Category Archives: Hope for Healing

Aliens in American History, Sophia, and our Evolution – a ramble

philip_corso_2_259x200Written long ago, forgotten, discovered….

Philip Corso, Sr, National Security Advisor to President Eisenhower, said “those of us in the military… had negotiated a kind of surrender with them as long as we couldn’t fight them.”

Leaders were forced to negotiate the bad deal “because they knew what we feared most was disclosure.  Hide the truth and the truth becomes your enemy.  Disclose the truth and it becomes your weapon.  We hid the truth and the [extra-terrestrials] used it against us.”  [bracketed words not mine, but in my source]

Artist's interpretation of Archons

Artist’s interpretation of Archons

[*Can anyone find out what Corso actually said in place of “extra-terrestrials” inserted in brackets?  Aliens?  or Archons?  I wonder.]

Other researchers add that part of the negotiation gave the aliens right to use a certain number of humans for certain purposes; assertions are made that the aliens have regularly overstepped their  agreements and used humans in ways not agreed to.

Both reptilian and fetal-like aliens are supposedly connected to mind control, and somehow I was put in their program as a child, perhaps because Mormons are in league with them, and my family was jack-Mormon (fallen away) married to non-Mormon, but we were accessible, as we attended church now and then when pressured.  In addition, my pediatrician was Mormon Addison Udall, cousin of Secretary of Interior Stewart Udall, who was also our neighbor for a short while (immediately following my 2 years’ amnesia, presumably in mind control).  And both my parents had had childhoods in which they were separated from their parents during young, critical years, a situation often linked to childhood mind control subjection.

I have amnesia at the same age as other mind control subjects (and similar to my parents’ separation from their parents).  And my kids were taken from me during approximately the same years.  Mind control is worked most intensely within families.

The specter of it sometimes blows me away.  But I always pull myself back together and remind myself that we don’t see the whole picture, as we’ve been culturally numbed from experiencing the other dimensions.  In response, I remember my infinite spirit and my soul family, and I reconnect and strengthen myself.

I’ve seen “many things” (as prophesied to me once) and wrote about them in my book, “RattleSnake Fire: a memoir of extra-dimensional experience.”  I know I have helpers on other realms, in many forms.

I used to love to go into the spiral at night when I was a child, anticipating my loving family – but only when they opened the door for me.  And as an adult I’ve come back from a trip into the sky, babbling gratitude, unable to stop, laughing at myself for my continued babbling, but terrifically happy and in love with the cosmos and the powerful connections that I have there.

So I don’t worry about Archons or aliens too much.  But I should probably not forget them either, as they still interfere in my life.  But not mortally so.  It always results in a spiritual wake-up, which I evidently need.

In my reading, I’ve come across the work of John Lamb Lash, who quotes Carl Jung, Carlos Castaneda, and Jacques Vallee – three writers I’ve long trusted.  He says our protection is in the Goddess Sophia – interesting, because I’ve had a difficult time with “the Goddess.”

This is very hard to admit, and I’ve known it was probably part of my mind control.  The result is, as much as I love my garden, I resist going out there to just sit because the plants talk to me too much!  The trees send me healing energy so powerful it makes me want to weep.  And I don’t want to weep, as it triggers too much pain.  Plus they tell me to be still, and I have a hard time sitting still.  Maybe I’m more afraid than I’ve wanted to admit.  And so I avoid even my own garden sometimes, and definitely ignore any Goddess Sophia.

Nearly the entire government is infected by the destructive energies, such is banking, medicine, education, religion, and all the industries of popular culture.  And it seems there is a concerted effort to kill all the life on the planet, with poisons, nuclear waste, “death genes,” sonic “experiments,” HAARP, industrial over-harvesting, and more, none of which politics can touch.

So what do we do?

One of the essays I found said that Sophia’s gift is to help us imagine.

And I do.  But there’s a problem when people only imagine the Light and refuse to look at the Dark.

We need more warriors willing to look at this problem of mind control and dark energies running our government and every aspect of culture.

We need to look for their weakness, which some writers say is their arrogance, hiding the fact that they really don’t know everything.

And we need to remember our power, that we are far more powerful than we’ve been allowed to remember.

We’ve forgotten that we have extra-dimensional capabilities as well as extra-dimensional allies.

It seems we could be losing this fight on Earth, given the massive web of interrelated environmental, economic, societal, even geological problems presenting right now.  And maybe this is the end of a chapter of human evolution:  we’ll learn our lessons, the planet will go into upheaval, and all will start over again with plate-techtonics, earthquakes, and polar shifts.

While this doesn’t feel like a terrible thing, mind control continuing wherever is a terrible thing.

Some say the Earth is moving into a dimension that could split us, like a prism splits a light beam into colors of different wavelengths, and those who vibrate at a higher frequency will split off into one dimension, and those who vibrate at lower frequencies will go into other dimensions, the Earth maybe continuing on into two different timelines.

In our timeline, what shall we do?  I think we’re well-experienced enough to realize that we need a new mutually-cooperative manner of decision-making (a new politics), new ideas around money (whether to use it or not), personal responsibility, technology, community, communications, extra-dimensionality, and so much more.

This is, I believe, where Sophia’s creative imagination comes in.

And we have to imagine a way to deal with certain of the aliens.  Do we banish them or integrate them?  Teach them or offer to help them evolve?  Offer amnesty or bind them and throw them into hell?  What do we imagine?

One writer described his perception of the reptilian energies in a manner that strongly paralleled my perceptions:  powerful, ancient, and evil.

But one of my reptilian experiences had another angle: the being actually helped me and my former partner, though in a manner that seemed insulting to my boyfriend at the time.  In retrospect, it was a Trickster-sort of lesson, and in the end good for us both.

So, is there something about the contrary alien energies we can benefit from?  I know some criminals think they’re doing the world a favor by teaching stupid people not to be so gullible, and they laugh about it.  Could it be that the entire dark energy field is a field for teaching and helping stupid humans evolve?

 

 

I Quit! (Doesn’t that feel good?!)

Inspiration-2_1280_1024“Too many inspirations” has long been my excuse, as well as my pride, but a couple of months ago, I said, “I quit!” and I really, truly did quit quite a few things:
~ I quit my home and yard design business.
~ I quit singing.
~ I hardly planted anything in the garden.
~ And more I’ll spare you.

What I decided to do was two things:  1) Pay primary attention to healing – figuring out how to monitor my wandering, easily-distractable mind, meditate, pay attention to the communications of my alters and their healing status, stay focused on my “big questions,” track my progress, etc. – and 2) write about it.  That’s all I would do, besides the necessary mundane work.

I was due to get my first Social Security check, and Greg was willing to take up the slack while I practiced this discipline for some unknown length of time – Thank you, Greg!

So I’ve been monitoring, listening, focusing and tracking since early August – applying effective business skills to my head – and writing about it in my various blogs.  (Details here.)

And exciting things are happening!  I’m noticing phenomenal changes in my ability to track my own ideas more coherently, also feeling more calm, alert, and present – a powerful experience for me.

And just what I’d hoped for.

But there was a surprise too:  Singing, which I’d always felt was the least of my talents is the one thing that has come back to me.

After six weeks of leaving the house when Greg and other musicians would get together, he drew me back for a single song, and then “just a few,” and then one night he led the band in a whole series of my favorite songs, and I just couldn’t leave.  And here’s the surprise:  I liked my voice.  It had changed.

That, plus the fact that so many people challenged my decision and told me they wanted to keep hearing our harmonies gave me permission to accept singing back into my life.

As they say, “If you let it go and if it returns, it’s yours.”

So:  I accept.  Gratefully.  And I enjoy it so much more now that I’ve discovered my voice is new.

lying here video stillA few days ago (Oct 3), Greg and I were singing and I spontaneously suggested we go into the office and record one of our co-written originals, “Lying Here with You,” with the minimalist PhotoBooth software on the Mac.  Not fancy recording equipment by a long shot – but, wouldn’t you know, it was heart-felt, and got heart-warming responses on Greg’s website and Facebook page.

So I invite you to take a listen.  It’s sensuous and sweet.

Maybe we should all just quit things now and then.  And see what comes back.

GR.com snapshotOne more thing I was hoping for, but not too hopefully:  teaching Greg to do more of his marketing!  But that came back to me too!  I spent all day Sunday – 15 hours! – happily updating it – and it wasn’t work – it was artwork, and very satisfying.  (Greg kept me fed, and responded to my every need while I worked.)  Here’s the new design.   

I pray all our activities are exactly what we should be doing, and if we have any doubts that we have the Courage to Quit – at least for a while, to see what returns.

Many happy returns!

Rob Brezny, oyster pearls, cattle, Archons, and the meaning of MK and life

fwalogo.red-patternRob Brezny’s horoscope for Cancers this week is as entertaining as ever, and it provoked me to revisit a subject I’ve been trying to ignore for twelve years:  the nature of humans as (among other things) mind-controlled and genetically manipulated for the purposes of Others whom we’re mind controlled not to notice or talk about.

My first reading of Rob’s horoscope was so provocative that I forwarded it to my partner to read with me later, so I could delete it from my inbox and get on to other tasks.

End of day, Greg read me his horoscope – wonderful, inspiring, over-the-top with promise for what we can make of our lives and the adventure it is.

Then Greg read me my horoscope “for the week beginning October 1”:

CANCER (June 21-July 22): In the wild, very few oysters produce pearls — about one in every 10,000. 

Most commercial pearls come from farmed oysters whose pearls have been induced by human intervention. 

As you might expect, the natural jewel is regarded as far more precious.

Let’s use these facts as metaphors while we speculate about your fate in the next eight months. 

I believe you will acquire or generate a beautiful new source of value for yourself. 

There’s a small chance you will stumble upon a treasure equivalent to the wild pearl. 

But I suggest you take the more secure route: working hard to create a treasure that’s like a cultivated pearl.

Why did I about swoon with that?

And why did I suddenly remember a woman I only knew by name – nine years ago – until the night she spoke to me at a gas station on a lonely dark road in Cochise County, south of Elfrida, Arizona.  She was nearly hysterical as I stood listening, truly having compassion, but unable to offer her any consolation, and knowing that no one could.

She’d heard – I don’t know how because I kept it a secret – that I’d had “alien” experiences; she had too, and she began to relate how she finally understood reality:  we are like cattle to Them, nothing but cattle, and They will do anything to us that They want.

She saw no point in living – and said this not with despair, but as much impassioned hysteria as a person could show while trying to convey a secret to the only person in the world who might get it – standing next to gas pumps with the clerk looking out through the window.

I don’t remember anything I said in response.  I had no hopeful words.  I’d been suffering all sorts of weird things in my hermitage – going up into the sky with no other memories, highway stops while immobilized with missing time and no other memories, waking unable to move while people seemed to be moving furniture in my house, being hit between the eyes with a beam and immobilized, waking with a healed thyroid scar on my neck, and a hundred other weirdnesses.  I was trying to be brave and figure it out, learn whatever spiritual skills might make me a warrior able to keep Them at bay, and maybe offer help to others.  I had no energy for hysteria, but I understood hers very well.  Perhaps some inner parts of me were agreeing, “Yeah, that’s how we feel,” while my outer alter just stared.

She was going to flee her land.  She was outa there.  She’d invested the last decade and all her money there, and now she didn’t know where to go, but she couldn’t stay.  She might just run, live in her truck forever, and make it hard for Them by never staying in one place.  It might be horrible, and maybe They’d chase her, but she couldn’t stay.  Could not stay.

The last I saw of her, this woman whose name I can’t remember was driving away in her old truck with a hand-built wooden house on the back, tearful and hysterical.  I worried for her and was frightened that her theory of being like cattle wasn’t one to simply dismiss.  It fit all our symptoms, and had obvious metaphors in nature and in human nature.  Thank Goodness there were other theories to entertain, less scary, but not all symptoms made sense with each of the theories.

MV5BMTQ2NTQ1Mzc2NF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMDE2NjAxMDE@._V1_SX214_AL_For nine years, until very recently, I’ve mostly evaded the question:  What is the nature of these experiences, and is the cattle metaphor in any way instructive?  What other metaphors should we entertain?  Stepford Wives?  Invasion of the Body Snatchers?  Or which, if any, of the many other theories espoused by ET enthusiasts and ET fear-mongerers?  I’ve come back to these questions now and then, but never stayed on the subject long until recently, when I began tracking my fractured (but “high-functioning”) mind with my new Journal/Notebook.

I’d been playing with this idea that the Controllers are not evil, just inconsiderate – which has this going for it:  The theory is compatible with the rest of nature.  In fact, it’s suggesting that our experiences are caused by beings just like us (not strange at all!), treating us just like the way we farmers, ranchers, scientists, and consumers treat other beings or endorse with our dollars.  We’re not evil, we’re just  doing what nature – Nature with a capital “N”?  or human nature?  whatever – has evolved us to do.

It’s been a week or so I’ve been facing this idea more squarely:  of mind control not as an “evil” thing, but simply what we do to other animals and plants being done to us.  Then Rob Brezsny’s horoscope arrived in my inbox – though I’m not sure he wrote it the way I interpreted it.

Greg read Rob’s horoscope again to me, and I commented after each line.

“In the wild, very few oysters produce pearls — about one in every 10,000.”

I did not know wild pearls were so rare.  I did know that commercial pearls are made by irritating the oyster with a piece of grit inserted artificially between its shell parts, which it otherwise keeps from happening quite well without this intrusion.  Insulted, it secretes juices that coat the grit and harden into a pearl, which doesn’t bother the oyster as much, I presume.

I wasn’t sure Rob wanted me to identify so strongly with the oyster, as opposed to, say, a connoisseur of pearls, but I couldn’t help it.  Oysters are yet another species on this planet treated to weird manipulations to make them do what someone else wants, in this case, secrete juices that have value to the human in the form of pearls.  As a mind control subject, made amnesic and multiple for someone else’s purposes, I relate to the oyster.

Cattle are similar, but who wants to think of themselves as cattle?  (Maybe it was that metaphor driving my neighbor acquaintance most hysterical.)  What if we thought of ourselves instead as oysters with a pearl of beauty inside – sure it was someone else’s plan, but oh well, that seems to be our fate.  Would it be better to rant about evil government or aliens or both?  I think it best to try to understand from as wide a perspective as we can (using metaphors to try to understand reality in other dimensions), and if the reality is that we’re like cattle or tomatoes or oysters, then we might as well know that and make the best of it.

I like the idea of being an oyster, even if forced to deal with irritating grit to make a pearl – at least it feels better than being a cow, or – here’s another theory – an energy source for Archons – that’s reality as espoused by no less than the writers of the Gnostic (pre-Christian and Christian) gospels – but it’s just as disturbing to me as being cattle.  So I’ll work for a while here with the oyster metaphor.

Back to Rob’s horoscope:

“Most commercial pearls come from farmed oysters whose pearls have been induced by human intervention.”

As I was saying.  And today they don’t just put little pieces of grit inside oysters; they’re putting big disks of metal inside to create big disk-shaped pearls, and other irritating objects, just for something different in human jewelry and fetishes.  I wonder how the mute oyster feels about that.

And what an appropriate extension of our metaphor! – Earth as a big oyster farm (we humans as the oysters), in which they’re inserting programs and technologies into us, not caring a whit whether we’re uncomfortable, unless we cost them.

(That’s why I’ve considered suicide so often:  I want to cost Them!  In my gloomiest days I have figured, with numbers, it’ll be the only feedback their organism/organization will heed to decide to run their operations with better care and concern for their producers.  Of course, I have my reasons for not offing myself, but it seems to make sense, from a “scientific farming” and business feedback standpoint.  The plant, oysters, or cattle must sicken or die and cost Them money before They change their practices.  But I digress.  And: apologies for being “dark.”  Just being practical, “problem-solving,” as I was trained so well to do.)

“As you might expect, the natural jewel is regarded as far more precious.”

Another interesting analogy:  A human being with some accidental grit (some traumatic accident) that made them, say, a multiple-personality mystic/shaman – they would be rare and more valuable – as they are.  And because they’re rare, they’re able to be cared for properly and supported in their tribe, “precious,” like a wild pearl.

But there’s very little precious about it when everyone is given grit (the irritating mind control of this culture), and no one is left with the energy to value or care for another.

“Let’s use these facts as metaphors while we speculate about your fate in the next eight months.”

Eight months?  Are you just having fun, Rob, or do you know something that entails 1/12th of the world’s or America’s population experiencing something life-changing the beginning of next June?  Ah – we’ll call it poetic license – and I’ll let that question go.

So what about these metaphors, Rob?  Enlighten us, please.

Unknown

(I should have said earlier that I really love Rob Brezsny’s book Pronoia Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How All of Creation Is Conspiring To Shower You with Blessings.  I think it saved my life once.  So I make this plea with only a little exaggeration.)

“I believe you will acquire or generate a beautiful new source of value for yourself.”

I like that.  I’ve been working at finding some value in what has been done to me.  (Sorry I can’t just think about “value for myself,” but I can hardly conceive of myself anymore as anyone other than someone who was mind-controlled and is struggling to be free.  But, having said that, I promise to keep an open mind that I might actually discover “new value for myself.”)  But I have to admit I’m geared to discover a new value for what has been done to me – this thing I think is depicted so well in the farmed oyster image.

I already do understand some value in my childhood programming:  When I want, and when I’m not interfered with, I can focus on a task and accomplish a great deal, successfully synthesizing skills and understandings from various vantages, even testing as genius levels sometimes; I can sense things in other dimensions and sometimes work successfully in those realms; and … uhmmm, I think there’s more, and I hope to become clearer about them in the next eight months.

(They better be worth all the ways in which I’m sometimes a mess, with amnesia, alter switches, lost time, bad memory, social isolation, difficulty keeping or wanting to keep a job, and all the Taser burns, biopsies, surgery scars, and other physical wounds I wake with over the course of a year.)

“There’s a small chance you will stumble upon a treasure equivalent to the wild pearl.  But I suggest you take the more secure route:  working hard to create a treasure that’s like a cultivated pearl.”

I can work with that.  I can see we’re all working with some sort of grit injected into us, and our task is to secrete some juice (I like that metaphor too) around it and turn it into something beautiful.

I’ve certainly been trying.  I feel on pretty solid ground, now that I’ve been tracking my mind with my Notebook/Journal, and now that I know (or fairly-certainly suspect) I’m a farmed oyster, I can let go all the fantasies of living in a natural world and society I supposedly helped create and just settle down to live within realistic parameters.

(Of course, They tell us all the time how we evolved here on Earth naturally, and we created this culture ourselves, even though we can see we haven’t been living naturally in a natural ecosystem for a long, long time.  And now we’re waking up to discover we’re in a factory farm!.  But of course:  “As above, so below.”  Or is it, “As below, so above”?  To secure the metaphor, and the irony, some of us eat factory-farmed shrimp, salmon, and other GMO foods, completing the circle.  Damn, maybe some of us even become a food source for some factory-owner/Archon.  Fractal harmony.  And our progeny will survive if we make a pretty pearl.)

(Uh oh.  Do we want our progeny to survive?  If not, perhaps that’s why They keep the whole farm a secret and tell us we live in a natural world and culture of our own making, assuring us that mind control and “aliens” aren’t real, so we won’t know enough to consider such a question as whether this is a world for which we want our children to live.  But I have digressed again.  And into a dark area, for which I apologize, but isn’t this the task of life?  To explore ideas that seem to make sense of things?)

In any case, I want to know our reality, even if it turns out we’re living in an oyster – or human – farm.  (And I’m not the only one, of course.  Others have espoused plenty of variations on this theory:  hell planet, prison planet, Archon food source (the righteous Gnostics, after all!), etc., so this isn’t a unique idea that should be shocking to good people.)

Believing the oyster farm is as good a metaphor as any, I still think I’ll stay here on Earth and keep working on my pearl.  I don’t know why.  Maybe because I’ve been here 62 years, and I’m starting to like life now (with the help of good people like Rob Brezsny and, nearby, my friends).  Of course, maybe I’ve been programmed to stay as long as I’m useful to them.  I don’t know.  Mostly I think I want to be around to give advice to my kids when they ask me about this crazy stuff some decade in the future.

Certainly, life is sometimes more harrowing than I think I can take, and sometimes it’s absolutely inspired – like when we sing, tend the garden, and make our place suit us aesthetically and functionally.

And sometimes I believe we really can create something brilliant, of value, like a pearl.

Sometimes I even understand how irritation, like death, is necessary in that creation.  And having been through a lot of it in this lifetime, I think I’ve begun to see its value – even if I resent the hell out of it sometimes.  Thanks, Rob.

Saved by My Journal/Notebook!

 “I’ve been like a balloon in a storm for twenty-one years, and finally I’ve set down!”

– Benefits

– How it works:  Journal pages and Daily Check Sheets

– Additional pages:  Alter descriptions, DAAA, to-do’s, scribbles, art pages, meditation help.

– Finishing a “Chapter”

 

daily check sheet 2I really love my Journal/Notebook – the one I wrote about here, and will write more about now….

This notebook/journal has been amazingly empowering!  It helps me compensate for my fractured mind, and helps me track thoughts that I otherwise lose track of, so I can actually develop ideas and follow through on them.  It is such a relief!

To review:  I use a timer every 30 minutes (Yes, I know it seems crazy, but it works for me and sometimes I absolutely love it) every day to make me stop, remember what I’ve done for the last 30 minutes, write it down so I can remember later (otherwise, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t), breathe deeply, remember not to move too fast, say any necessary prayers, acknowledge things I have to be grateful for, and make sure I’m on track for what I want to do.

The Journal Pages I write on require me to write the date (many times a day), day of the week, phase of the moon, time, page number, and a code just before the writing lines to indicate journaling, activities, dreams, meditation/prayers, summaries (more about this later), and planning (J, A, D, M, S, or P) – so I can find things later more easily.

I drew these pages by hand (I like the look and feel, and it reminds me it’s my idea) and every so often I make thirty copies, hole-punch them, and put them in my notebook.  Today, after almost 2 months, I’m on page 173.  A moveable paperclip marks the current page and is easy to read through.

Daily Check List
As soon as I began using this Notebook/Journal, I realized I needed a Daily Check List to help me do a number of things that I have intended for years to do more consistently, but just haven’t been able to, as all my alters aren’t equally on board, I guess.  My checklist I did design on the computer, maybe because it was the sort of task enjoyed by my business woman alter – and I suspected I’d be updating it, and it was long.  On the top of each page, I fill in the date, day of the week, phase of the moon, and maybe a note at top to identify any specialness that day, such as a big community event or waking to a big rain.

The first line of the Daily Check List is for noting the hours I slept and how I feel.  The second line is to note whether I remembered any dreams (which would be detailed in my journal pages) and first thoughts of the day.  If I forget to remember my dreams, I have to acknowledge that, which helps me be more conscious the next morning.  And if I’m wondering how I’ve done on that count for the past while, I can see it at a glance by flipping through these pages.

Third, I note the time I meditated, prayed, or sat listening that day, and add a page number for reading details.

Fourth, I note the time I first set the timer for the day.  Sometimes I don’t set it at all, but usually I’m happiest when I set it for the whole day, and let it bring me back to record the route of my wandering consciousness, and remember that I’m taking control of my own mind – which makes me feel proud a couple dozen times a day!

Fifth, I note whether I took my supplements that day.  Sixth, I note what vegetables and fruit I ate, and any junk.

Seventh, I note what exercise I got that day.  Eighth, I note whether I was out in the sun, which is always good for me, especially for Vitamin D.

Finally, ninth and tenth, I write down my accomplishments of the day and next goals.

Some days, there are blanks, but I don’t kick myself for it.  More and more, I’m feeling very pleased by myself.

Not only have I pinpointed problems, tested and brainstormed my own solutions, and documented progress on practical goals, but I’ve made progress on important philosophical questions that help me put a framework on my situation that helps me understand and break down some psychological hurdles that have kept me in some trenches for decades.

I can’t say I’m out of the trenches, but one evening, with the help of my journal and all the record-keeping that has flowed out of it (yes, there’s a bit more to share), I was able to state some important truths for the very first time and after Greg and I had discussed them, I cried, “I’ve been like a balloon in a storm for twenty-one years, and finally I’ve set down!

Other sections
While the current page of the Daily Check Sheets is the first page when opening the notebook (where it’s easiest to read and write on all day long), and the Journal Pages are next, after those sections are a few others:  “Alters,” for recording information on various alters (which I’ve previously forgotten or ignored! – now each having their own pages or a few, hopefully to keep growing as I understand better and integrate or heal them more completely), a To-Do list (to be integrated into my calendar or written about at the computer as Spirit moves), art pages, Meditation Help/ideas, and a chart I designed and call “DAAA,” for recording Dreams/sleep, Anomalies, Activities/accomplishments, Alters/helpers, and other important notes for each day.

I created the DAAA template (which I copy every week or so) with columns (hand-drawn) across two pages.  Horizontal rows are drawn in after recording each day, so I can conserve paper when little happened, and I can use all the space I need when a lot happens.  I usually can get a week or ten days summarized on a two-page spread.

This lets me look more easily for any patterns between sleep/dreams, moon phases, energy levels, anomalies, my activities, alters who’ve emerged, etc.  In the past, there has often seemed little correlation, except that anomalies have often been accompanied by exhaustion – but not always; sometimes it seems the controllers give me the equivalent of a “vitamin shot,” and after a weird night, I race around with energy to spare.  This chart serves my curiosity about this, and will hopefully help me understand what all goes on.

I’ll probably redesign my pages in order to track things in a different manner now and then.  And anyone who likes this idea should think about how their mind works (or doesn’t) and what sort of compensation they need, and design accordingly.

Finishing a Chapter
When I was on journal page number 109, my notebook was beginning to be difficult to open and close the rings, and coincidentally I realized I was feeling at a point of completion in one area of my life – time to close a chapter!  I pulled all the pages out that had been written on (except for alter pages which probably will stay for a long time in my main notebook, until there’s some completion with them), and I put the “first chapter” of this healing phase in a notebook on the shelf.  In the mostly empty original notebook, I still had the templates, Alter pages, Meditation Help, and unused Journal Pages and Daily Check Lists.  I numbered the next Journal Page “110,” and kept right on going, with a sense of something important completed and very well documented – and a new chapter being written, by me, directed by me, my mind and life – documentably – under my control.

A New Healing Practice!

This was posted originally at my MKGarden Healing Church blog.

I’ll explain the practice in a moment.  But first let me share my journal entry – written just now – about it:

I love this timer and this practice!! I LOVE knowing what I’ve done all day.  I used to have to ask Greg, or struggle to remember, and feel guilty because I was never sure if I was being lazy or not taking care of myself.

This is GREAT!!  

I feel like living, like it’s worth it, and like I’m NOT running to catch up because I’m not sure if I’m working hard enough or getting anything accomplished.  I’m working with more energy, but not pushing myself.  I feel self-possessed, and strong.

What a feeling to know.  

I’ve needed this book for SO LONG!!

daily check sheet 2What did I do?  I went back to doing what I used to do as a business person – what helped me handle things with quite a bit of skill:  I kept a somewhat complicated datebook of my own design, made to manage exactly what I needed to manage in a manner that took into consideration my particular brain and its quirks.

To develop it, I thought a lot about how my mind works.  (I didn’t know I was multiple then, but I knew I absolutely needed my unique calendar or was lost.)

Since 1993, though, I haven’t wanted to use a datebook of any design unless I had to.  It represented rigidity and someone who might not be open to possibly-blessing serendipities.  So, for the last 21 years, I’ve only used calendars as often as I’ve needed them.

I tried to keep them away from me, as if they’d end the intense spiritual phase of my life which had amplified amazingly when I’d moved to the desert, gotten rid of my calendar, and opened my mind to immediate experiences of sunrises, sunsets, birds, insects, wild animals, weather, light, dark, hunger, food, thirst, water, walking, resting, waking.

While that triggered the most powerful time of my life, very healing, it also triggered some understanding of things very frightening, but important – for understanding simple reality.  It helped me begin a long hard struggle toward healing.

So I didn’t want to return to the calendar-mind.  No way.  I was proud to be oblivious of time.

But I also lost of sense of knowing where I was, what I’d experienced, and what needs to be done.  I’d acted as though vision and inspiration were enough.

(What irony, as the work I’ve always done has been teaming up with visionaries to “put legs on the vision and make it walk.”)

But no one was my manager to put the legs on.   I tried, but without help with self-discipline, I have too many selves to keep things moving in a productive direction.  I’ve been staggering around directionless for a pathetically long time.

A few days ago, after I read about this Full Moon today, I became motivated to prepare myself to catch the wave of this powerful energy.  I thought more about my mind and what help I need.  I decided to design a notebook for a new sort of business:  the business of healing myself.

I – a manager at heart – finally, after 21 years trying and failing to do too much in my head, have designed a system for myself.

First, I made daily check sheets that remind me of all the things that are important for me to do each day, that I want to do, that support this most important thing in my life – my healing – but that I often forget to do, maybe because I’m mind controlled to forget, but in any case, I forget way too often.

They’re simple things:

– Write dreams or first thoughts
– Note the time
– Take supplements
– Eat lots of vegetables
– Eat lots of fruit
– Drink herbal medicine tea
– Track use and reaction to herbal medicine to assure correct dose
– Be aware of physical and emotional energy
– Meditate/self-inquire/pray
– Walk, exercise, or do yoga
– Time in garden
– Summarize highlights of the day before
(and the week on Sunday, the month on the New Moon, and the year on the Winter Solstice)

The check sheets also include places to remember things thought of that day:
– Things to do
– New goals and reiteration of goals
– Day’s accomplishments 

At the top of each page is the date, day of the week, and phase of the moon, which I like to attend to (part of my research).

And one more, most important, item:  Under “Write dreams or first thoughts”: “Set timer.”

Yes.  It’s not crazy-making.  It’s the opposite.

First I chose a lovely chime on my phone.  Every morning now, I set it for 30 minutes, and reset it constantly throughout the day.  (I even did it yesterday when visiting friends.  I kept it in the next room, so I could do my record-keeping discretely when it went off, let others think I was checking on an important call, made my notes, and returned to the group.)

Here’s why it’s important:  The most important thing I need to do, as a multiple, is track my thoughts, remember them, and notice if I have lost time.

Every time I hear the chime, I reset it immediately, notice that I’m aware (or not) of the last half-hour, and write  a word (or more) about what has happened in the last 30 minutes.  Takes less than a minute, but it makes me feel in charge.

It doesn’t feel burdensome because it was my decision.  I was expecting it to be helpful, but it has also given me a major boost in my confidence – and I feel happy every time it chimes because it reminds me that I created this way to cope, and I’m proud.

I even caught a bit of “missing time” on my very first day, and said to the alter who must have been out during the chime, “Wanna talk?  I’m strong enough to listen.  I would love to help and will do anything you need.”  I’m still waiting, but I haven’t had any missing time since then.

And at the end of the first day, I could see all I’d accomplished – exercise, supplements, energy work, good food, everything I wanted – and I felt great.

I’ve also been noting when I use my herbal medicine, so I can keep perfectly disciplined about how much I use, how often, and notice any corresponding reactions.  Any course correction I want to make is informed by clear memory.

(Why did no therapist ever suggest this??)

So, that’s the routine.  Every thirty minutes, the chime reminds me to breathe, relax, remember what I’ve been doing for 30 minutes, and record it.  I re-set the time, write what I’ve done for the last 30 minutes (sometimes a single word), how I feel, and anything else I want.

How the notebook is organized with a journal:

The current daily check sheet is right on top – best place – when I open the notebook, with previous daily check sheets behind.  Each day, a new one goes on top.

Behind those pages is a divider followed by my journal pages.  Since I write many pages a day, I refill it frequently with thirty or more blanks at a time.  To easily find the current page, I have a sticky-note attached to the back of the page before it, hanging out like a tab, so I can easily grab it and turn all the used pages at once.

Since I needed a way to record my thoughts, but also want to be able to look separately at dreams, accomplishments, and meditation/prayer, apart from my stream-of-consciousness journaling, I created a template that lets me record everything chronologically, but lets me see easily which category things fall into.

I hand-drew the template page (hand-drawing feels better, less rigid).  The pages, copied from the template, are filled mostly with lines for writing, with a space at the top for the page number – to keep this record of my life in careful order, hopefully with fewer and fewer missing gaps.

On the left are columns for noting date, day of week, phase of moon, and category of writing (A = Accomplishments, D = Dreams, J = Journal, M = Meditation/Self-Inquiry/Prayer.)

On the right is a column for the time I begin and end any passage, and I also record the time at the beginning and end of each page.  Right of that is a column for “notes” to point out things I don’t want missed.

If I am so into my writing when I begin or end a new page that I forget to note the time and don’t realize it until I am not sure of it, I write “oops” – to not reinforce the word forget – but to cheerfully encourage myself to do it next time.

So that’s the full Practice:  Daily check sheet of everything I want to do.  Daily summary of accomplishments and goals for the next day.  I’m reminded to breathe and relax every 30 minutes.  I feel in control of my life, in a very positive endeavor, which is showing results already.  The minutes it takes is not a hassle, but a joy.

I’ll soon sew a cloth cover for this notebook, with pockets for pens, phone, and paper things that make me happy, right now a collection of birthday cards given me a couple of months ago.  It’s good to be reminded every day that there are people who love us.  No reason not to carry those things around!

It’s my compensation package – what I need to compensate for my fractured mind – designed perfectly for me.  It makes me feel like I’ve given myself back to myself.

