Category Archives: My Story Ongoing

“Voices in their Heads!”

Watching an old Jesse Ventura show on Targeted Individuals – gratified that he’s found medical and other professionals willing to put their names on the line to testify about this experience.

Wish I’d seen this five years ago. Now, it’s helped inspire me to gather my energy to write again about something of the last two years.

So much has happened that I’ve recorded in one way or another but haven’t published – keeping it secret, testing “giving it no energy,” to see if it’ll go away. It hasn’t.

“Voices in their heads,” Jesse calls it, but there is so much more to being a TI. I’ll finish up this blog with an account of my experience of electronic experiments, and follow with one on social harassment, aka gang stalking.

One of the first times I felt subjected to a beam, it felt like an experiment that involved tracking. Sitting sideways on my sofa, I first felt a spot of vibration about four inches wide moving about on my foot, then moving up my ankle and lower leg.

I pulled my leg in, telling myself it could just be my foot and leg falling asleep, but it touched my foot again, causing me to jump up off the sofa. Flash on options: sit on sofa again, other end, bed, kitchen, nowhere to go, it’s going to get me wherever I go, and so I lay in bed, resigned, expecting the buzz to hit a foot again, but instead my head was suddenly encompassed in a buzzing circle, after which I remember nothing.  Next morning, my ears were ringing, and they’ve never stopped.  I’ve lost the entire top half of my hearing range.

Musical tones have sometimes put me “to sleep” and sometimes woken me up. Once a torturously-loud, high-pitched tone sent me running to find my iPod to play a particular self-hypnosis recording that seemed the most powerful relaxation resource I had – but the recording had mysteriously disappeared from my device, leaving only one other self-hypnosis product, which I’d purchased but never listened to because I suspected it had mind control programming in it.

In the pause before hitting Play, I felt I was being compelled to listen to this recording, and it would be dangerous for me, but I’d be further tortured if I didn’t, so I submitted, and the torturous pitch gave way to a calm, gentle voice encouraging me along a path in a light-dappled woods.  I must have gone unconscious because I remember nothing else of the recording, just woke with my ears ringing, for years now.

I’ve also experienced movies suddenly playing in my head – and I mean literal movies, not like a memory I could pause or meander with.  The first looked like a 1960’s, black-and-white home movie of a family at the marina, young teens self-conscious of their manners, boarding their boat, turning, arranging themselves, waving at the camera.  I chose not to pay attention to it, and chose not to give it any emotional energy.

Another movie suddenly played in my head was of a dusty Third World road with people, animals, carts, the camera moving along with the traffic, chest high.  Once, two movies played on top of each other!  Every time, I chose not to pay attention to them – let them go blurry, give them no emotion.

One afternoon last year I was standing in my travel trailer home near my bed when I suddenly felt an extreme urge to lie down and was unconscious by the time I hit the bed. I woke hours later with what felt like water in my ear. Living alone out in the country, I didn’t find anyone to look in my ear until it had healed. The water sensation stayed for three days.

The one time I actually heard a clear communication it wasn’t necessarily with clear words. It was as if they had a map of ideas I’d already developed among my theories, and they merely touched on one after another after another, building their story, concluding with the end of the Earth-human experiment (ending because we keep devolving too radically between their uplifting visits).  The “second chance” that Jehovah or Enlil/Enki of the Sumerian records had been played out, and we were not going to get another chance.  God, or the Aliens, are done with us.

Because the whole thing felt so scripted and imposed upon me, I chose not to believe it, but I could NOT ignore it – it overwhelmed all other thought.

In the city I often feel targeted by extremely unpleasant vibrations hidden under a heavy bass in the music of a passing vehicle. It’s so powerful, I assume it must be directed narrowly toward my home.  I finally learned a response that empowers instead of weakens me:  I call out a sort of war-cry to override whatever it is and keep it up as long as it keeps up.   Interestingly, it seems as though my war cry makes it end sooner.

Finally, I’ve also experienced something I think I’ve heard called “thought transference.”  While lying in bed relaxing to sleep, I seemed to suddenly experience the mind of someone else, for instance a hairdresser with her hands in plastic gloves, looking down, seeing them squishing around in someone’s scalp, parting wet hair to pull strands through a cap for coloring – or something that looked and felt like this action I’ve heard about but never saw.  Unlike film, this experience contained peripheral vision, and the feeling and even bored thoughts of the person doing the work made me feel like I was in someone else’s body for a little while.  Again, I chose to withdraw my participation, and it faded quickly.

I’ll be reviewing my journals to see what other electronic experiments I’ve experienced and add them.  My fractured mind is too tired right now to get into researcher mode.  I’ll post right now so it doesn’t wait for two years.

And hope to post soon about the social harassment, gang stalking.

 

 

 

Speaking out again

I used to wonder what was wrong with me. I called myself shy, then neurotic, and eventually, in my early 40s realized I’d been sexually abused as a child.  The next year, I realized I was also dissociative, fractured, amnesic, and had been for most of my life.

Just before I turned 50 I realized I’d not only been sexually abused, but had also been tortured, intentionally to make me dissociative, the foundation to controlling my mind.  This was a task carried out by various parties, overseen by CIA psychiatrists, with assistance from the Mormon Church and other groups throughout my life.

Throughout my life, I’ve also tested at genius levels, in school, on MENSA and Air Force tests, and often won awards my first year in a field, from art to sales and fundraising. This is either a positive effect of mind control, or maybe they chose me for their project because they knew I was smart, or maybe only the smart ones survive.

A year or two ago, I learned I score borderline on the Asperger’s Scale, though I was very “Aspie” when I was young.  While the majority of Aspies consider themselves different by virtue of their genetics, one-third of us identify as different because of our upbringing.

