About Your Host

I was raised on a strong Christian foundation.

From my earliest years, I believed and faith shaped my understanding of God, love, and what it meant to live a meaningful life. I learned to pray, to trust Christ, and to believe that love was stronger than fear.  

For most of my life, I was simply trying to live—working, creating, raising a family, searching for meaning in the same quiet ways so many do. I believed in God, Those teachings mattered. They formed me. And they gave me a language for God that would one day carry me through the deepest darkness of my life.

That darkness came when my daughter, Katie, died on August 27, 2002 at the age of sixteen.

There are no words that prepare a parent for that moment. No theology that explains it. No belief system that softens the impact of losing a child you love with every fiber of your being. When Katie left this world, something in me shattered—and something else opened that I never could have imagined.

Grief stripped everything down to what was real.

In the aftermath of her death, I wasn’t searching for comforting answers. I was searching for truth—truth strong enough to hold unbearable pain, truth wide enough to include both love and loss. I needed to know who God really was, and whether love could possibly survive death.

That search led me deeper than I had ever gone before.

I returned to the teachings of Jesus, not as doctrine, but as living words. I listened differently this time. I noticed what I had once skimmed over:

“The Kingdom of God is within you.”
“That they may all be one.”
“I and the Father are one.”

At the same time, I encountered the stories of Near-Death Experiences—accounts from people of every faith, culture, and background who had crossed the threshold of death and returned. What they described was not judgment or separation, but overwhelming love, unity, and a sense of being home.

Again and again, I heard the same message:

There is no separation. Love does not end. No one is ever alone.

And somehow, without effort or argument, I knew Katie was not gone.

Not as an idea.
As a knowing.

What began to emerge was a realization that changed my understanding of faith itself: the deepest truths of Christianity had not been lost—but they had often been hidden, softened, or obscured. Sometimes by fear. Sometimes by institutions. Sometimes by humanity’s discomfort with mystery.

What I discovered was not a departure from Christ, but a return to the true Christ heart within me—a Christ Consciousness that spoke of unity, inner transformation, and divine presence within us all and all creation.

If God is unity, then separation cannot be ultimate.
If love is eternal, then death cannot be the end.
And if we are created in the image of God, then awakening is not rebellion—it is remembrance. It is a homecoming.

Awakening – Heaven on Earth was born from that remembrance.

It began quietly, through deep meditation, centering prayer and dreams—through the creative expressions of writing, music, art, and poetry that helped me survive grief and listen for universal truth beyond words. Over time, those expressions became offerings, shaped not by certainty, but by humility and love.

The nonprofit mission grew from the same place. I could not hold what I had been given without letting it serve others. Katie’s life—and her passing—became a call to ensure that love did not remain theoretical, but became tangible: through education, community support, compassion, stewardship, and care for future generations.

I do not claim to have answers for suffering.

I claim only this:

Love is real.
Unity is real.
And even in death, we are held.

Awakening – Heaven on Earth is an invitation—
to remember who you truly are,
to soften the places that have hardened,
and to live as though love is the deepest truth of reality.

Because I believe it is.

Jeffrey Aylor