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  • Writer's pictureJudith Pinkerton

The Life of Zadkiel

Updated: Oct 3, 2023

William Gilkes birthed me in England (b. 1867). Then I changed families many times before I was discovered in Seattle, WA USA where I lived with the violin shop's wife. Fast forward to 1981 when I moved to Alaska to be with my new Master, Judith. Since then we've traveled many places together as I continue to follow her path creating music for healing benefit.

Judith gave me my name Zadkiel because she said I am warm and inviting with my sound mesmerizing. She said my name Zadkiel belongs to the Archangel Zadkiel who focuses on mercy and compassion. And that like Archangel Michael, whom Zadkiel would follow into battle, together she and I go into battle bring healing energy to those who are recovering their lives. I have witnessed thousands of people renew their minds and hearts after they hear my music, letting go of negativity to focus on healthier attitudes. My Master empowers me to help people feel better. And I've watched her work beyond what I can do, to help people develop greater confidence, self-esteem and build healthy relationships with others. I'm so proud to be in service with her.

During all this healing stuff we've done together for 38 years, I was also Judith's tool that gained entrance into symphonies, opera pit orchestras, recital stages, special events and Las Vegas show orchestras. We have lived a life together that has truly been inseparable. I have experienced MORE of life being with my current Master. And then she tells me it is not her that plays me, but God, as she treats me with deep reverence, respect and love. I feel so blessed and grateful to be treated so genuinely - much more than just being an old violin, which I am at age 153.

The Old Violin - The Touch of the Masters Hand

Twas battered and scarred,

And the auctioneer thought it

hardly worth his while

To waste his time on the old violin,

but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good people," he cried,

"Who starts the bidding for me?

One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?

Two dollars, who makes it three?

Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three."

But, No,

From the room far back a gray bearded man

Came forward and picked up the bow,

Then wiping the dust from the old violin

And tightening up the strings,

He played a melody, pure and sweet

As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer

With a voice that was quiet and low,

Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"

As he held it aloft with its bow.

"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?

Two thousand, Who makes it three?

Three thousand once, three thousand twice,

Going and gone," said he.

The audience cheered,

But some of them cried,

"We just don't understand.

What changed its worth?"

Swift came the reply.

The Touch of the Masters Hand.

And many a man with life out of tune

All battered and bruised with hardship

Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd

Much like that old violin

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,

A game and he travels on.

He is going once, he is going twice,

He is going and almost gone.

But the Master comes,

And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,

The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought

By the Touch of the Master's Hand.

- Myra Brooks Welch

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