Watching an old Jesse Ventura show on Targeted Individuals – gratified that he’s found medical and other professionals willing to put their names on the line to testify about this experience.
Wish I’d seen this five years ago. Now, it’s helped inspire me to gather my energy to write again about something of the last two years.
So much has happened that I’ve recorded in one way or another but haven’t published – keeping it secret, testing “giving it no energy,” to see if it’ll go away. It hasn’t.
“Voices in their heads,” Jesse calls it, but there is so much more to being a TI. I’ll finish up this blog with an account of my experience of electronic experiments, and follow with one on social harassment, aka gang stalking.
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One of the first times I felt subjected to a beam, it felt like an experiment that involved tracking. Sitting sideways on my sofa, I first felt a spot of vibration about four inches wide moving about on my foot, then moving up my ankle and lower leg.
I pulled my leg in, telling myself it could just be my foot and leg falling asleep, but it touched my foot again, causing me to jump up off the sofa. Flash on options: sit on sofa again, other end, bed, kitchen, nowhere to go, it’s going to get me wherever I go, and so I lay in bed, resigned, expecting the buzz to hit a foot again, but instead my head was suddenly encompassed in a buzzing circle, after which I remember nothing. Next morning, my ears were ringing, and they’ve never stopped. I’ve lost the entire top half of my hearing range.
Musical tones have sometimes put me “to sleep” and sometimes woken me up. Once a torturously-loud, high-pitched tone sent me running to find my iPod to play a particular self-hypnosis recording that seemed the most powerful relaxation resource I had – but the recording had mysteriously disappeared from my device, leaving only one other self-hypnosis product, which I’d purchased but never listened to because I suspected it had mind control programming in it.
In the pause before hitting Play, I felt I was being compelled to listen to this recording, and it would be dangerous for me, but I’d be further tortured if I didn’t, so I submitted, and the torturous pitch gave way to a calm, gentle voice encouraging me along a path in a light-dappled woods. I must have gone unconscious because I remember nothing else of the recording, just woke with my ears ringing, for years now.
I’ve also experienced movies suddenly playing in my head – and I mean literal movies, not like a memory I could pause or meander with. The first looked like a 1960’s, black-and-white home movie of a family at the marina, young teens self-conscious of their manners, boarding their boat, turning, arranging themselves, waving at the camera. I chose not to pay attention to it, and chose not to give it any emotional energy.
Another movie suddenly played in my head was of a dusty Third World road with people, animals, carts, the camera moving along with the traffic, chest high. Once, two movies played on top of each other! Every time, I chose not to pay attention to them – let them go blurry, give them no emotion.
One afternoon last year I was standing in my travel trailer home near my bed when I suddenly felt an extreme urge to lie down and was unconscious by the time I hit the bed. I woke hours later with what felt like water in my ear. Living alone out in the country, I didn’t find anyone to look in my ear until it had healed. The water sensation stayed for three days.
The one time I actually heard a clear communication it wasn’t necessarily with clear words. It was as if they had a map of ideas I’d already developed among my theories, and they merely touched on one after another after another, building their story, concluding with the end of the Earth-human experiment (ending because we keep devolving too radically between their uplifting visits). The “second chance” that Jehovah or Enlil/Enki of the Sumerian records had been played out, and we were not going to get another chance. God, or the Aliens, are done with us.
Because the whole thing felt so scripted and imposed upon me, I chose not to believe it, but I could NOT ignore it – it overwhelmed all other thought.
In the city I often feel targeted by extremely unpleasant vibrations hidden under a heavy bass in the music of a passing vehicle. It’s so powerful, I assume it must be directed narrowly toward my home. I finally learned a response that empowers instead of weakens me: I call out a sort of war-cry to override whatever it is and keep it up as long as it keeps up. Interestingly, it seems as though my war cry makes it end sooner.