Extras:  A section for “scribbles” – I use when my mind is going too fast (or too many alters want to talk at once), where I can quickly jot brief notes to write about when the current subject is complete.  Art pages (and maybe a pocket for potential collage items for those art pages).  And even a page for my current best “talk to myself” for when I don’t feel like meditating!

Whenever I might take on a big project with multiple steps, I’ll add a section for planning pages that can be consulted or added to, perhaps in public, without searching through personal stuff.

And as soon as I figure out some other quirk of my mind, for which I need compensatory help, I’ll design a solution.

When the notebook is filled, I’ll remove all the pages at once, drop them in a file, and begin again.

I will post on how this continues.

Hope it’s helpful to someone out there.

Shamanism, Mind Control, Christ, “Aliens,” and Me

[This no longer reflects my views on shamanism and Yeshua.  For an update, see this blog.]

What is shamanism?  How do I relate to shamanism?  Is shamanism dangerous?  How does it relate to mind control?  Am I a shaman?  Am I dangerous?  Where does Jesus fit in?  Who are “aliens”?

imagesFirst, What is shamanism?

Shamanism exists across all cultures under different names, but the Siberian word has come to stand in for our contemporary understanding of the global, cross-cultural practice.

In all cultures, a few people (some estimate 2% or fewer) seem to have greater ability than others to perceive energies and intelligences in other dimensions and are often encouraged by their tribe to spend time in this practice of perception for the good of the people.

(The exception is for those born into a society hostile to or afraid of other dimensions, in which case, the shamanically-inclined person’s perceptions will be discouraged subtly or violently, i.e., those born in the United States.)

The natural shaman who is allowed to explore his or her facility will devote the majority of his or her life to learning to perceive more clearly, learning to protect him or herself from dangerous energies or intelligences, learning to communicate with useful and benevolent intelligences, and learning how to apply what they learn to help their tribe.  They will be an important source of knowledge to the tribe, for instance on growing and harvesting food and medicines, knowing of food game migrations, knowing the approach of strangers or bad weather, and healing for various illnesses, physical, emotional, spiritual, and social.

DVD template dollMany shamans are those who suffered at least one serious trauma at a young age; it caused them to leave their body and thereby experience the multi-dimensional world beyond the mundane.  For this reason, at least one tribe that I’ve heard of, when in need of a shaman, creates one intentionally by inducing a trauma on a young child in a carefully proscribed way: they separate a child of speaking age away from the tribe but within hearing distance in a cage where he or she is kept for a few years, cared for in a minimal way, but never spoken to or spent time with other than necessary.  The child can hear the tribe, but cannot interact and so eventually begins to spend more time separating psychically from the mundane and social life of the tribe and turn his or her awareness toward the larger cosmos.  This larger world, of course, includes other dimensions with other intelligences that they begin to interact with and with which they develop strong relationships.  Eventually the tribe retrieves the child and reintegrates him or her with honor back into the tribe, but the young shaman is never again like the rest.  For the rest of his or her life, the shaman will perform the daily work of seeking and delivering information and skills the tribe needs for survival and well-being.

Shamans generally communicate most effectively with intelligences in other realms when in an “altered” state of consciousness, which they self-induce by way of drumming, rattling, dancing, and sometimes using plant medicines.  From the standpoint of those trained in church settings, with hymn books, “Sunday clothes,” choir robes, and certain proscribed decorum, especially of First World America, these methods may seem superstitious and perhaps frightening.  This is, of course, a matter of cultural indoctrination.

How do I relate to shamanism?

The United States of America, of course, is not a culture that appreciates shamanic wisdom, but rather is hostile to it.  So when I, as a young child, had interactions with child-like angels, went into portals at night (which came to me, though I could never open them on my own), and spoke with plants and animals, I learned quickly to keep these things secret, and soon decided to put them out of my life.  Of course, when I began school, there was no time to investigate further with a schedule of American “education” and entertainment – probably designed so – and I soon “forgot” about my experiences.

I also remember the time I was told by beings who seemed like my family on other dimensions that I wouldn’t see them for “a very long time.”  I was devastated and pleaded for them not to go away.  They assured me it was necessary and they’d be watching over me, but I wouldn’t be able to be with them again for a long time.  The unspecific “long time” was additionally distressing, as I had nothing to look forward to.  They insisted I trust them and do my best on my own, promising they’d watch over me.  (I recognize, with this story, that I can’t entirely blame America for discouraging my shamanic awareness; it might have been required anyway, for some reason I do not understand.)

As an adult I continued to experience occasional “non-normal” events, much less frequently, but still very amazing.  I kept quiet about them, and this inclination was reinforced when I witnessed the mockery dealt to those who told of experiences like mine.

In 1994, at age 42, when my own children were on their own, I moved to the desert of Cochise County, Arizona, where for half of each week, I spent my days without clocks or calendar, eating when hungry, sleeping when tired, watching sunrises, sunsets, weather, animals, and the landscape changing with the seasons.  I read and wrote about whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, and spent every sunset outside.  The other half of the week, I attended graduate school for creative writing, and lived on student loans, which allowed me this indulgence.

teepee under oaksAfter a year, I left the hermitage but returned in 2000, uncertain what I would be doing, but willing to live (simply, with no mortgage and few other expenses) on credit cards – for at least awhile.  The freedom I gave myself seemed to open doors, and I was soon experiencing a wealth of non-normal events, which a friend put words to:  a shamanic initiation.

Is shamanism dangerous?

That’s like asking if the world is dangerous.  Yes, depending on what you do in the world or the other realms.

Some shamans don’t use discernment, get conned, and connect with evil or troublesome intelligences on other realms and are subsequently known as bad shamans, bad ministers, witches, brujos or brujas.  (Good ones are known as shamans, good ministers, curanderos, curanderas, also brujos or brujas, witches, and many other names.)

How does this relate to mind control?

Bad shamans, I assert, can also be created by others – similar to the tribe’s method for good purposes, but this is done by controllers for potentially very dark purposes.

This, I believe, is a barely understood aspect of the darkest sort of mind control (MK), in which the subject is trained in psychic skills for other’s purposes, not for the good of the tribe.

Milder forms of mind control are of course also practiced broad-scale on the general populace, but I’m writing here about the darkest aspects of a most intense version of MK practiced on selected individuals, which involves the creation of amnesic super soldiers, couriers, spies, assassins, and sex slaves – and among them individuals with enhanced psychic abilities for remote viewing and more.

Our nation’s intelligence agencies have been highly interested in psychic powers for many decades, at least.  And many adults who were made subjects of mind control experiments as children recall being tested for psychic skills.  (I don’t have this particular memory, but I remember little other than MK intake and nightmares afterward.  And I have noticed profound psychic events most of my life.)

If those intelligence agencies could train an army of psychic spies, of course they would.  But they would need to make the psychic/shamanic spies totally loyal to them, and amnesic.  The subjects’ shamanic skills might not even be known to the subjects and would be totally in service to the controllers.

I believe the process they put us through – mind control, or MKULTRA – included a perverse variation on the ancient, but apparently rare, tribal practice of creating shamans, only they isolated us and tortured us brutally, so that we’d be both amnesic and totally subservient.

It seems to have worked well enough, judging by the number of people who believe they’ve been used as psychic information gatherers for most of their lives, with memories of remote viewing (some of my experiences) and even some with memories of conducting spiritual warfare on behalf of others.

The army of MK subjects is aging now, and our control may be breaking down.  With age, mental structures – including amnesic barriers – begin deteriorating.  Memories that were supposed stay hidden begin to arise, and the controlled ones begin to put together pieces of what happened to them.  Then, controllers have to weigh the risks and benefits of keeping them in service.  They may still have value, may still perform their duties regularly enough, but they need reprogramming more and more often.  I believe I’m in this latter category and that the frequency of physical wounds left on my body are evidence of this.

Some of us are also talking and educating others.  That creates more work for someone in the system to discredit us or divert our communications efforts.  If we become too much trouble, then they apparently kill the individual.  But if they can manage the downsides without too much effort, they can continue using their assets (representing decades of investment).

While I’ve begun understanding all this, I’ve begun reclaiming my shamanic skills for my own uses.

Am I a shaman?  Am I dangerous?

No, I’m not a shaman.  I’m a common “shamanic practitioner” (meaning simply, at this point:  I pray daily and spend time listening and recording).

I have occasionally been used to heal a number of people, receive messages from people who’d died unexpectedly, and other shamanic tasks.   I didn’t try to do this and sometimes resisted, but spirit nudged me and I allowed the actions to flow through me.

I pray I’m not dangerous as a potentially controllable shamanic practitioner, but I don’t know for certain – which is why I quit working with activist groups and quit offering psychic, shamanic, and healing work (which I did for a very short while).  It’s even why I quit my own private shamanic practice for a while: occasionally, I’ve thought it best to try to live only in the mundane world.

(Silly me.  Once the extra-dimensional doors are open, it doesn’t seem possible to close them.  Or else our other-dimensional helpers simply need us on this plane Unknown-2

and won’t leave us alone – as shaman Black Elk described in his biography.)

DSC01357

Taser burn (second-degree, removing skin) that appeared overnight, November 29, 2010, photographed two days later.

So I still wake up with evidence on my body that tells me that something was done to me in the night for which I have absolutely no memory:  two Taser burns, four or five incidents of two or three obvious “scoop marks” or biopsies, many bruises including apparent injection bruises, lacerations inside my vagina, apparent implants in various locations, and mysteriously healed and obvious surgical and other scars – a total of well over one-hundred physical marks since I began recording them a decade ago (see photo history on this site).  Plus many incidents of “missing time,” being conscious but immobilized, sensing vibrational/dimensional changes, being shot with energy beams, and even surrounded by strange fog forcing me to stop on the highway (one of three times).

I’ve tried not to assume the worst about this, that I’m being used by others for bad purposes.  When I have assumed the worst, I’ve sought help, found none, and then wanted out of this life – but I feel very certain that that’s not best for my soul, so I stay and eventually come out of my depression.  And I try to keep an open mind to other possibilities while also enjoying life and being a useful member of my community.

A positive explanation for all these marks is that they’re left by spirit family who, for whatever reason, can’t communicate with me because of my personal and our cultural mind control or other reasons, and actually all these things (or some of them) are for good, though I can’t understand now.  But I have no support for this other than my own wish for a positive interpretation.

Where does Jesus fit in?

58d2d41dd980effea93bdd5a21a5dac5I’ve read a few times that there’s no historical evidence for the existence of Jesus, and I’ve read that there is.  I don’t know.

do know that I’ve had extremely positive experiences a few times in my life when I contemplated his teachings and also when I’ve called on him – even in thoughtless, terrorized shock – for protection.  At those times I felt, not only that Christ was a powerful inter-dimensional being who could be called on for help, but that I know him on other dimensions, have known him for many lifetimes, and we’re kin.

So why am I not a “Christian”?  I used to be.  I even used to be a Christian minister’s wife.  But I’ve had horrendous experiences with Christians, particularly in assisting my husband in wresting my children away from me for no more reason than that I believed divorce was acceptable.  So today I have a visceral revulsion to the sight of pews in a church “sanctuary.”  (I got my children back after two years.)

I consider Christ’s teachings and the Christian Church to be entirely separate things.  After all, the Church was begun by the same government that for over 300 years used murder and torture to repress his followers; so it’s obvious to me that the Roman Church was the beginning of a massive disinformation campaign to attract would-be followers of Christ and trap them in religious routines.  Protestants tried to get away from it, but each break-away group has been infiltrated and controlled in a similar manner.  Even my last church, purportedly an independent “home church” where the dozen members would meet and take turns in leadership, was diverted in its intentions by a controlling couple who not only tried to take my children away from me, but did the same over a few years with two other divorcing couples, along with putting down any discussion of social justice (a major teaching of Christ’s) as “divisive.”

When I finally realized that rejecting the Church and rejecting Christ were two different things, I had to figure out how Christ fit into my shamanically-evolving life.  For instance, would he accept my efforts to connect with and learn from power animals as well as him?

yy12Here’s my conclusion to date:  We live in an ocean of spirit, highly populated with good and bad, benevolent and evil beings, many in-between, evolving, stupid, not-so-stupid-but-not-helpful-enough-to-bother-with, and everything in between.  Perhaps it swirls like an infinitely intricate yin-yang design.  On the benevolent side is Christ as the leading light, teaching, prophesying, offering to save us and help us everyday; on the other side is everything we call evil, including mind control.

Here’s where my theology breaks from the masses:  Even though Christ is an infinitely intelligent being, and infinite in powers, he doesn’t personally, magically do everything asked of him by his followers.  I see his existence as much more natural and organic than that.  As the largest tree in the forest doesn’t “do everything” for itself, but is served by birds, insects, fungi, moss, mammals, rain, etc., so Christ is served by other connected intelligences who serve our needs as go-betweens on Christ’s behalf.

Some people call the go-between intelligences the Holy Spirit or angels, others call them devas, faeries, elementals, and even aliens.  I try to ignore the language because the cultural cartoons associated with the words get in our way of deeper, subtler understanding; cartoons are probably part of our cultural mind control, used to mock and disempower otherwise very empowering truths.

So I imagine an infinite field of intelligent energy, among which Christ is supreme, at least at this arm of our galaxy, at least for me and those of us who choose to align with him.  When we direct energy and requests his way, the same way a tree root directs a need toward fungi in the soil, the communication is heard and responded to via a series of interactions, not a simple two-part process; and our needs are met in the multi-dimensional world in a similar manner as needs are met in the natural world on the material plane, via many interactions with many parts, intelligences, or beings.

As a shamanic practitioner, communicating in the multiple dimensions, I petition Christ first and last.  Often, he seems to respond by sending a particular person, angel, situation, or spirit animal (or physical animal) my way.

I used to feel very conflicted about this, as though I were hedging my bets, not being loyal to The One – though The One is All, many say.  Then I attended a shamanic conference and witnessed three-quarters of a roomful of a hundred-and-fifty shamanic practitioners raise their hands to the question “Who considers Jesus Christ a major help among your spirit helpers?”  That gave me permission to trust my vision of this world as a great network of evolving intelligence, inside which I could align myself with Christ, but still be connected to all that was also aligned with him, which is a huge net of Life on many dimensions.

And then I read about the Avodah Zarah, a Jewish text, in which Christ was called Yeshua ben Panther – a very shamanic-sounding name!  (Similar to “Lion of Judah” and “Lion of God,” other Biblical names.)  And I recalled Christ saying that we would “do all these things [healings, he was speaking of] and more” – exactly what shamans do!

While Christians may pray to Christ each day, their practice is usually based on following proscribed doctrine – words delivered by others – which tell them how to live in this material world.  I, on the other hand, have very little doctrine, and that which I have I’ve developed from my own personal experience.

Recently I’ve renewed my dedication to devote a great deal of my time to prayer and communicating with Christ and other intelligences in the other realms, and my communications are most successful when I alter my consciousness and focus my attention into other dimensions using the shamanic practices of drumming and rattling, but that’s not always necessary.  The right heartfelt attitude is enough, but the rituals are important focusing activities.

Who are “aliens”?

First, as I’ve said many times, “aliens” is too big a concept for the word to be useful – like using “marine life” to describe everything from algae to whales to human’s submarines.

I’ll use the word, though, to indicate all intelligence not bound to this mundane, three-dimensional planet, i.e., extra-terrestrial and/or extra-dimensional beings.

Many of them are reputedly “good,” supporting our evolution, while some seem to be at the very least challenging our evolution or, at worst, imprisoning us and controlling our minds, and maybe even harvesting genetic material.  I don’t know, but others have risked everything dear to them to assert such “crazy” ideas, and I hate to say that I also seem to have evidence all these things as well.

My experience with “aliens” does not include any that seem like the typical small “grays” with large, slanted, all-black eyes.  Rather, I’ve been unfortunate to have been terrorized by the types called Reptilians on EarthReptilians, even though until they became conscious to me, I’d thought the tales were unfortunate disinformation meant to discredit the whole field regarding aliens.  I’ve also seen over a dozen UFO’s, sometimes with others as witnesses.

Many researchers have documented connections between mind control and aliens, Reptilians in particular.  And while I’ve not read much of their reporting on the subject, I’ve developed my own theory, admittedly vague (vagueness is my inclination while trying to understand multi-dimensional reality with a three-dimensional mindset – seems only honest, given the limitations of language).

My vague theory is this:  I believe that, among all the alien intelligences interacting with Earth, most are benevolent, akin to anthropologists, researchers, observers, diplomats, teachers, and prophets, and to other mindsets, angels.  But there also exists other intelligence, more self-serving, among them the Reptilians, akin to pirates, corporate resource raiders, and to other mindsets, demons.

This is the “exo-political” viewpoint.  (The word exopolitics was coined by Alfred L. Webre, JD, author of Exopolitics and former Jimmy Carter White House appointee, who called my book “an important historical document”).  He writes, “We live in a highly populated cosmos.”

(Some even say no aliens are actually evil, as “All is God,” but they are only provoking us to greater spiritual awareness and development.  I have a very hard time with this idea, having experienced childhood sexual abuse as part of my fracturing and mind control, but sometimes I truly feel this real possibility – that “It’s all okay.”)

Conclusion

anima_mundiOur already-complex, Earth-bound political views need to be expanded beyond this Earth, and thereby made even more complex (sorry to put on the pressure!), in order for us to understand our multi-dimensional reality and situation.

Until we do that, we are all mind-controlled, to greater or lesser extent, to limit our vision and laugh at anything larger, and thereby miss understanding who we are and where our dangers and our powers lie in the larger cosmos.  In accepting this simplified version of life, we remain terribly vulnerable and unable to appropriately address any of our social, environmental, political, psychological, and spiritual issues.  And indeed the world does seem incredible “stuck.”

So, even though this world wants to laugh at “aliens,” laugh at “Jesus Christ” (made such a mockery on television and in movies in particular), and perhaps roll our eyes at shamanic practice, I have to say:  I was forced to overcome my own personal aversions to all of these and was then finally able to open my mind to the reality of Christ and all the other intelligence in the cosmos.

It was difficult because I then also saw the dark energies surrounding us, and me.  Christians have tried to “save” me (again), but I’ve chosen to align with Christ in my own manner, on my own two humble feet, not under the authority of another minister.  I’ve been working (more consistently since my last dark three days) to strengthen my connections to Goodness and to break the bonds of mind control.

Like everything in life, the struggle continues.  There’s no easy fix.  (Shamans must continue to protect themselves daily).  And with each day, generally, I become stronger.  Sometimes I’ve wanted to give it up, the struggle is sometimes so difficult, but those days pass, and I find I’m stronger yet each time.

Most days, I live quite happily, a formerly “closet”-shamanic practitioner, coming out.  Sometimes I’d prefer to avoid the term shamanism, so loaded with cultural misunderstanding, but for others, the word says it perfectly.  So here I am:  A minister, writer, activist, and someone who relates to spirit in a manner we call shamanic.

Jean Eisenhower
Silver City, NM
August 9, 2014

Most Exciting Revolutionary Truth I’ve Heard in a Very Long Time ~

This video, “How to Spot a Liar,” by Pamela Meyer has been seen over 8 Million times – with 37 different subtitles added.

http://www.ted.com/talks/pamela_meyer_how_to_spot_a_liare0abd465f89c59c998d50740e2af2e024263e1a5_800x600

It’s revolutionary because it’s so simple:  Recognize truth, and challenge lies.

But first we have to realize that we’re all liars and have practiced lying since we were babies!  And so we needn’t condemn liars, but simply talk, and help each other find the truth.

Why is this revolutionary?  Because we’ve been taught to be silent in the face of lies all our lives.  Things like the Inquisition taught us that.  And now we live and breathe in a social environment of lies.

Pamela tells us that we need to stop collaborating with those lies and learn some new skills:  how to carefully talk about them.  (If she’s made a second video to help us with that, I don’t yet know, but I’ll let you know.)  Meantime, she suggests we speak carefully but truthfully about what we see.

It’ll demand new skills for a lot of people.

But that simple thing could help us save our world.

 

Wow! Feel and Heal!

healing cropRemember that old saying, “Gotta feel to heal”?

I felt so much yesterday, I could barely see.  It hurt to walk.  I wanted to die.

Today, I feel better and understand quite a few things.

I had just extracted numbers from my journal of the last 6 months and was not surprised to see the huge number of days indicating I was truly exhausted, around half the time, talking about ending my life five times, with bruises

Small bruises on my thighs are the most common - making me think of hypodermic bruises (though I usually don't bruise from shots).  What are they?  Taser marks?

small bruises on my thighs are the most common – making me think of hypodermic bruises (though I usually don’t bruise from shots. What are they? Taser marks?

and marks left on my body, and even more details I’d forgotten about (many of which I wrote about in my last blog).  It was a lot like the time I summarized 18 months and had a melt-down realizing what all had happened.

So I wasn’t surprised to feel terrible.  It seemed a natural response to my life.

But the pain had a good result:  I see some important things.

First, I realize I need to not let 6 months go by without helping myself be aware and dealing with stuff!

What was I thinking?  I think I know:  Trying to stay positive, focused on the Light (ignoring the Dark), in order to stay more easily “functional” in this crazy, numbing world.

Yeah, but that’s not very smart, as I’ve coached others before:  Survival requires we be aware of our environment!

(We teach what we need to learn, right?  So here I am.)

Second thing learned:  To accomplish the goal of being aware, I plan to take one day each week to summarize my journal of the previous seven days (I can handle that), to recognize what are the energies swirling around in my life.

e0abd465f89c59c998d50740e2af2e024263e1a5_800x600Have I ignored some lie (as Pamela Meyer challenges us not to do in the wonderful video I linked to in this blog)?  And in ignoring a lie, has it caused me to lose my strength?

Where are creative juices flowing, or where might they flow?  What do I need?  I’ll make Sunday my day for reviewing my week, since the culture makes that day more available.

Of course, there’s a daily aspect too and I will always do that, but it’s also important to go retrospective now and then for week’s view, or longer view.

I hope and pray Power and Love are flowing in you also today ~

Jean

 

 

Carol Rutz presentation

ritual abuse logoThis presentation (a transcript here) by Carol Rutz in 2003 gives a good overview of mind control and her hopeful story about her own healing:

This transcript is from a presentation by Carol Rutz at The Sixth Annual Ritual Abuse, Secretive Organizations and Mind Control Conference, August 8 – 10, 2003 at the DoubleTree Hotel in Windsor Locks, CT. Some of the topics discussed may be heavy for survivors. Survivors may want to read this with a support person or therapist. The conference is educational and not intended as therapy or treatment. All accusations are alleged. Our providing the information below does not necessarily constitute our endorsement of it.

This page has been put on the web by S.M.A.R.T., P O Box 1295, Easthampton, MA 01027 E-mail: smartnews@aol.com

Carol Rutz, a survivor of SRA and Government Mind Control experimentation is the author of A Nation Betrayed (http://www2.dmci.net/users/casey) which tells the true story of secret Cold War experiments performed on children. With extensive research and testimony from survivors, she documents experiments by the CIA to create a Manchurian Candidate. Her topic is “Healing from Ritual Abuse and Mind Control.”

Good morning,

I’m so happy to be here today and I would like to thank Neil and the other sponsors of this conference for this opportunity. Please do what you need to protect yourself, if you become overwhelmed during my talk. It you get up and leave, I won’t be offended. A certain amount of triggering information will be presented, not to hurt, but to help.

Two years ago my presentation focused on presenting the proof that cruel mind control experiments were performed on innocent children during the Cold War by the same government who had sworn to protect them. Based on my own personal experience, testimony of other survivors and documentation obtained from declassified material, I was able to validate many survivors’ memories.

When I originally set out to write A Nation Betrayed I had hoped to reach two audiences–the survivor community and professionals who help these survivors such as doctors, therapists, social workers and ministers. I soon found it was very difficult to write to more than one audience but over the last 2 years I found that my dreams have been fulfilled and surpassed.

Hundreds of survivors and professionals have written to me to express their gratitude for this body of work. I usually receive between one and five emails a week. With every letter I received, I continue to be filled with so many emotions.

1. Sadness when I hear another survivor’s story.
2. Empathy in understanding their continuing struggle to free themselves from the bonds their handlers placed around their minds.
3. Joy that I have helped them to feel “Not Alone–Not Crazy.”

1. Gratitude that God has allowed me to reach so many health professionals who in turn are better able to understand their patients and what they have been through.

This brings me to my topic today.The most frequently asked questions I receive from survivors”

1. How did you heal?
2. How did you break thru the programming?
3. Can I ever have a life again?

To answer these questions I am going to give some of the methods and procedures I used to: Show First Slide

1. Survive the memories
2. Revive found alters
3. Break through the programming
4. Integrate
5. Live Normally

I have not talked publicly about my ritual abuse, nor did I devote much of my book to it even though it played an integral part in my becoming dissociative. How does one understand and talk about the horrors of growing up in an intergenerational cult who has joined hands with Illuminati families for their own deviant purposes?

Before my memories returned–before the amnesiac barrier was broken down, I developed a strong spiritual foundation, which contributed greatly to my ability to walk through the darkest memories known to mankind. In addition to being baptized Catholic as a child, I have to admit to two full immersion baptisms as an adult. I seemed to have been always seeking a spiritual belief system that would wash away a horrible blackness I felt inside. As I began remembering the Satanic Rituals I was forced to participate in as a child, I felt for a time that no God could exist and allow these things to happen.

Which brings me to Surviving the Memories.

Most survivors would agree that they had been deprived of normal human relationships during their childhood. It tends to make us isolate, withdraw, and seek only the company of those we know, not those who will help us see what “Normal” really is. It was not until after my father died that some parts of me were set free to begin the healing process. It seemed it was finally safe for me to break away from not only an abusive marriage, but to actually choose a healthy new relationship and begin to feel safe for the first time in my life. I know for certain, that I was so programmed with fear that until I saw my dads’ body in his casket, I couldn’t ever have hoped to have a normal life, let alone recover from the Dissociative Identity that was created by Satanic Ritual Abuse, incest and government experiments.

My memories of SRA began shortly after I found I had “People living inside me.” Anyone who is DID understands what I’m saying. In 1991 after finally feeling safe and cared for for the first time in my life, I began to have flashbacks. They started when I was sitting on my husbands lap and he was kissing my neck. His face suddenly turned into my fathers. I almost threw up every time this occurred and I didn’t understand nor believe what I was experiencing–after all–I was a virgin till I was 18 years old.

AGH!! The first horrible discovery every multiple finds–their whole life was a lie. At least what they thought their life was. How do you accept the lies–the betrayal–the total breakdown in your reality? I knew I was crazy–I had to be.

Intimacy between my husband and I was almost nonexistent from that time on for almost 2 years. I couldn’t stand to be touched once the memories of what was done to me as a child started surfacing. As if incest memories weren’t enough to cope with a new development occurred. I’ll never forget the first time an alter surfaced. I began by having what I thought was a horrible panic attack. A sudden fear came over me and I felt as if my chest was going to explode. As I rode this wave of fear I literally felt my chest explode and my life changed forever. I’m sure the movie Alien with Sigourney Weaver was probably written by someone who was DID because the scene where the ugly alien erupts from that poor persons stomach is exactly how I felt at that moment.

I became a two-year-old little girl. That was the first moment an alter ever felt safe enough to appear and begin to tell what her life was like. Later, I stood next to my son and felt dwarfed by him even though he was only a couple inches taller. When I spoke my voice was not my own, but that of a small child. My God what was happening to me?

From that point on the SRA memories began to surface. I didn’t understand them at all as I didn’t know such things existed. The people I saw in hooded white robes reminded me of the KKK but what they did was beyond anything I ever heard the KKK was responsible for. My grandfather was the “Big Kahuna” of our intergenerational cult. I have traced the word “Big Kahuna,” back to a Polynesian belief system. Oral history tells of a race of beings from another solar system who came to earth and brought with them psychic abilities and huna beliefs. Members of kahuna orders have kept this knowledge alive since that time. The Illuminati family that I was given over to operated with Luciferian beliefs. Balance the good deeds with the bad and it all evened out in the end. Their ceremonies, celebrations, and rituals performed had definite purpose. I’ll explain in a little more detail later on.

I sought professional help. There wasn’t really a choice. It was that or go crazy and drown in a bottomless pit of memories I couldn’t understand. My father had always told me if I ever told I would be locked away in a mental institution, and I believed him. It was horrid to walk into the doctors’ office even though I had been in counseling off and on for several years. None of them had ever gotten close to what was really wrong with me, but then they were never faced with alters who took over the visit and cried out for help.

You know, I think it is hilarious when a doctor asks you if you’ve ever lost time, when that is the purpose of dissociation. You don’t know you’ve lost time, till you begin to become coconscious and that doesn’t happen till you are safe enough to deal with why you became dissociative in the beginning. I was referred to a psychologist who had worked with MPD patients for quite some time. Even so, he didn’t know effective grounding techniques, so I was abreacting almost everything. God we all know how awful abreaction is, even though it is effective at allowing the alters to tell and getting a really accurate picture of what took place. It wasn’t till later that we found a better way.

From the beginning my therapist encouraged me to journal. Throughout the week I allowed my alters to write and draw the details of their abuse. I simply sat down and allowed control to whoever needed to talk. This was the beginning of one of the major things I feel is necessary to heal–Finding a Voice. The other thing it allowed me to do was later Validate my experiences. Many of the cult ceremonies took place at our local zoo.

Show Slide

When I began to draw and talk about them, my doctor turned a little ashen. It was one of three times in 11 years that he said, “I’ve heard that before from someone else about that place.” Wow, talk about validation. When I went to the archives of the public library to find material on the zoo for two particular years, it was missing. Everything was there but those two years. I was disappointed but not surprised. In April of 1993 after two years of SRA memories, I was able to go back to the zoo accompanied by my husband and walk through the places where these rituals had occurred. When I left, it was a victory. We had walked through the fear, “We came, we saw and we conquered.”

I have several more drawings surrounding cult activity, but they are highly triggering. If you are interested you’re welcome to look thru this book later. It has numerous pieces of art work and validation, along with pics of alleged perps.

Finding the Voice that was taken away from you as a child can come in other ways too. Each survivor must find a way to break through the barriers within and reach out to those parts that hold the truth of their lifelong experiences. Some choose to scrapbook, some choose to playact and art therapy is yet another tool that I know some survivors use. Clay, colors, crayons, paint etc, whatever tool can be used to break through the enforced silence that has continued for so many years is effective. In our house children had nothing of interest to say. We had enforced silence at the table during meals, and were only permitted to ask a sibling to pass the food. Beyond silence being enforced, emotions were not encouraged either. Putting on a happy face was the only permissible demeanor in our house. Listen and obey were two of the Ten Commandments. Children were to speak only when spoken to.

In those early days as the bits and pieces of my life were expressed on the pages of my journal I was afraid all of the time–24-7. I was flooded with memories, flashbacks, and nightmares. Fear was my number one major obstacle to overcome before any real work could be done. I found the fear of what I might find was always worse than what I actually did find. I was afraid of remembering and I was afraid not to remember. I was afraid the cult would somehow know I was talking and send someone to exterminate me. I was afraid the memories were really true. I was afraid I was a liar and for some reason making it all up. I eventually came to accept and know that no matter what; I had already lived through the worst. Remembering, understanding, feeling and incorporating those experiences was the pathway I walked to slowly integrate my alters.

Early on multiples are not willing to accept it happened to them–we know it happened to others living inside, but not to us. People would say–“Carol, don’t you understand that if it happened to those people inside you that it happened to you since there a part of you?”

No we don’t and can’t accept that reality until we have emotionally accepted everything that statement entails. I use to collect dolls to represent my alters. It was a way of keeping them separate and apart from me. I didn’t understand that at the time, but it served a purpose to allow the pain to be tolerable until we were ready to really accept it all in totality and what that meant to the life we thought we lived. I also painted and drew pictures of my alters, because they always presented with names and faces.

Show 2 slides

Fear consumed me until I finally let go and allowed the details of my life to flow from my mind to the paper and then in therapy through my mouth. I found that letting my alters finally have a voice and speak the truth was the only way through the fear. My doctor kept reminding me, that telling and making a record of it made me safer. He would remind me if I let people know that I kept this record in a safe place, it was like having insurance. Unlike the lies all my abusers had imbedded in my mind, I found it was safer to have names, dates, and events transcribed. Who would want to take the chance of hurting me when they didn’t know if all their dirty little secrets were tucked safely away in my safety deposit box? This proved to be a huge safety net to me and as time went on, I really knew and believed that they were all liars. Every threat they had told me, every lie they uttered proved to be just that. Of course along with remembering comes all the pain, which is a necessary part of healing. Really understanding, feeling, absorbing and sharing the whole picture of betrayal and horror leads to integration and freedom.

My alters found painting and drawing to be a perfect expression for getting scenes recorded– peoples faces, places, buildings, ceremonies. I never knew what was going to be painted or drawn, I just gave my alters free reign. Years later when I actually was able to match real people and places with these, the validation was overwhelmingly powerful and helped me to understand what truly happened to me. That is what we all search for isn’t it? Validation? How can I know this is real? How can I prove this really happened?

More examples with 8 slides

Slide one- I was to undergo sensory deprivation in a box after being given a shot of curare before these procedures you see depicted took place. I believe the mountain drawing is of Mount Royal in Montreal, behind the Montreal Neurological Institute on McGill campus. The reason I show this drawing and actual picture is to show how a mind retains information even through extreme trauma.

