by Grace Huang

A sense of serene calmness is what you are supposed to feel under the Entities (spirits) of the Casa. That was the exact opposite of what I was feeling when I realized I was the only student left in the front of the Great Hall when John of God reappeared on the main stage.

John of God on stage at the Casa. Behind assistants prepare for a physical surgery.

What was he doing out here again? He had already led morning prayer and was supposed to be greeting visitors in the revision line. Without a great understanding of Portuguese, my clue came from four volunteers carrying trays with contents varying from towels to medical instruments. He was about to perform a physical surgery. Needless to say that peaked my attention. As I moved to find a better view, he was already in the process of cutting behind the ear of this Brazilian native, a middle-aged woman who leaned against the wall.

Physical surgery on the stage with John of God

There had been no anesthesia nor sterile drape. When John of God moved away I could see an open slit, still full of dripping blood. I mean, I had seen surgeries before, but this was shocking! When I looked around people either seemed disinterested or unamused, neither emotion I particularly expected. I don’t know if they were just shocked, trying to hide their reactions, or jaded from seeing too many John of God videos but I was definitely struck by it. I then turned back to the patient. These surgeries are supposed to be done with spiritual anesthesia resulting in no pain.  Was there any evidence contrary to that notion? Yes, I definitely saw her squeezing her eyes shut. I also vaguely remember her not looking too happy as she was wheeled away in a makeshift wheelchair (that more closely resembled a shopping cart). So I would not be surprised if she not only felt it, but found it to be painful as well.

Now highly invested in the act, I watched John of God turn towards his second patient. I saw a much younger white male with his eyes closed and palms facing forward; his was a display of the fiercest concentration known to man. My guess, his nerves probably caused him to manifest a physical display of angst. Whatever doubts he might have been feeling, he still obligingly turned around so his back was facing the audience where the medium could make a two inch vertical incision right below the scapula. Then he used scissors to prevent more blood from dripping and stitched it up with another pair of scissors and string. All the while an older audience member, Dr. Clive, witnessed and then reported his findings over a microphone. Apparently, he was an Australian doctor used to verify that the surgery was done correctly according to his professional expertise.

Dr. Clive and the act as a whole failed to convince me of the use of physical surgery as a real and effective method for Spiritual intervention. First, his monotone voice was unable to coherently form words into sentences. Some might reason it was due to shock but I think it rose from an internal battle between portraying something that may seem real (ie. actually cutting) and a disbelief about the true effectiveness of the incision for either spiritual or physical healing based on his professional knowledge. Furthermore, his rehearsed manner of speech combined with his uncontrollable and rapidly blinking eyes showcased physical manifestations of a forced testimonial rather than an honest one. While neither patient outright screamed in pain, it was apparent to me that both were at least mildly reactive based on their change in facial expressions throughout the surgery. Sure, it might have been a powerful and abrupt means of for John of God to gain credibility, especially when considering the claim for a lack of need for anesthesia. However, upon closer inspection the patient and witness both showed subtle physical indications stating otherwise. So whether or not it swayed the majority cannot be known, but using this method of getting a skeptic like myself to believe seems over dramatic and way overdone, especially considering that a person in the audience fainted because of it.

by Erin Moore

Medium Joao’s current room is a long blue and white cement meditation room with a large padded chair for the Medium up front surrounded by crystals that stand two and three feet tall.  I am directed to one of the wooden church benches that line the two sides of the hall.  I choose a place toward the back.  I sit behind a tall woman in white.  We are all in white so that the Entities, disincarnate spirits (we are all spirits), can read our auras better.  I like this post directly behind the tall head of hair so that I can periodically glance surreptitiously at the room the Medium and his white-suited phalange.  I position my notebook and pen by my side for random thoughts, take off my glasses, close my eyes and embark on our new meditation “The Magic School Bus,” channeled to Ron Perris from the Entities.  This session might be 4-5 hours of silent meditation (except for the rather loud music that the Entities chose for this morning – cowboy spirituals in Portuguese with guitar and maracas).  I hone down to begin inviting family, friends and not yet friends on to my bus.  I am to invite and embrace them into my space. Suddenly my lady protector in front of me lets out a large rumbling belch that appeared to start in her bowels.  After the second one in a row I opened my eyes with a jerk and the 2^nd time line was all staring in our direction.  The woman to her right had been fussing all morning (all half hour so far).  She wore a white windbreaker worn backwards over her shirt, sweater, long pants, etc.  As she squirmed she sounded like the ship’s sails were being hoisted.  I go to make a note in my notebook when I notice that my pen won’t write – it is the Entities, I am sure, not liking my meditative “automatic writing.”

