Angel Harps Harp Therapy Healing Harp Music Angel Harps


by Carolyn Weislogel

Angel Harps Harp Therapy Healing Harp Music Angel Harps



Angel Lift Harp

Angel Touch Harp


The Armenian Red Angel and the Foundation called 'Aghavnee's Angel Call'

Read my true story about the
Armenian Red Angel and the
Foundation called "Aghavnee's Angel Call"

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wonderful picture of the
"Angel of Armenia" are
available to raise money
 to feed children
all over the world
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Harp Music Therapy
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Angel Harps Harp Therapy Healing Harp Music Angel Harps



Carolyn says, “It’s really wonderful to experience how the angels work with each person. It has been a real joy to watch people’s lives shift so much.”

Dear Carolyn,

My name is Carolyn L and I purchased one of your harps a few years ago. I was telling a fellow teacher a story about my harp today and it dawned on me that you would understand and appreciate the story more than anyone I could think of.

Two years ago I was stressed with my inability to find a job and the pressures of meeting my financial obligations. I placed my name with a teachers' placement bureau and was contacted regarding a French teaching position in Morocco. I was interviewed in French repeatedly, offered the job and soon found myself teaching in Marrakesh. Although, I had taught and lived abroad previously, nothing could have prepared me for my first pay day in Morocco. I was paid in Moroccan dirham/cash and took the cash to the Western Union in Marrakesh. I had verified before accepting the position that a Western Union was available. But as I quickly learned on entering the Western Union in Morocco " Madame there are no outbound transactions. It is illegal. You may send money in to Morocco but it is a criminal offense for Western Union to assist you in sending it out. Further you may not walk out of the country with more than the equivalent of $200.00 in Moroccan Dirham.

I was horrified, frightened and sickened. Images of my dog back in Florida, the mortgage, Florida Power and Light Bills on and on hit my system. I felt so violated by the business manager of the school who had assured me of the school's financial dependability. Multiple promises were made to rectify the situation, Yet by December I had to accept the fact that the only way out of the situation was to get on a plane and swallow the loss.

I was ill prepared for the surprise that awaited me at the airport in Marrakesh. A customs official looked at my passport for an unduly long time. He noted my August date of arrival, the addition of a work permit and the absence of the legally required monthly stamps by the " police des etrangers" or foreign police. I said the schools business manager was in charge of our documents and the customs official replied. " I don't see him here. I see only you. You alone are responsible for your documents. You are here illegally. You are working illegally. You can't board the plane."

Carolyn, before I left my Moroccan apartment I had to make a choice whether to carry my harp or my briefcase containing my original college degrees, references etc. I chose to carry the angel harp. Thank heavens I did. Fortunately, another customs official appeared and asked me to open my harp case. I did. He said it's a harp in Moroccan Arabic. He then asked me to play. I did. He smiled and then sought out another customs officer. I was then requested to play for both of them. I did.

What ensued thereafter was miraculous. The last two officers pleaded with the first officer to let me board the plane. There was much disagreement. I speak fluent French but not Moroccan Arabic so I had to depend on body language mostly eye language to comprehend much of the dialog. Finally, the first official, the one who had refused to let me board the flight, looked me directly in the eyes and said in French" If you come back to Morocco you will go to jail. You will be liable to work off all monies that you earned from August to December. You will equally be liable to a significant fine."

I boarded the flight for Casablanca holding close to my harp and sweating from every pore in my being. At Casablanca the discrepancy was noted once again. That is, I had been in the country since August, had a work permit but no monthly stamps from the foreign police. I was in violation of the law.

Thankfully, eyes passed from my passport to the harp case. I was asked to open it, identify what was in it and lastly to play it. I did. Amazingly the official told me to go to the " African Room". He pointed to one side and I feared that I was being held once again.

Another customs official pointed me through the scanning area to the waiting room beyond. I proceeded. I then sat down. No sooner had I sat down and taken a deep breath but the same official gestured for me to get up and he redirected me to a special sitting area. It was akin to those special seating areas we have in American airports with very comfortable chairs set in a separate area. I was told to play the harp until my flight departed. My audience included dignitaries and businessmen heading to JFK, the United Nations and beyond. My playing was well received and highly praised.

A long flight later I was greeted at JFK by a fellow teacher who had escaped one month earlier. I spent the night at her home and flew back to my home in Florida the next morning.

Thank you for my harp. There is so much more to her tale.

I'd be grateful if you could suggest someone within 100 miles of Sarasota, Florida (34239) to help me replace a broken string and tune her. She's got much more to do.

Carolyn L

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