Falling on the Aspergers Scale might be a natural outcome of the childhood training.  To progress as far as I have is not uncommon for Aspie women; with enough motivation, or pressure, it’s possible to study people and in decades of practice, figure out how to act almost normal.  Now that I pass (barely, borderline on the scale), I enjoy socializing for an hour or two, at most, but I often feel mentally numb afterwards.  I relate to Dr. Spock and the newest depiction of Sherlock Holmes – both mystified as I am by common conversation.  I remember judging adult conversation quite harshly also when I was very young, as if I had some other standard against which to judge.  Maybe I came from somewhere else?  Could that be why they chose me?

I’ve called myself a “high-functioning multiple personality” – though my alters are not nearly as dramatic nor as distinct as the individuals chosen for movie scripts.  My alter changes have gone mostly unnoticed for all of my life.  This helped me hold the attitude, after I realized the extent of my fractures, that with the help of my spiritual Guides, I could heal myself and recover my life – even though the literature warns against such high expectations, unless one is young and has a great deal of money and support. I have none of those things.

When I am more realistic, I think it only my right to end my life, but no one will agree with me on that. I’m sure that if I went to Oregon, or any other state with right-to-die laws, I’d qualify: I have a) a disease that cannot be cured, b) which harms my quality of life irredeemably, and c) [I forget the third qualifier, but I’ll fill this in soon].

Why I don’t believe in suicide is because…

1) I think it only honest to remember that we could be wrong in interpreting our perceptions – since we see so little of the material world as compared to what we can perceive with technology – we see only a fraction;and some people say it’s all illusion anyway, or at least that we “see through a glass darkly.”  I assume it’s true, because I’ve had my ecstatic times when I saw something in another realm that I couldn’t remember but the conclusion was happiness and the assurance that, regardless of what appears, everything’s going to be alright – or at least I think I saw and knew that.  (Maybe it was mind control.  If so, we’ll need to revisit my assumptions.)

2) Everything we see has already been interpreted for us by those who’ve gone ahead of us, in our language, entertainment, religion, politics, and education.  Somewhere, we might have been helped to construct an incorrect framework for current interpretations.

3) Someone once suggested that if we bail out on this life, we’ll just have to come back and do it again, like the Truman Show, and I don’t want to take that risk.  Since I’ve always felt that our culture won’t last much longer, I always assume it’s not that much more to endure.

So, I’m hanging in.

Two years ago I was at my wit’s end, having woken in my bed, feeling something terrible had been done to me. With great difficulty, I rolled off the bed and arranged myself upright to walk, and slowly shuffled to the bathroom. When I saw my face in the mirror, I turned back to the living room to get my phone and shuffled back to the bathroom mirror and snapped a photo.

My facial muscles were slack, the tissues puffy, my eyelids sagging, my left eyeball turned inward. The overall impression was that I’d been beat up, only there was no discoloration.

What had been done to me? (A normal photo is included for comparison.)

look like hell.jpgsmile 4.jpg

I’d recently summarized all my journals into a master database, so I could see whether the frequency of these events was increasing. In 2010, I’d had only 38 days disturbed by bizarre events, in 2015 I’d had 130 days in which I’d either had a bizarre experience that had rocked my equanimity or I was recovering from something mysterious. One-third of my days. Obviously, this interfered with making a living and all the other aspects of living a life. I was unable to keep up with home and garden maintenance, payments, anything.

At my wit’s end, I asked nearly every family for something. My son I asked to make payments on my house, since he often said he felt guilty for not saving anything when he had so much money flowing through. I asked my siblings to read a three page summary of all the weirdness, and I sent them that photo above, but between the three of them I got back only two sentences: One couldn’t give me money (I hadn’t asked), and the other would pray for me. My son didn’t answer. I asked my daughter for nothing, since she’d let me know very clearly she thought I was only suffering from my own mistakes. When my father learned I was planning to sell my home, he offered to make the payments for me, but by then I only wanted out of the house where I felt like a sitting duck, and I declined his offer. Perhaps that was a mistake.

I sold my home as fast as I could and found myself inside a major psy op (psychological operation, which I’ll describe soon) designed to squash every bit of energy out of me – for what purpose? Punishment from my controllers for my sin of speaking against the FBI, CIA, Mormon Church, Vatican, and others? Is it entertainment for some psychopaths? Or is my anguish “food” for the Archons (as the gnostic Christians described in ancient texts)? Are they (mind controllers, psychopaths, and Archons) all the same?

Subjects of psy ops are called “targeted individuals,” or “TI’s.” Some are mind control subjects, but all are people who’ve somehow gotten on someone’s shit list.

For awhile I had a theory that they tortured me the worst when I published, so I quit publishing; but recently, my torture has been so great, I’ve decided there’s no need for me to keep this stuff a secret any more.

The other reason I keep it secret is that people can hardly believe it, and the last thing I need is people thinking I made shit up. That’s why I take photos and document as thoroughly as possible.

But I don’t want to keep the secrets any more. I see online that the numbers of people suffering from this targeting is much larger than I’d realized. So people need to know.  And I’m a writer, and it’s happening to me. So here goes.

Coming soon, my last two years of harassment….

Excellent New Video on MKULTRA

There is so much healing in bringing secrets into the light.

Screen Shot 2017-01-07 at 10.19.59 PM.pnghttps://www.youtube.com/shared?ci=C2Gpy0tE1Gc

Well-written, well-delivered, with powerful visuals, without hyperbole or excess drama, documented, historical, contemporary, comprehensive in scope, covering efficiently all that can be covered in an hour, and covering it fairly, as far as I can say, as one who is a subject.