I settle back to my bus meditation, my yoga meditation, back to the bus, I peak out my eyes, I try to write again… and then I remember that Grainne told us that sometimes we just need a change and it is alright to go to the bathroom.  I wait some more, “go inside,” I prod myself.  The man behind me with his bald shiny head and painted eyebrows sits like a Buddha in silence.  He must be following the rules and keeping his eyes closed; I hope he is not witnessing my transgressions.  Back to the bus when suddenly the lady in front of me erupts again – two more volcanic belches.  (I have since learned that these are sacred belches as the medium takes up negative energy from the room and has to then get rid of it).  That does it for me.  Keeping my eyes to the floor in perfect piety I tiptoe out, whisper to Diego I have to go to the bathroom and escape. Thank you Grainne.

By Christina Gago

Upon enrolling in ANTH-301, I committed to experience the Spiritist movement with as little cynicism and skepticism as possible. As part of this experiment in open-mindedness, I vowed to undergo John of God’s treatments in full and experience as of much of “the Casa life” as possible during my stay in Abadiânia. Therefore, on the second day of my stay, I opted for the spiritual intervention, silently repeating to myself, “I am all in.”

Grand Hall meditating and waiting for a chance to see John of God in the medium’s hall.

Stepping in line for the procedure, I noted that anyone regardless of age, condition, or experience may opt for spiritual surgery. This seemed to contradict John of God’s control over all procedures and treatments in the Casa; I could see a significant shift in decision-making power from the hands of the caregiver to those of the patients. Later, when speaking with Natalie, who has spent seven years with the Casa, I discovered that John of God originally strictly controlled the assignment of spiritual interventions, due to their emotionally taxing nature. Individuals who were denied access to the spiritual intervention procedure would often return, begging for surgery, only to be refused yet again as their bodies were not physically or spiritually prepared. Knowing this, I questioned to an even greater extent why John of God now allows individuals to choose for themselves whether or not to undergo intervention, and risk further aggravation of their conditions through voluntary surgery. Although Natalie could not explain this change in protocol, I see it as a means of crowd reorganization. By offering everyone the opportunity to undergo spiritual intervention, and, therefore, allowing more people to undergo the procedure, John of God drastically reduces the number of people he has to treat individually later that same day and as well as the next day (when patients are required to rest in bed). This new freedom allotted to patients, therefore, reduces the number of people he must treat individually, yet still allows everyone to receive some form of treatment.

Prior to my surgery, John of God blindly scribbled dozens of prescriptions to distribute. Moving into the surgery room, we all sat on parallel benches, placed our hands on our hearts, and concentrated our energy on the parts of our bodies where we desired healing. During this surgical period, I found it inexplicably difficult to focus my energy as I asked for help in reducing stress and anxiety; I felt alone, unlike any other experience in the Casa. I found the intervention and the following healing period to be very individualistic, whereas everything else in the Casa revolved around group support and participation. Remaining silent, I repeated my prayer several times in my head until the spiritual leaders stated that the entities had completed the surgeries. I then received the post-op instructions, paid R$60 for John of God’s prescriptions (a 70-day supply) and R$10 for one of his taxis, and returned to the hotel for 24 hours of rest (without light, conversation, or movement from my bed).

Passionflower herbs bought with a prescription from Medium Joao

Upon falling asleep at the hotel, I experienced inexplicably vivid dreams of family and friends from all stages in my life. After only a couple of hours of sleep, I awoke and immediately began organizing my life into lists involving everything from nursing schools I want to apply to, to classes I plan to take, to pies I want to bake upon returning home. I became frantic, facing everything that popped into my head, creating lists until I reached a blank, eventually achieving a state of peace and returning to sleep. Now, still not sure where the spirits cut into my body, I try to rationalize that the intervention helped ease my anxiety by forcing me to organize everything and prepare for the future during my rest period. In the end, however, I find that we cannot rationalize spirits. We may only choose to believe or not to believe in their power. At this point in my life, I find that I am, quite unfortunately, unable to believe without question or rationalization.

by Sarah Newell

Time in the Casa, and in Abadiana in general, seems to move at a different pace.