Finally, I’ve also experienced something I think I’ve heard called “thought transference.” While lying in bed relaxing to sleep, I seemed to suddenly experience the mind of someone else, for instance a hairdresser with her hands in plastic gloves, looking down, seeing them squishing around in someone’s scalp, parting wet hair to pull strands through a cap for coloring – or something that looked and felt like this action I’ve heard about but never saw. Unlike film, this experience contained peripheral vision, and the feeling and even bored thoughts of the person doing the work made me feel like I was in someone else’s body for a little while. Again, I chose to withdraw my participation, and it faded quickly.
I’ll be reviewing my journals to see what other electronic experiments I’ve experienced and add them. My fractured mind is too tired right now to get into researcher mode. I’ll post right now so it doesn’t wait for two years.
And hope to post soon about the social harassment, gang stalking.
Of course, I could write a book on this year, but I don’t want to.
Back in March, after one of the worst amnesic events of my life, I woke to see a face in the mirror I hardly recognized, so I took this photo to document it. Notice my face is slack and puffy, including my nose, and my left eye is turned inward.
I’m doing fine most days, and most people who know me don’t know what I go through (or they don’t believe), and I even appear happy and healthy most days (when I go out), and I know people think I’m lazy or living on a secret fund because I “don’t work,” though they don’t know I’m going into debt every month. (When I’m well, I’m usually running to catch up on what I couldn’t do when I was not well, and so have very little time for anything before I’m hit with harassment again.)
Yes, I do have many days of wishing I was not alive, but mostly I am determined to rise above, to use this extraordinary challenge to connect with spiritual Help and lift my spirit and soul into some sort of transcendence beyond this Earthly harassment.
My sincere concern is that he and his women are helping the average American to accept these sexualized images of silenced women as a worthy goal to aspire to.
I just read the most perfect and succinct description of how I relate to the world.
I am mostly unfamiliar with the trucking industry, but as a mind control subject, I know how “easily” this $150 Billion industry ifunctions – and what the result is:
Even though I’ve voiced my occasional discomfort with “shamanism,” it is not (or no longer) with the actual practice and life associated with the term. My discomfort is mostly with the casual way that some people approach and undertake methodologies (all the colorful tools, for instance) without understanding the intelligence and energies. 
Life takes energy from us violently and traumatically at times. Why this happens is a human question that no human answer will really satisfy. Suffice it to say that suffering affects us all, and when it does, a piece of our personal energy – a piece of our soul – can be severed off from us. We experience this as a piece of ourselves going missing. Losing pieces of ourselves chips away at our power and truth, as well as keeping us from any real healing until the parts are recovered.
Story is a shamanic practitioner, offering her services. I have done and do the same occasionally. I encourage everyone, though, to never put yourself passively into anyone else’s care, even or especially doctors; you are responsible for your own healing – though getting help is often essential – and learning that self-responsibility is not just the most important thing in our lives, but essential to our soul’s development. 
“In all, the agency [CIA] conducted 149 separate mind-control experiments, and as many as 25 involved unwitting subjects. At least one participant died, others went mad, and still others suffered psychological damage after participating in the project, known as MK Ultra. The C.I.A. … deliberately destroyed most of the MKUltra records in 1973.” ~~ 
my most recent post on MK Garden Healing / Garden Healing Church:
This book by Dr. John Hall, M.D., is very satisfying well-documented. I’m only one-third of the way through, but already, I’ve felt compelled to scan a few pages to share with a few folks and my readers here.
(I’m not crazy about the idea of using technology to protect myself – I’d assumed spiritual protection would be all, but I’ve failed and have felt close to death a great deal this last year. So I’m happy to accept this technological crutch and am thinking of it as a metaphor, that perhaps I might emulate psychically.)
Those two series of events – at and after Lama – which I’ll describe in a moment – would be typical gang stalking. But one event at Lama went far beyond. It seemed to mimic an ET abduction.
After I did six weeks of media work at the “Judi Bari v FBI” trial, my admittedly-unusual life has never been the same. I believe the feds put me on a shit list.
I woke once with a tunnel in my skin on my left scapula where I’d long believed a malfunctioning implant had been because it always itched terribly and I’d developed a strange, 4″ wide bruise that radiated off to one side and had been there for over a year, which no doctor could say what it was. The same morning the tunnel appeared, letting me assume they’re removed it, a new hypersensitive spot was tingling higher on my shoulder and continues to this day, years later. Indeed, the year-old bruise did fade over the course of the next month.