Total Mind Control, a new documentary, by Jay Myers

I’m so gratified to see the secret drama of my life brought into the light.  So gratified.

Please watch and share.

~

It’s the time of the Revealing….

Summary of MK anomalies in 2016

IMG_5780Of course, I could write a book on this year, but I don’t want to.

Instead, here is an exceedingly brief outline of the types of things, resulting in programming, I’ve lived through this year – including electronic, pharmaceutical, physical (including rape), phone, drone, computer, social sabotage, surveillance, and more.  I extracted them from my year’s daily journals.

[In the middle of the year, I decided I had to get out of Silver City as fast as I could, and I sold my home below market and fled – only to land in a more precarious situation.  (The advice on “Targeted Individuals 101” says to not let Them force you from your home, but I didn’t read that in time, and I did lose my home.)  I am now floating from place to place in a travel trailer, with a few friends who understand my situation.]

Here’s the super-brief list of my year’s anomalies:

electronic tones and feelings of electronic harassment, ringing ears

scoop marks, injection bruises, puncture mark

sore feet, numb shoulder, wrenched back, all for no reason

apparent rapes (Jan, Feb, Sept , December at least), with anal/vaginal irritation, herpes

dissociation, not knowing who or where I am

cat also perceiving strange noises in house

“healer” sets me up for programming I remember, but not his message

hit by light beam from neighbor house to third eye  -> severe ache

many events of amnesia, missing time, once 11 days in row

confusion, exhaustion, sickness, heart issues, can’t eat

disabling fear, for many days

sometimes energy too high to slow down or sleep

panic attacks, crying for days

computer remote controlled

weird phone calls and messages

social sabotage, acquaintances acting weird

feeling alter switches, doing stupid things, feeling confused

two lumps on thumb, no reason

portable door locks disappeared, then returned to same place

passcode book and flash drive disappeared and returned month later

four financial websites hacked in one day

psychic messages taunting “You’re already in; resistance is futile.”

UFO sighting

feeling severely poisoned

efforts to sell on eBay begin well then are sabotaged repeatedly until I quit it

23 severe challenges piled on in a few days, lasting through September and October

acted like MK subject, totally trusting and stupid, when buying trailer – with many problems

drone delivers nauseating electronic vibration to my chest

neighbor’s vibration also nauseates

people/vehicles surveilling me obviously

friend seems to participate in things lost and other anomalies

BrainWave app acting on its own 3 times

amnesia event with days of exhaustion and water in ear

traffic harassment while camping and throwing of cans at trailer

radio turning itself on

apparent MK dog (!) visited, wouldn’t leave me or my front door, even under threat of violence

passcodes work, don’t work, work, don’t work

unnatural banging on my trailer roof, unable to look

obvious knocking on my window, not afraid but unable to look

trailer buzzed by 5-6 planes in a row, first very close

trailer buzzed by two helicopters, followed by incapacitation for day

altered state with instructions can’t remember

lost time with weird consequence while on highway

nights of weird noises in truck, incapacitated, couldn’t look out window

altered state with missing time, door found unlocked

altered state, received instructions, agreed, unable to remember

altered state while listening to other MK subject testimony online

IMG_5780Back in March, after one of the worst amnesic events of my life, I woke to see a face in the mirror I hardly recognized, so I took this photo to document it.  Notice my face is slack and puffy, including my nose, and my left eye is turned inward.

Hoping for understanding and maybe help from my siblings (silly me), I sent them a long letter, explaining everything (edited for three days so as to be as concise and clear as possible), and ending with this photo.  Between the three of them, I received back two sentences, apologizing that they couldn’t help me, or offering to counsel me in prayer.  Devastated that no one in my family seemed to believe this harassment is real, I decided I had no choice but to sell my home and flee.

small-profileI’m doing fine most days, and most people who know me don’t know what I go through (or they don’t believe), and I even appear happy and healthy most days (when I go out), and I know people think I’m lazy or living on a secret fund because I “don’t work,” though they don’t know I’m going into debt every month.  (When I’m well, I’m usually running to catch up on what I couldn’t do when I was not well, and so have very little time for anything before I’m hit with harassment again.)

I do hope to find work that I can do on my own time, and hope to find that time, and hopefully keep my finances above water – as soon as I make the next move, as this camping site is no longer available.  It seems the harassers have a wealth of tricks to keep their targets always recovering, running, coping, but I still hope to find those slivers of time to make money.

img_0383Yes, I do have many days of wishing I was not alive, but mostly I am determined to rise above, to use this extraordinary challenge to connect with spiritual Help and lift my spirit and soul into some sort of transcendence beyond this Earthly harassment.

Thanks for reading and acknowledging this reality.

Prayers for help for us all.

Online Support and Brain Entrainment

eve-lorgen-1.jpgEve Lorgen, author and counselor for those with “anomalous trauma,” offers an online support group now and then.

I’ve always been too afraid to participate, afraid that my stuff was too different, or that I might distrust people in the group, or it wouldn’t do me any good.

Today was the first day I participated in one, and I’m pleased I did.

Coincidentally, I had listened to a radio interview with Dr. John Hall, MD, about  electronic harassment of targeted individuals (which fits the patter of my last 14 years), in which he mentioned the BrainWave binaural brain entrainment system (whopping price of $3.99, an app on iTunes).

I tried it out and had an immediate relaxation response, as if something electrically depressing had been cancelled or dampened.  So I’ve been wearing earbuds now fairly frequently for two and a half days.

BW_iPad_4.jpg(I’m not crazy about the idea of using technology to protect myself – I’d assumed spiritual protection would be all, but I’ve failed and have felt close to death a great deal this last year.  So I’m happy to accept this technological crutch and am thinking of it as a metaphor, that perhaps I might emulate psychically.)