View of the Casa on the hillside, surrounded by green hills

Removed from major cities, with the highway just a faint soundtrack in the distance, the entire neighborhood feels plucked out of another era. The first week in the Casa challenged our perceptions of time. With 7:00am arrivals and 6:00pm departures, the eleven-hour days felt like running a marathon. This exhaustion contradicted the fact that we’d done nothing but sit in silence for the vast majority of those hours. The Casa’s Great Hall and meditation rooms have no clocks, and cell phone use is strictly prohibited. This makes it difficult to know what time it is while sitting in the Great Hall for hours, waiting for your specific line to be called.

When you’re “in current”, there is no sense of time whatsoever. John of God requires meditators to keep their eyes closed at all times, and facilitators are constantly walking around to make sure everyone is following proper procedures. On the first day, we sat in the hot room for four and a half hours. With my eyes closed, it could have easily been seven, or even two. Each session ends at a different time, depending on how many people come to see him in the afternoon – if special guests come to visit, the current could continue long into the evening. Not knowing what time it is, or how long you’ll be in there, makes sitting in current a bleak, frustrating experience unless you’re fully immersed in your meditation (a difficult feat over such a long period of time).

The ultimate release of control over time is during the 24 hour sleep mandatory after spiritual intervention. Post “surgery”, patients are encouraged to rest for a full day, without using electronics, reading, writing or speaking to others. If you are without a group, pousadas in the area will even assist by bringing food and sacred soup to your room. Being horizontal and in the dark for that long is completely disorienting; time seems to crawl at its own pace, and often I opened my eyes and couldn’t have remotely guessed at the time. Even when the period was up, I felt completely removed from reality around me.

A walk beyond the Casa

At best guess, this warped sense of time serves to make the John of God experience even more “magical”. The Casa becomes an island, utterly removed from the rest of the world around, which lends credibility to the idea that beyond-normal healings can take place here. As a participant, you feel completely disconnected from everyone else who is not sharing this same space and experience. The fostering of a strong community here, while alienating others who are not on your journey, helps to discredit and distract from potential naysayers.

by Caitlin Sims

The first 24 hours at the Casa Dom Inácio de Loyola have been a blur. As we join the throngs of people dressed completely in white, the sounds of Brazilian birds and the melodic tones of Portuguese greet us at the gates. Past the bookstore, snack shack, and translation windows lies the Great Hall, the Casa’s primary meeting space. “Pilgrims” from Brazil, the States, and countries throughout Europe have traveled to the Casa to see João de Deus (John of God, also referred to as “The Entity”), a full-trance medium who channels over 35 spirits, in the hope that he will cure all sorts of medical maladies from multiple sclerosis to cancer or assist in their quest for spiritual healing and enlightenment.

Girl meditating on the front stage of Grand Hall

In the Great Hall, they sit on simple pews and chairs or stand wherever there is room. The space is so packed that people spill out into the surrounding courtyard and gardens. Large fans buzz above, attempting in vain to keep those waiting to pass before The Entity cool and comfortable. Some pray quietly with their legs and arms uncrossed (so the spiritual “current” of energy can flow freely) while others observe the many pictures of John of God and Jesus that decorate the room. Within an hour, two pilgrims collapse on the ground, and it is not apparent whether the cause is heat exhaustion due to overcrowding, possession by the spirits, or medical infirmity. The service begins with a rare introduction from John of God himself (he usually only comes into the Great Hall to perform physical surgeries or lead a short prayer), followed by the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer (Vai Nosso in Portuguese) and Ave Maria. The Casa staff begin to call the different lines one by one (lines for first-time visitors, for those who underwent “spiritual interventions” the week prior, etc.), instigating a chaotic shuffle and crowding of people anxious to be seen by The Entity.