Next slide- this is stereotaxic surgery being performed by I allege Dr. Wilder Penfield in Montreal Canada. He inserted electrodes into sleeve guides and probed my brain while someone in the room recorded what was being said. He said my brain was like a tape recorder and he just needed to take me back in time. He did this by touching different spots in my brain. They kept recording the memories induced from images in my past and later Sid Gottlieb of the CIA used them for future programming sessions.

Recently I discovered that the Soviets during the 60’s and the 70’s found that by passing a low voltage current from the front of the brain to the back, they could drop their remote viewers into the Delta State. Using this artificial means they found Delta to be the doorway to telepathic influencing, telekinesis and remote killing.

That may account for the remark I recall Dr. Penfield make, “Given Enough time and enough bodies, I can find the Doorway to the Soul.”

It was important in the early stages of recovery, before there was validation to set up a contract with my therapist against self-harm. I had to “Survive the Memories” before I could revive and integrate the alters I was finding. Because of the profound sense of Betrayal I felt and the programs that had been installed to suicide if I began to tell, I agreed to have some part call our therapist or tell a trusted individual when these urges emerged. I only ever called my therp at home twice in 12 years of therapy, but I could call the office and schedule an emergency session ahead of time to deal with these urges.

I found in order to heal, I had to own the Betrayal and every time I attempted to do it, I just wanted to give up–it was just too painful. I lived in spite of myself. Sometimes the only thing that kept me alive was the fact that everyone else kept reminding me that “They would win.” I was just stubborn enough to never allow that to happen.

My alters found their voice and began trusting my therapist to guide us through the grief of a lost childhood. What started as a mind that looked like a bunch of puzzle pieces in the early stage of recovery, began to form a border with the first three child alters. At times the incest and ritual abuse memories felt like sharp shards of glass that couldn’t be contained. Over time we learned to take that glass and allow the fiery pain to forge a beautiful canvass of our own making–one that would contain the reality of a whole person.

Assimilating and owning those experiences in order to integrate was the hardest battle we had ever fought, but we found we weren’t alone anymore. As parts were believed and self nurtured a new world opened before us. My husband and sister nurtured and held child parts and allowed them to come out and talk. They listened!! They believed!! They loved us in a healthy way. We got special presents; children’s books were read to us. I know we were very, very blessed to have people in our life that knew how to love in a healthy way. Allowing playtime for young alters such as riding the tractor, playing with a dollhouse or cuddling with stuffed animals helped too. Eating ice cream, listening to wind chimes–all those firsts were a glorious adventure once we told.

So to recap, once you find a way to survive the memories you can set about reviving the alters and set up communication so that you become coconscious. Coconsciousness is essential for safety issues as well as assimilating the material you are remembering. If you can eliminate lost time, you eliminate the power that others still may have to manipulate you and your alters. Identifying triggers is also important for safety. Many handlers set up hand signals, knocks on walls in a certain rhythm, phone ringing in certain rhythm, and words for triggering an alter to the front. For instance and easy way to get me to be a vacant mindless person was to say, “Knock, Knock.” That was installed to bring and alter to the front by the name of “Nobody’s Home.” So often in my life when I experienced trauma that was not Gov’t related, my alter Nobody’s Home would come out. You can see how easy it was for them to access and use their targets. After an operation, when they wanted to send an alter under, they would say “Rest In Peace.” This was whoever was out’s signal to go under. They would call each of our alters out by using the word “Blue” teamed with another word, such as Blue Velvet, Blue Danube, Bluebird, Blue Bayou, etc. Such simple powerful words, but until you realize how they used these to control you, they reek havoc on your system.

As I said earlier, in the beginning I was doing nothing but abreacting. I would find myself in my mind in a room looking at a closed door. After opening the door for the first time I always knew I would find a traumatic scene from my past, generally where a new alter had been created.

When I left the therapists office I would have to put what I had been working on away, so that I could effectively live during the week without being bombarded by the new material. I created an internal safe place to put the memories that we worked on in each session so that I would not be flooded in between. It was a toy box and I would set a stuffed animal on top before I left the office. During the week we would journal or not, which ever felt safe, and then let the memories back out of the toy box again in therapy the following week. This was different from the safe place my alters eventually built to go to for healing.

Later after my therapist had attended a seminar we began using grounding techniques so that while I was remembering I could also remain in the present. This was much less painful and traumatic to the system and every bit as effective as pure abreaction. My grounding technique was really simple. I taught myself that when I would begin to abreact and lose total control, I would grab the arm of the chair and bring myself back to the awareness of where I was. That insured that I was still in the present, and this happened in the past and did not have the power to hurt me anymore.

Some survivors use EMDR successfully for memory retrieval. My doctor noticed I was doing EMDR naturally during our therapy appointments. Instead of following a finger from side to side or hearing music alternately in each ear, my eyes moved from right to left, back and forth very quickly whenever I would start to remember. I think this happened because when I was experimented on I had a set of headphones on where I would hear different messages at the same time thru each ear.

Show Slide

Top Left Picture is a Positron Emitter Detector, circa 1962. It is an early version of the PET scan now in use. The PET scan produces images of how living brain cells work collectively to retrieve memories and form words–in short the physics of thinking. Bottom left picture is a Positron Emitter Detector from Brookhaven, 1965.

My drawing shows how each alter was being programmed. Detectable energy flashes were being picked up and a recording was made assuring the doctors that they indeed were working with different parts of my personality, separate and apart from the me that they would eventually reawaken.

During the 1980’s, Stargate a remote viewing project was done at Ft. Meade, using binoral beat tones that changed the brain waves through earphones. A hemi-sync device that played two different frequencies into each ear was found to produce altered states of consciousness. Perhaps the technology they used was derived from these experiments done in the 60’s on people like me and others in this room.

Lower right is a portable ect unit which many of us became intimately acquainted with.

I also did a double appointment. 45 minutes was never enough for me to accomplish what was needed. I would just be getting rolling when it was time to reground and wrap up. I hated those early sessions where I would walk out of the office and a child part would get behind the wheel, or we couldn’t even find our way to the car or we would cry all the way home. 1-½ hours turned out to be perfect. Towards the end of therapy I was commuting almost four hours, so going every other week for a double session helped tremendously.

The same visualization that was used by perps for programming enabled us to undo that programming. We created a healing place inside where anyone who chose to could go and rest and get help from other alters in healing. I found parts that couldn’t speak because of programming or being preverbal and a helper alter would agree to be used for the memory retrieval work. That part would remain grounded so that the emotional impact was not so overwhelming. I believe this is really important and could cause system wide shut down if we attempt to handle too much at one time. Betrayal, shame, and fear were powerful tools used against us.

Slowly I began to reclaim the power that was taken from me as a child. I learned that the humiliation, guilt, and degradation they heaped on my shoulders was theirs–not mine. I was able to separate the lies from the truth.

My father had tried to systematically destroy my free will by controlling my mind from infancy through adulthood. He was totally narcissistic–self absorbed and tried to possess everything and everyone, never feeling guilt. He was only interested in his personal wants, desires and needs being met, never acknowledging the harm he was inflicting on others. Even as an adult he would use triggers on me so that I would switch into whatever alter he desired whether it be for a cult ritual or for his sexual pleasure. For instance, he would put his hand into his pocket and pull out a diaphragm and say, “Remember what this is for?” I would immediately switch. BTW, it was my mother’s diaphragm.

Owning the truth of all this was devastating in the beginning, and freeing in the end. We saw ourself as a beautiful vase with a flower before the trauma. As we relived each trauma that made us split it was as if a giant hammer came down splintering the vase into a thousand pieces. As we put the vase back together through integration, we found the flower in the vase–“Our Soul” was never truly damaged. They never got to the soul of our being.

Integration means owning. I remember the first time I ever owned the incest. I was standing in the grocery store and I ran into a lady I knew casually whose father had just passed away. I told her how sorry I was, and then she asked me if my dad was still living. I told her “No he’s been dead since 1979.” She said how sorry she was and in reply I said, “No I’m glad he’s dead, I’m sure he’s rotting in hell. He was a baby raper!! He molested me from the time I was a baby.” Well, if the poor woman would have had dentures, I’m sure they would have fallen out. She quickly made her exit, and I can’t tell you how good that felt. That was the first time other than to family and my therapist, that I had admitted publicly what had happened to me. I didn’t feel shame or guilt. I put it on the person who deserved it. Wow, I knew I was healing. Over time I even lost the hatred I felt for him. I never set out to stop hating. It just happened as I healed and put the entire picture together. I could see what type of life he had lived as a child, and I never stopped hating what he had done, but his hold on my mind was loosened when the hating stopped.

Another truly wonderful validation occurred when I shared with my aunt about the incest. She was mortified to say the least, but she shared what I told her with my cousins. One of them called me and we got together and found out each had been carrying their own secrets around in our hearts thinking we were alone. By my opening up, it allowed all this to come out in the open–out of the shadows of darkness and into the light. I found that one male cousin in particular incested at least five of my female and male cousins. God, it was awful to see what legacy my family of birth had passed on. A huge healing has taken place for a lot of them too in their personal relationships and the validation for all of us was priceless. One cousin wrote to me and said, “Carol, it is because of you sharing the burden that you carried for so long that our family is starting to heal. It puts in perspective so many things for our family. It has helped me to continue in my growth process. Because of what you told my mom we are now learning what a healthy family is.”

I personally did not start breaking through the government programming until I had brought a lot of stability into my life, where I was moving from focusing on the trauma all the time to focusing on the healing and living in the here and now. I learned to stay grounded and centered and leave the old coping techniques of dissociation behind.

When I began to find the alters who had been programmed and experimented on by Sid Gottlieb, Allen Dulles, Ewen Cameron, Wilder Penfield and others I began a brand new journey. My book details that journey. Personal validation of my memories of this journey again came from my drawings and paintings and of course a lot of declassified documents. All the programming that was done to me by the CIA and Illuminati was Trauma based using things like electroshock, sensory deprivation, and drugs. Later the trauma wasn’t necessary, only hypnosis accomplished with implanted triggers and occasional tune-ups that took place at Wright Patterson Air Force Base not far from my home.

One of the first programs I dealt with was “No Talk” programming. I had a flashback of this while sitting in the dentist chair. The light they pull down and use to look in your mouth triggered it. Sid Gottlieb was standing behind a light several feet from us and grinning. It is the type of light they use for Morse code. It looked like metal Venetian blinds and it was being opened and closed, allowing a blinding light to flash alternately off and on in our eyes. When the light was on someone said, “Talk,” then as the light switched off, they said “Don’t Talk.” This was repeated over and over. When they used this in practical situations, all they had to do was switch a flashlight on and off in front of my face.

Slide

A lot of my programming revolved around the Wizard of Oz. The hourglass was used in the event I would begin to remember and talk. They would tell us that if we talked the hourglasses sand would begin to run and when it was all run out we must do ourself in. We turned the hourglass on its side so it could no longer be used to threaten us. I was also told my head would explode. When I ran into this the first time, I was driving home from therapy. My head not only felt like it was going to explode; I saw a gigantic bomb with a lit fuse. I decided that I had used visualization for helping to heal other alters and since the programming they did was done with creative visualization, I should be able to undo it in the same way. I took my fingers and snuffed the wick out–it was that simple. Knowing their lies made it so much easier to dismantle the programming. These are just a few examples of creative visualization.

Another affective visualization that the system used to short circuit programming was when I found there were hidden parts. We took a giant eraser and internally started erasing all the lines to the boxes and triangles inside of us. We saw people coming out on stretchers, with bandages and others internally were carrying them on cots to the healing place.

When I was having trouble even getting close to memories we found booby traps and land mines surrounding them, so that every time we got close we couldn’t get past these. We visualized a giant pacman in our blood stream. He was sent on a search and destroy mission for any programs that were implanted and dangerous. When pacman was through destroying these he yelled, “Mission Accomplished.” Our progress after this was remarkable.

Show Slide

When I found the infinity sign or number eight on its side had been used to separate two lands in my body where alters were held, I set about to free them.  One side of my body contained Neverland and the other side contained Shadow land.  My baby alter, who was preverbal was stuck in Neverland where she never grew up.  Sid Gottlieb used
to bottle feed and hold this part and bonded this part to him this way setting up an internal dichotomy where we thought we depended on him for nourishment–food, drink, love etc.  Baby and the alter that was sent to Shadowland were told they would have eternal life if the alter in Shadowland carried out the missions he was given.  This part had psychic abilities and was trained to use the “Red Fire” to cause strokes & aneurysms in “targets.”  Anyways as you can see one land held the baby and another the alter with the “violence.”  The programmers had codes to access the baby part, and you had to go through in that order, Baby first than the codes to access the alter who used the red fire.  It was a brilliant system to be sure as the Baby was totally hooked using “Maslows Theory” to these programmers and if the body was caught their was no way they would ever get to the part that was used for missions.  The infinity symbol was drawn on a black board and reinforced repeatedly through hypnosis until all the systems were locked down tight.  I hope this makes sense. It took a longtime and a good deal of work, to find this and break free, since even after the alters found out the truth they did not want to leave their lands right away where they felt safe and come to the safe place in my system.  After some internal communication the baby was rescued from Neverland. Alters simply created a bridge and crossed from there to Shadowland. Our baby part was nurtured by our alter who was trained for killing, so it was very beneficial to both those alters. The door to Neverland was burned and holes were shot in the ceiling of Shadowland to let light through. It was patterned after a tunnel I was in at 16 where I did a psychic demo. Anyways, eventually everyone felt safe enough so that an elevator was built to the healing place and Shadowland was destroyed too.

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This drawing completely mystified me until I read a news article about an implant that amplifies brain signals, which are then transmitted to a laptop computer through an antenna-like electronic coil on the head. Researchers at Emory University implanted a tiny implant, the size of the tip of a ballpoint pen into a patients brain which allowed the patient to express his thoughts with words, through the uses of a voice synthesizer.

Many of the experiments performed on me were done to heighten and use ESP, Remote Viewing, and the energy of the mind.

If you think this psychic killing sounds far fetched you may be interested to know that back in the Sixties, the Soviet Union began to pour money and resources into the study of ESP and psycho kinesis, phenomena collectively termed “psi” by researchers in the field. Much of this psi research came under the control of the Soviet military and KGB. They also screened Red Army recruits for psychic abilities, and pumped talented subjects full of dangerous drugs to promote psi-conducive altered states. Subjects in psycho kinesis or “remote-influencing” experiments tried to stop the hearts of small
animals, or concentrated on foreign political leaders, beaming at them “negative psi
particles.”

Soviet and Czech scientists were said to be working on electromagnetic devices that would cause strokes or heart attacks, and it was even rumored that they had perfected a “psychotronic generator”, which could scramble people’s minds at great distances.

An unclassified 1972 Defense Intelligence Agency report expressed concerns that “Soviet efforts in the field of psi research, sooner or later, might enable them to do some of the following,”

1. Know the contents of top secret US documents, the movements of our troops and ships and the location and nature of our military installations
2. Mould the thoughts of key US military and civilian leaders at a distance
3. Cause the instant death of any US official at a distance
4. Disable, at a distance, US military equipment of all types, including spacecraft.”

All I can say is that we may not have all the declassified documents on what the U.S was working on, but we can be sure they were doing tit for tat what their Russian counterparts were, only a lot of it was being done on small children.

Creating a timeline was extremely helpful in my healing after I had been at therapy for a number of years. I took a storyboard that was folded in three parts. I used one color sticky notes for SRA alters, a different color for government alters and the last was myself at different ages for instance grade school and what age I was in each grade. By combining the years of rituals and experiments with where I was in school and what was going on in my life, I finally got a true picture of what happened and when. Was it hard–most assuredly. Was it one of the biggest steps in my ability to own and integrate many parts–absolutely!

I don’t believe there is only one way to deprogram. There is no right or wrong way. What is effective for one may be totally unworkable for someone else. I believe the key to deprogramming is Internal dialogue. Integration is desirable by some people and not others. That is a choice each individual makes. My integration of parts has always come naturally. No big ceremonies, just when the work was done, and the system knew we weren’t losing anything it came naturally. Am I totally integrated? No. Will I be? I don’t know. I’m high functioning without losing time. Today I can make choices for myself based on knowledge. I have boundaries and balance. I try to not let my past overwhelm me. Some days I choose advocacy and work at exposing the evil. Others I choose to just live and love and try to bring some sunshine to my corner of the universe. They took our choices away. I like having mine back.

I encourage each of you to find your voice. I believe it is your road to freedom. In closing I want to share with you something from my journal.

If you feel comfortable, I encourage you to close your eyes while you listen.

Today we allow ourselves to be led to the edge of the brook. We step into the water to wash away some of the pain of the past. We relish in the way the water nips at our chin and caresses our mind. Melodies of times past forge across our brain, and the music becomes softer and smoother as we listen. The torrent of horror is moving gently to the place in our mind where it can be woven back into notes that will make up a grand symphony. The individual orchestra players will soon no longer be heard performing their duets. Instead they will blend together–and the sounds that arise will be gentler, warmer, stronger, and more fluid. The conductor of the new piece will at times remember the individual notes played by each instrument, but only by combining them all together will this grand symphony of strength and courage fill the corridors of our mind and give us peace.

Thank You

This was taken from the site, RitualAbuse.us.  “Ritual Abuse” is an earlier name for Mind Control.  The original link:

https://ritualabuse.us/smart-conference/conf03/healing-from-ritual-abuse-and-mind-control/

Mind Control History and Politics Documented

Declassified government documents leave no doubt that mind controlled spies who don’t even know they are spies have played a key hidden role in the development of our world in recent decades.  Mind control has also been used to help people heal haunting past traumas and achieve mental states far more expanded than our normal waking consciousness.

“If we want to be effective agents of transformation, it is vitally important that we are informed of both the beneficial and the harmful aspects of this powerful technology.”

For more, read here:

http://www.wanttoknow.info/mind_control/mind-control-lesson

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The website above provides an excellent source of credible documentation on a number of subjects not covered significantly (though occasionally) by the mainstream media.

Best Film! “Human Resources” by Metanoia Films

human_resources_filmThis is the best film I’ve seen in a long time – and it covers the most important subject to America and the world today (which happens to be my own personal most important subject):

http://metanoia-films.org/human-resources/

“Brilliant…  Riveting…  The amount of material the filmmaker covers and unifies is astounding…  Human Resources diagnoses the 20th century.”

– Stephen Soldz, Professor, Boston Graduate School of Psychoanalysis; President, Psychologists for Social Responsibility

At the beginning, I thought it was a little slow, and my partner was thinking he wasn’t in the mood for it, but we were both soon swept up in the film and at the end highly impressed (even though I “already know” all this stuff), and we plan to watch it again soon.

Can’t recommend it highly enough.

THANK YOU for watching it.  We all increase our spiritual and physical survival when we know the nature of our world.

(Oh, yes, and this site – http://metanoia-films.org/films/ – has six other films that all look excellent, one we’ve seen and will also watch again.)

Peace and healing to all.

Jean

The Struggle to Heal from Mind Control

rock creek houseTwelve years ago, while living rurally as a hermit in Cochise County, Arizona, I realized I was a mind control subject – and I mean in a manner more intense than the ubiquitous birth trauma-television-education-news-political propaganda type of generalized mind control; I mean the MKULTRA-type of trauma-based mind programming done to unwitting adults and children to make them controllable, amnesic super soldiers, spies, couriers, and/or sexual objects for primarily political purposes, but also for personal sexual gratification, perverse entertainment, and blackmail.

mesmerIt’s possible this practice has ancient roots, resulting in tales of zombies for instance, but it began to be documented in Europe with the advent of popular hypnosis performances, conducted by men like Franz Mesmer, after whom the word mesmerize was coined.

Court records from the 19th century document hypnotic subjects made to empty their bank accounts for their controllers, deny their beloved families, commit crimes for their controllers, and confess to those crimes even when evidence abounded that they were innocent and acting at the command of others.

Candyjones_cover-210This criminal enterprise probably began in America when our nation brought Nazi scientists into this country under Operation Paperclip after the Second World War, presumably because our leaders were afraid to fall behind the Chinese in developing the art of the “Manchurian Candidate.”  It was funded and directed through the CIA, with numerous private contractors, as testified to by the CIA Director to the Senate twice in the 1970s.  Today there is evidence it continues to be funded through our government’s black budget.

Subjects are acquired in various ways through military enlistment, secret societies, prisons, orphanages, mental hospitals, churches, summer camps, and more.

The operation requires great secrecy and cooperation between law enforcement, courts, hospitals, and more, including organized crime.

 

It is a shock to have one’s amnesia barrier spring tiny leaks and begin delivering to my consciousness seemingly random scenes – but more than scenes – whole body flashes – of a single place, time, situation, emotion, and meaningful framework and focus of the moment.  Sometimes I experience complex memories of disturbing sexual situations – in childhood and teen years.  Unfortunately, they make a coherent sense of other strange things in my life that I’ve never forgotten.

After decades of believing your life is somewhat confusing (in ways you can’t describe) but fairly “normal,” it is a powerful psychic shock to realize you might not have always had control of your body, and your mind might at any time be overridden and your body used for who knows what.

This shock, unquestionably the most traumatic shock of my life, is what Dr. John Mack calls “ontological shock.”  (Ontology:  the study of the nature of being.)  Mack wrote:

“A worldview… is a source of security and a compass to guide us.  For an individual it holds the psyche together.  To destroy someone’s worldview is virtually to destroy that person….  People who present ideas that seriously challenge a worldview are punished—by death for heresy in the past and now by ridicule, debunking, and efforts to destroy their reputation.”  (Passport to the Cosmos, p. 34)

A worldview is like the ocean to the fish, taken for granted – until it disappears, and then it’s mind blowing, psyche destroying.  Individuals protect their worldviews and themselves as strenuously as cultures do.  But sometimes sanity and cultural healing require that a worldview be replaced.

 

me cropped from old w susanGrowing up in European America, I learned at age 50 that I was not really free, as I’d always believed, but was a slave of some unknown other.  This worldview change was so traumatic, I attest to Dr. Mack’s statement:  my psyche blew apart, was virtually destroyed.  And it was – actually – okay.

Others have called these events “spiritual crises” and in earlier decades “nervous break-downs” – for which I would later quip, “I highly recommend them.”  Other cultures call them shamanic initiations.

Why would I recommend an event so traumatic to the human psyche?

Because this “crazy” idea, this idea that destroyed my worldview felt horrifyingly right, and made sense of numerous strange amnesic events of my life, as well as physical, otherwise-unexplainable sexual mutilations.

Years later, my parents appeared to confirm this theory when they became irate at a few of my memories and responded as though they’d rather I accept them as sexual predators (suggested by a sibling) than entertain the possibility that I might have been abused by some unknown military men (two of my memories) – which they immediately presumed meant (though I never said it) that I was holding them responsible (which they would have been if they’d cooperated with the government program, as many parents apparently did in the wonderful 1950s).

Mack’s “ontological shock” is so painful, he explains, that most people avoid it at all costs, choosing instead to maintain congruence with the socially-accepted “reality,” for which they bury their own experience – unless the evidence is overwhelming.

My evidence was overwhelming, but my emotions convinced me to consider the theory anyway.  After all, I had chosen this life as a hermit in the desert, with very little social distraction, in order to learn about myself; to get away from the workaholism that had been earning me awards, getting me news recognition and Board invitations, but also stressing me out severely; and to heal whatever it was that was making life so weird and confusing.  That was the context for my life, the meaning of every first breath I drew when I awoke each morning, grateful to be surrounded by the desert.

Mind control was clearly not a welcome theory, but it was a theory, and it seemed only honest to consider it.

Besides, from the first moment I felt it ripple in gruesome slow-motion across my brain, little child voices arose from great depths, speaking, sighing, crying relief to be out of the deep, dark closet, finally, pleading, Don’t ignore us anymore.

Right behind them were fear, guardedness, neediness, devastating grief, and cynical teen coldness like I’d never felt – consciously, but ooh, it feels sickeningly, terrifyingly familiar, connected to something too sick to remember.  It shook me to my bones from the first moment.

Every day, I questioned myself, hoping to see some other way to interpret these feelings roiling inside me.  I couldn’t push down the hopeful-sounding children, yearning to be cared for, the grieving children who wanted to be heard, and fearful ones needing comfort.  Like Pandora’s box opened, my own swarming voices also included light, congruence, explanation for long-confusing anomalies, and hope for healing and leading a more satisfying future than the previous decades of confusion.

My psyche shifted, and my whole world changed, and I couldn’t change it back, though, believe me, I tried.  Every day, I tried to perceive another way.

But week by week, my sense of clarity, and of somehow having my feet on the ground like they’d never been before, were improving rapidly in ways that seemed obviously related to accepting this horrible reality that also made me cry and want to kill myself.

I made lists of the evidence, and put stars by those that had been or could be witnessed by others, and it all seemed way too much for any sort of coincidence.  I did this exercise or others like it again and again and again, trying desperately to see my world through another lens.  But I couldn’t, and my mental coherence kept improving.

Senses and reason in agreement (though not emotion), it seemed essential to step inside this new reality, but the storyline was absolutely terrifying… disgusting… painful… reviving painful physical memories, making my body jump with sensations I won’t describe, and my mind reel with shame, disgust, and wither with helplessness.

And so I wrestled with the first two major challenges in healing from mind control: ontological shock and the disabling emotions.

Emotions would be hardest to face in the first year, causing me to want to leave this life nearly every day for six months, though after a spiritually-inclined partner moved in with me, those urges became less and less in the decade that followed.

Isolation was the third main challenge.  No one wants to hear this.  It’s pretty much taboo in our culture – which serves well those who perpetrate it.  We victims are on our own, except for whatever circles of support we’re able to create ourselves.

Not knowing the next time you’ll be used is the fourth big challenge.  Trauma therapists know that if you can control the circumstances that led to a distressing event, such as not riding a horse after a fall off of one, a person can at least rest knowing it won’t happen again anytime soon.  But mind control subjects have no such assurance; they can walk out their therapist’s door and be met immediately by a stranger who might have a passcode to a hidden door in their psyche.

Every phone call, every person who visits could be the controller.  Suddenly the phone rings a lot, and I hear nothing – at least nothing that I recall.  If it only happened once, I would get over it, but phone callers delivering “silence” continued for about a year.

Once a man I absolutely didn’t trust came to my home and put me in a trance while I stood there absolutely conscious and aware of what was happening, but obedient, and let him download malware which immediately destroyed my computer.  I felt myself come out of the trance as soon as the door shut behind him.

Two and a half weeks after a beam hit me while talking on the telephone.  I seem to have been controlled to not look at it and later not photograph it until it was almost healed.

Two and a half weeks after a beam hit me while talking on the telephone. I seem to have been controlled to not look at it and later not photograph it until it was almost healed.

More than once, I’ve been hit by beams in my home, sometimes shocking and immobilizing, sometimes gentle and searching followed by a powerful amnesia-producing hit, and once I was even bruised in a solid black 2 ¼” perfect circle on my leg.  Another time I was made to do a small but embarassing thing in public that I could, literally, not do under my own control.  And I never had any way to know these things were coming.

Rarely did more than two weeks go by between events – not nearly enough to relax and pretend it wasn’t a major part of my life and maybe if I looked again I could decide it was all a bad, misinterpreted dream, and life could go back to being all about good food, the garden, and being an activist for some good cause again.

But events didn’t let up a bit for the first nine years, and I lived constantly with not knowing, while also trying to heal my split-off children’s emotions, arising whenever they or my soul help decided I had enough emotional reserves to handle one more healing event.  And I usually was able to do it, though it took everything I had out of me and I often cried for days and revisited the idea of killing myself before I recovered.

And of course, I did it all alone (after asking the previously helpful partner to leave).  And while trying to keep a roof over my head (resulting in three home refinances and one near-foreclosure).  Shock, emotions, isolation, and continued vulnerability.

(It obviously qualifies as post-traumatic shock syndrome, but mind control is a political hot potato, and when I thought to ask for disability payments a couple of years ago, I didn’t think to lie about the cause, and was denied.  The government that caused this doesn’t want the liability.  I could probably get disability for PTSD stemming from mental delusion, but my heart won’t let me lie.)

 

The psychopathology is a fifth challenge.  If I’d been able to imagine, like some “alien experiencers” do, that what might be coming next might have some sort of sense, say, an experiment to save humanity, the pain and the not-knowing might be bearable.  But because the whole of it feels more governmental than alien, the only sense that can be construed is perverted, sadistic, psychopathological, and perhaps demonic or even Satanic.

 ~

My fear is so great, it expands out of my body and into aura parts of me I never knew I had.  Those parts wail and freak at their memories awakened and vaguely lit.

Some, though, are emotionally dead, and others flash with rage or rancid cynicism.  My center personality suddenly has a great deal to manage.  Mundane life becomes irrelevant, surreal at times, and very difficult to attend to.  I only want to write or pray or kill myself.  Terror seems a terribly overused word.  I want it only for myself.  I think I have the most tragic life of anyone on the planet.

These are the memories and meanings I’ve compiled:  My brain was highjacked when I was a child.  To accomplish that, I was electroshocked and raped and had my jaw dislocated and was left hungry and cold, then was rescued by men who fed me and bathed me and I became beholden to them and even thought I loved them.  I was electroshocked more, so that new blank slates of me could be given names and consist of nothing but instructions and commands.  My basic training took two years, from age 6 to 8.  I have been monitored, tested, and updated like computer software over the decades and, I presume, used, though I don’t know for what.  I can guess, but I don’t know anything for sure.

When I first realized all this, I didn’t know who the people were, other than “government agents,” who I assumed were CIA, based on my personal and family history.  I called them “feds.”

I couldn’t stop what was happening, other than by killing myself.  If I do that, whoever “they” are won’t be able to use me against my will.  That would be good.  Their experiment will have ended.  This investment of theirs – my fractured mind – will be gone for good.  Good.

The finality of that, however, gives me pause.  One small misunderstanding could make all the difference in whether there’s any hope for me.  So it seemed my responsibility to stay alive a bit longer to check my perceptions over a little longer timeframe.  And the longer I look, the more interesting things become.

The facts of the situation haven’t changed, but my sense of self has.  I no longer feel entirely outgunned by them.  (Sometimes I wonder if they’re being more coy.  Which is it?)

For a long while, I prayed to be hit by a truck – anything not my fault – or to get cancer.  When I thought I had it, I heaved a big sigh of relief.  Thank God, I can die and no one will feel as bad as they would if I’d off’ed myself.  But I never had real symptoms.

 ~

Various parts of me have acted out (in private mostly, thank Goodness) for twelve years now.  I’ve had days and weeks of debilitating fear sometimes after waking up with unexplainable scars on my body again or being hit by beams and sleeping extremely long nights, requiring long naps, and still being constantly thoroughly exhausted, and wondering what in the Hell had I been doing during those blank nights?

Then nothing would happen for a comfortable while, though a voice of fear might kibbitz throughout the day.  I’d venture out into the world again, and people would treat me like a normal person, and my “normal” (socially-programmed) self would respond and appreciate the friendships.  And I’d think maybe my life is becoming normal…  I do seem to be developing more friends than I’ve ever had in my life…  I like it…  Maybe I’ve experienced the last of this…  I am over 60, after all, and maybe they’re leaving me alone now.

dsc01337Often I’ve written about my experiences, and then suddenly worse things happen than ever before, as if they’re warning me – like waking with a Taser burn on my arm (3rd degree burn, layers of skin sliding off, taking a month to heal) with a lethargy that would take days to recover from.  I photographed the scar and wrote about it, but couldn’t do much more than that for weeks.

Of course, I needed a job, but I couldn’t promise anyone, honestly, that I’d be dependable.  I didn’t know what to do.  I let my house go into foreclosure until my father called at just the right time and asked how things were and I told him and he bailed me out.  I didn’t care.  I was ready to move into my car and live in the forest.  Bailing me out was nice, I thought; or if he had indeed given me to the CIA for their training, for which I’m quite sure they gave him a nice exchange, then I guess maybe it’s okay to accept his help for all my troubles.

 

Twenty years of weird events… some even “alien.”  Believe me, I did not want this.  Everything else was plenty weird enough.  (I’d once ended a friendship with a man who’d talked about aliens in a coffee shop and not kept his voice down.)

Was it mind control making me think I’d passed through the bedroom teepee canvas and been drawn on a beam away from Earth?  Or was I simply insane and couldn’t tell reality from a dream or hallucination?  I’ve solicited this opinion from a few psychotherapists over the years, and they’ve all told me I was perfectly sane, except for one man, whom I have reason to suspect is part of the mind control cabal or otherwise under their persuasion.  He called me deluded, but functional.

One alien researcher says that two of the hundred-some alien races identified in supposedly top-secret documents are involved in mind control – in conjunction with the US government.  I tend to believe it could be true and that I – either soul or body – actually did rise up off this planet, but I don’t object to the possibility that it might have been a mind control illusion.

(Maybe it was my Spirit Help.  I came back from that event feeling very happy, but I’ve heard that the mind controlling aliens have the ability to change emotional states from terror to bliss with the wave of a wand.  Who knows?  We European-Americans have been cut off from our ancestral wise ones for thousands of years, and we’re given no support for any attempt to understand multi-dimensional or spiritual realities even though I know we’re born with the natural aptitude.)