These two and a half days since feeding simple frequencies into my ear canals, I’ve had impressive energy, a positive mood, and focus enough to finish an important task I had not been able to focus on for a year.  Of course, maybe it’s just how I would have felt anyway, but I’m going to give them a thumbs up.  

So, feeling stronger than I have in a long time, I took a job application I’d filled out last December to the business this morning, and was offered a job in the afternoon – for two workdays, just as I wanted, and exactly the situation I asked for.  Law of Attraction?  Working for me??

We know that sometimes everything can seem go against us at once, so it’s good to remember that sometimes everything can go for us too.  And then it’s time to be grateful and go with it.

I’ll talk about other good stuff happening in my next post.

 

Healing Help for Electronic Harassment?

The John Hall radio interview I wrote about recently has given me hope that we can find ways to protect ourselves from electronic harassment.

I decided first to try “binaural brainwave entrainment.”

The impressive results over just a day and a half are only anecdotal, of course, and could very well be coincidental, but here they are:

Supposedly, binaural brainwave entrainment helps some to cancel out electronic harassment.  John Hall mentioned the Banzai Labs company in particular, here:  http://www.banzailabs.com/brainwaveapps.html.

I downloaded their modestly-priced app on my iPhone (“best reviewed app of its kind in the iTunes app store”/$3.99 – can also be used with other products) and walked around all day yesterday, plus the night before, with various tones humming behind music in my ear buds.

(Even though I don’t usually keep my iPhone near me, I was motivated to at least try it for a few days.)

The sound experiences cause the hemispheres of the brain to entrain at frequencies associated with peace, or well-being, sleep, focus, concentration, stress-relief, etc – you choose what you want on a simple dial.  You can layer over a variety of relaxing music – or even your own.

To my surprise, I woke up yesterday at 2:30 am (!) and felt well rested, energized, and ready to work!  Got up at 3, thinking I’d definitely need a nap, but instead – with the ear buds in all day – I worked with “concentration,” sat in the garden with “relaxation” or “stress-relief” when I was beginning to feel stressed – and I worked VERY productively until 11 pm, and needed very little of my relaxing herbs that day.  I then went to bed at 11:30, slept well again, and woke this morning at 5:30, feeling very well-rested and looking forward to the day.  What a relief!

The productivity of my day was wonderful!  I got a series of complicated projects completed that I’ve been unable to even face for a year!  I finally cleared a number of important projects off my desk.  Worked creatively too.  Visited one friend in person, and enjoyed a long talk with another friend last night.  I even responded to my cat’s many requests throughout the day that I go out in the garden with her for a little break – and I took quite a few nice breaks yesterday.

Was it a coincidence?  Did the controllers also coincidentally give me something that first night to give me energy?  (I have absolutely believed they have that capability and have done it to me.)  Or was it my expectations?  Or – as is John Hall’s theory – did I block the electronic harassment and get back my normal, productive mind? 

I want to believe this is possible. I don’t want to believe that, via electronics, thousands of us can be harassed mercilessly until we die. 

Of course, I can’t help but notice that my left shoulder (yeah, the left shoulder) is buzzing again, like crazy.  I took off my ear buds and set them on either side of the new implant site, and while there the buzzing was gone.  Removed, it began buzzing again after a minute or so.  Retested, again it stopped then began buzzing like crazy again, as it has all year.  It’s not the worst; at best, it’s a reminder of what I face, keeping me serious about my healing needs.

As with any technology, as soon as we find a work-around, they’ll be working on their own work-around, so we’ll probably need to keep vigilant, keep educating ourselves, keep sharing ideas, and keep praying for direction.  And that’s not a bad thing; it’s good.

Sometimes I think of this as all a test.  We might think it feels cruel, like torture, and I can be ready to give up and die.  But before I’m in total, absolute despair, they always back off, leave me alone, and I build myself back up again.  But that’s not enough.

What’s the lesson?  If it is a test, if we’re not entirely powerless, which I don’t believe we are, what is the lesson???  What are we to learn from this torturous experience?

I want to believe that we are only faced with threats on Earth for a reason – to learn how to deal with them.  And one of them might be to learn how to manage our own bio-electric systems to a degree we’ve never yet considered possible before.  And I’m ready to take that on.

Indeed, as multi-dimensional beings, we exist on other dimensions – vibrational realms, even though we may not access it consciously very often.  Since this is part of our multi-dimensional nature, maybe we’re called – as part of our next evolutionary learning – to develop this awareness and these skills, the same way we’ve been learning this century to manage nutrition, exercise, and attitude. Bio-electricity is our next challenge.

Maybe?  Well, I’m game.  My new goal is to imagine the extent to which we might have un-examined and under-utilized power.

John Hall had more to write about mental entrainment (generally, not just electronically) to the controller’s games – and that’s what I’ll write about next.

Thanks for reading, Friends.

 

The Last 8 Years

IMG_1725Anomalous weirdness seemed to be increasing, so last January I decided to comb through every journal of mine and record the anomalies since I published RattleSnake Fire, and then record all the anomalies in my book and before my book – the entire rest of my life, as much as I could remember.  I put them all in a master database, with dates and places and other notations, and they total over 700 events!

Some were flesh-and-bones type of events; other were purely psychic, as if in other realms, but consistent with common theories of mind control and psychic attack.

When I checked to see how many occurred in these recent years, I found that, yes, things are accelerating:  I’ve had over half – over 390 anomalous events – since I published my book in January 2008.

Now, anomalous doesn’t mean “bad,” as some anomalies were healing and spiritual insights that made me blissful and came on like a “download.”  So, I colored the supposedly “good” anomalies in green and blue, and I colored the shocking, frightening ones in orange and red.  Those latter outnumbered the positive by 3 or 4 to 1.