From John Hall’s book, about electronic harassment of targeted individuals:
…
Most days, I wake up feeling fine, like this. And I go about my day, being productive, visiting with friends, taking care of the house and the garden, writing, and thinking, “I could get a job.”
Some days, though, I wake up feeling like Hell, like last week when I could only assume “They” had taken me in the night for some use I can only guess at and either drugged or electroshocked me to assure my amnesia – and, no, I don’t drink alcohol anymore, so this is no hangover that I created.
The date was July 7, 1952 − 52 adding up to 7, July the 7th month, making three 7’s if you like number games as I do.
Not long after that discovery, I learned that July and August that year were the two highest months of UFO activity ever recorded in world history; it was 5 days after my birth that UFO’s cruised over the White House and made that cover of LIFE Magazine a classic.
was a fine cartoonist before he became an actor, and was a regular guest at my father’s home, leaving behind a few large, colored cartoons about times in my father’s family’s home, especially around the pool table.
From the time I was old enough to say my name, I’ve been asked if I was related to “the President.”
Every child thinks that their life is normal, so I never questioned that, at age 5, I had to have my straight hair permed like Shirley Temple’s, and my nails filed into perfect arcs – long enough to “see them on the other side!” the other little girls on the preschool playground noticed.
4 scoop marks
Taser burn/sick
bruises x 3+
another Taser
cuts/punctures
more weird bruises
many injection bruises, weekly
scoop marks x 5
“vampire” scabs on neck, first day of UFO Congress
watched Dragonfly hatch
“We believed that the record, incomplete as it was, was as complete as it was going to be.
You’d think that if you were watching a movie, and the camera zoomed in on the watch that the main character wore and kept checking, so tight a zoom that the watch face more than filled the screen, you’d notice the time.
My life is exquisitely difficult to talk about. It’s woven with extreme themes – sexual abuse, mind control, aliens, mysticism – and with accomplishments that make me shy, and failures that embarrass me, and critical facts that embarrass other people.
My lottery ticket to this crazy life may have been as simple as my birth date. I was born on a Full Moon, on a Monday (Moon Day), in the middle of Cancer, also known as Moon Child.
So were the numbers: I was born on July 7, 1952 − 5+2 adding up to 7. Three sevens. Then my mother gave me a name with 7 letters: Jean Ann.
on the day of my birth. The next day, the local paper would give my birth a short column to remark on the coincidence.
In my 20s, I became an activist for peace, and later for social justice, and environmental sustainability. Along the way, I insulted the FBI with media releases exposing their most incriminating statements which I sent to 600 major media around the world, nearly every day of the 6-week “Judi Bari v FBI” federal trial – and the FBI was found guilty.
Disinformation is finally being better understood and acknowledged throughout the culture, but few people understand its full extent. And understanding and reading reality correctly is an important survival skill for all of us.
When Judi Bari, a non-violence activist and mother of two, was car-bombed in 1990, she was maligned in the world-wide Media as a would-be bomber. But subtler lies are also told for different effects.
Over the nine years I’ve lived here, my wounds have also included scores of injection bruises, two donut bruises, dozens of other weird bruises, sexual mysteries, and even some healed scars, one of which a doctor assumed was from thyroid surgery. Most I’ve photographed, and many I’ve shown friends, though few want to hear about them – I gather because it’s just too upsetting to their world views.
I totally understand not wanting to hear. It took me a lot of years of having this actually happen to me before I could adjust my world view to get over the “freedom and justice for all” mythology and accept what was happening.
I’d love to dismiss it as imagination and believe in a different America, but that’s not my experience. For 8 years now, I’ve been asking my online readers, and no one has come up with any explanation better than the one that’s supported by government documents: federal agents practice disinformation, harass, encourage divisiveness, and more, under the rubric of COINTELPRO (Counter Intelligence Program).
The Paradigm Salon 