 

This mind control realization began not long after I accepted I was experiencing what’s been called a “shamanic initiation.”  I’ve been warned, of course, this could be a causative connection, and shamanism opened the gates of Hell, giving entrance to these demons of delusion.

car bombI think it’s something else:  I’ve been an activist most of my life and had, just before I’d realized my mind control subjection, done media work for an historic federal trial, “Judi Bari versus the FBI.”  Every day, I had either sat in court or conferred with plaintiff and lawyers, and written media releases to be sent all over the world about the obvious and stupid lies told by agents under oath regarding the assassination attempt on an activist who’d been car-bombed trying to save the old growth forests of California.  During trial breaks, those agents would pass us in the halls and glare down at me malevolently, prolonged, threatening, confident.  (Had they put me on a list for retribution?)

I felt the shamanic powers had entered my life just in time to be a strengthening, protective power that helped me during the trial against the FBI – a 12-year source of fear after they bombed Judi – and now was helping me heal from this second but more deeply held fear of the CIA and their mind control program.

Shamanism, I concluded, was not the precipitation of demonic horrors, but simply the understanding that we live in a cosmos highly populated by spirits, good and evil, and then taking responsibility to perceive, protect oneself and one’s community, and intercede as necessary – no different than what a minister or Pope says they’re about, only the ability is open to everyone (as Yeshua/Christ is said to have said).

So shamanism seemed my best, maybe only, hope for protection.  (I was too shy to use the term though, and no self-respecting shaman uses it; it was becoming popularized, and I neither wanted to offend the spirits by assuming any capacity, and never wanted to follow, or even appear to follow, a trend, even if it was my direction before a trend was perceived.  This latter is a stupid and limiting attitude, but it seemed to be my thinking for many years, and still is to some a degree.  For many years, I’ve avoided the word entirely, but now that it’s come into social parlance, I join the conversation occasionally.)

I perceive our world from what I recognize now is a shamanic perspective, intelligences and energies dancing, sometimes in conflict, resolving, conflicting again.  And I deal with my healing first like a psychotherapist might encourage me, feeling and identifying lost and returning alters, talking to them, learning their needs, helping them integrate, leave for healing, or change their “job description” within me.  Later I clear the energy with some ritual I guess we’ll call shamanic; it’s just what comes to me.  It has always been amazing, seeing and feeling the world anew each time one of my alters returns or integrates,  giving me a greater sense of harmony and clearer energy.

Of course, I never know whether I’ve healed the last alter, or whether there are still more available for control, but I keep on, hoping it will all be worth it.

Of the last twelve years, the first four were all about coming to terms with the ontological shock, my “flight response” kicked into suicidal high gear, helplessness, and social isolation.

Eight years ago, I had become so financially impoverished that I couldn’t repair my truck or computer, therefore couldn’t earn income, and my relationship was ending.  Seeing no other option, I decided to sell my home and land and move to some small town.  I’d realized I’d been feeling like a sitting duck out there, and returning to “society” felt very attractive.  Maybe in a more populated area I’d find others who also had experience with weird stuff like this.

Once settled, I created the Paradigm Salon as a local film and discussion event, but within the year I realized that I trusted almost no one and had to drop the idea.

In regular socializing, when people asked me about myself, I didn’t know what to say.  I was still terribly shy about coming out of the closet as either an alien experiencer or mind control subject or shamanic practitioner.  Any of those could end a friendship (as I knew from being on the other side of this), but all three?

No, I would just have to reach back a decade or so and identify myself as a writer and activist.  But what was I writing about?  Or being an activist about?  I didn’t want to say.  Understandably, I was very awkward socially.

I lived in town, in walking distance to everything, but I continued to act like a hermit as much as I could.  Besides my memory was bad – or rather, my alters weren’t well-enough integrated – and I often couldn’t remember people’s names quickly enough for normal social interactions.  But when I was quick, I still didn’t want to disclose too much about myself.

Besides, the unspoken message I got from almost everyone when I did eventually try to explain my life was that people really didn’t want to hear about this.  It felt like my responsibility to keep everyone else comfortable, and that would keep me comfortable – unknown, hiding, but more comfortable than if I told my truth.  A social life that was a lie seemed next thing to pointless, but it was better than self-annihilation.

scooop cuSo I tried to pretend that it wasn’t a burning issue in my life that I’d go to bed at night with prayers for protection (or getting lax and forgetting to pray), waking relieved that nothing happened, or sometimes waking with a dreadful sense that “something did happen in the night,” maybe scoop marks on my finger or scapula or – when I posted photos of those on my website – then scoop marks just above my anus the very next night, as if to say, “Here, post these!”  Ha ha.  And then I’d spend days or weeks psychologically recovering from the hit.  And I’d continue to try to smile and act like things are normal, because no one wants to hear.

I’ve worked for respected organizations off and on for years, holding myself together for short-term work of a few weeks or months, just long enough to get a good paycheck, then make it last as long as I can, to get some rest.

Occasionally, I decide, F*** it, I quit being everyone’s protector!  I quit pretending everything’s fine.  I’m talking about this shit, whether people want to hear it or not!  And I write.

Local people ignore it, “unfriend me,” and occasionally quit acknowledging me on the street.  So I quit writing and speaking about it locally, but I blog, interact with others internationally (even though I strongly believe it’s most important to relate to our own local communities) and resign myself to being an activist on the Internet only (and I hate the computer!), hoping that real people, not just feds, will read and be helped.  Thousands seem to read and watch my videos and dozens have written me about their similar experiences, and we console each other.

A writer and journalist for decades, one with first-hand experience in our nation’s Heart of Darkness, I survived.  I developed an activist heart at a young age and didn’t quite go insane when I leaned about this and all the thousands of other subjects who’ve corroborated my experiences.

But I have something, maybe, evolutionary to offer: a glimpse of the ancient ways of seeing our multi-dimensional world, and protecting ourselves with the Help there.

If there is any purpose for my still being here on Earth, I believe it’s to tell everyone about mind control.  I got the ugly version, while everyone else has been mildly but well-subjected.  My treatment blew my blinders off, and I’m here to say it’s time for us all to wake up.

I will keep writing about it.  Like it or not.

 

A Church for Mind Control Victims

“I’ve been waiting for something to happen
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear.”

— Jackson Browne, Lives in the Balance

(Greg and I have been singing this song almost endlessly for weeks.)

Last Full Moon, something got me out of bed, and I wrote for hours, suddenly understanding some new work I’m supposed to do, which brings together in harmony all the varied activities and impulses of my life, but in a totally surprising way – to me.

We’re at a moment in history when people need to wake up to our multi-dimensional reality and political reality, and speak their truth.

The urgency of this moment requires our bodies, minds, and souls; and it’s our bodies, minds, and souls that are on the line.

This involvement of our souls is what convinces me we need to speak with the authority and legal status given in our culture (often mistakenly) to churches.  While spirituality certainly does not require a church (and churches can even be detrimental to one’s spirituality), churches do receive important legal recognition by our governments.  And since we who have been abused need all the legal status we can get to defend ourselves and continue our healing, I have begun a church.

Admittedly, this part was daunting to me the first time it crossed my mind.  For healing work legal purposes, I was ordained in 2006, but then mostly forgot about it.  Besides, I thought, I have no ability to counsel anyone, as I’m still fighting these things called demons.

Unknown-2Then a few months ago, I was inspired by Martin Luther King, Jr. to put my spiritual beliefs into political action as he did for his civil rights work.  I knew he too was imperfect, but he accepted his calling and did incredibly important work.

Then Greg read to me the introduction of Black Elk Speaks, about how he’d had visions (like me) for all his life too – and was tormented by demons until he finally accepted his calling!

His description of his struggle stunned me, as he could have been describing my last decade-plus.  With astonishment, I told Greg –  and at the same time God – that I would accept this calling and act as soon as I understood it.

A few weeks went by, and the concept remained certain, but I saw no details, no practical first steps, so I didn’t think about it, other than that it was compelling, but more “out there” than I like to be.  And part of me wondered if my Spirit Help would actually convince me to do anything.

Suddenly, in the middle of the night of this last Full Moon, I drafted almost everything I needed to define this church and ministry here on this new church website.

I never wanted to take on this role of minister – except in a very private way – but now that I’ve written all this, it feels very comfortable and right.   (And it feels great to have written my own spiritual history – and not hold it secret any longer.)

I have a short list of upcoming sermons I’m looking forward to writing.

So please check out this website, MK Garden Healing, and if the Spirit moves you, become a member and subscribe.

Mind Control for Everyone, Pt 1:  Enforce non-communication

8 Steps to Enforcing Non-Communication between Humans:

1) Mis-educate in language and critical thought.

2) Educate differently among different groups of people.

3) Control definitions of words, excluding certain concepts, i.e., Pagan/Earth-based holidays.

4) Control history and stories for entertainment.

5) Tell stories at a very simple level, keeping standard for thinking low.

6) Make certain subjects, i.e., spiritual and political realities, taboo.

7) Make certain subjects, i.e., political revolt and natural healing, illegal.

8) Terrorize with mass torture and murder for ideas, i.e., The Inquisition, racial injustice, and war.

 

(Can you think of others?  Please comment below.)

Results:  Our ancestors were murdered for their spiritual and other beliefs, and we lost the critical wisdom of our wise ones.

We have been lied to consistently and taught, instead of how to learn, how to sit still, obey, and not ask questions.

We have been persuaded to not discuss with others some of the most important subjects for human consciousness and evolution that might be.

We are mind controlled.

Watch for those techniques in our world.  And do like Bob Marley:  “Emancipate yourself….”

 

“A Wrinkle in Time” by Madeline L’Engel

WrinkleInTime5Who remembers this book?  

I read it to my children decades ago but only recalled that it was about a family of scientists and precocious kids and something about time travel.  And I remembered liking it very much.

Well, my partner and I just finished listening to it, and I was blown away!

This book is also about top-secret government projects (risking people’s lives, by the way), aliens, being taking into other dimensions without warning, being immobilized and unable to communicate, being lied to, being helped by beings who were at first frightening, and more that had so many parallels to experiences being discussed by myself and my readers and fellow-bloggers – that it seems worthy of new discussion.

The book asks some of the same philosophical questions that we’ve asked over the years.  So, I hope folks will check out the book or audio book, enjoy it, and let me know how you think this relates to “our stuff.”

And now, I’ve looked for art to add to this post and am intrigued by the various covers that have been used on her book over the years – and new art, for instance used for the television program.  Check it out:

Wrinkle_In_Time_Cover

This one, above, evokes the shamanic themes that affirm our extra-dimensional potential.

9780312367558

 

 

This depicts the children “going” together, a lot more confident than the story actually described.
a_wrinkle_in_time_17665

 

 

This combines the alien face with angel motif.

Unknown

And this conveys the sense of isolation and powerlessness.

 

 

Powerful Sorcerers

powerful sorcerers

“Radical poster art” by Jean Eisenhower, 2012

You’re welcome to share this, with credit.  Thanks!

Energized to Speak So Much Truth!

“I’ve been waiting for something to happen
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear.”

— Jackson Browne, Lives in the Balance

(Greg and I have been singing that endlessly the last few days.)

Last week I wrote a blog on ParadigmSalon.net, titled “New Starting Point.”  I’d finally realized I’d written for too long the way I’d been taught as a radio journalist:  simple, 6th grade level for the average American – and finally realized that it wasn’t working, at least for “this stuff.”  I couldn’t get in “the people’s” shoes and still take my leaps.

I decided to quit writing from anyone’s vantage but my own.  I’d write only from my own, real, only partly-journalist self – the one who’s been drifting between dimensions all of my life, trying to act normal, and finding it quite a struggle.

In my 30s, as a single mom, I used to win awards and recognitions regularly, but I’ve not been very productive for the last two decades (though I’ve been trying to be useful and I think I’ve been).  I haven’t been too bothered; I’ve known something’s brewing, and soon everything’s going to change.  (I think we’ve begun.)

Since January I’ve been having two weeks at a stretch every month when I can hardly function, and Greg has to do most of the work and bring in the income.  I’ve been apologizing, but we’ve both felt that something good was coming out of all the extra sleep.

And suddenly last Full Moon, something got me out of bed, and I wrote for hours, suddenly understanding quite clearly the work I’m supposed to do, which brings together everything in perfect harmony that I have ever done in my life, but in a totally surprising way – to me.

I need to articulate what I see in the world, and what I see is a moment of history in which people wake up and speak their truth.

The urgency of this moment requires our bodies, minds, and souls; and it’s our bodies, minds, and souls that will experience the benefit.

The involvement of our souls is what makes it right that this conversation be in a church.

Now, that’s the part that daunted me, that has held me back for over a decade when this sort of idea first seemed like “crazy stuff” that would’t go away.  The idea had a sort of reality to it, so I was ordained, but then mostly forgot about it.  Besides, I thought, I have nothing to tell anyone, as I’m still fighting these things called demons.

Unknown-2Then a few months ago, Greg read to me the introduction of Black Elk Speaks, about how he had had visions like me for all his life too and was tormented by demons until he finally accepted his calling.

His description of the struggle stunned me, as he could have been describing my last decade-plus.  With astonishment, I told Greg, and God, that I would accept this calling and act when I understood it.

A few weeks went by, and the concept felt certain, but I saw no details, no practical first steps, so I didn’t think about it, other than that it was interesting, more “out there” than I like to be, and I wondered if my Spirit Help would actually convince me to do anything.

Suddenly, as I said, on the night of this last Full Moon, I got up and, not having had any ideas before, suddenly “saw it” and drafted almost everything  I needed to define this church and ministry here on this website.  And I’ve been polishing and expanding it for four days straight, and I’m totally energized by speaking this much truth!

So that’s how it’s come about, Friends.  I never wanted to take on this role, but now that I’ve written all this (including my own spiritual history – nice to not hold it secret any longer), it feels very comfortable and right.

I have a short list of upcoming sermons I’m looking forward to writing.

So please check out this website, MK Garden Healing, and if the Spirit moves you, become a member and subscribe.

Jean Eisenhower's avatarGarden Healing Church

“I’ve been waiting for something to happen
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear.”

— Jackson Browne, Lives in the Balance

(Greg and I have been singing that endlessly the last few days.)

Last week I wrote a blog on ParadigmSalon.net, titled “New Starting Point.”  I’d finally realized I’d written for too long the way I’d been taught as a radio journalist:  simple, 6th grade level for the average American – and finally realized that it wasn’t working, at least for “this stuff.”  I couldn’t get in “the people’s” shoes and still take my leaps.

I decided to quit writing from anyone’s vantage but my own.  I’d write only from my own, real, only partly-journalist self – the one who’s been drifting between dimensions all of my life, trying to…

View original post 551 more words

The “Oh My God” Points – natural help for thinking clearly

I have been helped by Eden Energy Medicine in the past, which is simple and even instinctive (as in the example below).

It can be used with greater consciousness and intention for powerful healing effect.

Here’s one article from a recent Eden Energy Medicine newsletter, with the newsletter link below.

The “Oh My God” Points                        
Phil Noble/PA Archive/Press Association Images

For decades, Donna has been demonstrating from the stage that holding neurovascular reflex points on the head reduces distress. Points on the forehead and other areas of the head, when lightly held, bring back to the brain blood that had gone into the limbs and chest to support the fight-or-flight response. This allows you to regroup by using the intelligence of your brain rather than automated threat responses.

Up to 80% of the blood that is normally in the brain can be drawn away from it, making clear, rational thought impossible. Donna calls the reflex points on the forehead the “Oh my god” points, a phrase that often accompanies the spontaneous motion of the hand to the forehead.

She explains that this motion is automatic and instinctive, and that if you hold these reflex points for a couple of minutes while bringing a stress to mind, you defuse anxiety about the issue. You literally change the threat response that occurs in your limbic system, the part of your brain that governs emotions.

Teaching in Vancouver in February, after showing the “OMG points,” she also showed the points on the sides of the head and on the top of the head. Then one of the participants was on her computer during lunch and ran into the above photo, which she excitedly brought back to class. It illustrates just how instinctive the response is.

British soccer star Michael Owen (lying on the ground) had just missed a goal. He, his teammates, and his fans all have the same automatic response. The fellow in the yellow shirt toward the back was presumably rooting for the other team.

http://campaign.r20.constantcontact.com/render?ca=3c1e702e-4ddc-484a-8dc9-1de765fe8887&c=ce439da0-b3e4-11e3-9162-d4ae528eb27b&ch=cf566d30-b3e4-11e3-91c2-d4ae528eb27b

“Obey the Doctor” Programming

I’d like to talk about unnecessary medical procedures, done either by coercion or without one’s knowledge.I was subjected to dental care recently that was so weird I can only call it psychotic.  And it relates to some previous treatment done without warning that I will call the same.

A friend told me, “You’re the third person I’ve heard in two days with a horrific story about that place.”

I will mention no names, but I’d like to at least put out this warning:

If you have doubts about your dental or medical care, please DO NOT fall into the cultural trap of “Obey the Doctor” programming. PLEASE take a friend with you to the dentist and/or doctor. Trust yourself more than the doctor or dentist. Give yourself permission to wait and seek other advice. Find good alternative health care, and take care of yourself naturally.

End of warning.

Personal story beginning, for those who are curious, and for me to make a public statement (and maybe to encourage everyone to not let this stuff go by quietly):

I’ve been extremely cautious of doctors for decades, but for some reason I got lured into treatment that is nothing short of psychotic. For those interested, here is the story:

Two years ago, I went in for a tooth cleaning and was surprised by the arrival of the dentist there instead of the dental hygienist.  He used a high-powered spray to remove plaque (the coral-like material that harbors bacteria) but he aimed it up under my gums!  The pain was so extreme that I stopped him, and when I thought I’d regained my composure, I questioned him, but he was a good salesman (and somewhat of a friend) and convinced me to endure.

If I had really regained my composure, I would have told him that it was stupid to aim the stream under my gums, because then I’d have a bacteria collector lodged somewhere it could never be removed and where it would threaten the roots of my teeth, not to mention his shredding the tender tissue that connects the living tooth to the gum.

But “Obey the Doctor” programming (the cultural kind at least, if not more serious programming) prevailed, and I let him continue, much to my horror later.  I learned he was fired about a week later, and I hope it was because of this.

Two years later, I got a cavity under the gum and, since that doctor was no longer there, I returned to the same establishment to have it filled.  A day or two after it was filled, I discovered a hole drilled right next to the filling, under my gum line!  I could push down my gum and put a toothpick in the hole and twirl it easily with nothing dragging on any rough edges — it was not an overlooked caries, but a neatly drilled hole! at least 3/16″ deep, right next to the filling he’d just done.

Under my gum line, I assume he thought I wouldn’t notice it until it had degraded into a serious caries, but just in case, he warned me to “not poke any toothpicks around there.”  Well, I did, and I discovered this perfect hole immediately adjacent to his filling job.

If I was willing to go into debt, I’d have gone to another dentist, at least for documentation of this bizarre situation, but I didn’t want to go into debt and I knew that the dentist who’d done this was a resident who had already returned to his home in Mesa, Arizona, so I made an appointment where I could “afford” the care.  [Bang head on table.]  (Waiting for the appointment, I kept the hole clean with a hypodermic syringe and hydrogen peroxide.)

The regular dentist who saw me next was nearly speechless at what he saw, and he did not correct me when I said it seemed to be a perfectly drilled hole.  He assured me the other doctor was “a good doctor” (interesting that he thought he needed to assure me of that), and he didn’t know what else to say but that the hole needed to be filled or the tooth removed.

I felt I was in a no-win situation.  If he didn’t clean it perfectly, it would eventually be lost.  If he drilled it out to clean it, he might inadvertently drill too near the side of the root and break it, and it would be lost.  Feeling hopeless and abused, I let the tooth be removed.  It required surgery.  Silent horror, and pain.

I’ve been recovering from that trauma, as well as the grief that the tooth is lost, and those next to it and opposite it are now weaker, but – more than that – the horror that I was the victim again of a psychopath working as a doctor.

If you haven’t read the book CIA Control of Candy Jones, she was also programmed to go to her dentist continually and submit to painful procedures and surgeries.

I thought I was doing a better job than this of avoiding them.  So I’m writing to warn others and to wake myself up to what I thought I already knew.

 

Psychopaths in the News

Psychopathology has been in the news quite a bit recently – but for the first time in human history, I believe, it is being associated with the richest and most powerful people on Earth.

The reason?

I don’t belief it’s because people have become more psychotic.  I believe we have just finally become aware.

The amount of psychopathology I see is enough to convince me that the prophesies are coming true now, and this is the Apocalypse, when the “veils shall fall from our eyes and we shall see clearly.”

Of course, no one has known exactly what it was that we were to see clearly.  I was imagining angels, not demons.  But now I’ve seen them both.

I assert that psychopathology is not just infecting our corporate and financial worlds, as is being asserted in editorials and on the Internet quite openly today, but is also common in our governmental, military, religious, media, and medical worlds.

I know too many people, besides myself, who have personal experiences with individuals or organizations in each of those worlds named above who can accurately be called a psychopath:  a person suffering from chronic mental disorder with abnormal or violent social behavior.

We’re talking torturing others to control their minds, destroy the planet’s ecosystems, raping children in vestries, creating pain with unnecessary medical interventions, stealing retirement funds and water sources, etc, in case you’ve missed the news.

If you didn’t miss the news, but didn’t realize that this behavior qualifies as psychopathic, well, that’s part of the mind control.  They’ve delivered the news in such as way as to normalize it.

How do we respond?

I suggest, when we experience psychopathology, we tell others about it, like birds in the trees, warning others of something dangerous in the neighborhood.  It’s only natural.   And it’s survival.

So speak your truth.  Call it as you see it.  It may be the key to our salvation.

And then turn your other energies to all the Good Things you can do to bless your neighborhood and world.  It’s a dance.  It’s aikido.  And it’s our destiny as co-creators of the world.

More Excellent Videos

The videos in my last blog were those I’ve “liked” at some point (recently “weeded out” for those most pertinent to the subjects here).

I also have 35 videos specifically chosen to be on my website, which I’d also like to share with you.

If you want to sit back with popcorn some evening, like we sometimes do, and educate yourself on a subject with a variety of different starting places and assumptions, you might try this collection, which can play one-after-the-other while you relax:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ajz97z4F-X4&list=PLE2ECD87365CBFE64

There are 10 hours worth of viewing.  And please jump ahead whenever you need to be picked up by something inspiring or fun – please!

If you want to select your videos, I’ve re-grouped them below according to subject, putting mind control last and starting with videos that might help some stretch and exercise the “rational” and programmed mind, if needed.  Enjoy!

Culture/Mystery

Terence McKenna: Culture is not your friend

Graham Hancock interview for Know Drugs – “bringing honesty into the conversation”

Stanislav Grof “Holotropic”

Galaxy Song by MontyPython

(Part 1) Indigenous Native American Prophecy (Elders Speak part 1)

End of the World – Lahkota Medicine Man Prophecy Pt 2

Terence McKenna – The Alien Within

Chapel Perilous – Along the Way to the Mystery

1/2 Our Masters – The Archons

Multiple Personality

Multiple Personality Disorder Documentary – I cried, this was so familiar

UFO’s/Aliens

 Jacques Vallee, Terrence McKenna, John Mack, Budd Hopkins on the Alien, UFO, Abduction phenomenon

U.F.O DISCLOSURE PROJECT -FULL VERSION

Mind Control

 CIA Manchurian candidates

Dr. Colin Ross MD speaks about CIA Mind Control 2009

Walking Through the Shadows

CIA Mind Control

Whitley Streiber – secret schools Pt 1/18

Roseanne Barr speaks at mind control event in Los Angeles 2009

CIA’s child trafficking (part 1)  

CHILD PROSTITUTION, SATANISM AND THE CIA PART.1/7 

CHILD PROSTITUTION, SATANISM AND THE CIA PART.5/7

The Day Before Disclosure Official Trailer

Cathy O’Brien speaks on mind control PT 1 of 2

Cathy O’Brien speaks on mind control PT 2 of 2

MKULTRA Victim Testimony C

U.F.O DISCLOSURE PROJECT -FULL VERSION

DeathCHIP 2010 “Rise of the NanoBOTs”

Project Camelot interviews Duncan O’Finioan

SS MK Abuse Victim Testimony U.S. Committee – Tucson, Arizona Victim

Programming The Nation? – Film Trailer 2010

Circumcision Trauma

Cause of Multiple Personality Disorder, Mental Health Truth, Psychiatrist Colin Ross Psychetruth     

Real, Fake or Lie: Mind Control, Aliens, Satanic Abuse | False Memories by Dr. Colin Ross     

Excellent documentaries!

I just reviewed all the videos I’ve included on my site produced by others, and realize there is some wonderful information her (and very good production quality), on subjects of Inspiration, mind control, spiritual/psychic healing, politics, and other world views.  Hope this list is useful to you.

Inspiration!

THE WAYSEER MANIFESTO – [Official Video] (HQ) – Love this!

– But I’ve also wondered if it’s just a lure to get radical-thinkers to give their names and emails to some tracking entity….  I signed up, but never heard back from anyone.

 

Mind Control

Jacques Vallee, Terrence McKenna, John Mack, Budd Hopkins on the Alien, UFO, Abduction phenomenon

Circumcision Trauma

Psychiatry EXPOSED!

Niara Isley Area 51.mp4

Project Camelot interviews Duncan O’Finioan

Whitley Streiber – secret schools Pt 1/18

Cathy O’Brien speaks on mind control PT 1 of 2

Cathy O’Brien speaks on mind control PT 2 of 2

Dr. Colin Ross MD speaks about CIA Mind Control 2009

Roseanne Barr speaks at mind control event in Los Angeles 2009

MKULTRA Victim Testimony C:

Walking Through the Shadows # 134 – www.ethericminds.com/classic.htm

CHILD PROSTITUTION, SATANISM AND THE CIA PART.1/7

CIA’s child trafficking (part 1)

A Carefully Crafted Hoax – CIA-Sponsored Child Abduction & Prostitution – The Franklin Scandal

CIA Mind Control

I Was One – original

 

Spiritual/Psychic Healing

“I BELIEVE” by Eldon Taylor – Book Trailer

Hatha Yoga for Neck and Shoulder Health – 57 minutes Pain Discomfort Stress Relief

Graham Hancock interview for Know Drugs – “bringing honesty into the conversation”

Cop Asks Obama to Consider Legalizing Drugs

Stanislav Grof “Holotropic”

Stanislav Grof – Holotropic Breathing

 

Politics

The World Tomorrow with Julian Assange Promo (Spanish Subtitled) (2012-03-27)

Programming The Nation? – Film Trailer 2010

Green hip-hop video: “Change is Needed”

Former FBI Chief Ted Gunderson Says Chemtrail Death Dumps Must Be Stopped

SS MK Abuse Victim Testimony U.S. Committee – Tucson, Arizona Victim

Assassination of John Lennon

Cynthia McKinney speaking in Los Angles about 9/11

 

Other Worldviews

Wade Davis: Cultures at the far edge of the world

Russell Means: Welcome To The Reservation

Mckenna – How to Think and Understand Effectively

Dr Albert Hofmann – Ralph Metzner

End of the World – Lahkota Medicine Man Prophecy Pt 2

(Part 1) Indigenous Native American Prophecy (Elders Speak part 1)

U.F.O  DISCLOSURE PROJECT -FULL VERSION

Who Are The Shaman: Part I

1/2 Our Masters –  The Archons

 

 

My Health Care Directive

This document is to direct

my medical care

in the event I

am unable to speak

 for myself.

I hereby assert that God and I myself are my primary healers, along with food, herbs, prayer, angelic help, and other related elements and energies.

The American medical establishment has wounded me horrendously throughout my life (as a subject of childhood and ongoing mind control experimentation and subjection), so that my objection to their care is not simply philosophical, but based on personal experience, for which I would sue the medical organizations and individuals if I could, but since I probably cannot, I will simply, and with force, state my wish to have all persons who might have anything to do with my healthcare decisions to act so that I will not be forced to further suffer at their hands.

In the event I am ever unable to speak for myself and need medical care, I ask all involved to consult as many of my friends as are possible to select some number of herbalists and shamans as they think appropriate to oversee my care.

If an “establishment” medical professional is deemed necessary, his or her care must be outside any hospital or AMA-affiliated clinic. If it is deemed that I will die if I don’t enter a hospital or AMA-affiliated clinic, then I choose to die.

Other documents attest to my wishes to be provided painkilling medicines, which may be done outside a hospital or clinic.

These wishes are not to be circumvented by anyone without it being understood by all that: 1) my hospitalization is a kidnapping with probable other crimes associated, 2) I should be rescued, and 3) those responsible should be arrested and investigated for torture.

Sworn by all things holy,

Jean Ann Eisenhower

April 27, 2014

New Videos

Last month, I followed an urge to produce a new series of 9 videos, most 5- to 8-minutes each, called “Multiple Personality, Mind Control, and My Story.”  The parts are:

Part 1 – The Overview

Part 2 – My Experience as a Multiple Personality

Part 3 – My Reading of the opening chapter of “A Certain Girl” by Ann Diamond

Part 4 – My Experience as a Mind Control Subject

Part 4.1 – Why I Was Chosen for MKULTRA

Part 4.2 – My Childhood Memories of Mind Control

Part 4.2b – More Childhood Memories of Mind Control

Part 4.3 – My Physical Evidence of Mind Control

Part 5 – Mind Control and “Aliens”

Part 6 – Spirituality and Healing (to be completed)

The series begins here:  http://youtu.be/DUXwuakht9g

In addition, I just uploaded an almost-3 year old video, “Healing Event 2011,” I made of an extemporaneous pouring out of my heart after I’d had a spontaneous catharsis (or “healing event”) when we’d just set up a video camera to record a music practice.  Instead, I recorded this (and edited it not a bit):

* explanation of the cathartic event (remembering mind control in childhood)
* explanation and description of the physical effects of the catharsis
* an attack of jaw pain, repression of remembering, knowing there’s more
* why and how I recorded myself now
* terrorism and suicide
* others are worse than me
* circumcision, as example of culture’s willingness to torture even children
* death of partner’s ex
* death threats and other weird communications recently
* cultural “purpose” of mind control
* death of people who publish on this subject
* no one wants to hear, and how I came to remember
* what it’s like to be MP
* reason to live, belief in transformation
* need for others to face this, even though some won’t
* prophesy
* gratitude for those who can hear
* culture’s need for compassion and speaking truth
* appreciation for activism, others and mine
* warning:  need to be aware of environment to survive

I hope this video helps others recovering from intense mind control feel not so alone.  And I hope it encourages others who haven’t suffered like this to understand that mind control is a very powerful force in our world and shouldn’t be ignored the way it is.

My “Healing Event 2011” video can be watched here:  http://youtu.be/yLkSVZ-b2nY

(This information was posted earlier, but after a longish, philosophical opinion that might have kept readers from getting to this, so I’m reposting just the video information now.)

I’ve been getting thousands of views and lots of comments, communications, likes and shares, so if you missed you before, I hope you’ll watch the videos soon.

Thanks for caring.  The world needs greater awareness and caring.

Re-Considering Archons

I’ve been wrestling with ideas for a few days now, standing as far back as I can for the cosmic big picture, trying to see things in as exact opposite a manner as I can imagine, then turning things sideways and looking again, approaching repeatedly from different angles.  Getting outside my mystical head in a rational philosophical exercise, and as I often do, trying to reason from my Christian brother’s point of view, hoping to see something new.

Screen Shot 2014-04-05 at 7.41.25 PMAnd today I re-watched a YouTube video about Archons – the ancient, inorganic intelligences that the Gnostics said control humanity and are often observed as being of either of two types:  humanoid-reptilian or fetus-like – very similar to descriptions by “alien abductees.”

Since I’ve experienced reptilians more than once, I wonder that I didn’t chose to follow up on this theory long ago.  Probably because it would be too frightening to believe.  Military mind control is bad enough.   Military mind control programmers working under the direction of reptilian humanoids, no thanks!  So I tried not to think about them, and didn’t make judgement on their nature, practicing denial.

Besides, I’d also been having blissful experiences with extra-dimensional beings on a regular basis for a few years and intermittently throughout my life, and these mystical experiences were sometimes difficult to put into either the blissful or terrifying category.  And when I tried, I felt the need to do what seemed impossible, spiritually, so I eventually backed off my theory, in hopes of coming to some other conclusion I could more easily deal with!

I have known for a long time that we live in “an ocean of spirit,” including everything from malevolent archons, to angels, archangels, ghosts of every caliber, aliens who care about us and may be our kin, animal spirits, elementals, devas, fairies, gnomes, and much more – not because I read about them, but because I’ve either interacted with them personally or met people who have.

So when confronted with reptilian energy forms, I found it shocking at first, but not so far-out.  But because of my extremely negative experiences with Christianity (including darkly suspicious control over my children), I was willing to ignore Christian-type warnings about reptilians and other aliens and instead look first at all the other mystical literature to see what matched my own experience.

Almost a decade has gone by now, and I can no longer believe that humans are acting under their own volition as they vote to allow corporations to destroy the rain forests, kill the oceans, frack fault lines, make war on three other countries at once, steal economic wealth, and introduce “death genes” into our plant food sources.

Humans wouldn’t do that.  Unless they are being mind controlled by something that is not human.  This is the only explanation that suffices.  And it happens to be what the Gnostics warned of over 2,000 years ago: Archons.  And a version of the story is in the Bible and other sacred texts and folklore all over the planet.  So I’ll accept it.

Besides, my personal experiences of “the vibe” of these beings fits the story told by the Gnostics.