Since there were so many, it was hard to wrap my mind around them, so I made an abbreviated list of the biggies – below.

This is not a comprehensive list, only those I wrote in my journal, sometimes I was too messed up to journal for days and might have forgotten to make a record; sometimes I missed things because I was amnesic; and a few journals seem to have gone missing for much of July 2013-July 2014, so I don’t know how much I missed there.  But it’s a good start.

I’ve separated the “challenges” from the “blessings” – and I’ve written with extreme brevity, so they might not sound like much, but in context, believe me, they were.

You’ll notice the few from 2008-2009 (July – July) slowly grow to larger numbers in recent years:

(If anyone finds these familiar, I hope they give you solace that you’re not alone.)

July 2008 –  July 2009 Challenges:

a spiritual attachment

Psychic (freak-out) reaction to a stranger

July 2008 – July 2009 Blessings: 

magical message from shaman

———————————————–

July 2009 – July 2010 Challenges: 

Suspicious lover from teen years called, seducing

experienced conscious MK rape

MK’d to go somewhere, a test

computer weirdness x 3

eyes in mirror not mine

beam bruise

saw demon face over friend’s face

saw etheric safe in my back, and removed it, but not man’s hand also there!

July 2009 – July 2010 Blessings: 

multiple self re-knitting

avoid brain balancing “offer” from suspect doctor

energy healing

“cowboy cataract” healed instantaneously

two alters see each other

———————————————–

July 2010 – July 2011 Challenges: 

Weird, amnestic stop on Highway 90

new door lock broken

sleep anomaly x 10+

weird and mysterious obsession over friend

3 puncture cuts

DSC014024 scoop marks

injection bruise

other weird bruises x 4

pouring nosebleed

inch-deep puncture up beside clitoris

spine mysetriously hurt

new herpes

taser cuTaser burn/sick

tones in ears

night’s struggle

beam follows me around house

next morning:  ears ringing badly, never quit

“walk-in” offer

house entered, things moved, hot water in tap on New Years, footsteps in snow

MK’d sex

old high school friend reconnects; wrote fiction (of me) as MK assassin

bad energy sensed powerfully from across street

noises in house

etheric Aries sign attacked me and stuck to my forehead in energy realm

woman in house makes toilet overflow x 2

message from dark side:  I’m “already in”

spiritual attachments

Despite documentation and no contrary theories, Dr. calls me delusional

Bad spirit in a basket (blessing:  I eject and bring it to heal or depart in garden)

July 2010 – July 2011 Blessings

spontaneous healing

downloads

Persephone helps

blue-green energy healing alters

person inside me helping

cellular changes

another healing x 2

healed teens

nighttime healings x ?

seeing energy, controlling it

yogi comes in

felt g-spot heal

understanding, writing about the cruel teacher

——————————————

2011-2012 Challenges: 

email warning:  new Friend/CIA –

life-threatening email, took to police –

postal mail: I’m an MK slave, may lose my soul – (all 3 in 1 week)

weird sleep and exhaustion x 16+

DSC04837bruises x 3+

needle bruises x 34

4-5 clear tones

2 scoop marks

injured back/no reason x 2

neck out, rib out- pain

2nd taser w oval copy copyanother Taser

weird neck problems x 3

Wake to find friend whispering/instructing me x 2

night terror

realize MK as child on vacations, collapse to floor

computer weirdness

cuts

terrible ear-ringing

iridescent golden mucous glob from sinus

headache

felt severely drugged

more herpes

weird answering machine message

phone interruption:  “record again”

happy drug?  too much energy

acquaintance weirdness

male friend confirms Archons

spiritual attack

shamanic journey:  saw programming in Akron, age 19, painful, terrifying

“dream” of waiting obediently

dream: audition, girls lifting skirts

dream of extra-dimensional powers and astral spying

dream of spying

dream of fire under house

dreams of tunnels, transportation

possible abduction dream

nightmare/porch/screaming

intense forgotten dream

dream of pre-school, computer pass codes, remote command hand tools

July 2011-July 2012 Blessings:

dream of friend that comes true

alters integrating?

feeling strong despite all weirdness

7 months of nothing significant

strong recovery from spiritual attack

recognized MK command to not have orgasm

shamanic journey: removed hooks from spine and neck

shamanic journey:  alters back, bad energy removed, neck fixed

removed shadow

——————————————

July 2012 – July 2013 Challenges

exhausted x 18+

wrenched back x 2, displaced C2

neck hurt x 2, headache, out of it

jaw locked, wouldn’t open

red line in eye

scoop mark

sore

IMG_2558cuts/punctures

grief

depression

anxiety, unable to center self

nausea

hip bruise 1 cropmore weird bruises

ears ringing bad

harassing mental video

computer x 2 and phone weirdness

strange drivers license discovered in my wallet, frightened, called police; afterward no memory of name or face on license

lost time w friend

amnesia, friend no help

email about amnesia – totally forgotten

MK on Christmas Eve

dream of space ship, large marble building, dead body

dream of staircase to other country

dream remote viewing tidal wave, sold on MK

plus events in 2013 – journals missing

July 2012 – July 2013 Blessings:

bolt of healing energy from almond tree

exhaled huge psychic sludge

healing contortions night and morning

energy healing

———————————————-

July 2013 – July 2014 Challenges

camping horror:  apparent abduction, noro virus, almost died (others went to hospital), people sabotage my sleep

friend scares me

consistent sabotage before my scheduled workshops

IMG_2099many injection bruises, weekly

exhaustion with lots of sleep until I quit my business, then felt better

(journals irregular or lost)