Lining up at the Grand hall

Hundreds of people have come to the Casa for healing, so these lines take hours to process. In the meantime, Casa staff share testimonials and affirmations in soothing monotone voices, periodically circling the room to scold those who are talking or crossing their arms and legs. Four hours after arriving, our time has finally come to line up and pass before John of God. I clutch my paper with my three translated “intentions” (or wishes) to be given to The Entity as I am pushed to the front of the Great Hall and into the “current rooms”. The current rooms uphold a strong healing energy, and I pass by people mediating while soft music plays in the background as I make my way to John of God. He sits on a large, ornately carved wooden chair, surrounded by massive crystals believed to possess healing powers. A translator reads him my intentions and his prescription is to have me meditate in the current room that afternoon. Prescriptions range from sitting in current to visiting his waterfall to having a crystal bed treatment, but are most often a strong recommendation to take his passion flower supplements, available for purchase at his pharmacy. After hours of waiting and a grand total of five seconds before John of God, the morning session concludes and I return after a few hours to carry out his instructions and sit in current. Despite the initial discomfort, meditating in the current rooms was a relatively positive experience. This meditation is a prime example of the intermingling of individual spiritual goals and community bonding and support, one of many contradictions at the Casa.

After contemplating the day’s events, the Casa ultimately emerges as a place of paradox. While the Casa champions individual “work” and healing, they strictly enforce all sorts of rules. Pilgrims are not allowed to cross their arms and legs, are shushed when talking in the Great Hall, are not permitted to visit the waterfall without explicit permission from the Entity, are supposed to omit peppers and alcohol from their diet, and must adhere to a whole host of restrictions after undergoing spiritual intervention. While John of God and the Casa staff provide explanations for why these rules are in place, they create an atmosphere in which individual spiritual journeys are encouraged, but only within certain parameters. In addition, the Casa is described as a place of peace, unconditional love, and profound spiritual enlightenment. However I find it hard to believe that a space reminiscent of a theme park with lines that take hours, extreme heat and crowding, sometimes hokey music, and souvenirs for purchase is conducive to deep spiritual healing and growth. Finally, the Casa and John of God himself are portrayed as beacons of generosity and service, in which all are welcome regardless of color, creed, or socioeconomic background. While it is true that John of God has selflessly given his life to helping and healing others without asking for compensation, the Casa does indeed operate as a business. Many of the Entity’s “cures” like supplements or crystal bed treatment require payment and John of God owns many shops and otherwise controls business in town (prohibiting taxi drivers to drive to other healers and approving practitioners like masseuses and yogis). These paradoxes set off internal alarm bells in my study of the Casa and John of God, yet there is undoubtedly much more to see, experience, and interpret in our remaining time in Abadânia.

Brazil PWP group dressed in Casa white head to Rio.
From Left: Oliver, Caitlin, Cristina, Grace, Sarah, Rafael, Shoey and Maggie

By Oliver Hayward

1:00 PM May 23, 2014:  Foregoing the usual 8:00 AM line-up before John of God, I instead chose to engage in a Spiritual Intervention. Even though I had originally planned on presenting my issues to the Entities (disincarnate spirits) in the second-time line, the pressure from my other classmates convinced me to commit to a “24 hour sleep” treatment, the spiritual operation.  Before John of God starts to prescribe treatment for the majority of the visitors of the Casa, the spiritual intervention line passes through the current rooms and receives a prescription for an herbal medicine (passion flower, passiflora). The group is then led into the surgery room. We were all instructed to sit down, close our eyes and place our right hand over our heart, or any other part where we wanted the Entities to operate on. Amidst choir music and eucalyptus scent, the Entities in the room quickly cut and stitch parts of our spirits as we sit quietly in meditation. After, the group is led outside for orientation. As part of the healing process, individuals must follow a specific set of rules in order to allow these unseen wounds to heal, notably by lying in bed for 24 hours. During this time, each person must try to sleep in between meals, must remain silent and must not engage in any outside stimuli, such as listening to music, watching movies, reading, writing, or talking to others. After the 24 hours, individuals must not exercise, visit the main hall of the Casa, drink alcoholic beverages, eat fertilized eggs or peppers, or stay in the sun for eight days. Individuals must not have sexual intercourse or arousal for forty days and must take the passiflora three times a day. Only after three days can the individual visit the Casa waterfall.

In the back of the Grand Hall videos play for 24 hours showing the dramatic physical surgeries.

Since I began the intervention on Wednesday, I would not be allowed back to the Casa until Friday at 1pm. On the following Wednesday, I must go to sleep wearing white in order to allow new Entities to remove my stitches, and have a cup of water ready to drink in the morning. These new Entities would not be the same spirits who performed the operation, and therefore I needed to write an intervention note after the orientation in order to allow the spirits to find me. On the following Thursday, I would be allowed to stand before John of God as part of the revision line to see if I would need additional treatment.