The Gnostic view of the Archons, according to John Lamb Lash and others, simplified and amplified (I hope correctly) by myself:

– They are inorganic beings, akin to thought forms or programs, which were created by Sophia (by accident) before humanity or Earth were created, but having forms related to us humans because we and the Earth are also of Sophia.

– They have two forms:  one of a fetus-like being, passive and obedient, and the second reptilian in form (energetic, not material), excessive, and feeding on energy, particularly human fear and hatred.  (These two types correspond to the aliens called “grays” or “Zetas” and reptilians.”)

– They provoke fear and hatred (their nourishment) in humanity through politics, warfare, religion, education, poison, malnutrition, pharmaceuticals, and entertainment, as well as through torturous individual mind control.  With all these tools, they “milk” our energy and take some of us for experimentation.

– They are limited in various ways:  They don’t have intention, but only programming (which they work to imprint on us, making us “in their image”); they can’t stay in this three-dimensional world for very long; and they are arrogant, which skews their thinking.

The Gnostics counsel that our protection against them is personal spiritual work, particularly with the gift of Sophia:  our creative imagination.

And that is exactly how I have thwarted them.  And when I’ve failed to do that, well, they seem to sap my energy for a few days, and then I come back to myself.  My task now is to use my creative imagination for better protection.

The ultimate prediction for the Archons is that their own arrogance and overreach will be their downfall.  And we can see this on the Earth right now:  their excesses stripping the Earth of her life, threatening the species which is their own food (us), thereby threatening their own existence.

More about Archons is in this 2-part (15 minutes each) video, the most succinct and useful version I’ve found of this info:

http://jimnicholsufo.net

And here, for those of you not turned off by accounts of people using entheogens (hallucinogens or plant medicines), a report by a man who experienced reptilian entities and describes them very much as I also experienced them:

http://www.bibliotecapleyades.net/sociopolitica/sociopol_archivetc11.htm

Also:  I like Jim Nichol’s series of videos, of which the 7th of a 24-part series (5-minutes each) is here with an important message for me, specifically a message channeled by Barbara Marciniac purportedly from Pleiadeans, which I rejected before (and threw away the book) but am open to now:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUpplPwvGX8

Jim also articulates the same understanding of Jesus as I have throughout my writings, both his spiritual teachings and the political disinformation launched against him, followed by all-out terrorism, murder, and destruction of ideas – mind control – eventually perverting his teachings into a state-sanctioned doctrine, with the crucifix as the visual reminder of what happens to radical teachers.

Thank you, Jim!

Part 7 is here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oduGa1PIYvE

 

Video about the Big Picture

I just ran across a video I saw a few months ago and felt was an important contribution to understanding what’s going on in our world, with all the environmental and economic and social justice catastrophes, including mind control.

It’s called “Our Masters – the Archons,” and details the Gnostic texts that describe these inorganic beings which act as parasites on the human mind, which we can only survive with spiritual practice.

Screen Shot 2014-04-05 at 7.41.25 PMPart 1 begins here (only 14 minutes):  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6eXqotol1s

It begins with the gnostic writings predating Christ (who was a Gnostic, encouraging people to practice personal spiritual work rather than submit to any hierarchy) discovered in Nag Hammadi and suppressed, of course, by the Church of Rome.

At metahistory.org, http://www.metahistory.org/gnostique/archonfiles/AlienIntrusion.php

I read more about the Archons, including opinions by Jacques Vallee, whom I strongly admire as an early and minority voice in the UFO/alien debates:

Interestingly, this Gnostic insight accords closely with the view of Jacques Vallee, who maintains that ET/cyborgs probably belong to the local planetary realm.  Vallee also proposes [in Messengers of Deception] that the ET/UFO enigma is a “spiritual control system,” a phenomenon that “behaves like a conditioning process” [mind control].  This is exactly what Gnostics said about the Archons: they can affect our minds by subliminal conditioning techniques.

And further on:

Delving into the Gnostic materials, it is quite a shock to discover that ancient seers detected and investigated the problem of alien intrusion during the first century CE, and certainly well before.  (The Mysteries date from many centuries before the Christian Era.)

What is amazing about the Gnostic theory of the Archons is not only the cosmological background (explaining the origin of these entities and the reason for their enmeshment with humanity), but the specificity of information on the alien m.o., describing how they operate and what they want from us.  For one thing, Gnostics taught that these entities envy us and feed on our fear.  Above all, they attempt to keep us from claiming and evolving our “inner light,” the gift of divine intelligence within.

 While I would not claim that Gnostic teachings on the Archons, or what remains of such teachings, have all the answers to the ET/UFO enigma, one thing is clear:  they present a coherent and comprehensive analysis of alien intrusion, as well as specific practices for resisting it.  They are far more complete and sophisticated than any theory in discussion today.

In short, the ancient seers of the Mysteries in Europe and the Levant seem to have accomplished 2000 years ago what many of us have been attempting to do since 1947: figure out who the ETs are, where they originate, how they relate to us, and most important of all, how we ought to relate to them.

Mind Control Just “What Is”?

This essay is an exploration of the idea that mind control is painful and traumatic to individuals and society, but is not evil and may be no more of a tragedy than a garden plant being transplanted and having its root tips broken off to rot and die.  (This is my philosopher self, trying hard to look at things from a higher, even cosmic perspective, not taking things so personally.)  And 12 hours later, I’m adding this note that I don’t believe this entirely and will post another article soon, about real evil and positive creative imagination.)

I welcome readers to share their own explorations on this idea.

The garden of Earth seems to be being sacrificed unnecessarily and tragically, but maybe it’s no more tragic than a field destroyed for the parking lot of a factory that will produce guitar and piano strings for all the world’s music.

In a few generations my family of farmers and ranchers has been transformed, through painful cultural upheaval, into artists, teachers, a doctor, an arborist, a program director for international land mine removal, and an international voice for human rights and healing for the world’s many mind control victims.  And that’s just my immediate family.

I’ve often thought it would be better to have stayed farmers and ranchers of the old organic methods, live in close communities, sing and tell stories around the campfire, and care for the Earth, like millennia of humans before us.

I still love the idea, though the possibility of ever returning to that “idyllic” life (which may have been idyllic very rarely in the larger scheme of history) seems, anyway, to be slipping away.  Yellowstone threatens to blow, earthquakes rumble on the Pacific edge of the Americas, engineers actively add pressure to the Earth’s crust with fracking, loggers destroy the rainforest lungs of our biosphere, fishers empty our oceans, and industry pollutes it and the air, soil, and rest of our waterways, and introduce “death genes” and toxins into our plant food supply.  It seems a liquidation program is well underway on our planet, including the decimation of select populations of humans.

Who is the intelligence behind all this?

Not you and me.  Don’t give me that.

Screen Shot 2014-04-05 at 7.41.25 PMSome would say either a vengeful god/God, Satan, or races of aliens, maybe Archons.  We could define our terms and try to get behind the cartoon images to the possibility or reality of an intelligence, maybe even a Prime Source Creator, with or without an opposite, existing on more dimensions than this, creating our reality and moving us along to something new, like a gardener with grand plans for the meadow.

Can we change the gardeners’ plan if we’re a wildflower? Can we stop Yellowstone?  Can we stop the fracking?  Can we stop mind control?

Or, can we do something on the other dimensions?  I think we can.

Even though our Gardeners (or someone/Someone) has done everything it seems possible to keep us ignorant of our partial existence on other dimensions and the possibility for us to develop skills and relationships there, yes we can learn to work there, probably more powerfully than here.

We seem disempowered here because the Gardeners/gods/God/Satan/aliens are at work on this dimension, and some of them use mind control as consistently as we/they use Round-up, DDT, and napalm.  It makes it dang hard to buck their system.  They are not afraid to kill things (and neither are we), like any good gardener or scientist, as just part of the process.  Something usually survives, and that’s the prize.

Are they and their ways evil?  My first instinct is to say Yes!

Then I think:  Are we evil for ripping things up in our gardens, killing those root tips, bugs, mice, microfauna, and microflora with so little concern?

Accepting the theory of a Callous Gardener with grand plans:  Do I want to be the Gardeners’ prize, sweet fruit, or do I seek some sort of escape?  I certainly don’t think I like this Gardener, especially when I am told about the torture of prisoners at Abu Ghraib (by our government!), our dying oceans, and remember my own torture and abuse – so I don’t think I care to survive this enterprise.

Then I remember the invention of guitar strings and broadcast music and my comfy home with a tight metal roof, so much more comfortable than my great grandmothers’, and I relent.

Then I remember ancient stories of opposite forces of Life and Death warring on Earth (and remember all my own spiritual experiences), and remember it’s a matter of choosing with which energy stream we will align in this big swirling universe of energies.  

I know which one I choose.  It is creative.  It is not cruel.  And so I must be creatively – and consciously – kind.  I must even garden with more consciousness of the plants I dig up and haul around.  I must only purchase things grown organically, never products of war and torture – but…

This solution doesn’t go very far.  It seems every computer or even pad of paper available is a product of torture and war.

So what to do?

My animal self wants to buck and cry out at the pain – maybe teach that cowboy controller a lesson or two.

My inner healer works to be aware and try to heal myself further.

My artist reaction is to sing and write and design my garden.

My social self wants to teach and share as I’m allowed and otherwise stay connected with others.

My inter-dimensional self works to stay connected with Spirit Family despite cultural and other programming against it, to strengthen my inter-dimensional relationships and skills.

And all these selves – animal, inner healer, artist, social, and inter-dimensional – remind me of my other selves, split-off, traumatized children mostly, and I wonder if their painful existence has given me greater perspective, something very useful, and, despite the occasional dysfunction they cause, and the result is something evolutionarily beneficial, beyond “painful to me and beneficial to my controllers,” and might actually be important or even necessary to human awareness and evolution.

The wounded parts of me, of course, don’t want to believe that all the pain of this life – my suicidal years and all the rest – were necessary!  That pisses them off!

Then I wonder if it’s not necessary in our infinite universe, but is just the course that evolution took on this planet; it’s just … what is.

The bulldozer (some might say operated by a visionary, and others by a psychopathic, death-crazed demon) is blading the field right now.  And some of us, like deer bedding on the edge of the meadow, ave been alerted and may be able to save ourselves.  And my social activist self will post this essay in case it might help someone else wake up – though to what I’m not going to pretend I know for sure.

But Life is also calling from hidden places on this and other dimensions.

So other parts of me will meditate, clear my aura of woundedness as well as I can,  strengthen my connections with my Soul Family, and then go sing some beautiful songs, and be happy when the weather warms and I can get back out in the garden – and work more consciously with the plants.

Doubting Myself Again

Last night I woke up with a very strong feeling almost like a bright “ah ha!” and my barely-awake mind scrambled to pull from my dreaming mind what it was about.  I was disappointed by my mental conclusion, but accepted it:  I had to quit singing.

I still don’t recall the content of the dream, only the energy and my conclusion.  I concluded that I had to quit singing because I’m still too wounded to overcome all the things that a singer needs to quickly overcome when onstage, or if I’m not “too wounded,” then I’ve proven to myself that, in order to heal, it just will take more time than I’ve had in the recent five years and that I’m likely to have in the foreseeable future.  So I say what I often say at times of disappointment:  “Oh well… next life.”

This singing habit takes a tremendous amount of time, especially relative to the outcome.  And with all the other inspirations in my life, I usually feel terribly overwhelmed.  My desk is piled with things unfinished:  wills and medical directives, editing for the radio show, website updates, essays, my own videos regarding mind control and healing, bills, favors promised to friends, garden ideas, home renovation ideas, home maintenance needs, and more.  If I quit singing (which seems to take about half the week), I could get things done!  Maybe I could even make more of a living!

And the wasted time of these past five years begs the question:  What was the meaning of all those “miracles” that kept leading me forward when my mind told me this really felt like a long shot and was so unnecessary (given that I had so much else to do)?  Were those miracles really worked by tricksters posing as angels, egging me on to waste my time and spend my psychic energy embarrassing myself?

I thought I’d learned years ago that everything appearing angelic certainly is not.  I guess I’ve just had that lesson reinforced….

And then this morning, I’m tempted again to believe in signs:  One of the first links I saw on my computer this morning is for online singing instruction that promises to “free” a person’s voice, even for those who’ve been “wounded.”  Interesting!  And there’s a Money-back guarantee!  What do I believe??????

Well, going back to the moment in the night when I thought I had to quit and was glad that I’d have time to do what’s really important….  I know that my conclusion was a mental conclusion based on a dream I can’t recall.  Is it possible that the dream itself might have had instead a conclusion that something serious needs to change?  And not specifically that I had to quit singing?  Maybe the change is that I need to get lessons?  (And so I went to the website and navigated to the order page, which is open right now beside this text page, its big orange button commanding me “Order Now.”)

But then I’ll only be adding to my life, not freeing up my time, not creating more time to write and expose mind control.  Am I supposed to do that work?  I think I am, but occasionally doubt it, mostly because no one wants to hear it, and most people think it’s not healthy to talk about it so much.  Sometimes I think the same.  So what is best for my mental health?  Or best for my dharma – doing what I’m here on Earth to do?

Work to expose mind control?  Or sing as if we all should just be happy?

An International Organization to Oppose This Evil

iclcj-logo

I sure forgive everyone who chooses not to look at the subject of mind control and the torture and murder it entails.  Not everyone can.

And not everyone call all the time – for instance, me.  I’ve needed to take a lot of time off lately, until just recently, when Martin Luther King re-inspired me to speak my truth.

In response to my latest video (1,000 views the first day), many people have sent me words of support and links to more information, including these links:

http://iclcj.com  and  http://itccs.org

The International Common Law Court of Justice website describes their purpose:

“The foundational purpose of the ITCCS is to unite survivors of genocide and child torture across borders, and to mount a broad political, spiritual and legal movement to disestablish the Vatican and other churches and governments responsible for historic and ongoing crimes against children and humanity.”

I’m extremely grateful to know of this movement, and encourage everyone to learn more.  I will be.

Part III: “Aliens” in My Life

UFOasante

These three parts, plus the two introductions before them, will be followed soon by my first attempt to clarify what I believe are the relationships between beings we call “spiritual,” beings we call “alien,” and mind control.

Background:  Ignorance 

I have to put “aliens” in quotation marks because that’s the word our culture uses, but it needs a lot of explanation.

Alien means strange, of course.  We mean it, in this arena, to refer to beings from another planet.  But there are also aliens who live on or in our Earth, maybe on another dimension.  They’re terrestrial like us.  But different, alien.  Some aliens look just like us.  And there is much history from religions and ancient texts all over the planet that says we were created by beings from elsewhere – aliens – who used some of their DNA to create us – making them our relatives, not strangers.

So we need new nomenclature.  But for now, I’ll use this deficient word regarding these strange relatives.

I was never interested in aliens or UFO’s until 2003/2004 when I had shocking experiences that seemed like what others had already described.  I never watched Star Trek.  And once I dumped a man I’d been interested in immediately after he brought up the subject.  I was embarrassed that he had said that word aloud in a cafe!

Much later, I realized that I rationally believed in their likelihood for most of my adult life and had even argued for their possibility in college against a professor who wanted to denounce the idea; I just didn’t want to talk about them because the subject was ridiculed, I didn’t want to be ridiculed, and I believed they had nothing to do with me, so why talk about them?

Thinking back, though, I remember one silly event:  being on a beach with my first husband and some of his friends who brought up the subject, when we all stood with our arms in the air for a half-minute and said, “If you’re real, we’d like to meet you.”  Nothing happened (I think), and that was the end of that.

Other than this, I remained blissfully ignorant of the subject and that event was the full extent of my interest in this subject for most of my life, until 2000 or so.

First Event:  Crop Circles and Highway Stop – forgotten

During the first year or so of my 7-year desert hermitage, I took a 60-mile trip to Bisbee, Arizona, to attend a movie at the public library about crop circles.  I’d heard they had interesting mathematical formulas associated with them, and I was into math, and for some reason their connection with aliens had completely escaped me – or I’d chosen to ignore it.

When the movie was over, I was dumbfounded to hear everyone talking about aliens.  It had not been part of the movie, and I had not gotten the connection.

On the way home, winding through the foothills, facing a long drive home, I suddenly experienced a bright light shining in my eyes, making it extremely hazardous to drive.  The idea of a space ship came to mind, and I scolded myself that I shouldn’t imagine such a stupid thing just because I’d just heard people talking about them.  Anxiously, I thought of alternative explanations and decided that it must be a Border Patrol helicopter irresponsibly shining a very bright light into my windshield.  I was angry and planning my call to the BP the next morning.  The light was so bright, I thought I should pull over, as it was extremely difficult to see, but instead I only slowed down.  I didn’t want the BP to ruin my night, and I had a long way to go, so I held one hand up to shield my squinting eyes, with one hand on the wheel to negotiate the curves.

Finally reaching a straightaway, I saw the BP tower and realized that the brilliant light was sitting on top of it, so I decided that this stationary light must have malfunctioned, gone dangerously super-bright for some reason, and created this situation.  I amended the scolding I would give the BP.

The tower sat near the corner of two highways where I made a turn, and immediately after I did, I spontaneously pulled off the road to look at the light.  After a few seconds (I thought), I drove home.  The next day, I decided not to call the BP, a little concerned that they might tell me nothing was wrong with the tower.  Years later, I would realize that the BP tower is impossible to see from the winding road inside the foothills.

First concern

Another morning (not sure how long after), I woke up with a thought so startling that I sat immediately bolt upright – just like a comedy routine – with this idea:  being out here alone in the desert (where I’d been very happy and felt mostly safe until this moment) makes me very vulnerable.  I looked out the array of south facing (passive solar) windows, curtains open that summer morning, and felt/thought:  a “space ship” (something I never thought about) could land out there amongst the mesquites, and aliens could come right up to my windows … and look in.  But those last words I said to myself felt like a lie, as I had to squelch an image of aliens, not looking in, but coming through the window.  Immediately, I jumped out of bed – not my usual lazy way – telling myself I must have had a weird dream, and got busy, forgetting that idea as well as I could.

An abduction?

A man came to live with me after three years of living alone, and one night while he was working late, I went to bed by myself in the bathhouse, a separate building, part of which we’d turned into a bedroom.  I woke up after a little while to a racket, with the idea that a washing machine was out of balance with a heavy load – but I didn’t have a washing machine.  The bed was shaking, and I realized a metal bed frame stored under my bed was making a racket on the concrete floor.  I was momentarily alarmed, then a calm part of me seemed to recognize the vibration and said, “Oh, this….as if it was something familiar and comfortable, and I lay back down and “fell asleep.”

I’d had a very similar experience at the Judi Bari v FBI trial (which I forgot to recount in Part II on mind control), and so the next morning I thought that this was the FBI intruding into my life again, and I was very upset.  To quell my nerves, I decided to sit and read a book for awhile before getting to some work I needed to do for a client.

I pulled a book off the shelf – randomly, I thought – and sat down to read Whitley Strieber’s Communion, which I’d read years ago; I’d found it in a used bookstore for $2 and decided to see why this was a #1 bestseller.  I’d found his account credible but, thankfully, nothing I needed to think about, and I forgot it.  Suddenly, though, in the first pages, I realized Strieber was describing events that seemed terribly similar to what I’d just experienced.  I could barely spit the words out to my partner, alien being such an embarrassing idea, so ridiculed.  I did not want this!

Events keep happening

For awhile I had experiences a couple or three times a week, always aware only that I was vibrating, then falling asleep, and I’d wake up wondering what had happened.  I often wondered if they were alien or government harassment – or a joint project.

Whitley, at that time, was calling them “the visitors,” not differentiating between helpful and subjugating aliens, and told of inviting them into one’s life to learn spiritual truths.  So I began to try to open to the idea, while also asking them to let me be conscious, reasoning that only someone up to no good would keep whatever was going on secret from me.  The sensations of being taken continued, and I was never conscious – except once for a short while.

Stopping the events

One day I got the idea that maybe some of the aliens weren’t good for us, and I prayed a different prayer:  I ask my spiritual helpers, if these events are good for me, to let me be conscious so I can learn, and if these events are not good for me, to please stop them.  And I never had one of those experiences again, but others continued until I became more serious about developing spiritual protection.

Consciously up in the air

Next I began to ask my spiritual helpers to simply help me understand more of what’s going on here, and to let me meet them and be conscious. One night I woke up as I was passing through the canvas of the teepee that we’d begun to sleep in.  I felt myself rising, upright, into the night sky, though I didn’t look around me or down, as some experiencers report.  I was grateful for being conscious, and began to thank them and prepare myself for whatever surprise I might experience.  I was so excited – and amused to find myself immobilized – I was close to laughing, but wanted to be calm and collected for this auspicious meeting, so I quelled the laughter and tried to prepare.

Suddenly I seemed to hit a portal which spun me around and propelled me out to my left, and shortly after I hit another portal which spun me around again and propelled me out to my right, about 60 degrees behind the first trajectory.  Fascinated, I memorized these details and returned to preparing myself for the meeting.

I woke up the next morning, disappointed that they hadn’t allowed me to remember, but absolutely certain that the experience had occurred.  Not long after, I read of someone else describing exactly the same experience of going up into something like a portal, emerging to the left, then emerging to the right 60 degrees behind!  I wanted to write it down, but felt strongly afraid that I was being watched by the government and didn’t want to let them know what I knew, so I didn’t, and I’ve deeply regretted losing that source of information.

Cloud-shrouded Motherships

One weekend, my partner and I decided to attend a “shamanic” gathering (increasingly common event, it seems) on the south end of the Dragoon Mountains.  On the way there, we saw a miles-long, spaceship-shaped cloud materialize seemingly out of nowhere south of the range.  Typically, large clouds of this shape can form over a mountain, from the moisture given off by the trees, but this formed in front of us in the valley south of the mountains.  We were quite excited, especially as it wasn’t just shaped vaguely like a spaceship, but was very smoothly and quite exactly shaped, with a horizontal rim circling its wide center.  A smaller version, perhaps a tenth the length, also formed alongside the first.  We watched them for at least a half-hour as we traveled toward and then under one end of the longest one.  When we got to the camp, I was suddenly overpowered with the need to sleep, at 10 am.  I did, and woke up certain that “something had happened” – but with no memory.

Typical UFO sighting

On the way home the next night, we saw a bright light move very fast and low, just a few degrees above the horizon, straight and swift from north to south in front of the Chiricahua Mountains, which are about 10 miles long.  We immediately estimated the time it took to travel that distance – about three seconds – then did the math at home and came up with thousands of miles per hour.

Triangle

Another night, at home, we heard a loud roaring sound and assumed it was Air Force jets on maneuvers, flying very low over the house, as we had experienced them doing that frequently.  Since we had to get up early the next morning for work and I didn’t want my body flooded with angry adrenaline when I needed to sleep, we decided to ignore it as best we could – then we were very alarmed to hear what sounded like a jet flying just a few feet over the house, or so it seemed by the extreme way it made the windows rattle.  I willed myself to say in bed, not get angry at the Air Force, and deal with it later.

The next night we heard the same thing approaching, and since we didn’t have to work the next day, we flew out of bed to see exactly how low the jets were so I could report them.  To our great surprise, there were no jets anywhere to be seen, even though the windows of the house were rattling furiously.  We were dumbfounded – our senses of sound and sight were not jiving!  Then my partner pointed to three lights high in the sky, one pale green, one pale orange, and one … I forget.  I said it was impossible for them to be causing the vibration.  He said, “That’s not three jets.  That’s a huge triangle!  See, there’s no stars inside the three lights.”

I can’t say I verified that.  I have no memory of anything but hearing him say those words, feeling tremendous dismay – this what not the life I thought I signed up for – and walking back into the house to write in my journal.

Exploding UFO?

Another night, we had friends come visit and gave them our teepee to sleep in.  When we all went out together to get them acquainted with the space, I ducked inside first and immediately heard my partner and the other man exclaim with great amazement about something then exclaim again with greater excitement.  I came out, having missed it, as did the other woman who was looking in the wrong direction, and listened to them both describe having seen a bright light cruising across the sky in the direct of Elfrida, when it suddenly exploded, and a green luminous disk shot out at an angle to the ground.    

I insisted my partner draw of picture of it the next day.   (Photo at the top of this blog.)

We wondered whether it was natural, like a meteor, or a UFO, and why it had exploded.  Because of everything that had been happening, we tended toward the UFO explanation, and wondered whether the military had shot it down, and whether we might hear some reconnaissance activity.  In bed about 45 minutes later, we heard a very deep rumbling sound coming south down the highway and surmised that a military reconnaissance was indeed going on.  I wished I had the courage to go play spy, but because of my fear of the military as mind controllers, I stayed in bed.  A couple of hours later, we were awakened to hear the loud, deep rumbling sound traveling back north on the highway.  Of course, we imagined a huge flatbed vehicle with something under a big tarp.  

Hiding UFO’s?

One afternoon, relaxing by the creek in the teepee, I was surprised by a very strong wind that came up quickly.  It continued to gain such force that I became afraid that something totally outside recent human experience was about to happen:  a pole shift or something else equally cataclysmic.  I grabbed the few things I wanted to take with me and leaned hard into the wind to be able to stay on my feet as I walked back the hundred feet to my home.  It was frightening.  Back in the house, my partner and I watched the sudden dust storm in amazement, which, as suddenly as it had picked up, died down again a few minutes later.

The phone rang, and our neighbor asked if we’d seen “the thing in the foothills.”  She wasn’t sure what she’d seen, but described it first as “a biplane, or maybe more like a corral, only it wasn’t on the ground, it was in the air.”  I suggested a UFO, and she seemed very embarrassed to be associated with the idea, and said no.  Later, we read (and it is interesting how many times we’d read about things serendipitously within a day or two after having an experience) about UFO’s often being associated with strange weather, including sudden storms that obscure them.

Dancing ball of light

One night, driving home from visiting this neighbor, I saw a brilliant ball of light, seemingly the size of a basketball, dancing around in the air about thirty feet ahead of me, bouncing from ten feet off the ground to twenty feet high, staying ahead of me, moving in chaotic, playful ways.

Another typical UFO

Another night, lying on the roof to sleep where I had years ago been lifted off in rapture (see my Part I about spirit), I saw a bright light travel in a seemingly perfectly straight line for a few seconds from above the foothills to above the valley where it seemed to disappear.  It had been low enough in the sky to light up the interior of some low clouds.  Immediately, I established what I thought would be coordinates for the point when I first saw it and the point where it disappeared and carefully considered the time it seemed to take.  The next morning, I checked the map and established its speed – again in the thousands of miles per hour.

Another triangle

Another night, sitting on the roof, I saw what seemed to be a triangle far to the south, apparently near Douglas, Arizona, near the border, traveling east to west.  I watched as it seemed to be escorted by two jets, then saw to the west two more jets approach and take over the escort as the first two jets turned around the traveled back east.

I was so certain of what I saw that I called the only friend in the area to alert him.  He lived in Tucson and had told us he often watched for them,  but he couldn’t see it from there, and that makes sense to me now.  Within a few days, I’d come across a reference to large triangle UOF’s often being escorted by Air Force jets.

My only alien sighting

I have seen only one alien, and only briefly (not including three sightings that seemed to be with paranormal vision, which I’ll get to later).

I was getting ready for sleep in the bathhouse again, my partner facing an all-night writing project under deadline, keeping him in the house, when I suddenly felt that I’d been hit between the eyebrows by a perfectly round beam of some sort of energy.  At first, I’d tried to tell myself I had just seen lightning out the window, but I had a distinct feeling about the angle of the beam, that it was downward at about a 45-degree angle through the eave and wall, not through a window.

Realizing I was immobilized, I was immediately alarmed and just as immediately had the idea to pray, but realized, also immediately, that I was not only immobilized, but also unable to pray – even silently – in words that didn’t sound like they were on tape being caught and stretched in an old recorder.  My first word was Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuz…..

As I lay there, I saw in both the window to my left and the glass reflection on a piece of art on my right:  a being walking by.  Since we lived far out in the desert, no one should have been walking by the building, so I became further terrified, especially as I realized the being didn’t seem to be walking, but gliding, and seemed also to be very thin and tall.  My mind was going crazy with the idea that I was being controlled and made unable to even pray, so I imagined my spiritual Helpers in the sky above me and mentally “tossed” my grave need from my heart to them before I went unconscious.

The next morning, I realized that it had a new moon and there had been an overcast sky, so there was no natural light to have allowed me to have seen any being.  Soon after I read an account of an aliens vehicle casting light during an encounter.

Reptilian

While that was the only alien I recall ever seeing with normal vision, I had three other experiences I can only describe as seeing clairvoyantly.

One afternoon, when my partner was gone on an errand, I was overcome with an unusual feeling that I must lie down, and so I went into the teepee and “crashed.”  I woke up to the sound of someone dragging their back under the arched canvas doorway – which seemed strange, because this was my partner’s teepee, he’d lived in teepees for twelve years, and certainly never dragged his back under the archway.  Maybe he was being lazy?  I waited for him to say something or come and lie down.  I didn’t turn my head to look at him, as I felt so tired.

A knee seemed to press down on the bed next to me, and I assumed my partner would climb over, and then I thought I’d say hi to him.  To my surprise, something hard was pressed against the back of my skull, something smallish, which triggered a most unusual imagination in my mind:  a claw, and then a whole being emerged in my mind’s eye:  a very large reptilian being.

With that, I became immediately terrified and tried to scream, but realized my voice box was immobilized, but it seemed I could still register the effect of a scream on my face to let the being know I absolutely objected to whatever he was doing, and so I “screamed bloody murder” with my face and no sound.  I remembered nothing more.

When my partner returned, he found me groggy in the teepee, and I told him what had happened.  He tried to encourage me that it probably wasn’t a reptilian.  He said he felt the energy and thought it more military (which would have meant mind control – not necessarily a better interpretation) – and also asked if he thought it was “just a nightmare.”  It had felt real, and besides I believe nightmares may be real in some way and  not “just nightmares.”

Later, a friend told us that he’d had a terrifying experience camping in the Huachuca Mountains, not far away to the west, above Fort Huachuca, a major intelligence center for the Air Force.  He hadn’t wanted to be on the side of the Fort, but a storm had forced him to take shelter on that side.  In the middle of the night, he woke suddenly, feeling as if he were being “searched for mentally” by a being he felt strongly was reptilian – even though he’d never believed in such things.  The sense of it was so real and so terrifying, that he hastily scrambled out of this tent, took it down, and carried it under his arm as he climbed up the ridge and down on the other side, quaking with fear the entire time.

Years later, another friend who did contract work with the Air Force said that he one saw a reptilian dressed in a military uniform on that base.

Baby reptilian?

One night, sitting on the sofa next to the fire, reading a book, my partner sitting beside, I suddenly saw a reptilian child in a dimension that seemed to reveal itself right before me in this dimension.  It seemed to be in a womb or other egg-shaped enclosure, looking at me, almost batting her eyelids coyly, as if to flirt and express love.  I was dumbfounded, and the vision faded away.

Reptilian intrusion?

I hate to admit how this next event came about, as it seems so akin to “possession,” but this will explain why I am so cautious about aliens now, and why I have returned, despite my disinterest in being part of the Christian Church, to a relationship with the Spiritual Teacher we call Jesus.

I’d been having strange physical experiences that felt like energy pouring into the back of my neck, which felt wonderful, stretching the fibers of muscles, like a healthy yawn, only throughout my body and far more exhilarating.  I came to jokingly called the experiences “my Hulk routine,” reminiscent of the old TV show of my teen years.  The energy flow would cause me to hunch forward when the energy was beginning to pour into my back, then it would move me in different ways to help it flow throughout my limbs.  It felt great, usually took about a minute to complete, and when it was over I went back to whatever I was doing.  Usually it happened in the evenings.

One night, this routine happened again, but this time I suddenly and quite clearly sensed an intelligence looking out through my left eye!  “He” looked at my fireplace hearth, which I had created with friends and loved very much, as if he knew how much I loved it, and I could feel his derisive judgement that it wasn’t much.

I was shocked to feel someone else’s opinion and eyesight inside my body and thought immediately of “possession,” but this didn’t feel like something to be afraid of; I thought it might be something like that, for which I should do some fast spiritual protection and ejection – if I knew for sure – but I didn’t want to freak out, so I decided just to assess the situation for a moment.

I asked, “Who are you?”

Immediately, he projected himself outside of me as a small reptilian guy, squatting down, which I thought was to emphasize his smallness and make me less afraid of him.  He didn’t answer (which I thought a good spiritual being should), but instead simply said, “You need me.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you are so naive.”

My partner then asked me a question, and I said brusquely, “I need some private time.”

Instead of giving me that – which had been an issue in our relationship – he began to badger me about our relationship and how I needed too much alone time and didn’t give enough time to him.  Rather than tell him what I was going through – especially since I wasn’t sure what it was – I tried to just demand quiet for a short while, but he wouldn’t give it.

While I felt this being inside me observing, and I observed it with half my attention, I argued with my partner about my need for alone time right now, and the need for relationship time, and whether or not I was neglecting our relationship or he was needing to much.  We went around and around til it seemed we argued for over an hour – and I’m not generally a person who argues.

Eventually I was very interested to feel the being inside me beginning to laugh.  He thought our argument was hilarious!

I was quite sure I had articulated my case very well, but my partner had been switching tactics, badgering, insulting, changing topics, and generally using ploys that are not fair game in a fair relationship.

Suddenly I realized the alien inside thought I was ridiculous for treating the argument with such respect that I answered every question and demand as carefully and thoughtfully as I could.  He didn’t think it warranted my respect, and he wanted to laugh.