July 2013 – July 2014 Blessings:

none (2013 journals disappeared)

———————————————

2014-2015 Challenges: 

“something done in night” x 6+

long sleep and exhaustion x 46

donut bruises x2

injection bruises x 8, “2x/wk”

other bruises x 10

heart racing/hurting x 11

jaw painful x 6

DSC05296scoop marks x 5

numb shoulder x 3

hypersensitive hip x 2

missing time x 8

movies in head x 3, sometimes forgotten

strange noises x 2

vaginal, anal irritation x 2

Thanksgiving: vision, drugged, unable to stand, walk, see; friend incongruous; memory of anal “inoculation”

rage x 9

back wrenched x2

new herpes x 2

gouges both forearms

irritation on thigh

woke w busted thumbnail

woke, peed in bed, total exhaustion with other extreme symptoms

woken by Ultra Low Frequency

tones, sometimes waking me

left shoulder

hands asleep

IMG_2502“vampire” scabs on neck, first day of UFO Congress

cut on left finger

itching hands, arms

triangle dots on hand

ringing in ears (always)

huge, bubbly, iridescent gold mucous from sinus

speedy/drugged?

stomach ache

time confusion

alters switch

visions amazing, then forgotten

saw red UFO, hard sleep

computer weirdness

eBay sabotage

Disqus (never heard of) has account in my name [never fixed – why?]

missing time w friend

See friend in other dimension, scary

Rage 2 days

Knew I’d been electroshocked, found it amusing

brain buzzing

Voice 2 Skull transmission test

downloads to hidden alter:  “MK is All”

dream of remote viewing

alien dreams, anxiety

July 2014 – July 2015 Blessings: 

faerie emergedwatched Dragonfly hatch

in meditation, see spinning child, calm her

met inner Jessie

saw old and young selves in mirror

spiritual house cleaning

spontaneous healing of heart

spiritual clearing, spell broken, alters calibrated

inner Rolfer/yogi healing

spiritual message:  “You can’t keep ignoring us; do shamanic work”

2 healing events

———————————————-

END OF 63rd year  (end of 7th 9-YEAR CYCLE) . . .

(Beginning 8th 9-year Cycle):

July 2015 – January 2016 Challenges

Sense of something done to me in night x 2

absolute exhaustion x 39 (half-year 40/180 = 22% of days!)

puncture wound left thigh

injection bruise

back problem x 2

blood clot from nose

daytime altered state with download

tone x 3, once with chord following

woken by pounding heart x 2

heart pain x 7, once preceded by low vibration

heart anxiety x 12

heart attack

vibration in head

ligament mysteriously inflamed in left pelvis

headache, mind scrambled

missing time

downloads x 2

download about old friend, weird, believable?

meditate -> crazy distractions

dream: something put in old clock, next day clear new tone from clock!

dream: answering machine gives series of numbers

waking life:  answering machine leaves speeded up message (so couldn’t understand); intended to save, but deleted it

computer weird

father’s Navy record suspect of special project subjectIMG_3746

reconnect w old friend, seems another MK subject

Severe RAGE x2

burn on back of neck

2 scoop marks on upper spine

July 2015 – July 2016 Blessings:

Exhaustion of many days suddenly “turned off,” as by switch; feel instantly great

saw face as half-shaman

Mother Goddess real

meditation on Earth’s sexual abuse history – long, forever, won’t quit

Sarasvati real

alters lined up

“walk-in” suggests she can take over; I don’t agree

MK is just what is, always, can’t resist, don’t fight

plant diva:  submission to other’s control is part of life.  Let go.

We are like plants tended by indifferent or ignorant gardeners, not evil.  Only as unconscious as us.

Bloom where you’re planted, despite all.

Comments, friends?  Seems clear to me that I fit the pattern of an MK subject and targeted individual with a bit of spiritual and mystic experiences giving me occasional hope to keep me going.

What time is it?

1272659397_romain-jerome-watches-eyjafjallajokull_1.jpgYou’d think that if you were watching a movie, and the camera zoomed in on the watch that the main character wore and kept checking, so tight a zoom that the watch face more than filled the screen, you’d notice the time.  And you’d especially notice the time if the character repeated the action and the director repeated the zoom four or five times.

Not me.  And because the time – always the same – was critical to the plot about time loops, I didn’t understand the movie until my friend told me the time was always 7:42 (or whatever; I don’t remember).

Realizing what I had stubbornly refused to see – at least with my conscious mind – was a powerful shock and an important and helpful wake-up call.  My recent life, the last 22 years, has been a series of such shocks and awakenings.

It was the spring of 1994 when I realized, to my horror, that I was a “multiple personality.”  In the 22 years since, I’ve realized I’m a unique sort of multiple – not the kind with random parts that highjack the system and lead crazy-making alternative lives for hours or years at a time.

No, my “system” [multiple personality jargon] seems to be quite organized in comparison, and even to function well enough that I’ve won awards and national and international recognitions for achievements in everything from news reporting and fundraising to videography and Permaculture education.  This isn’t unusual for multiples, as many of us are geniuses.

My system of alternate personalities – I believe I have a wealth of evidence to prove – was crafted by psychiatrists and mind control researchers beginning shortly after I was born.  My history begins with the CIA’s Human Ecology Project (a front for mind control research) on the campus of UC Davis, where I lived from age 3 days to 14 months.  After that, we moved to Merced where the cousin of the Secretary of the Interior, Addison Udall, was my pediatrician.  After my 1st and 2nd grades, for which I have total amnesia, my family moved into a new custom home that backed up to or near a home of Stewart Udall.   

