports.

Mother got the itch to move again. She told us to pack up because she had found an apartment around the corner from her family. This move would be different from the others because Alexis and I would change schools as well, this time attending Catholic school for the first time. We'd have to wear uniforms and enter a new world.

The first few days of Catholic school were uneventful. Besides the uniforms, I couldn't make out a distinction from public school, especially in academics. The principal was a tall, unattractive nun with a perpetually angry face. She walked the halls carrying a wooden paddle. On its side was a picture of a child getting spanked and the words "Board of Education" printed underneath.

I'd expected to see more nuns and priests teaching, but this was the mid-1970s, and Catholic schools were changing faculty members from clergy to civilians.

Just as the semester started, I attended my first funeral mass. My classmate Calvin's father had died unexpectedly. I sat in the pew at the back of the church, on the aisle, where I had an unobstructed view of the mass. The church filled with my schoolmates and Calvin's family and friends.

The service was long, and everybody in attendance received communion, which took up about half the ceremony. I sat looking around the church, inhaling the musty odors of wood and stone, wondering what happened to people when they died.

Finally the mass was over. The priest recited the closing prayer, and the organ played.

Calvin's family got up first. Some of the men picked up the casket and turned down the aisle to exit the church. As they approached my seat, I saw Calvin walking slowly behind his father's casket, staring straight ahead. Our teacher happened to be sitting in the next row, and I overheard her say to another teacher, "It hasn't hit him yet." I wondered what that meant. I hadn't yet been involved with the subject of death, and those words touched me deeply. It would be many years before I'd learn what that statement and the word healing meant.

Some weeks later Mother announced that Father wanted to see us again. I was thrilled. As each day passed, I looked forward to hugging and kissing him again. But sadly, that meeting never occurred. Something happened on the very day our meeting was scheduled. My mother hung up the phone and, without explaining why, told me we were not going to see Father after all.

I was crushed. I walked into my bedroom, stood in front of a mirror, looked into my sad eyes, and said, "I have a broken heart." For a long time after that, I walked around in pain, as if my heart literally hurt. I never saw my father again.

The following spring, I dressed in a suit for my first communion. Before we left for the church, Mother gave me a statue of a saint as my gift. She told me it was Saint Martin de Porres, patron saint of charity, the needy, and animals and that I had been named after him. I thought it was cool to be named after a saint, and I placed the statue on top of my dresser.

In the next few years, we moved from one roach-infested apartment to the next, and I continued to attend Catholic school. As an altar boy, I volunteered often to serve funerals when the church asked, since death fascinated me, but I still questioned what really happened to the soul.

During one cold Saturday morning in December, I woke to a quiet house. Alexis was asleep, and my mother was not in her bed. It looked like she had never come home from a night out with her friends since the bed was still made. I calmly ate a bowl of cereal, watched television, and waited until Alexis woke up.

About an hour later I received a phone call from Cassandra, one of the Cub Scouts' den mothers. She informed me that Mother had been involved in a car accident the night before. She'd had surgery that morning to repair a broken leg and was out of recovery."

My heart stopped. Cassandra continued in a calming voice, "Please wake up Alexis and tell her the news. Your mother has asked to see you and Alexis, so try to be dressed by noon, and I'll drive you to visit your mother at the hospital."

I sat quietly in Cassandra's car during the hour-long drive to the hospital, worrying how Alexis and I would cope with Mother in the hospital. After all, I had no relatives I could reach out to. So I prayed to God and asked that he take care of us until Mother came home. I walked into the hospital room and saw Mother's left leg elevated and in a cast from her thigh to her ankle. When she smiled, I noticed her front teeth were missing. "They were knocked out by the steering wheel from the impact of the accident," she said, and then she started to cry. "These are tears of joy. I am happy to be alive, and extremely grateful that Cassandra bought you here to visit me." Mother told us she had been driving, and her friend Cindy, a passenger in her car, had suffered minor injuries. Alexis and I slept at a neighbor's house the following week until Mother was released from the hospital.


Excerpted from Spirited Schoolroom by Marty Montes. Copyright © 2015 Marty Montes. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents


Acknowledgments, ix,
Preface, xi,
Section 1. The Divine Blueprint, 1,
Chapter 1. Revelation, 3,
Chapter 2. Freedom, 17,
Chapter 3. Visitors, 27,
Chapter 4. Fate, 39,
Chapter 5. Reunion, 48,
Chapter 6. Testimony, 60,
Chapter 7. Pluto, 67,
Chapter 8. Shock, 86,
Chapter 9. Surreal, 94,
Chapter 10. Leap., 112,
Chapter 11. Patience, 125,
Chapter 12. India, 138,
Chapter 13. Lessons, 146,
Chapter 14. Acceptance, 161,
Chapter 15. Surrender, 169,
Section 2. The Divine Gifts, 173,
Chapter 16. Dreams, 175,
Chapter 17. Healing, 181,
Chapter 18. Choice, 195,
Chapter 19. Signs, 201,
Chapter 20. Silence, 209,
Chapter 21. Thoughts, 216,
Chapter 22. Purpose, 226,
Bibliography, 235,

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