I had never laughed at a partner during an argument, but this being clearly felt the argument was going in circles and didn’t deserve the respect I was giving it.  Suddenly, I saw it too and couldn’t resist the being’s desire to laugh, and I burst out laughing – right in the middle of something my partner was earnestly saying.

He stopped speaking, shocked that I had been so rude, for the first time in our relationship.

I told him I needed to sit down and get back to my spiritual work because a being had come into me during the last “Hulk routine” and I had to determine who in the world he was and whether this was something I should be worried about and maybe kick him out.

“You’ve been possessed!” he said with alarm, “I knew you’d never laugh at me like that.”

“I don’t know,” I responded, “but I want to find out, because nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and I agree it’s weird, but it doesn’t feel bad, and besides, the guy just helped me end our ridiculous argument.”

He didn’t take that so easily, so we discussed it a bit more, and finally he let me sit down and get back to my spiritual work of discerning who this guy was.  I told the being that I was not giving him permission to stay inside me, though he encouraged me to, again asserting that I needed him because I was so naive.

I thought about that.  I knew he’d come into me with a very good feeling, and I really had no idea how to eject him, other than some experimental exorcism maneuvers, which felt beyond me, so I just told him, rather weakly, that he would have to leave whenever I said so, and he agreed.  I never sensed him leave, and I actually never sensed him again at all – though I did have some other anomalous experiences that made me wonder if it was him.  More on that later.

Gone in a light?

My partner and I broke up soon after, and I decided that, as much as I loved my home and the foothills of Chiricahua Mountains, not to stay there alone, as I was feeling like a sitting duck for weird experiences.  I moved temporarily in with a friend in the Cochise Stronghold for about seven months.

One night I woke up, totally alert, and realized it not only Full Moon, but it was then exactly midnight, so the moonlight was shining directly down through the round window in the center of the roof of the octagon house, down directly onto the center of the sofa in front of the fireplace.  I decided to get out of bed, sit there and meditate – even though I never actually meditated as a practice, I had always wanted to be able to, and it felt very attractive in that moment.

I only remember sitting there, cross-legged in happy anticipation, for a few moments, and then realized that the spot of moonlight had moved far to the side, and it was 4 in the morning.  I’d been there for four hours!  I went outside and saw the full moon setting over the peaks.

Reptilians explained

Eventually my land sold, and I moved to Silver City, New Mexico.  In the two weeks just before I moved into the house I purchased, I spent some of my windfall to go to my first UFO conference.  I had wanted to find one that offered a “spiritual” approach to the subject, and I found it – within days of my expected cash – and in Hawaii!  I was delighted.

The conference was – as should always be expected – a mixed bag as far as spirituality goes.  After the conference, I stayed for two dolphin-swim events.  At the second one, there was a guest artist who drew pictures of aliens that people have seen and told us what is generally thought about each type.  As she was presenting her photos, I thought I’d go home and try to draw the reptilian who appeared to me after looking through my left eye.  To my surprise, her next drawing was of a being so very similar to what I’d seen that I didn’t feel the need to try to draw it; I purchased hers.  (When I find it, I’ll add it to this post.)

To my great relief, she acknowledged that reptilians are often associated with the worst of alien encounters, but that there are also reptilians – sometimes called reptoids who are considered “good reptilians,” and she said this was what they looked like.  I have never been sure whether to take her word for it, but I’d taken some comfort in it, while continuing to be cautious.

Protection

Friends told me I’d find “lots of people” familiar with UFO’s and aliens in Silver City, but I haven’t actually come across that many folks with experiences like mine.  That’s beem okay because my experiences have mostly stopped, and I’ve been unwilling to say exactly what I think about the subject anyway.  I did begin to host Paradigm Salon movies and discussion groups, hoping to attract people to help me get clear, but I only found myself paranoid about some of my guests, so I stopped hosting events.

To try to get clear, I wrote my memoir, RattleSnake Fire, but couldn’t bring myself to state any conclusions with certainty.  I attended a number of conferences for a few years on the subject, where I felt very critical at times at the number of people who stand at a podium and act like authorities, stating that the aliens are here to teach and guide us, or that the aliens are demonic, here to abuse and confuse us and send us hell.  I think that both these (precise language, i.e., demons, needing definition) might be true – of different types of aliens.  But which is which?  (Michael Salla seems to have done the most research here, and I defer to him on this.)

I continued to have “Hulk experiences” for awhile, but began praying to have them stopped if they weren’t “good,” and they stopped.  But, resistant to ritual, I didn’t develop a stronger spiritual practice until I had a few more frights.

Another highway event

In 2010, I had visited my old friend with whom I’d lived in the Cochise Stronghold and was driving home on the old Highway 666 (now 191, because so many people are afraid of that number) north toward Interstate 10 during a rainstorm, when I saw a bright light – despite the storm – zip ahead of me east to west through my rain-splattered windshield and flapping wipers.  “UFO…” I thought soberly, dismissing the idea with a hope that this didn’t signal any new round of experiences.

I traveled the Interstate through Wilcox and other small towns with no unusual happenings, but after I’d taken Highway 90 north from Lordsburg and then east toward the Burro Mountains, I sensed something unusual and the hair raised up all over my body with the sensation of “something coming.”  I didn’t want whatever was coming, but I didn’t think I could stop it, so I determined, instead, to try to stay conscious and be aware of the time.  I was noting the time and looking for a mile marker, when suddenly my senses didn’t seem to jive.  The truck engine seemed to race – or lug – I forget which – but it didn’t match my speed.  I checked to see if I’d slipped into a different gear, but that wasn’t it.  I began to feel frantic, checking my gear, the speedometer, the tachometer, and the view out the window.  The view out my window didn’t match the sounds I was hearing or the speedometer or tachometer.

Then a strange fog that didn’t seem normal surrounded my truck; the fog had no waves of lightness and heaviness; as I traveled through it, it appeared to be all the same amorphous whiteness.  The engine noise continued to not match my speed or what I saw out the window.  Everything felt strange.  I was trying to think clearly and not go into panic, repeating over and over some mile marker number and the time, neither of which I ever remembered afterward.  Because of the fog, I was going very slowly, gripping the wheel, looking at the narrow space in front of the truck inside the fog, hoping not to see something suddenly in front of me, for which I wouldn’t have time to stop, but I was loathe to pull over.

Suddenly the fog disappeared, and I saw a sign ahead, down the hill – but this was strange, because I was almost certain this was the Continental Divide sign, which is of course at the highest point of the ridge, not below me as it appeared.  I watched it eagerly, wondering if it was really the Continental Divide sign, and when I passed it, I saw that it was.

As I started down the other side of the ridge, reality seemed to have returned me to my proper perceptions, for which I was grateful, but still disturbed.  I couldn’t wait to get home and check the time!  When I got home, I stared at the clock and vowed to remember what it said.  But I didn’t at that moment even register whether it was the time I expected or not.  And the next day, I realized that I had a clock in the truck and had not thought to look at it – right in front of me.  I seemed to have been programmed to not notice the time and not remember the time.

And later I’d wonder if the Continental Divide sign had been below me because I was up in the air?  In my truck?  

Stronger protection from Yeshua

I developed a stronger spiritual practice and once again ended the weird experiences that didn’t seem to be “helping” me – except to let me know with absolute certainty that “we live in an ocean of spirit” – as a curandero acquaintance told me shortly afterward, looking into my eyes as though he knew what I’d been going through.

Today, I don’t see the world in a way that will please Christians strict with their doctrine, but I have begun to see/feel the teachings of Yeshua/Christ inside a larger, more interesting spiritual context – an ocean of spirit – in which Yeshua/Christ is my tribal leader, healer, chief, and teacher.  Most of what he’s reputed to say “works for me,” though I diverge from Christian doctrine on pretty much the entire balance of the Bible.

I don’t think it’s worth trying to define my personal doctrine though, as Jesus was reputed to have disdained doctrinal arguments in favor of private prayer with God and a few instructions such as being compassionate.  Everything else in the Bible is open to suspicion to me because it was put together by the same ruthless people who’d just spent 300 years trying to destroy the Christ-following by torture and murder, and then continued for hundreds of years to try to destroy every other writing about Christ that they hadn’t included in their book (which contain many references to extra-dimensional and extra-terrestrial beings), and to this day they use disinformation as a constant tool to repress ideas.  So I trust my heart more than any book that powerful might put together.

Because of my personal experiences with enough extra-dimensional beings (see my “Part I:  Overview of a Spiritual Life”), including Christ, I believe in his goodness and power and rightness for me to be in relationship with.  It’s possible there are other equally good extra-dimensional, god-become-man ambassadors to teach other people on the planet, such as Kokopeli, Krishna and Mohammed, but I have no personal experience with them.

I accept that many beings are trying to help us humans being harassed on this planet, mind-controlled, chem-trailed, fed poisoned food, chip-implanted, and more.  Christ is the being who has helped me.  He’s the center of my world, which is best described, not in Christian doctrine, but in shamanic literature, which tells of a world filled with spiritual beings, which we need to learn to discern which are which, be aware of, protect ourselves from, negotiate with, communicate with, and thus understand better our multi-dimensional existence and expand our soul’s understanding and our spiritual skills.

I also consider it possible – though I’m not willing to advocate this at this time – that some aliens are here to help us.  It’s certainly possible, and I’ve read many accounts by people who believe this.  Michael Salla’s research indicates that, while grays and reptilians are regularly associated with mind control and relationships with our government, many other alien species seem to be all about awakening consciousness of our multi-dimensional existence.

Feeling as vulnerable as I was, with positive experiences with Christ, and only questionable experiences with the foggy blur of aliens, I chose Christ and have left the “good alien” theory alone for now, though I may address the subject again soon.

Recent attack in a “spiritual place”

This past summer, after years of spiritual equanimity, I seem to have been tested again.  I left for a Permaculture [ecological] Design certification training at the Lama Foundation in Northern New Mexico.  Lama has a reputation as “a very spiritual place,” but that doesn’t necessarily mean positively spiritual – which I should have known.  As I try to make clear in my book, there are plenty of “spirits” that are tricksters, or of low evolution, and just being in spiritual form doesn’t make them necessarily wise or benevolent.  Spirits also include those some call demons.

I was out of my routines, not praying regularly, not sleeping well in a tent, very tired at the high elevation where we had to walk a good distance between camp and training, and not eating as food as good as I eat at home – and some of it must have been poisoned, as more than half the class became very ill, the Health Department was called, and some were even hospitalized.  I was extremely sick for over a week, and very weak for weeks after the training, and not remembering to protect myself spiritually while I was there.  So much for my excuses.  It was a powerful lesson to keep to one’s practice no matter what – even when you think you’re in a safe place.

One night as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a humming sound in the air above the forest treetops, but didn’t think much about it.  Later that night, I woke up, realized I was seriously tangled in my sleeping bag, which seemed to be wrapped tightly around me, diagonally.  When I reached to find my flashlight, I discovered that I was turned 180 degrees around inside my tent!

I felt that I had been abducted again – for the first time in years, and was extremely distressed by this.  The next day, others brought up the humming above the trees, which I only then remembered.

In my next blog, I plan to describe how the spiritual, mind control, and alien experiences intersect – the larger context for it all and how they overlap.

Part II: Overview of a Life with Mind Control

I realize that by hitting the Publish button, I could bring on the controllers’ wrath, but I’ll do it anyway.  Truth feels more important today than my comfort.

(Please read Part I first, as well as the two introductions that precede.)

Mind control is finally becoming an accepted fact in America.

It is a terribly unpleasant subject, but it has been testified to by no less than the Director of the CIA to a Senate Investigative Hearing (twice in the 1970s) – that it has been done to unwitting citizens and non-citizens, prisoners, military recruits, even people in higher positions of respect, adults and children, since the 1940s.  There is tremendous documentation – 20,000 pages the last time I researched it – all of it available online or by requesting it from the government through the Freedom of Information Act – besides the accounts of many victims.

In Cold War America, our intelligence agencies used the threat of other nations developing mind-controlled warriors to justify their conducting this research.  Today, we have new testimony that aliens have also been involved and may have even been the leaders of the project, but I’ll save that idea for later.

Mind control has many manifestations, from subtle and broad scale, as in our education and media, to cruelly coercive and shockingly powerful, including the development of amnesic assassins.  Court records document this crime going back to 19th century European hypnotists, and it is probably the basis for ancient Haitian tales of zombie slaves, and possibly more.

Many books have been written on the subject, some by doctors, such as Collin Ross; others by victims, like myself, Anne Diamond, Carla Emery and many more; and others by researchers and journalists, such as Donald Bain who wrote about the most famous “pin-up girl” in the world in the 1940s, Candy Jones.

Interested or skeptical readers are encouraged to do their research.  There is too much to summarize in this personal account, though I’ll insert information as necessary.

Warning:  This essay will include a great deal of sexual material, as mind controllers often take advantage of their subjects in this way, and that was my experience.

I have known since childhood that I wasn’t like others.  While I’d been identified as “gifted” and maybe a genius from a young age (and would later test at genius levels at various times in my life), I’d been called a “split personality” by my best friend in grade school when I was not able to remember some sexual play that she said I’d participated in in the 5th grade – which should have been significant and memorable.  When I began menses, I squatted over a mirror to put in my first tampon and was shocked to see that I looked terrifically stretched out, but fully believed myself a virgin.

At age 17, still believing myself a virgin, I was on a date which wound up at the boy-man’s apartment.  He was more presumptive than any boy I’d ever dated and began to undress me.  I went into a trance in which I heard myself screaming “NO!” silently inside, while my body went entirely limp and passive, and I did nothing to stop myself from being raped.  I couldn’t speak for an hour or so afterward.

Three years ago, a boy I knew in high school reconnected with me on the Internet and mentioned our having dated, though I only thought of him as having dated my best friend; I had no memory of any date.  We decided to talk on the phone, and he told me, in very concerned tones, that he had always been bothered by an experience we’d had.  He said that we’d gotten very close to having sex in the back seat of his car, when I suddenly began screaming at the top of my lungs, and he was terrified that neighbors would call the police.  He said I went entirely rigid, so that it was extremely, and comically, difficult for him to dress me.  He took me home and we never went out again.  And I have no memory for any of it.

When my son was 6-weeks old and I left him in the church nursery, I forgot entirely that I had a baby – even when an acquaintance asked me where he was; I wondered who had a baby that she was mixing me up with.  When I suddenly came around and remembered that I did indeed have a baby and I had left him in the church nursery – those words, church nursery, were as terrifying to me as Satan’s den.  I ran in terror to retrieve him, with horrible regret that I had done such a dreadful thing as to leave him there.

Mind control is done in a variety of settings, the most common being  government and military installations, hospitals under contract to the CIA, and churches.  Evidence indicates that the organizations using the technology sometimes work together, to procure subjects, to share techniques, and to provide shielding from investigation.

My mother’s mother was a “jack-Mormon,” meaning she wasn’t a regular church-goer anymore, and my own mother followed suit.  When we did go occasionally, I knew we were looked down on.  Once, I recall leaving “children’s church” and looking back over my shoulder at the building with deep hatred, thinking “I’ll never go back there again.”  But I have no memory for why I felt such rage.

My mother’s father was killed when she was eight, and her mother, widowed at the start of the Great Depression, was hard-pressed to support herself and two little girls.  She was an excellent cook and baker, and miraculously (or tragically), she met some wealthy bankers who appreciated her enterprising nature (so the family story goes) and offered to finance her to fill an empty building of theirs with a restaurant, outdoor patio seating, bakery, and conference rooms, which became the meeting point for the powerful people of that city for the next twenty-five years.

Every day of her life for those twenty-five years, my mother says, her mother went for a walk with Mr. H. at lunch time.  “When he showed up at the doorway, she left instantly, no matter what she was doing, and went directly to take a walk with him,” my mother said more than once.  I remember that man; he never gave a glance at anyone else, just coldly at my grandmother.  And my mother says that her mother never told anyone what they talked about, perhaps because she didn’t remember, or maybe she was instructed not to.  I believe he was her mind controller.  And if he’s like most of them, he took advantage of her sexually, and perhaps her daughters too.

My father was a child actor who toured from age 7 to age 9 with a theater troupe, in a non-speaking role, after which he came home to his family a traumatized stutterer.  Trauma is the basis for mind control.

The basis for mind control is splitting the personality – creating multiple personalities – and then programming certain ones to obey commands.  “Multiple” parents tend to raise children who are multiple, I assume because their incoherence demands the children also be incoherent.  I have seen my mother shift from one personality to another, with the second apparently unaware of what the first said just a moment ago.  Once, she told a fun little anecdote about my childhood, and when I asked for a little detail, she bowed her head, then raised it again with seemingly angry suspicion, like someone was trying to corner her, her eyes darting to each side as she spit out, “I never said you’d….” naming the event she’d just happily told a moment ago.

Multiple personality (or dissociative identity disorder) is created with torture.  To put it simply, the personality can’t “take” or integrate the torture and so the personality “goes away.”  The brain keeps recording experience as always, but on a new “fresh slate” of neural tissue, creating a new hologram of being, a new alter which could one day be a full personality, or maybe just a shell for programming.  The mind control practitioner names this new “alter,” tells it who’s boss, reinforces control with a little more torture, and begins to lay in commands for when this hidden personality will “come out” and execute orders.  Then it puts the captive alter to sleep and the basic personality returns.

(This technique was probably developed after someone watched someone else split in an accidental trauma.  So some multiples have been created accidentally.)

Sometimes multiples, under stress, switch personalities accidentally, or create new personalities, since their subconscious has discovered what an easy trick it is to escape discomfort.  Some people create hundreds of personalities this way and really have a difficult time negotiating life.  The subconscious can also create networks to keep the whole system under control, which I seem to have done fairly successfully.  Or a controller can.

Sometimes multiples remember an alter spontaneously, especially when they’re older and brain cells begin to degrade, breaking barriers to memory. Once in my second marriage, in the late 1980s, I was having sex with my husband, when suddenly I flashed back to being a little child on my back on a bed in a small room with wallpaper on my left, a window on my right, and the door beyond my feet.  I was lying naked, and someone was standing looking at me.  I can describe in great detail the wallpaper, the window shade and the bedspread I was lying on, but the person is blanked out in my memory.  I was sick with a desire to flee but had experience with what was coming, so I “did was I always do,” I told myself, and turned my head to the wallpaper and began reciting its design:  the roses are pink, the lines around the roses are wavy…. etc.  I felt proud of myself for escaping, and thought that this was a very smart invention, something I figured out all by myself, that adults hadn’t even taught me, and I thought that they might not even know how to do it, and I praised myself for escaping.  But as soon as I thought that, I almost remembered the thing I had escaped, and almost went back into my body, but caught myself and returned to the wallpaper, telling myself I should never do that again.

I was mystified by this, but didn’t have the time and energy to think about it, so I put the memory away.

In 2002, when I was in Oakland for the Judi Bari v FBI trial, I was walking downtown to visit the bank and suddenly found myself feeling weird and walking west instead of south, completely confused, though I’d traveled this way before.  I had never recalled turning west, and was momentarily, quietly terrified by the strange feeling.

I had recognized I was multiple in 1994 and had begun to try to heal myself, but I had never given a thought to mind control.  I did know, though, that the FBI was ruthless, capable of murder, and might do anything to people sending out media releases about them to the world.  I wondered if they had somehow subconsciously done something to me, made me lose time, and now I was wandering around lost downtown.  A few weeks later, the whole picture would dawn on me.

When I returned home after the trial, I was a little nervous about being alone after writing such scathing material about the feds, but my concern was for the FBI.  The CIA had never crossed my mind.

One of my best friends lived nearby and we’d visited frequently over the past couple years and confided to each other our problems, including deeply personal ones.  A few days after coming home, I received an email from her saying, “Check out these websites.  I think they might explain everything we’ve been dealing with.”  (Later she would tell me how her mother had been recruited to work in the office of a famous CIA director.)

To my horror, I began reading about mind control, and instead of being turned off by the appalling subject, I experienced feelings of dread and horror, but also sickening familiarity and even – disconcertingly, twisting my mind – relief – that finally something that had needed expression was able to surface at long last.

This was horrible!  My rational mind, of course, was arguing to reject it.  My emotional body was hurting, certainly, while some deeper place in me was saying, “Yes, it’s horrible, and it’s sad, but you must look at it.”

I continued to read for days and came across much material that helped me make further sense of my life.  I was partially elated to be on the path to further knowledge and self-understanding, but I was also terrified of the people who might try to keep me, their asset, under their control.  I spent the next few years contemplating suicide nearly every day.  Even when I wasn’t in total despair, it seemed a very logical practical action to remove myself from their clutches, to keep from being their tool to do other terrible things in this world.

One weekend, I attended a women’s spiritual gathering a few hours from home.  On the way home in the dark, on the Interstate, my headlights went out shortly after getting gas.  I decided, logically, to walk back to the gas station and call my boyfriend to come get me.  Instead, I sat in the van and tried to talk myself into going, while a voice in my head told me to just wait.  I argued with the voice for what seemed like a half-hour, and sometimes sat passively thinking, “This is strange, just sitting here.”  Intermittently, I would command myself to go, but I’d just sit there.  Finally, I had the idea to turn the key, unlock the steering wheel, and coast backwards down the slight slope and shorten the distance I had to walk.  I did that, but the lights came on, so I drove home.

The next morning, trying to make love with my partner, I discovered I had such pain inside my vagina that this would be impossible.  We tried to locate the pain, but there wasn’t an obvious wound.  I could only recreate the pain if I tried to stretch the tissue.  We used a mirror and saw a puncture wound in my g-spot.  (It would take years for me to stretch the scar tissue enough to have sex again.)

Starting to get anxious, we talked about my drive home, and it was then that I learned that I had not been a half-hour late getting home, as I’d assumed, but two hours late!  We associated this with alien abduction, for reasons I’ll go into in the next part.  Later that day, I blew a blood clot out of my nose – something that had never happened to me before – and we began to grapple with the idea that I might have had a classic “alien abduction” on the highway.

We’d been reading a little about aliens, including books by Dr. John E. Mack, the Harvard psychiatrist who researched alien contacts for years before his untimely death.  They included many accounts of his hypnosis or relaxation sessions, including descriptions of his techniques.  They seemed simple enough, and I thought I could probably hypnotize myself, as I’d once discovered myself to be easily hypnotizable (a characteristic of mind control subjects).  I gave my partner some cue cards and explained what sorts of things I wanted him to say to help me if I became distressed and needed help.

I used the techniques and went back to that time when I sat in the van, unable to move.  I was not looking forward to it (the idea of aliens embarrassed me), but I was fully expecting to experience a traumatic scene in which aliens took me from the van, but that’s not what I saw.  Instead, I heard the van door slide open and heard a human male voice command me to come to the back of the van where my bed was still open after camping, and I turned to obey.  The leader had sat in a seat behind me, and two others were standing outside the van, leaning into and toward the door.  They were all dressed in tan auto mechanics’ uniforms, but I knew they were CIA agents.  Instantly terrified by the meaning of this, I brought myself out of the hypnosis, deeply panicked, and never tried that again.  But I had the explanation I needed.

Another day, walking across my one-room house, I suddenly had a flashback of being in my child’s body, regaining my vision after a flash of white, seeing a half-dozen men in white coats closely crowding around me, then they pulled away, and another man leaned forward and said three short commands to me, then put his hands, holding the ends of some appliance in each, to my temples.  I reeled with emotion and sat down to recover from the shock.

I remembered going with my mother on a train to New Mexico when I was about five, but I don’t remember the train ride back.  I also remember waking up at home one afternoon with the sensation that I’d been asleep “for a very long time,” and I told this to my family who seemed suspiciously interested in the fact that I was awake, though denying that it had been anything but overnight.  I finally gave up my assertions, but knew they were lying to me.  Years later, I asked my mother why we’d gone to New Mexico – a very odd thing, as our family never split up like that, but did everything together – and she said we’d visited my aunt, which still doesn’t make sense, and I don’t remember any visit.

I have almost total amnesia for first and second grade, though I remember scores of events from preschool and memories come back fully in third grade.  The only memories I have in first grade are of painting a tree – as instructed by my teacher – and rimming it with black, with black wind blowing by, forcing the tree over 45 degrees, with black leaves blowing by.  Any art therapist would have a heyday with that.  I also recall showing it to my mother at Open House.  All the rest of those two years are a total blank, and those are the years documented as being the most common years that the two-year mind control programs were run on children by the CIA.

I began to have nightmares at some young age, of running from someone across a plowed field toward a tarmac with airplanes in the distance, with someone pursuing me.  I felt drugged and hardly able to lift my legs, but I was trying, terrified that the person would catch me.  I continued to have the same nightmare throughout my life until the day I accepted that I might have been a mind control subject; then the nightmares ceased for good.

More old memories began to make sense.  I remembered, in my 30s, when I saw a cartoon in the paper of a 1950’s woman at the stove, wearing high heels, a bouffant hairdo, and apron, with a spatula in her hand.  A man in a black suit and tie with a clipboard and pen in his hand is saying to her, “Well, this concludes a 20-year experiment.  You’re now free to go.”  For some reason, this struck me as hysterically funny.  I had always thought my second husband (and first) had “control issues.”  But I thought I was laughing (cynically) for all the women in the world, especially of generations before ours, depicting these controlling men in an exaggerated manner.  My husband asked coldly, “What are you saying?”  I was disappointed he had taken it personally, but later it gave me chills.

We had always remembered the second time we met, but I could never remember the first time.  Whenever I had asked him and expressed such curiosity that we knew it was our second meeting, and there was a sense that we’d planned to meet the second time, I asked more than once, “Isn’t it strange that we can’t remember our first meeting?”  Instead of agreeing this was curious, he always seemed irritated and changed the subject abruptly, never sharing my intrigue.  Today, I believe he was another of my controllers, perhaps controlled himself.

My first husband was born on a naval base (Navy also deeply involved in mind control) to a mother who had spent a bit of time in mental hospitals, which were notoriously used for mind control.  So he may have been a subject as well as her.

My dad was in the Navy and never answered me when I asked about his time there, and so I quit asking.

Twice when I was a child, I’d had an experience of echolalia – where voices in one’s head echo back one’s thoughts, only these voices were screaming back at me; it was extremely upsetting, but I only tried once to tell anyone.  I quietly told my father one evening, “Dad, sometimes I think I’m going crazy.”  He ignored me.

One summer, we went on vacation to the Chiricahua Mountains, near where I would one day build my hermitage.  I was a teenager, but I have no memories of the time there.  One of the other parents told me that I was directing the other kids in plays with scenes from the Wizard of Oz.  I have absolutely no memory of this.

In recent years, I have experienced a number of creepy events of feeling someone has entered my house and done something to me after having written about my mind control experiences.  Following a friend’s advice, I purchased a “portable door lock,” and planned to install it every night.  Two days later, though, I found it broken the same day that I woke with a bloody Taser burn on my forearm, lying in a bed of cold urine, feeling like I had the flu, hardly able to drag myself out of bed, though I recovered in a couple of days and never really had the flu, and felt terrible for days.

Another day, I attended an art opening and was having a wonderful time not only looking at the art but visiting with friends.  Toward the end of the opening, I had been looking at the last piece of art and turned to realized there were only two other people in the gallery.  One was a male friend with whom I have a collegial friendship, and he was talking to a woman I didn’t recognize.  They were standing between me and the table where I needed to return my wine glass, so I walked toward them, intended to briefly say hi and pass by, when suddenly my body began to do a walk that I have no idea how to do:  it was a seductive walk, which would have embarrassed me enough, but it was greatly exaggerated, and the two people looked at me with eyebrows raised, and even though I was horrified, I couldn’t stop it until after I’d taken a few steps.  My brain went into hyper-drive, terrified that someone seemed to have control over my body to make me do something I really don’t knowhow to do – in this conscious mind anyway.  I don’t know who that woman was, and I wonder if she was a controller.

Another time, I attended a groundbreaking event that a friend had raised funds for and was being introduced to various people by my partner, who’s been in town longer than me and been more social as well.  One of those people was a psychiatrist in a director position.  I missed his name, so I asked it again, and he mumbled, put down his sunglasses and looked over my partner’s shoulder, as if to get away.  It was crowded, and he didn’t move fast enough, so I told him that his name tag was turned over, and asked again his name.  My partner then flipped over the man’s name tag, and I read his name aloud.  With that, he looked extremely upset, and pushed past us and away.  I made a silly comment and forgot about it for a while.

After the event, I went to teach an English class, and when I got home, I got sick to my stomach and began crying uncontrollably. I suddenly realized how odd his behavior had been and it made sense then that, as a mind control subject, there must be someone in town in charge of my control, and as a high-level psychiatric director, it is most likely him, as he had done everything he could to keep me from remembering him, including putting on his sunglasses, reversing his name tag, ignoring my request to tell me his name, and finally fleeing.

Whatever I’ve done as a mind control subject, I’m not supposed to know, and don’t know, but these scraps have come through.  

As we age, as the brain tissue literally breaks down and memory breaks down, and so do our blocks to memory and our programming.  When my grandmother was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, when she could still speak, my mother came home from visiting her one day, bemoaning the horrors of this disease.  “It’s terrible, it’s just terrible, the things that she is saying.”  “Like what?” I asked.  “Horrible, horrible,” she said, “I will never speak a word of them to anyone!”  I suspect that my grandmother’s memories of mind control were breaking through and she was trying to tell my mom about it, and my mother didn’t want to hear.

Over these last few years, I’ve had vague concerns that I might have been controlled to do something, but I haven’t been sure.  I do know that I have done a tremendous amount of healing, which I’ll write about in a later blog.  I hope and pray that because I have done so much healing, that the controllers have given up on me.  It seems that they have, as the evidence of their activities in my life, so common before, has ceased, for which I’m very grateful.  And my life is becoming productive again.

There are probably more memories, but these are what I can recall easily without dragging out my journals and book.  I’ll add more later, if I remember them, in the Comments or another blog.

In a later blog, I’ll talk about healing in detail.

Next:  An Overview of “Aliens” in my Life.

Part I: Overview of a Spiritual Life

I’ll break this introduction roughly into the three parts – three categories of experience that have long been the best way I could figure to begin wrapping my head around the overwhelming complexity and weirdness of it all.  The three categories have been: Spirit, “alien” (a terribly deficient word), and mind control.

In this Part I of this essay, I’ll talk about my spiritual life.

As a child, like many children, I believe, I had a rich awareness of the LIfe in all things.  I felt for plants and animals.  One time, I sat for a long while with a plant that had been trampled by kids playing and encouraged it to live, and it did – maybe as it would have anyway, or maybe because of my communication.  The point is that I felt very certain that we were communicating.

At night, I sometimes experienced a vibrational “wonderfulness,” accompanied by something like a portal where I would experience the smallness of an atom and the grandness of the cosmos, in rapidly pulsating alternations.  These events were accompanied by tremendous feelings of warm love, family, a return home, and rightness.  I would often long for them and wish they would return.  I don’t recall what happened when I was gone, but I always wanted to go back.

I also recall the time when I got a message that I wouldn’t be taken back again for a long time, and I was terribly shocked, hurt, and afraid, but was told that I would be looked over, and I’d never be forgotten, even though I wouldn’t have these connections in the same way for a very long time.

I’m not sure whether the next experiences were before or after that last “cut off” event, but I also had a relationship with a little girl who could appear to me but not be seen by my parents or anyone else.  She would come unexpectedly and give me advice.  I loved her and was always happy when she appeared and terrifically sad when she went away.

I had other experiences with plants, particularly a fig tree at my grandmother’s house, which I felt loved me in a very special way.  We also had a weeping willow tree, whose branches were sometimes used as switches for whipping us, and I knew the tree felt very badly about that.

The family dog and cats were especially important to me too.  I still have a photo of my dog on my alter, whereas there are no pictures of my family anywhere in the house.

I “grew up” and forgot all those connections, as culture encourages us to do.  I tried out religion, and immediately had a powerful experience of Jesus Christ as someone I “knew” in some infinite capacity.  Afraid to be too mystical for my friends, I never talked about this and tried to contain my spiritual experiences within the boundaries talked about in church, even though I would frequently have experiences well beyond those boundaries.  Sometimes I would get powerful messages, sometimes experience dramatic healing.  Eventually, I experienced too much hypocrisy in church, including violence against me, and against my relationship with my children, and I abandoned “Christianity,” unfortunately ignoring all those things that had been wonderful in my private world.

After a few years, having gotten over the shock and hurt of having had the church help my ex take my children from me for a few years, I softened toward spirituality again and expressed my openness to believing in some sort of Spiritual reality – but I refused to read any books or consider any doctrine; Spirit had to come to me personally.

Sure enough, Spirit eventually did.  In lots of little ways, and big ways, which I describe in my memoir.

One happened when I was walking through a forest and wondered whether “tree-huggers” actually hugged trees, and a voice, seemingly from the trees themselves, said, “Why don’t you try it?”  I about tripped over my feet.  It was quite an effort to talk myself into trying it – I was very afraid of being caught – but when I did try it, I had the most amazing experience beyond my imagination, and something impossible to have imagined:  I felt as though a cascade of beautiful light had flowed like a waterfall through my body from the top of my head down into the earth, and with that, if felt as though a radio, which had been tuned to static inside me all of my life had suddenly been turned blessedly off.  The crystalline silence inside was beautiful.

Dumbfounded, shocked, saddened for years of having denied such possibility, humbled to be so blessed as an almost non-believer, I walked away grateful, but still in shock.