My history continues matching many aspects of the stories of other mind  control subjects around the United States and Canada who’ve either published their stories, testified before Congress, or whose counselors or therapists have told their stories, or whose details have been compiled in research.

My mind control programming seems to have been constructed along the lines detailed by DC Hammond, the psychiatrist who first came forward and described this problem and its possible cure to the American Psychological Association in the 1980s; and by the controversial researcher Fritz Springmeyer, who presents a diagram of typical alters, scores or hundreds, constructed in shells, like a computer program, making it possible for someone to command a particular alter to perform a particular function perfectly when, where, and as desired by the use of cues, similar to pass codes, which access programs which are regularly reinforced and updated.  So my multiple-ness doesn’t function randomly or dysfunctionally, as movies and books often portray, but precisely according to some Master Controller’s plan.  Usually.

There are exceptions to this, of course.  All us mind control subjects, for instance, writing books and testifying was not in the controllers’ plan.  Because this is research, not perfected yet.  Some of us early research subjects, from the late forties and early fifties, are in our sixties now, and that means that brain cells aren’t being replaced as rapidly, and mental things are deteriorating.  What deteriorates might be “simple memory,” as the average person might think of it, but the brain cells lost might also be part of an amnesic wall or part of a program – meaning that we might begin to remember things we’re not supposed to remember, or we might begin not following commands we’re supposed to follow.  Indeed, around age 40 – as brain research predicts – I began to remember what I wasn’t supposed to remember.

At first I ignored it, thought it some weird aberration, for which I invented all sorts of theories to override the one thing it seemed to be, put it all in a box, on a high shelf in a mental closet, shut the door, and didn’t think about it again for four years, until another break-through memory happened again.  Then I repeated the process:  in the box, on the shelf (saved without looking or mentally tampering, to maybe investigate later), shut the door, and forgot.

After another four years and a sudden crisis of cancer, divorce, moving with teens, one seriously ill, and a nervous breakdown – I went to a therapist’s office, listed my challenges, and followed them with words that had never crossed my frontal cortex until I heard my mouth speaking them – quite the surprise:  “I think I’ve been sexually abused as a child.  [shocked pause]  No, no, that’s not what I meant to say.  I don’t want to deal with that.  I never even thought about it before [lie], and don’t know where it came from.  I have more serious, immediately pressing needs to talk about.”

And so began my 22-years-and-counting journey toward understanding what’s been going on with my mind.  The first year, 1993-1994, I coped with the shock of memories of sexual abuse and the spells of amnesia that had plagued me.  The next 8 years I coped with the shock and self-diagnosis of Multiple Personality Syndrome (aka Dissociative Disorder).  And the following/recent 14 years, I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with the understanding that I’ve been – not just a regular “multiple” – but a mind-control subject, someone with a psychological and psychiatric “technology” applied to multiple alters in me – created intentionally – your tax dollars at work.

So what does this have to do with not noticing the time?  I can only guess, but I know that we can be programmed for any number of things, to support a program of any purpose, sometimes because a subject is being actively used for intelligence purposes (seems unlikely at my age, but possible), and sometimes because a subject is being used for research in new programming techniques, drugs, working with aging subjects, etc.

When I don’t notice the time, it’s easier for my controllers to use me and have me not notice.

In 1994, deep in my initial nervous breakdown depths, I was powerfully moved by the idea that it would be good for me to anchor myself fully in the time cycles of sun and moon and not by clock and calendar, and I lived that way in my hermitage for half of each week while commuting the other half of the week to school in the city.  I thought it was a very spiritual concept, a psychic liberation from the broadcast mind control of Gregorian Calendar and chaotic clock; but it could also have been that I was given the command to stop watching the clock, so that I could be more easily used while alone in the desert.  In 2000, when I began living there full-time, I quit noticing the time entirely, unless I needed to know.

If forced to look at a clock, as in the movie, I studied the craftsmanship of the frame, or the lighting or camera operator’s techniques.  Sometimes, lately, because I’m trying to re-ground myself in time, I see and note the time, and then moments later realize I’ve forgotten it.

I’m still trying to figure out my brain, and try not to feel too bad for finding it so difficult; after all, the government spent a great deal of money and science to keep me from knowing.  So I take heart in whatever little scraps of understanding I can gain.

How do we keep going?  Maybe Spirit.  Maybe our programming.  I ask this question often.

In either case, it is usually lonely, because virtually everyone falls in one of two camps:  it doesn’t happen, or the likelihood is slim; or they know but they just don’t want to hear about it, sorry.

It’s surprising to recognize how long I’ve been so compromised, forced to compensate with notes, notes, notes, reminders, struggling, lately overwhelmed….

Noticing, though, is the first step to healing.  Gotta appreciate what we can.

Opening a new book to follow RattleSnake Fire

IMG_1725My life is exquisitely difficult to talk about.  It’s woven with extreme themes – sexual abuse, mind control, aliens, mysticism – and with accomplishments that make me shy, and failures that embarrass me, and critical facts that embarrass other people.

And none of the themes, for simplification, can be hidden or glossed over, because each intertwines and sometimes explains the others.

I can’t begin at the beginning, because it is either boring, or if I tell certain details, it sounds too woo-woo.

Since I almost always get interrupted fairly early with the question, “Why you?” I think I’ll begin there.

It could be any number of things, but is probably all of them together.  Plus the fact that I won “the lottery.”

(Remember that classic, creepy short story, “The Lottery”?  We read it once in grade school and again in high school, about a community that killed one person every year by stoning, a person drawn by lottery.)

Full MoonMy lottery ticket to this crazy life may have been as simple as my birth date.  I was born on a Full Moon, on a Monday (Moon Day), in the middle of Cancer, also known as Moon Child.