Crutches and braces that were discarded after successful interventions by the entities.

The 24 hours in bed allowed me to put my life on hold and contemplate my past experiences and decisions. In order to relax and sleep for this extended period of time, I needed to remove my negative thoughts, and focus on the positive energy. I needed to trust the spirits to heal my physical pains and mental damage. I realized how to rid my mind of issues that steered my attention away from my path in life, the one that I had always been on. I learned to appreciate being healthy and alive, eating food, and talking to others. Even though these realizations would be attributed to the Entities, I ultimately saw my mind strengthening in efforts to fall asleep and wait in anticipation of freedom. Following this process, I learned that the rules are designed to protect my body from energy overloading as my chakras are now spiritually open and my stitches need to be untouched. Despite the restrictions against excessive walking, I did decide to journey around the village after I woke up. I felt the stitches as a pain on the left side of my abdomen. After returning to the Casa, I felt disoriented and weak. I attributed it to the fact that I had been lying vertical for 24 hours, but many would regard the feeling as a symptom of post spiritual surgery. I worry that the psychological mindset of disobeying the rules will cause me to feel idiocy and ultimately prevent me from allowing my body to heal. These eight days will be tough, but I know that it is this level of discipline that will truly benefit my perspective on life. Even though I still feel energetically drained, I know that these decisions will have lasting effects, whether they are from the Entities or not.

In the Casa garden the bench sign reads, “Let Go.” Easy for the dog.

By Rafael Vergnaud

John of God doing a self-surgery after his stroke.
Why was it necessary to do a physical surgery?

Tuesday, May 20, we arrived at Abadiania. At about 5 PM, we walked a few houses down the street to the Casa de Dom Inacio de Loyola, a building complex. There, we joined a group for orientation. We learned about Spiritism, John of God, the Casa history, and the rules and guidelines.  Earlier, I had read Spirits with Scalpels by Greenfield for the class.  It discusses many past healers, including Jose Carlos Ribiero and Edson Queiroz, who often performed physical surgeries. Reading Greenfield gave me the impression that physical surgeries were an essential part in Spiritist healing and I expected that impression to be maintained during my visit at the Casa.  The many Youtube videos show John of God repeatedly carving up and drawing blood from his visitors.

Video screen at the back of the Grand Hall aires video physical surgeries all day long.

However, much to my surprise during the orientation, Diego made clear that the Casa had a preference for spiritual surgeries over physical ones.

The following points were raised in orientation:

1. There is a new vocabulary at the Casa, surgeries are now to be called spiritual or physical “interventions.”

2. The Casa insists that visitors should continue all medical treatments and to treat Spiritist healing as complimentary to such treatment.

3. Diego made clear that, if there be a conflict between medical treatment and spiritual treatment, one should prioritize medical treatment.

4. In response to a question that asked if physical interventions are more effective than spiritual ones, Diego responded with a definitive “No,”  physical interventions are no better.  The philosophy of the Casa is that the spirits heal the same for physical interventions as in spiritual interventions.  There is no need for cutting and blood.  He ended his response with a remark, “Why anyone would ask for a physical surgery, I do not know.” It seemed as if Diego was pushing people away from asking for physical surgeries.

These comments concerning the relationship between medical and spiritual treatments revealed one of protection. It was clear that Diego did not want one to mistake spiritual medicine as a replacement for medical treatment and to disregard medical treatment when undergoing spiritual treatments. It also appeared to me that Diego regarded medical and spiritual treatment in a hierarchical relationship, medical treatment takes precedence over spiritual treatment in cases of conflict.

There are two possible reasons why the Casa may be shying away from physical surgery. Was Diego protecting the Casa from legal liabilities? Even in Brazil it is illegal to practice medicine without a license.  Many of the healers who Greenfield discussed were chased away by the biomedical community and law enforcement. John of God has also had his troubles with the law.  Or does the Casa lack confidence in Spiritism and in the spirits’ guidance during physical surgeries.  Is it possible that John of God is not confident about performing surgeries–other than making small cuts, scraping eyes, and shoving forceps up noses?  Or is it really that the publicity focuses on the blood and guts when in fact Spiritism is much more tame.

by Maggie Deagon

“People only come here when they think they will die.” This was my introduction to Spiritist healing in Brazil, specifically by Valentím, a healer who caters to locals—young and old, often poor—out of a small center in Brasilia. Fred, one of Valentím’s patients, spoke these words to me. He was diagnosed with a primary seminal vesicle tumor, a very rare form of cancer around the world. After doctors from Brazil to Germany to the United States tried to convince him to allow them to operate, he turned to Valentím as a last resort—disbelieving but fearing for his life.