I didn’t know what to do about it.  I didn’t want to suddenly take up any religion or practice.  I distrusted that sort of person as being too trusting of others’ guidance.  This experience would remain my private mystery, and I’d wait further for Spiritual guidance, but I wouldn’t pray and I wouldn’t meditate – unless Spirit told me to, and I never heard that sort of message.  So I began to call myself a pantheist, and continued to wait for more.

When my son was diagnosed with cancer, my second husband and I divorced, and I went into a deep spiritual crisis I called a “nervous breakdown.”  When my son was well again, and he and his sister were of age to be on their own, I moved out to the desert alone for a spiritual hermitage that I expected to be for the rest of my life.

There, I began to experience so many things, it was overwhelming.  First, camping, to set the stakes for my new home’s foundation, I said a very naive prayer one night:  Hey, Spirits, I’m ready to learn some lessons.  Immediately, there was in the tent with me a terrifying blue-white light, A-shaped or star-shaped, hissing menacingly like an acetylene torch.  Scared out of my mind, I immediately blurted out Jesus! – not a prayer, but a simple epithet, made a habit during my atheist days – or that’s how I remembered it.  As soon as those words left my lips, I was equally surprised to feel the presence of a being who I seemed to know as Jesus!  There was no reason to know Him, as I’d ignored all the events I’d had earlier in my life as if they had been imagined.  But here he was, so very very familiar to me, as though I’d always known him, far beyond this life on Earth.  I saw nothing, only felt him on my right side, loving me, someone I knew very well – and I recalled the first time I’d had that feeling of recognition.  I asked, “You haven’t forgotten me?”  I thought he should have, since I’d certainly forgotten or ignored him for long enough.  He seemed to smile as if this was funny and said, No, he’d never forget me.  Deeply ashamed for my years of stubbornness, I expressed my gratitude and asked for protection during the night, and I slept peacefully.

You’d think I would become a Jesus follower again, but no.  I didn’t like the image of Jesus followers.  I remembered him, but was never comfortable with that name that TV preachers use so obnoxiously, so I usually called him Yeshua when I wanted his help, but I didn’t make it a daily or even weekly or less frequent practice.  I just couldn’t tolerate memories of Christianity and all their hypocrisy.  I thought that Yeshua had a place in the Pantheon, but I wasn’t sure if he was who I was supposed to “bother” on a daily basis, and so I didn’t.

I was afraid to bother my spirit Helpers.  And sometimes when these events came too close together, overwhelming me, I didn’t know that I could simply ask them to not overwhelm me so much, to consider what I could handle.  So I went through years of Spiritual elation and spiritual overwhelm.  I also didn’t understand that when one “opens to spirit” that that world is filled with benevolent intelligences as well as un-evolved spirits like ghosts trapped near the earth, and one must learn to discern and protect oneself from the energies that are not helpful.

I made many mistakes that reminded me of Mickey as the Sorcerer’s Apprentice in Fantasia.  I survived, but with years lost to terror and confusion that might have been better learning experiences.  I prayed for a mentor, then missed my opportunities.

In November 1999, I was camping with friends in the Cabeza Prieta wilderness.  Chatting with a new friend one evening, another friend encouraged me to look through his binoculars to see the Pleiades.  I wasn’t interested and told him so.  He was insistent to the point that I thought he was downright rude, but he wouldn’t let up.  He had so thoroughly interrupted our conversation, that I took the binoculars, intending to look briefly and then tell him exactly what I saw, expecting to say something like, “Oh nice, little points of light, just as I thought.”  Instead, when I saw the stars, I was overcome with a mix of emotions that made me want to cry; stunned to feel emotions like home (no home I knew on Earth had this meaning), loss, hurt, and longing, I lowered the binoculars and stammered, “I think I’m from there,” and then put my hand over my mouth, in shame that this was the sort of thing I’d have hated to hear someone else say, and waited until the awkward silence slowly turned to conversation again.  I never spoke of it again for three years, and then only once for another long while.  It was too “out there,” too associated with “weirdos,” “kooks,” and I didn’t want to be one of them.  But it felt so real, and the sense of loss seemed to explain why I’ve never approved, since a very young age in childhood, of how we run this planet.  What was I comparing Earth to, at such an age?  I set aside the Pleiades experience and waited for my Helpers to spell it out more clearly, give me more to go on, but they seemed to want me to be satisfied with little bits like this.

More of my experiences seemed to sit on the edge of Spirit and “alien.”  For instance, one night in April 2000, sitting on my roof at dusk, watching a rare celestial phenomenon of a crescent moon followed by four planets, a small group of bats swirled in a cluster in front of my face between a foot and three feet away.  I had recently begun to study a book about animal totems and was delighted by the meaning that this might have.  Next thing I knew, I saw the moon and planets in the sky not as five shapes against a darkening blue background, but as three-dimensional elements each in orbit around the sun or the Earth, all of us in a marvelous and colorful spiral moving though the galaxy, so beautiful, so wondrous, and all of it clear to me!

Next thing I knew, I was sitting, facing north, under a very black sky with a vast number of stars, all of them seeming to be paired with another, like eyes, benevolent, and I was babbling gratitude and laughing at myself for trying to express gratitude so far beyond what my words were capable of, but continuing anyway because I had to release my emotion.  Then two owls came and flew around me for an extended period of time, which I again was excited to learn what they portended after I’d get down off the roof.  When I looked them up, I was humbled and excited to read that bats often represent shamanic knowledge, and owls sometimes represent astral travel.  I was living without clocks, so it was years later, reading my old journals, that I suddenly realized I’d had some hours of missing time between the dusk with all the planets in the sky and the pitch dark night!

Missing time is a classic phenomenon in alien abductions; but I learned eventually that all the elements, including alien contact, are quite classic to shamanic initiation as well.  I didn’t know what to do about it.

I felt unworthy and ashamed to speak the idea of shamanic initiation to anyone, as they might judge me as unworthy also.  I kept it private and tried to manage my own shamanic practice.  I bought books, and tried to practice the discipline of working with my Teachers, but had so many frightening experiences that I quit – quit “trying” to practice any discipline and decided, instead, to just let my Helpers take the lead, as those events always seemed to go well, whereas my efforts often led to events like caricatures of my Helpers falling dead from the sky or appearing crippled, lurching toward me, injured.  It was terrifying, and I really didn’t know what to do.

I prayed for help in the form of a teacher.  An occasional friend I might confide in warned me about teachers and said it was for me to figure out alone, and so I stalled, grateful when spiritual events continued and didn’t terrify me, anxious and afraid when they did.

Many, many experiences filled me with confidence and encouragement that it was right that I remain a hermit and pursue this avocation.  Twice I received messages when friends died – and I was the only one, I assumed because I was one of the few people among their friends who spent every evening watching the sunset, every day without clocks and busyness to distract their attentions from spiritual realities.  A few times I knew of people who needed healing, but I didn’t just pray; I waited for Spirit to channel a prayer through me; and impressive cures were reported.

I wasn’t as terribly resistant a shamanic initiate as I confess to.  Many of my experiences were like those I’d imagined when I moved out to the desert to be alone – akin to those attributed to St. Francis.  I experienced amazing connections with everything from bears and rattlesnakes to phoebes, lizards, bees, and more.  I lay in fields of flowers.  I watched the stars and moon, and felt protected by them.  I created art and did occasional consulting via the Internet to pay my bills.

One day, I had another experience, which bridged my decades of environmental activism with Spirit.   I was walking to the sink for a glass of water, when I suddenly felt the jolting presence of a woman I’d known crash into me!  I knew immediately who she was – Judi Bar, whom I’d admired from afar and had interviewed once for three hours on the phone, and who had died years earlier after having survived for seven years a car-bomb assassination attempt on her life for courageously confronting multi-national corporations cutting down the redwoods in California.  I’d always felt very insignificant compared to her.  But I hadn’t really known her, and  hadn’t thought of her in who-knows-how-long.  Suddenly she was there inside me, with a jolt, and I felt filled with a number of ideas all at once:  She told me I wasn’t insignificant, and my caution was something she could have benefitted from in her work on Earth.  She was mellower now on the next plane and saw clearly her errors and had forgiven herself and wanted me to know that I shouldn’t discount myself so much.  And then she was gone.  I was stunned, as always by events like these, still feeling unworthy.

A few days or weeks later, her former boyfriend, whom I’d known but hadn’t talked to in years, called me up and asked me to do media work for the trial finally going to court twelve years after her bombing.  I took Judi’s message as a sign that I should do this, and I did.  The trial was against the FBI, not for the bombing per se, but for numerous crimes related to the “investigation,” slandering her after the bombing, violating her First Amendment right to free speech, etc.  I would sit in court regularly and send out media releases around the world almost daily for six weeks; and Judi was vindicated as the FBI agents were found guilty on all charges.

It was a frightening time though.  Those men in expensive suits glared at us when we passed in the hallways, and I worried that when I went home to my isolated hermitage in the desert that they might retaliate against me for all my words against them.

I hoped I could continue to be strong, all alone out there in the desert.

To be continued:  aliens and mind control

Overcoming Challenges to Telling the Whole Truth

I envy people whose stories are simpler than mine, perhaps involving just one sort of alien – especially a helpful sort who conveys spiritual wisdom and encouragement.  That would be very nice.

I’m fortunate to have also had those sorts of positive “alien” experiences, and to also have had profound spiritual experiences since early childhood.  For those I’m very grateful, and I doubt I’d be here today if I hadn’t had them.

The biggest complicating factor in understanding my own story is that I was also a mind control subject in my childhood, and I’ve experienced what seems to be ongoing interference by mind controllers in my life up into fairly recent years.

This problem has a few parts:

1) How can I describe the relationship between my alien, spiritual, and mind control experiences when the culture lumps all “aliens” together?  Clearly, we need to acknowledge the wide variety of aliens, some working for our good, and others for our subjection, and then acknowledge that mind control – often called “government” mind control – is almost certainly a collaboration between certain aliens and “above-top-secret” levels of government.

Obviously, all our terms need to be defined carefully before we can begin to communicate effectively.  To do this, one can begin with the work of Michael Salla, which seems quite well-researched and credible to me.  It’s odd that I’ve had a strong resistance to passing on anyone else’s work without researching it myself, even though I’m not an academic researcher who needs to impose these parameters on my work.  (Have I, a mystic at heart, been mind controlled to resist getting further in my own understanding with these strict parameters, when I might have simply said, “It resonates,” and leave it at that?)  In any case, up until now, I’ve told myself that I really didn’t know for certain, and therefore I couldn’t write about this – very disempowering maybe mind control keeping me silent in recent years.

2) Acknowledging that there are aliens working for our positive evolution and others working for our subjection, it’s terribly frightening, humiliating, and, maybe to some people, discrediting for me to say I’ve been messed with seriously by the controlling ones.  This being the case, will anyone want to listen to me?

3) Sometimes it seems the controllers have interfered in my Internet communications with people important to me.  If they can do that, what’s the point of writing at all?

4) Also, being that they’ve broken into my house and physically accosted me in terrible ways (the worst a Taser attack leaving a serious burn on my arm, and my body and spirit severely weakened for days) after some of my writing, am I courageous enough to try again?

5) Assuming I will overcome all the above, the most important thing I wan to communicate is that we can overcome everything in right relationship with our spiritual help and with the good aliens – but am I doing that well enough?

I am humbly on this spiritual path, as Whitley Strieber says, “On the path and off the path – that’s the Path” – but is it good enough?  Do I have a “right” to talk at this point?  Must I be stronger, or will I get stronger as I walk the walk?

6) Accepting this calling, I finally return to the heart of my issues:  To define the grand picture of “aliens,” helpful and controlling, Spiritual beings, and the above-top-secret governmental experimenters in mind control – and their relationships with each other and mine with them.

It’s a sometimes-frightening story.  It’s amazing to me the number of grown men (not women, interestingly) who tell me, “I couldn’t finish your book, because it’s too frightening.”  I don’t want to scare people, and I don’t want to pretend everything’s okay.  I’ve done both, and neither feels fully honest.

To tell the full story truthfully, I need to write a very long book (like Niara Isley’s), but I was trained to write news – briefly, succinctly, only the facts, little back-story.  People have called my writing “Hemingway-esque.”  I wrote my straightforward book, RattleSnake Fire: a memoir of extra-dimensional experience, refusing to elaborate much on my conclusions, letting the readers draw what they would.  Many respectable people have praised the book, but I really need to tell a whole lot more, and so I haven’t marketed my book for years, and I quit doing media interviews also years ago.

So this is where I am today:  ready to acknowledge the challenges, move past them, and lay out my experiences with all those connections between me and Spirit, “aliens” of different sorts, and mind control.

Essays coming.

Thanks for staying in touch.

Everything in Its Time

A common truism is that sometimes we need to step away from a problem, sometimes for a long period of time, before we can return to it and perceive it correctly.

For years, I have been keenly aware of my “problem” of interpreting my “anomalous” life experiences, and was very open to information and ideas, but I had chosen to not wrestle with the issues, not read very much about the subject (after a few years of voracious reading), and not pursue any conclusions I was willing to share completely.

The reason for my passive curiosity probably involved a few varieties of fear, cloaked in a philosophical “everything in its time” together with a sense that I needed to “ground myself” better first.

And so I spent a few years teaching English and the last year teaching Permaculture – environmental design – but always knowing in the back of my mind that I have a responsibility to make sense of my anomalous experiences and, because I’m a writer, to share what I learn.

Recently I began reading my friend Niara Isley’s memoir, Facing the Shadow, Embracing the Light, and was so impressed by her fearless wrestling with issues very like my own, that I put down her book halfway through and began to read again, selectively, and watch videos (most which seemed mostly un-credible but very educational regarding the lies told us as a culture), and began to feel much of my experiences begin to fall into a meaningful design.

I’ve been documenting “anomalous” experiences in my private journal for years, and occasionally I’ve posted experiences on my website, but I’ve always been very aware that I was not articulating any progress toward a larger, more coherent worldview.  Instead I was living with an ongoing “mush” of experiences, including some that terrified me, for which I had a vague, deep-in-my-heart feeling that they would eventually lead me to some coherence.

Why the delay?  Maybe it was “only” my fear.  Or maybe my spiritual help knew I needed more emotional and physical support, which I now have, to overcome that fear.

In any case, the time away from the subject has been productive.  I now have ideas stirring that I will be working to put into essays, tying together the experiences that I have long put into three categories – spiritual, alien, and government/mind control – sometimes uncertain into which categories they belonged, and therefore I was unwilling to state exactly what I believed was the meaning and relationships between them all.

I intend to post the first of these new essays very soon.

Thanks for reading.

Multiple-ness: What it Feels Like

What it feels like to be multiple

Being multiple = being fractured into multiple holograms of oneself, each with very different approaches to life.  Parts can been coordinated, but they’re not always graceful.

Only sometimes, now, do I think of being multiple as necessarily a disability.  It can be that.  But it also often feels like a super-ability, though not as comfortable, socially.  But that’s okay.  Being me is very interesting.  It’s like having seven sets of eyes on the world, from a lot of perspectives.

I have lots of conversations with myself, about everything.  In social settings, I’m often “slow,” because I had seven different responses to the last thing said hit my brain, and I was thinking about each, weighing their merits, comparing practicality versus economy, recognizing ironies, wondering which streams of thought might be interesting to share with others, and then the subject changed and I hadn’t weighed in.  Or I was stunned to feel compelled to say something but wasn’t sure which part of my thoughts to share.  Sometimes I try to summarize – to be brief – and it often doesn’t quite fit with where everyone else was going.  I have pretty much gotten over my humiliation at times like those.

Other times, if I know I’m facing a social event that will be demanding, I get ready, I sleep well, I pray and do yoga regularly, I eat well,  I go slow, I dedicate myself to the responsibility, I put in the work.  And lately I’ve begun accomplishing my goals.  Feeling very strong.

Off and on throughout my life, I’ve been very proud of my work.  Off and on throughout my life, I’ve experienced the most pathetic failures, including the failure of the will to live.

But so have many people.  We’re living in a time when personal crisis should happen to everyone.

Most people can’t hear the next person’s story.  It’s too intense.  And so we live in a culture where everyone is under stress, but no one can talk about it, further stressing ourselves with isolation.  A huge percentage of Americans are medicating themselves.  We can’t take our own stories.

But, with drugs, hope, news control, entertainment, and other forms of mind control, we compel ourselves to do what we hardly can believe sometimes that we have within us:  we create beauty, we fight for just causes, we love and sacrifice.  We create beauty.  And so do I.

As a multiple, my sense of time is terribly fractured.  I start out each day knowing what day it is, but when the days flow behind me, they are in a jumble.  I have feelings about something being a few days ago, or longer or closer, but I’m often not sure if an event happened three days ago or seven, yesterday morning or the morning before.

There’s just no single flow.  Different parts of my day are handled by different parts of me.  One comes out in the morning to keep me slowed down so I can do yoga before I begin flying around being German-ly productive.  The business woman gets on the phone.  Someone else cooks, someone else socializes.  They are all pretty aware of what each other does, but they don’t seem to have a system that allows any of the conscious me to know what order things happened in.  And if the one who sees someone in the food coop isn’t the one who interacted with that person at a workshop, then I will be disappointingly awkward when we pass; the shopping part of me will remember vaguely.  Within a minute or two, another part of me could be having pangs of regret that I didn’t remember soon enough because I’d had a deep conversation with the woman and had looked forward to seeing her again.  That can be very disappointing.

I used to get depressed about myself, and embarrassed, but also confused.  Why?  Why?  Why?  Why did this happen?  And what’s happening?  I feel weird, but I can’t explain it.  And for decades I didn’t know.

Then in 1994, at age 42, one year after I slid dramatically into a serious spiritual crisis of bigger Why’s?, essentially a nervous breakdown, I was reading Michael Talbot’s The Holographic Universe, and came upon a description of people with multiple personality disorder.  The funny thing was: as soon as I read the sentence, I couldn’t remember what I’d read.  The blankness in my mind was shocking.  I read the sentence again and again, and every time I reached the period, I had no idea what I’d read.  Then I had a bright idea and tried to trick myself, and succeeded:  I read it aloud.  Somehow, the extra perceptual input, both eyes and ears involved, got past some gate, and I realized I was reading symptoms that suddenly seemed to be a perfect description of me – but not what I wanted to consider.  The description was of a person with multiple personality, or as they call it today dissociative identity disorder.

As usual, I had a range of responses: some children screaming No!, others dreading the humiliation of mental illness, others dreading the loss of pretending to feel normal, the defeat, the crushing defeat, the loss of dreams, the loss of respect, of self-respect, of my children’s respect, or anyone’s.  And one part of me said, very practically, Or this could be the first step to healing – which you have been craving for a long time – the solution, the understanding, the answerAccept it and get to work studying it first thing tomorrow.  The whole of me said, Okay.  There was nothing else to do.

We went to the medical library the next day, and within a week I had decided to leave the city and, using credit cards, build a small hermitage on some land I’d gotten in my recent divorce.  My son had just recovered from cancer, and he and his sister didn’t need me and my breakdown emotions around any more, and they were barely or almost old enough to be left alone, so I moved – with apologies to them reasserted for years – to the desert and began to heal myself – with spiritual assistance.

I healed myself with the input of all my parts.  Together, I have a lot of wisdom – that’s the up-side of multiple-ness.  But it wasn’t fast.

And it’s been painful.  I’ve fallen on the floor at home, unable to stand, and wept my heart empty on the cold, hard floor.

I’ve felt parts of me see each other, recognize each other, and come together.

I’ve heard parts of me speak brilliance from somewhere inside me that seems beyond this dimension of me.

I’ve sent healing, and received goodbye’s from friends and acquaintances just passing over.

I’ve read people’s vibes, accidentally, and know that they knew I’d read  their vibes.

Steps forward and backward.  Side trips.  Or so it seems, and then I realize it was an amazing spiral upward.  And I keep going.

Socializing is the most difficult.   I prepare, and then take it in small doses.  Otherwise, I hit the wall and am exhausted.

I’m like herding cats.  Imagine at least seven of me inside (it seems), well-connected for some purposes, but not socializing so much.  Sometimes I just have to go home.

I am less self-recriminatory, and more often philosophical.  Life on planet Earth is crazy now.  I’m what they call “a sensitive.”  I have a lot of sensory organs when you multiply me in this one body.

But people seem to forget.  And forgive.  So I forgive myself too, and keep on keeping on.  Creating beauty.  Don’t know what else to do.

I trust it’s all for a good purpose:  the beauty, the fights, even the multiple-ness and things that caused it, definitely the healing.  I think we’re creating a new world, a new ourselves.  It’s okay if it’s not always graceful.  Birth can be messy.

At least that’s what it seems to this person who feels multiple.

How do I seem to you?  I’d love knowing.  It might help me check my perceptions, and get even better. …if it’s something we can talk about.  Can we talk?  Can we get past our isolating culture, and discuss what it feels like?

Next:  healing events, and our Relations.

7 1/2 years since my hermitage

rock creek houseIt’s been 7 1/2 years since I left my 7-year hermitage on the western slope of the Chiricahua Mountains in southeastern Arizona and moved to the town of Silver City, New Mexico, to recreate my life.

I’d been experiencing bizarre, confusing, and sublime events for years, some seeming like alien and UFO contact, some that felt shamanic and promising, and others that seemed to involve government agents who could immobilize me and leave marks on my body that terrified me with my helplessness.

I’d been drawn in different directions:  to bravely face the Mystery, strengthen my spirit, and open myself to teachings from the Unknown, and alternately cower in fear and even consider killing myself rather than let some unknown agents use me against my will.

Ultimately, I’d become afraid I was “a sitting duck” out there in the country alone, so I left the home I’d lovingly crafted over all those years out of straw, mud, and stone in natural shapes, and returned to society in rectangles of space and time, seeking new experiences to help me understand.

One of the first things I did was look for a UFO/alien conference that might frame my questions in terms of spiritual awakening.  I was thrilled to find this very conference was taking place within weeks of being paid for selling my home – and the conference was in Hawaii, with extra events available for those who wanted to swim with dolphins and discuss experiences – for ten days! – with others who believed in the spiritual potential of understanding the UFO/alien connection.

There is no unanimous theory among this subset of people experiencing what has been called “alien.”  Some seem to me to be terribly naive, others I distrust as manipulators, and liars, masquerading as exactly opposite of who they profess to be.

Of course, I’ve also considered that I could be paranoid.  And, alternately, that I could be naively hopeful myself, and my safety might lie in taking my fears more seriously.  So many conflicting theories; so many possible contexts in which to reevaluate my scores of experiences over my lifetime; so difficult, at times, to know what to believe about my own mind.

But I’ve tried:  I meditated.  I was hypnotized.  I prayed.  I did ritual.  I talked with others.  I attended shamanic conferences and events.  I refused to read books on the subject in order to keep my perceptions pure and untainted.  Then one day I decided to read books to compare my experiences with others’.  And I ignored the stuff, testing the theory that it was all in my head, and I could make it go away if I gave it less energy.  I tried to live a normal life.

But animals and even plants kept communicating.  I saw things.  I participated in healings.  I tested theories, and other people played out the results.

I kept records of my memories and anomalous events.  I studied and collated those events; then I went for years without looking at them, to frame them against the “normal world.”  I exercised my rational mind to assure myself that I had looked at these experiences from every vantage point possible.  And I worked to plant myself humbly within the mundane world for “grounding” and waited patiently for the big picture to come into view.

Ultimately, I accepted that I’d been invited by multi-dimensional beings to expand my consciousness and see more than the limited dimensions of this mundane world.

Eventually I traveled distances to talk to others who’d experienced events similar to mine.

I became a certified Transpersonal Hypnotherapist™.

I prayed for a teacher to lead me, and none came.  Or maybe many came.

For awhile I partnered with a Native American man who’d been invited by his grandfather, a Tewa medicine man, to learn the practices of a shaman.  He had accepted the training, then chose the option to not go forward and left the training.  It was a comfort to have affirmed the truism that the shaman’s is not an easy path, is indeed hazardous, and must be undertaken with clear sight, and is not for everyone.

It’s okay to say, This is not for me – so it’s said, but it seems that the spirits sometimes insist.

I wondered why I had found myself invited in the first place.

Was I like the man in the medieval woodcut peeking under the veil to see the many layers of reality?  Or was I failing my destiny for having not taken up the challenge with my total heart and soul?

Or was it more mundane than that?  Had I simply been taken as a child by government mind-controllers (evil demons or their human minions?) whose programming had exposed me to multi-dimensional reality, of which I was not developed spiritually enough to comprehend, so it was right for me to pull back from experiences I couldn’t yet negotiate safely?

I spent years in the mental tug of war, pulled between spiritual desire and utter terror of those who seemed able to enter my home at any time and leave me sick with mysterious wounds – or I found a tenuous balance between those ideas, which I tried to maintain, but never for long.

I certainly couldn’t focus too seriously on making a living, developing a new career, impressing clients that I really cared about their events I was hired to plan.  There were days when I laid in bed and wondered what options did I have to protect myself beside suicide.

I knew others who hosted weekly or monthly groups for “experiencers,” and I tried the same, showing movies and hosting discussions that I hoped would help me find others with whom I could share more honestly the full range of my experiences, but too often my groups attracted people whom I didn’t fully trust.  I spent thousands of dollars I couldn’t afford and gave myself the reputation in this new community as – I can only guess – another weird person with weird ideas.

I continued to experience strange intrusions in my life.  More than once I woke up to discover perfect (surgically-created?) half-spherical “scoops” removed from my right finger, left scapula, and when I posted about that, a line of scoops across my anus.  Another time, I suffered for more than a day with extreme fear and nausea after waking on a urine-soaked mattress with a Taser-burn on my right forearm.  Once I drove into a strange fog on a remote section of highway, experienced a flood of strange sensations as my perceptions of time, space, sound, and visuals failed to correspond with each other, ending with the sight of the Continental Divide sign (at the top of the mountain ridge, of course) approaching me from below.  And that is just one of three weird highway events.

Today, I do not have a conceptual framework I’m willing to share, except vaguely.  I believe the larger framework, the larger Realty, is simply beyond what we humans have language for, or at least beyond what English-speaking Americans have language for.  Like all wise ones have said.  We see through a glass darkly.  The Tao that can be spoken is not the Tao.  Reality is far bigger and more complex than our words.

Since childhood, many of us have been told that spiritual realities are not real, and most of us have been forced into compulsory eduction, in which we’re forced to spend our days focused on the material world, and forced to see it the way our teachers tell us it is.  Eventually, we forget how to perceive other realities, all the other dimensions and wavelengths of energy beyond the narrow bands of human-perceived light and human-perceived sound.  And there’s so much more.  And then we interpret those narrow bands of vibrational information according to the rules that the teachers relay to us, and only decades later we learn that those rules are in no way certain, but our minds have been trained to work within their limits.

I admit:  so much of this game feels “evil” in every sense of the word:  So much of it is contrary to Life.  The rules of economics, for one example, murder countless people, decimate nations, and destroy the health of the very planet we depend on for all life.

Still, it seems wrong to call all this death “evil,” and it’s my garden that gives me pause in using that word.  Underneath the most lovely rose – and everything else alive in the garden – is a mix of life and death at its darkest complexity.

I’m no longer sure the terms “Evil” and “Good” hold significant meaning.  While Christians and other faiths find great importance in these concepts, I have begun to doubt them.

In my garden, for example, death is an essential component of life.  At the roots of the rose are an infinite number of dead things.  All the plants grow because they are fed with dead, dying, and rotting things.  The volvox, reputedly the first sexually-reproducing life form on Earth, requires – and probably introduced the requirement for – death eventually of all sexually-reproducing life.

Children commonly misinterpret the well-intentioned actions of their parents as “mean” and only decades later understand the need for those actions.

Children and adults seem to need to hurt themselves in order to learn about the consequences of our actions.  Simple things like learning to be conscious and pick up our feet are only learned by tripping and falling down.

Shamans and healers commonly recount terrifying ordeals in alternate realities that they must experience in order to learn their skills.

Many adults credit very tough life experiences for their maturity and even their greatest qualities.

Social movements gain momentum by sacrifices, sometimes human ones.

Et cetera.  So I conclude that just because I have physical scars and mental ones does not mean that I have been treated cruelly by evil beings.  It may simply be Life.  Or even my Creator.  I don’t know.

But I do know this:  I have become less afraid and less resentful.  And less certain that our Creator or “God” or “the gods” are necessarily “kind” or “evil” according to our way of judging.

I perceive a lot of truth in all the religions of the world, and most philosophies.  I also perceive a lot of lies and manipulation in religion and politics, education/academia, media/entertainment/news, society, etc.  But I feel less judgement toward it, less concerned with condemning it, more ready to compare our society to that of ants:  just getting their job done, maybe enslaving smaller ants if they themselves are large.

Even my sweet cat, Peaches, is a killer and tormentor of helpless lizards, birds, and mice.

Finally, the condemnation directed so commonly toward aliens, or human mind controllers, or alien mind-controllers, for the ways they treat their human subjects is no different from the ways we humans treat the other living beings around us.  I can imagine my indignation if I was treated the way I treat my cat – which I think is excellent:  fed high-end “pet” food, with little variety (a lot for a cat, I think, but far less than I give myself), perhaps missing vital nutrients (how can I know for sure?), confinement, and more.  And the way other humans treat animals in their homes, labs, and ranches – the aliens probably compare quite well to many human scientists.  And so I feel silly getting too upset about the things that I have experienced.

(And I wonder if we humans might be treated better if we treated our animals better?  As above, so below?  As below, so above?)

I conclude that I have really suffered little.  I’ve been afraid mostly, and most of my fear was around strange perceptions and the loneliness of having so little social support.  And memories of events that might still terrorize me but are long past.

Ultimately, those discomforts have done something good for me.  Simply, I now know (by experience, not by theory) that we live in a multi-dimensional universe, and I am a multi-dimensional being with an existence far beyond this one.  I know that I have assistance on other realms.  And more, but this is enough to share now.

In short:  Don’t get stuck in fear.  Don’t get stuck in black and white.  Be true to yourself.  Look inside.  And look beyond this world.  Don’t get stuck  in the limiting mindset of this culture.  Dream.  Connect to your soul family.  Be your best self.  Have faith.

Famous People Speaking About Mind Control

reposted from http://salonesoterica.wordpress.com

“Ideas are more powerful than guns.  We would not let our enemies have guns; why should we let them have ideas?”
– Joseph Stalin

**

“More than half a century ago Hitler said the masses take a long time to understand and remember, thus it is necessary to repeat the message time and time and time again.  The public must be conditioned to accept the claims that are made…no matter how outrageous or false those claims might be.”
– Carl Jensen

**

“Those who manipulate the organized habits and opinions of the masses constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country.” 
– Edward Bernays, assistant to William Paley, founder of CBS

**

“We need a program of psychosurgery and political control of our society. The purpose is physical control of the mind. Everyone who deviates from the given norm can be surgically mutilated. The individual may think that the most important reality is his own existence, but this is only his personal point of view. This lacks historical perspective. Man does not have the right to develop his own mind. This kind of liberal orientation has great appeal. We must electrically control the brain. Some day armies and generals will be controlled by electrical stimulation of the brain.”

– Dr. Jose Delgado, MKULTRA

**

“You can hardly imagine the warfare that broke out in this area in the first half of the last century.  It would hardly be an exaggeration to say that sometimes real ‘astral battles’ took place.”

– General Boris Ratnikov, former KGB officer

**

“A handful of us determine what will be on the evening news broadcasts, or, for that matter, in the New York Times or Washington Post or Wall Street Journal….  Indeed it is a handful of us with this awesome power….And those [news stories] available to us already have been culled and re-culled by persons far outside our control.”

– Walter Cronkite

**

“For more than a century ideological extremists at either end of the political spectrum have seized upon well-publicized incidents such as my encounter with Castro to attack the Rockefeller family for the inordinate influence they claim we wield over American political and economic institutions.  Some even believe we are part of a secret cabal working against the best interests of the United States, characterizing my family and me as ‘internationalists’ and of conspiring with others around the world to build a more integrated global political and economic structure–one world, if you will.  If that’s the charge, I stand guilty, and I am proud of it.”

David Rockefeller, Memoirs (2002)

**

“No one ever heard of the truth being enforced by law. Whenever the secular arm is called in to sustain an idea, whether new or old, it is always a bad idea, and not infrequently it is downright idiotic.”

– H.L. Mencken

**

Anyone who challenges the prevailing orthodoxy finds himself silenced with surprising effectiveness.  A genuinely unfashionable opinion is almost never given a fair hearing.”

– George Orwell

**

“Thought control, like birth control, is best undertaken as long as possible before the fact.”

– Richard Mitchell

**

“During a war, news should be given out for instruction rather than information.”

– Joseph Goebbels

**

“Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our minds.”

– Bob Marley

Sources of Power III: Tribe

We are only half-creating our “own” evolution; someone else is tending us as their garden.  Sometimes the gardener really rips things up.  But we’re more than plants to these gardeners; we’re also their children, carrying some of their DNA.  (Just like Jesus said, calling us his children.  He also called himself our shepherd and us his sheep, like it or not – another religious metaphor that fits the theory perfectly.)

In my life, I’ve had a few experiences of Jesus, more real than anything I know today.  And now I know he’s my tribal leader in the cosmos, my chief, my spiritual help and guide, my teacher.  His teachings include the wisdom that heaven should be sought within.

His American name though!  I war with it all the time.  Jesus is the Americanized version of the Greek translation of Yeshua.  The translation would be okay, but it is also made a mockery of by TV evangelists, it’s used as curse, and, more to the heart of things, I was abused under that name.

I’ve tried a few times to go to church, but pews, even the semblance of pews with folding chairs, make me sick.  And the name rings in my head with bad memories.

But the man who warned us away from sexism, violence, materialism, racism, and doctrine – he’s my Chief, brother, comrade, friend, compatriot, and fellow-warrior.

Sources of Power IV: Opposition

Sources of Power IV: Opposition

Every religion has a true foundation that has been skewed throughout history.  His story.

And every religion offers clues to our planet’s past visits by extra-dimensional and/or extra-planetary people.  And they’re also right that we are in a spiritual battle.

We may be someone’s stock.  And, we are half-creators.  It’s a dynamic struggle – just like Earth politics.  Just like all of life.

Earth politics flows directly from cosmic politics – what Alfred Webre coined exo-politics (nominated Word of the Year, 2005).

Since creation by our ancestors, we’ve been managed.  Some of whom make war amongst us, inventing political stories to explain their actions.

In the Annunaki version, one side of our creator ancestors would like to wipe us off the planet, and sometimes I don’t blame them.

Meantime, the other Annunaki brother has petitioned for us, sometimes convincing his brother to be lenient, other times helping the humans in ways that makes the first brother angry.  Many religions tell similar stories.

And we’re in the middle, responding to survive, or to get the most pleasure if that’s our ” fortune” – being part of the Military-Industrial-Information complex, for instance, oppressing the remainder of humanity through economic manipulations and war.

Opposition, though, might actually have utility – to us, as well as to them.

Opposition forces us to become something different from what we want to be.  Opposition forces change, and change is fundamental to our lives.

Sometimes, the opposition is horrendous and senseless, for which I have no explanation.  Whatever the purpose, opposition cannot be ignored.  Awakening to know one’s environment, including the predators, is a simple survival trait.  We should be glad to be made aware.

But our culture tells us there’s no one “above us on the food chain.”  So we don’t perceive our gardener-ancestors, putting us to work, taking what they need, experimenting, shepherding, killing, teaching (two sides of the family, remember).

These different stories we hear, of evil and good, seeming contradictions and arbitrariness, can all be explained by realizing that what’s out there – and hidden right here – in the multi-dimensions – the world of the alien gods – is not homogenous; it’s a teeming universe.  And some of it is opposed to us.

And we also have help.

So don’t be cavalier.  And don’t be afraid.

Just see.

Next:  Sources of Power V:  Ancestors

Sources of Power VIII: Consciousness

Today we accepted an invitation to see a movie next week at a friend’s house, to watch and discuss a video titled, Healing Mother Earth’s Sacred Sites.  The video, I was told, is about the community around Big Bear Lake in California that worked with a local Shoshone medicine man to bring different sorts of healing to the area, including bringing back the water level in the lake after it had dropped sixteen feet.

The controlling (and sometimes evil) Powers of this world are limited, in ways it is up to us to discover.

And while planetary changes or a meteor might bring them down, we also have great power that it’s time we remember how to use.

We are multi-dimensional beings struggling to come to consciousness; others are working to keep us asleep or pacified, and controlled. The eternal struggle.

Sources of Power VII: Clarity

Yesterday we watched a video that summed up why I’m so ready for change and what we’ve both felt for most of our adulthoods about the charade that is our politics and culture, though the video filled in the gaps in our history, proving our guts were correct.  We watched  Secrets in Plain Sight.

Satisfying, it could have also been, on a bad day, defeating, as it made it seem that nothing could thwart the power of the Elite but a meteor or some major plate tectonic action.  It made geological salvation (God-sent?) seem the only real possibility.

Other days, I feel like people could make the change themselves.  It will require, though, a major change in consciousness, so that people see their commonality, across religions, races, and social castes, that we are (almost) all enslaved and need to see it to deal with it.

Slavery is kept possible when factions fight among themselves instead of against the overlord.  If we acted as Yeshua taught, everyone would be fed, bankers would not charge interest, and we wouldn’t spend half the world’s wealth every day on war.

It does indeed seem that one god brother is trying to kill us, and he’s using humans to do the dirty work against other humans, and we do it.  Waving flags, we don’ see that our words fail to match our reality.

When things get dire enough, people wake up.  And we are.

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next:  Sources of Power VIII: Consciousness

Sources of Power VI: Choice

While my partner read the last chapter of Botany of Desire aloud, I felt calling from the bookshelf the 1998 Pulitzer Prize-winning book by John McPhee, Annals of a Former World – nominally about geology.

The book opens with this:

The poles of the Earth have wandered.  The equator has apparently moved.  The continents, perched on their plates, are thought to have been carried so very far and to be going in so many directions that it seems an act of almost pure hubris to assert that some landmark of our world is fixed at 73 degrees 57 minutes and 53 seconds west longitude and 40 degrees 51 minutes and 14 seconds north latitude – a temporary description, at any rate, as if for a boat on the sea.  Nevertheless, these coordinates will, for what is generally described as the foreseeable future, bring you with absolute precision to the west apron of the George Washington Bridge.  Nine a.m.  A weekday morning.  The traffic is some gross demonstration in particle physics.  It burst from its confining source, aimed at Chicago, Cheyenne, Sacramento, through the high dark road cuts of the Palisades Sill.  A young woman, on foot, is being pressed up against the rock wall by the wind booms of the big semis of Con Weimar Bulk Transportation, Fruehauf Long Ranger.  Her face is Nordic, her eyes dark brown and Latin – the bequests of grandparents from the extremes of Europe.  She wears mountain boots, blue jeans.  She carries a single-jack sledgehammer….  She is a geologist.

Why do I like this opening so much?  While it concludes with a simple human experience I never imagined before, it begins with a reminder that the Earth has been through many, many changes over the millennia, is moving and shifting constantly even now.

I’m looking forward to some seriously dramatic changes on this Earth again.  And I think I’m willing to survive or perish in such a catastrophe – anything to end the wars, torture, child sex industries, financial manipulations, and enslavement.

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next:  Source of Power VII:  Clarity

Sources of Power V: Ancestors

Alien gods, gardeners, shepherds, ranchers, controllers of our genetics, teachers, war-makers, plague makers, prophets – different sides of our ancestry.

We are the same to others.  We control a great deal of the living biota of this planet, plants and animals, even in our furthest reaches.  Nothing can escape the DDT we’ve spread.  Animals live horrendous lives for our food.  Other animals die en masse by our wanton recklessness, like sonar experiments driving whales to beach and kill themselves.

Is the behavior of the ancestors so hard to understand?  Either we mirror them, or they mirror us.  I wonder which it is.

If time exists (some say it doesn’t, but I can’t see that), I believe the evil comes from them (but of course) first, and we’ve been enslaved into their cruel system.  I don’t believe human beings are born as cruel as they have become.

And I believe we can remember our souls if we get in contact and stay in contact with the chosen of our ancestors.

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next:   Source of Power VI:  Choice

Sources of Power II: History

…Listening and reading, I couldn’t help but think about another book we read months ago, Twelfth Planet, by Zecharia Sitchin, an unimpeachable Sumerian scholar, who lays out his research in translating tens of thousands of texts which tell a credible history of humanity as creations of the Annunaki, an inner-planetary race of people the Sumerians called gods, who mixed their DNA with terrestrial DNA to create us and then have continued to tinker with our genetics, as well as our civilization, exploiting us for various uses, employing some of us in an inner circle, a secret society.

Outrageous though it sounds, this story, uncovered in an archeological find of such volume that it could not be suppressed, solves many of our cultural “mysteries”:  Who’s really running things?  Why does our nation engage in so many meaningless wars, foisting on us such illogical lies?  (Lone gunman, 911.  No one believes, but the populace keeps them as Rulers.)

And there are many nagging mysteries solved by the Annunaki theory:  Why does our economic system not “work”?  [It’s goal is not what we’re told.]  Why is everyone so tired that they can’t respond to the lies and injustices?  Why are private prisons being built to house a greater percent of our population than any other nation on Earth?  Why is the American political system so bad?  And again: why aren’t we able to respond?

The biggest mystery is why we accept so many mysteries when this one story – told around the world since the beginning of time – could make our world and our perceptions suddenly coherent.  Every religion is coherent with it.

Jehovah is a character combined from the two Sumerian brother gods rolled into one, controller Enlil and nurturer Enki.  The Bible, Koran, Bagadvad Gita, and sacred texts all over the world tell stories of human history that fit the overall dynamics of the Annunaki story, though the words and images of each religions have evolved over time, turned into cartoons – so we forget it.

Sources of Power III:  Tribe

Sources of Power I: Half-gods

One of the most wonderful parts of my life these days has been reading aloud in the evenings with my partner.  We often read more than one book at once, and sometimes the synergy is exciting.

We just finished reading The Botany of Desire by Michael Pollan – an exquisite depiction of humans throughout time selecting apples, tulips, cannabis, and potatoes – and in the latter case corporations selecting – the genetics pleasing to humans, letting the other genetics go to compost, and thereby directing the evolution of those plant genetics – half creator.

Half, because humans could only choose from among the limited library that the plant offered.  Still:  Half-Creator.  Us.

I’m reminded that “we have great responsibility,” say our Hopi elders.

Monsanto, though, has gone beyond the plants’ offerings.  Insects and pathogens get virulent.  The earth is sterilized.  People become dependent.  Death on many levels, including the soul and psychology of humanity.

But….

next:  Sources of Power II: History

Not From Here

I used to call myself an Earth First!er.  But now I’m not sure.

In November 1999, I drove from Colorado Springs, where I’d been a realtor for 3 years, to Tucson to pick up three old friends and drive with them to Arizona’s Cabeza Prieta Wilderness on the Mexican border.

We were meeting up with a dozen other environmental activists at the location where the original four guys, among them our friend and mentor Dave Foreman, had hatched up the idea of a radical environmental movement, enlarging the idea of the Monkeywrench Gang of the novel by Edward Abbey, also a sometime colleague and icon in our midst.

We were not the most radical Earth First!ers.  We were looked down on by the activists of the Northwest.  Once when a controversy arose, we were called Foremanistas, implying we were enslaved in a cult to Dave’s fame.  He’d been interviewed on national news and published the Earth First! Journal, controlling its content, of course, and the Northwest Most Radicals didn’t always like his assessment of things they might have done.  We were not cool.  But we had great parties.

I remember those like halcyon days, an idyllic time of street theater, civil disobedience, camping, even wilderness consciousness raising weekends together.  While others risked their lives, we had mailing parties, potlucks, and did a less intense version of radical.

I had dropped away from them almost a decade before, and a lot of weird stuff had gone down in the meantime.  In 1989, Dave Foreman had been framed (agent admission on tape) and nearly sent to prison along with four others who did go, one of whom was a friend of mine, Peg Millett.  In 1990, Judi Bari had been bombed and the FBI would be found guilty in court twelve years later on numerous crimes related to the assassination attempt.

My husband and I discovered during this time that we’d had two FBI agents in our house on a few occasions and that there were at least 38 pages in other people’s files that included our names in capital letters, meaning that there were files on us.  I’d found myself unable to keep up my business, so I got a job doing a limited number of tasks for someone else who would outline the scope.  I could handle that.

Then my son got cancer and our health insurance company declared bankruptcy the same week.  My husband was not just unhelpful, but hostile, and as things had not been going well between us for years, I left him.

At a counselor’s office, I said a few words I’d had no idea were coming out of my mouth:  that I thought I had been sexually abused as a child, which totally blew me away.  But when I tried to remember my parents ever looking at me when they weren’t angry, I couldn’t remember any, except the time my father smiled, for which I still remember the powerful fascination of it, and gave me an injection.  Something in my body was feeling very harmonious and relieved by this idea, while other parts were hysterical, numb, or sobbing.

At work I began to find myself unconscious with my head laid on my desk – every day for enough days in a row that I finally accepted that I couldn’t work

I’d been a workaholic all my life, knew the phone number of every activist, progressive organization, and local progressive politician by memory, and had won awards and commendations at most things I put my mind to.  But I was a mess.

I had weird memory problems.  I screamed at the slightest surprise, then couldn’t use my arms for a half-minute or so because of all the adrenalin lodged in my elbow joints.

If I quit working, what would I do for money?

At a reception for the nominees (I was one) for the Martindale Prize, an annual fiction writing contest with some prestige in Arizona, I won second place and was offered assurance that I would be accepted into the Master’s Program if I wanted.

With the promise of scholarship money and encouragement to write (good therapy) I enrolled.

One humiliating year later, I built a house in the desert and intended to be a hermit for the rest of my life.

My God, the quiet was good for me.  My life would revolve around that land for the next 12 years.

One more year later, commuting to Tucson four days each week, I had my Master’s Degree and no idea what to do for income out in the country.  A couple weeks later, at my twenty-fifth high school reunion, I met my number one teenage crush, and we fell in love almost on the spot.   I had mystical dreams, and one month later I was living with him in Colorado Springs.

Four years and some months later, we’d exhausted the good we had to give each other, and I was planning to return to my hermitage.  I came back early, abandoning contracts to colleagues, to meet these long-lost friends near the Organ Pipe National Forest.

The first evening, a friend handed me binoculars and told me to look through them at the Pleiades.  I’d never been a skywatcher and didn’t think it that interesting.  I was a bird watcher, and that seemed enough time behind those instruments.  More, though, I was in an interesting conversation and didn’t appreciate being interrupted.

My friend was oddly insistent, so I finally agreed to look, vowing to tell him the truth about what I saw.  Little points of light now look like big points of light.  Thank you.

As soon as my eyes adjusted and I saw the stars, I believe I caught my breath and was suspended in an ocean of powerful sensation.  Awe.  Recognition.  Love.  Home.  Shock.  A memory of watching them recede, thinking, “I wonder what it will be like to be gone a long time.”  Ten times shock.  Numbness.  No.  That’s the sort of thing that weird people say.

The binoculars slowly sank with my hands to the table.  “I think I’m from there,” I said, then having recognized my voice speaking these words to no one but everyone, and that everyone responded with silence, I lifted one hand to my mouth and waited for the murmur to cover the sounds of the desert night and my words ringing in my head.

I told no one else about it for years, and no one ever mentioned it to me.  Now, as I write, it’s been 14 years.  And I finally want to put it in context.

I believe the Earth resides in a galaxy filled with a complex matrix of intelligent life, of which we are just barely becoming aware, though there are forces lined up keep us ignorant.

Galactic life has political and social complexity not unlike that on Earth.  There are coalitions and federations and pirates and researchers and saviors and crazy people and beings far smarter than us and beings not as evolved as us and most of these we cannot see, or they keep themselves hidden for one reason or another, or someone keeps us from seeing.  All that and more.  Just like here on Earth.

I was going to say “But more dimensional,” but that would be untrue because Earth is also more dimensional than we know.

And we’re beginning to see.  And waking up (it seems the dimensional density of Earth makes full awareness difficult) to the fact that we are all from somewhere else in some sense.  Either geographically, ancestrally, genetically, or by past soul life.  And we have tribe elsewhere, and some nearby, though they might be difficult to detect in another realm.  But they’re there, watching, helping if they can.

And we’re here because Earth has been getting so sick – so poisoned, so violent – and we were supposed to inoculate the Earth with good ideas.  I have always tried to do this in my small ways, but worry that they don’t add up to much, compared to the corporations and their enchanting technology, which obviously enchants me, as I sit here typing, hoping my words will actually go somewhere.

I used to think that the mind controllers recognized me and worked to destroy my potential or co-opt it, and might have done it.  Now, I like to think I chose to be born into that world in order to experience the very Heart of Darkness here on Earth, so my tribe, fellow warriors, could understand it through me, so that they can respond appropriately to what’s going on here.  Like I’m a nerve cell in the body, conveying information back to the brain.  Which, maybe, is what every single one of us is, nerve cells of God reporting back, yep, this works, no, abort this idea.

And with all our feedback, the gods will know whether to destroy this place or just give it a good cleaning.

Meantime, concerned for my own soul, having been through the Dark and survived but barely, I’ve tried to free myself of any programming that might still be in me, and I believe I’ve been successful, though I can’t say for certain.  I’m what literature calls an “unreliable narrator.”  You must judge how much of what I say is true.

And now we’re at a countdown.  Eleven days till a lot of people think that something Big is going to happen.

Aside from all the prophesies – which I respect for their age, synchronicity, and global character – there’s the simple fact that the planet is sick.

I’m a pantheist.  I believe – and I have experienced – that everything is living.  Trees.  Rocks.  Ocean.  Mountains.  Storms.  Sunshine.  And much is intelligent.  Much is loving.  Some things are teachers, and hard ones.

Thought forms are alive.  And there are beings, intelligent and not, kind and not, in the invisible realms all around us.  (We know when we have gut feelings about these things, but our minds deny, too well educated.)

And beings exist in what we call “space.”  (What a neat piece of mind control, defining words the way we do.)  Ancient people called it “the stars,” “the firmament,” “the heavens.”  And it was not empty.  People came from there, and people have always come from there, since long before they created humans here.

The Sumerian gods, Enlil and Enki, as well as Jehovah, and all the other gods have had their frustrations with humankind, and some have threatened more than once to wipe humans out, and tried, but we get saved by other beings, sympathetic to our evolutionary status, which seems to remain that we are promising creatures with some traits that should be fixable.

I believe we’re at a point in history similar to the days before the Flood.  Maybe we’re at the point that the-teacher-our culture-calls-Jesus  prophesied when he talked about “the harvest.”

(For the record, I think the crucifixion story is fear-indoctrination with the message:  “This is what we do to do people who question authority too loudly.”  And it worked.  Christians are all about obedience to authority, rather than the radical message this God-sent teacher brought us.)

The teacher said:  Treat others well, even people of other races (like the Good Samaritan) and people you think aren’t as good as you (like the Woman at the Well).  Be generous and not materialistic.  Don’t be violent.  Be simple and straightforward with your prayers, in private.  Women, don’t put housework over devotion and learning, and if you do, don’t get angry at other women who don’t (story of Martha and Mary).

The teacher supposedly said he’d come back.  And I believe he is.  What had always sounded like sappy fantasy before is suddenly feeling like reality.  And I’m not excited about this just because I like what he taught; the first time I heard the string of Scriptures I just cited above, I had a shocking sensation of recognition as if those ideals were written in my soul so deeply that they were already mine, like I’d been part of the history of those coming to be creed.  Amazement as the sensation of recognition burned the memory of that moment in all my cells.  That’s why I believe he’s a real being.  I believe I know him very well.

And I’m tired of this Earth, and as much as I hate the violence being done against her, I think I understand that violence happens and I’ll never stop it, just as Jesus said, “The poor will always be with us.”  And so trying to stop it is righteous, but sometimes even the righteous fighter must yield and recognize a bigger picture.  My bigger picture is that I am not from here; I’ve lived here and loved it, and tried to do my little part to protect her, but ultimately my world is bigger.

I’m tired of the materialism, tired of capitalism, tired of money.  I’ve read that some alien beings feel sorry for us trapped in this culture in which accounting for our hours buys us our food, and some people live in misery for all they lack.  I believe those aliens come from a place like mine, and I’d like to return – when it’s time.

Being here now is quite satisfying, actually now more than ever.  So much that I almost feel torn between the desire to leave or to stay, which may be my choice, and as much as I’ve waited for this day, I now find myself seduced to stay if I have the choice!  Wouldn’t you know….

So if the Big Thing happens in eleven days, I say Great!

But I’m not really counting on it.  I’m not sure my mind didn’t create this idea our of desire.  As Ed Abbey said, “There’s not much going for the theory of reincarnation but desire.”

I totally disagree with Ed on this, as I remember a lot of past lives, including that little flash of a life pre-Earth.  And I trust those memories that come all at once, with whole-body recognition and emotions that sometimes drop me to my knees or the floor and sometimes make me cry for twenty minutes before I can compose myself.  They feel like me, and I trust them.

Yeah, I think I’m from somewhere else, and I’m here now for a purpose:  to tell my story of sensing other dimensions and beings, of being appalled at human behavior since I was a child; and to inspire a happy, creative approach to life with as few of the trappings as I can.  (Others will do better than me and will inspire different people.)

I hope I get to wake up in twelve days in a better place.  Maybe it’ll be a New Way of living on this Earth which we will create through our prayers, meditations, and actions.  And we’ll hardly notice the day things changed.

Or maybe like David Wilcock says, an band of energy in the galaxy will intersect us and cause a DNA mutation that will trigger our change, whether we work at it or not, and suddenly we’ll be perceiving in extra dimensions.

Or maybe those of us with positive visions will split off into a dimension separate from the people who are creating these wars and economic turmoil and manipulation.  LIke the Hopi tell their children, “One day we’ll wake up and the bad people will be gone.”  That has always resonated with me.  Or from the Christian perspective, all the good people will rise up and away.

Maybe spaceships will rescue some – I don’t know.  It almost doesn’t matter.

I feel extremely grateful.  I believe I’ll be supported by my cosmic tribe through whatever comes.

And to that end, I’m envisioning what I want to remain with me in a dimensional shift:  cooperation, kindness, nurturing, creativity…

If there was ever a time for deciding what it is we want, this is it.

We don’t know what is coming, but we do know that thought and intention are powerful.  And I believe they are alive.  And we can feed them.  With prayer, imagination, and being.

See you on the other side.

Just Published: “2013 or Year One Almanac Datebook Journal”

Yes!  I’ve been riding a creative wave and have published another Almanac Datebook Journal!  Check it out!

It’s been almost a decade since the last one, but it’s only been a year since three people in a single week reminisced about how much they loved my last ones and wanted to know when I’d publish another.

That was too much of a serendipity, so I decided to publish another this year.

The Almanac is beautiful, filled with pen and ink art by Asante Riverwind (who created the cover for my book and lots of art for the last Almanac), and is designed to function as a day planner.

It also has multi-cultural celebrations and observations from around the world, a smattering of quotes and people’s history, information on keeping time by the moon, explanations of the solstices and equinoxes, and templates and instructions for creating moon calendars into the future.

I added ‘or Year One’ to the title mostly for fun.

Of course, I want to believe that any momentous changes in our world will be for the positive, but in the event there’s a cultural shift of any sort so great that humans begin to track time differently – as we have in the past and could again in the future – this book and all its concepts could be an important tool.  In any case, it’s good mental exercise, and fun, to become more aware of our world this way.

I hope you enjoy it.

The Almanac website is here.

Mayan elder advice for these days

Just watched a video featuring Mayan elders discussing the 2012 prophesies.

Even though I enjoy acting as though I believe something dramatic will happen, maybe even on the 21st, I am also ready for positive change to be gradual and take work.

After all, 2012 is the mid-point of a prophesied 40-year period of change.  So, the transformation could be gradual over these 40 years, of which we’re now crossing the center, or it may be dramatic.  We don’t know.

The Mayan elders say it could be either – depending on our actions.

The most important actions the elders urge us to take are 1) spiritual devotion, 2) avoiding fear, anger, and other sorts of negativity, which escalate upon themselves, 3) be responsible to our missions for having been born, whether the work is large or small, and 4) work to correct the mistreatment of the Earth and all Life.

Those who’ve experienced mind control or mysterious injuries in the night or in amnesic episodes might have trouble with the second point, avoiding fear.  I certainly have.

But I realize now that even these fears can be “reframed.”

It’s been a little over two years since the last particularly difficult episode in my life (see 18 months of Weirdness), and in that time I’ve worked fairly hard to put it all in perspective.

I still don’t know who did those things to me, don’t know the purpose, or the ultimate meaning.  But that doesn’t mean I have to be suicidally terrified of it.  And terror doesn’t serve me.  So, awhile back, I decided to just not be afraid; it wasn’t getting me anywhere.

And life has gotten amazingly better.  I feel as good as I’ve ever felt in my life, though I still have a hard time holding onto a sense of time unless I write things down, which I do.   And sometimes I have a deep-gut feeling that something happened in the night, or I have a scoop of flesh missing from somewhere and have no idea when it happened, but I don’t get afraid, or haven’t recently.  And this has made a profoundly powerful change in my life.

I’ve started thinking of these mystery energies as similar to bothersome mosquitos, or viruses, or bacteria, or other invisible tormentors or parasites that are good to avoid:  They’re real, not imaginary.  They’re to be avoided.  But they’re not evil.

If we can learn to protect ourselves from them, then we will have evolved.  Same as when we evolve to understand and protect ourselves from other bothersome or deadly threats.

They probably do have an “agenda,” but so do viruses.  Just because we don’t understand it doesn’t mean we should accept the common terrifying explanations given which make us want to commit suicide over the fact that we’ve been attacked and don’t understand.  It’s self-defeating.

Better to respond like a warrior.  Look, gather resources, learn.

Now when something happens, I think, “Oh, there’s something I don’t understand again,” and don’t give it much more attention than that.  I try to remember to log the events in my journal, hoping to eventually to see a pattern and understand.  Meantime, I keep an open mind.  In short:  No fear.

I’ve even been trying to work with the “All is Good” philosophy, seeing if I can stretch it to include mind control, torture, the child sex industry, which, philosophically seems impossible.  Actually, it’s my cynical antagonism toward religion which brings me here, but I try to be fair and try it out:  The only argument I could posit results in this question:  Is it possible that these horrors are the only ways in which we humans, individually, collectively, spiritually, can learn certain lessons for our evolution?  Is it possible that, in this way, all this horror is good?  I don’t know.

Maybe I only entertain such ideas because otherwise the things would be too frightening for me to endure.  But the fact is that I do feel like an incredibly strong individual, and I think a lot of my strength has come from what I’ve endured.  Does that make the horror good?

I also believe that my fractured mind has actually multiplied my capacity for mental work.

And leaving my body so often as a child, because of torture, has contributed to my ability to see in other dimensions more readily.

So if these horrors could have what we’d call these positive “side effects,” and I’m willing to philosophically allow that I might not know what is a side effect compared to a main effect, maybe All is Good.

I don’t know.  But this philosophical game, allowing me to drop my fear, helps me stay in the big Game.

We don’t understand this multi-dimensional world, but it’s changing swiftly.  And more and more people are beginning to admit to experiencing the world differently, and one day, maybe soon, we won’t be so alone with what we’ve seen.

Meantime, I reserve judgement.  I admit I don’t know what’s happening.  But I have feelings about it – good ones, rather than the fear that used to overtake me.

I remember images I’ve seen – of spiritual warriors like Gandalf , Jason with Medea, or archangels, fighting calmly, with focus, giving no fear energy to the dangers which are very real and often beyond the understanding of others.  Willing to look the challenge squarely in the eye, not denying, not fearing, but responding with whatever power they have.

I feel as though, dropping fear, I’ve made a major step forward in my soul’s training.

Fear doesn’t serve us except in an instant.  Beyond that, it’s toxic.

So:  No fear.  Be responsible.  Develop your spiritual practice.  Respect the Earth and all life.

We can do that.

And play our roles in healing this mess.

Blessings, All.

“Armed with Visions”

America is “First” in

1)  percentage of population which believes, but won’t publicly enter into discussion on, numerous things that affect them in political, social, economic, psychological, health, and other ways, but instead chose to be silent and let themselves and others suffer, and

2) people who think it’s absolutely true that we are the “freest” and thereby most fortunate people on the planet.

I hate to quote the Bible, because I believe it is a compendium of politically-sanctioned trivia with mostly political intent for the spiritual “truths” included; nevertheless, there are gems in it.  And I love it when my years as an idealistic young “radical Christian” recall a scripture that makes my body resonate with wonderful recognition.

This is one of those scriptures, very simple:  ”The first shall be last.”

I trust in that.

And I ‘m grateful to the prophet and teacher who tried to teach people on this planet how to live peacefully.

(I diverge from mainstream “Christians” in that I don’t believe that Jesus died, or saved or ransomed our souls by dying.  I don’t “know,” but I like the story that the famous rabbi didn’t die or was somehow resurrected and returned to teach in the East where he first learned from Hindu and Buddhist holy men who received you into his land when he avoided marriage in his home town of Nazareth by leaving to visit the magi who’d visited him at his birth.  [There’s wonderful evidence of this.  See the movie,  “Jesus in India” by Paul Davids and Edward T. Martin.])

I have no doctrine beyond a few phrases you might glean here.

I consider myself of the tribe of Yeshua.

When I first heard a few Bible stories told by a youth minister in the basement of a local church, in a crowd of young wannabe hippies, all sitting on carpet samples and scraps sewn together – stories against racism, sexism, violence, and materialism – my heart opened in a way I’d never felt, as though these ideas, never demonstrated in the life in which I’d always felt so strange, were written in my bones, and somehow these ideas had triggered an intelligence in me that was not of this life but reminded me who I was in a more infinite manner than in this Earth life, not in concept, but in body sensation.

Something opened up, and I knew this was my teacher, not by rational decision, though my mind was jazzed as well, but because it felt as though it had always been.

I believe Yeshua, Chief of my tribe, is returning.  And the “harvest” is in process.

Find yourself.

Resonate with whom you are, concentrating on your idea of you.

In this way, your cosmic tribe will find you.

Find yourself.  Find your tribe.

An Archetypal Journey

1269427Each of us learn different lessons in our series of lives. Sometimes it’s how to protect oneself and survive.  Sometimes it’s cooperation and love.  Other times, it’s expansion of consciousness and skills into new dimensions that others cannot comprehend.

Last night I picked up a book titled Shadow and Evil in Fairy Tales by Marie-Louise van Franz and then couldn’t help but also reflect on Alvin Schwartz’s memoir An Unlikely Prophet, which recounts his teaching by a Tibetan tulpa, an almost-human being created and kept alive by thought.200794

I’ve had my mind blown many times in this past couple of decades, which is not a bad thing, I believe, because it’s been during this time that I’ve healed some of my dissociative propensities, become social like I’ve never been before, learned to sing on stage, and become happier than ever before.

These improvements in my happiness came with having had my mind blown and expanded to acknowledge not only other dimensions, but also beings operating from these other dimensions with skills beyond my understanding.

Shadow and Evil in Fairy Tales asserts that the shadow is never meant to be vanquished entirely; otherwise, it becomes evil.  It is meant to be balanced, integrated, used creatively and, if it gets seriously out of control, tolerated until something, usually external, reestablishes the balance.

Usually it’s nothing rational that the hero can “figure out.” (We are all heroes of our own lives.)  Usually, the hero is required to suffer and wait, like Prometheus, punished not for an ultimately bad deed, but for stealing fire, which raised the consciousness of all humanity.

We have the tendency to blame ourselves when we can’t find an immediate answer to our very serious problems, but I’ve come to realize that waiting, even while suffering, is simply “what is” and is probably an essential part of our journey, inescapable, painful though it may be.

And the further along we are on the path of consciousness, the more lonely is this path.  And that is also part of the training.

We get hints here and there about the purpose of our suffering, which keeps us going.

For instance, I read that Alvin Schwartz was told by the tulpa that a vision the tulpa had created for Schwartz was done with the help of Schwartz’ own mind – what psychologists call “confabulation,” the mind’s propensity for filling in the unknown with whatever is logical or desired, though it may be untrue, but compelling.

When I read that, I had to review my most recent weird experience to see if I could detect elements of my own mind’s work, which required some humility in case I’d helped create this ridiculous and terrifying event.

I thought, first, about the “orange alien” and just couldn’t see how I would have created such a stupid image.  A realistic image, on the other hand, I might have created, but not a talking, cartoon stick figure of a stereotype I resist even to acknowledge.

It’s possible, even likely, that many other of my other experiences recounted in my book are in some part confabulations, as it is scientifically proven that this is a very common, natural human trait.  But I don’t buy that I might have invented a high, screaming pitch in my ears to propel me out of bed when I was exhausted last month.  No.  Somethings really are done to us, not created by us.

I know we create some of our reality. But there are also others creating reality for us.

I conclude that there was a mind-control transmission attempt, using a simple stereotype image of an alien, and my rebellious sub-conscious (thank goodness) refused to participate in a confabulation, leaving me with the vision of an unadorned outline – my clue that it was a transmission attempt and not a real thing.

At least that’s my working theory for now.

But what of other experiences that I’ve thought were incredibly life-like?  Is it possible that they were partially confabulated by my mind, when I wasn’t so aware of the game or resistant to certain ideas?  It’s possible.

I do now understand confabulation and consider it regularly as I interpret the strange events that happen to me now and then. I accept that sometimes I could have played a role; and sometimes I am quite sure there’s nothing of me in them, and they had to have been externally created.

For what purpose?  To try to control my mind?

On one level, yes. On another level, I see it as ultimately, cosmically waking me up to recognize and protect myself from things like mind control technology – which probably exist beyond this planet – giving me a chance to build my skills to defend myself on vaster realms.

Might as well take that viewpoint.  It’s more empowering than anger or fear.

In Shadow and Evil in Fairy Tales, the hero is always rescued, though s/he may wait a long time, and may be wounded and outcast for years (maybe lifetimes as well), struggling against incredible odds.

But living with humility, integrity, and compassion, the hero is always helped to succeed and then become the King – both a psychological and cultural metaphor.

“Waiting without knowing” is an ancient motif and message. It seems to be essential and does not mean that the hero has made any mistake.

The unfolding of consciousness takes us on paths far beyond the “realities” acknowledged by our culture – accounting for our loneliness.

Revisiting and reviewing everything we believe we know about reality eventually will break down those barriers.  We can only review and see anew with an open and humble mind.