The Medium Valentim and his assistants with the Brazil PWP 2014 class.
From back row left, the students are: Sarah, Maggie, Shoey, Oliver, and Rafael. Front row from left: Erin, Grace, Caitlin, and Christina.

“I am only alive because of this place,” Fred told us enthusiastically. He had pulled us aside during the healing to invite us to hear his story. He, like many others, credit Valentím’s power with their recovery from illness. Their stories are extraordinary, yet as Americans, it is initially difficult to be swept up in their fantastical. Through participant observation and immersion in the process, we allowed ourselves to be as close as possible to the experience of healing on which many Brazilians rely.

Valentim’s building with parking lot.

The setting in which Valentím heals is a humble building in a rather rural section of Brasilia. Across from his center is an open field, and adjacent to it is a small coffee shop where patients and residents can grab a cheese sandwich for a few reales. Patients begin lining up outside of the center along all walls at 7am. These are non-cancer patients, people diagnosed with everything from AIDS to multiple sclerosis. Upon entering the center, one is greeted by portraits of the spirits who work through Valentím that decorate the walls. A hallway lined with gurneys and patients leads to the main room, filled with plastic chairs and lined again with gurneys on which cancer patients sit and reflect. Their time of silent prayer creates an energy which they refer to as “radiation” treatment—a healing process in itself. Many of the patients use this treatment in addition to biomedical attention. Several mentioned that they receive chemotherapy or have undergone surgery for their illnesses. Others, however, seek no further treatment.

Valentim addressing his visitors in the “cancer” ward.

After the “radiation,” patients file into a second room where Valentím awaits, having already been taken over by the spirit of a deceased Italian medical doctor. Valentím himself has no medical background, and in many ways, acts only to help the spirits visualize their surgeries which occur beyond what our eyes can see. He treats each patient one-by-one. Each person points to the area of discomfort or disease, and Valentím clips forceps over their skin, sometimes not even touching them. He slaps them playfully and makes jokes as they go along, reminding them that he, the spirit, is Italian, not Brazilian.

The students in our group laid on gurneys to be treated. Being unable to communicate with Valentím in Portuguese, I could not discern what treatment he was giving me, but as he ran the forceps over my chest and arm, I felt closeness and sincerity rather than a sense of violation. His jolly spirit and eagerness to touch hands and hug so many ill people gave me a sense of contentment even without verbal understanding. Undoubtedly, that can have an effect on the ill who see him, as well.

Maggie (author) receiving treatment from Valentim and his biomedical assistant Cherifa

There are more forms of healing than I have been exposed to through my culture. Likewise, there are more illnesses that others consider in need of healing. Sharifa, a biomedical doctor who assists Valentím, spoke of several sources of disease: food, genetics, and bad thoughts. Of these, she told us that negative thoughts are the most difficult to cure. Whether this is a reference to psychological disorders or physical manifestations of stress, I am unsure. However, it calls to mind something that Western biomedicine tends to ignore—the experience of illness emotionally in addition to its bodily manifestation. Undoubtedly, what influences one part of us is likely to have holistic effects, and if we ignore the total quality of disease, I am unsure that we can feel wholly cured. Perhaps through acceptance and attention, as Valentím provides, those who are gravely ill can at least be given some peace of mind. Given the stories we were told, who am I to deny the extent of their healing power?

Brazil PWP is already in its 6th season this year. We have been working in the classroom this spring 2014. We had a taste of hypnotherapy, a look at an ethnography of Spiritist healing (Spirits with Scalpels by Greenfield) and a field trip to practice ethnographic research methods (participant observation and interviews) at the Spiritualist Church in Hollywood. We leave for Brazil on May 17th for two and a half weeks and an active blogging season. We want to be home before the World Cup soccer season. Stay tuned to our blog. Erin