And it wasn’t just a Full Moon, somewhere inside that 24-hour window; no, I was born 8 minutes before the Full Moon, 8/(24×60) = 5/1,000ths of a degree of perfection.  Moon energy was strong.  (Astronomical charts, not astrological, show the coincidence.)

Jean Ann Eisenhower birth certificate 1.jpegSo were the numbers:  I was born on July 7, 1952 − 5+2 adding up to 7.  Three sevens.  Then my mother gave me a name with 7 letters:  Jean Ann.

My last name, at birth and now, is Eisenhower.  My father was second cousin to Dwight, who was nominated to the Republic ticket for President of the United States later birth anncmt.jpegon the day of my birth.  The next day, the local paper would give my birth a short column to remark on the coincidence.

Maybe all these coincidences explain my winning/losing lottery ticket.  Or maybe mind control was already in the family.

Eisenhower crest

Eisenhower family crest

[I’ll expand on these later:  Eisenhowers = Iron hewers (secret society protecting metallurgy secrets for the king).  Grandfather Hollywood veterinarian of Rin-Tin-Tin – Mason – money lender.  Father Navy CASU 33 – unsolved mystery.

[Petersens – Mormons.  Grandmother with her handler.  Mother I saw switch alters, in trance.  Unexplained terror re Mormons.  Flashback of babyhood ritual.]

I seem to have won/lost the lottery and was treated to MK.  Then, having developed a bad attitude toward our culture due to MK, I joined the counter-culture and offended my handlers – again and again, beginning with rejecting the invitation of another secret society, calling them “plastic,” accepting their invitation to “try them,” taking the vows, and then de-activating and breaking my vows.  I assume my actions resulted in another layer of MK, as they warned us that breaking our vows would have severe consequences (which I didn’t believe, as it was contrary to “American values”).

smithsonianIn my 20s, I became an activist for peace, and later for social justice, and environmental sustainability.  Along the way, I insulted the FBI with media releases exposing their most incriminating statements which I sent to 600 major media around the world, nearly every day of the 6-week “Judi Bari v FBI” federal trial – and the FBI was found guilty.

They stared me down in the hallways of the courthouse, damn scary dudes.  They might have amped up my treatment then and following  the trial, when I lived alone in the desert – things got extremely frightening after the trial, to the point I was ready to give up this life.

rf-2nd-ed-front-cover-20 copyPerhaps they amped up my MK again when I published my book.  And maybe they amped it up again each time I published a particularly hard-hitting blog or video.  There seem to be correlations.

~

 

So now that I’ve given you an overview of my story, maybe answered the Why?, and I’ve gotten my paranoia out of the way – or demonstrated and acknowledged it at least – let me tell you my story….

~

In my next memoir, I’ll summarize my life through 2007 briefly, as it’s detailed in RattleSnake Fire: a memoir of extra-dimensional experience, and spend most of the book recounting the most recent eight years.

To help me wrap my brain around it all – my fractured, fragmented mind full of experiences is often difficult to remember as a whole – I created a database to record all my anomalous experiences, from sublime to terrifying, everything out of the normal.  My list is nearly 700 items long, and the last half of them have occurred in the last 5 years.  Things are accelerating.

[to be continued]

Feedback?  How’s this to open an update to my story?

A Disinformation Story from 2007

sheep-wallpaper-1Disinformation is finally being better understood and acknowledged throughout the culture, but few people understand its full extent. And understanding and reading reality correctly is an important survival skill for all of us.

Therefore, I’d like to share what I’ve learned, as both third-party observer and victim.  I’ll chose an older story rather than a new one, to lessen the chance the guilty will be recognized – which I assume will lessen the repercussions I will experience for telling.

~

Before I tell this 7-year old story, I first want to tell a little about the concept:  I didn’t know the word disinformation until I was involved with Earth First!, and then I witnessed it a great deal, as our expert-witness scientist supporters from around the world were ignored by the Media, and our peaceful protests, humorous skits, and potluck dinners (at my home) were treated like national security threats in FBI reports (I have copies).

car bombWhen Judi Bari, a non-violence activist and mother of two, was car-bombed in 1990, she was maligned in the world-wide Media as a would-be bomber.  But subtler lies are also told for different effects.

I’d become a thorn in the FBI’s side when, in 2002, I wrote or helped write, almost every day for six weeks, media releases for the Judi Bari v FBI trial.  When I returned home to my desert hermitage, I began to be plagued by frightening bouts of amnesia and immobilization, with physical wounds, including lacerations and puncture wounds to the inside of my vagina (also photographed) – to the point that I considered suicide frequently.

inside

My g-spot (descending bulge) was sliced from back to front and twice more (not visible here) from side to side.

Feeling like a sitting duck in the desert, I sold my remote home on 20 acres and, because I didn’t think I could stand a big city anymore, found my way to Silver City, in great need of friends to surround me.

taser cuUnfortunately, frightening events continued to happen, including third-degree Taser burns and biopsy scoops that appeared on my hands and arms and back with no memory of how they happened – and weird events of disinformation that undermined my reputation and sense of community.

IMG_1725Over the nine years I’ve lived here, my wounds have also included scores of injection bruises, two donut bruises, dozens of other weird bruises, sexual mysteries, and even some healed scars, one of which a doctor assumed was from thyroid surgery.  Most I’ve photographed, and many I’ve shown friends, though few want to hear about them – I gather because it’s just too upsetting to their world views.

cia doctorsI totally understand not wanting to hear.  It took me a lot of years of having this actually happen to me before I could adjust my world view to get over the “freedom and justice for all” mythology and accept what was happening.

If you find this hard to believe, I do understand, and hope you can read on, because this is part of our reality – and properly reading reality is essential to our survival.  Following is an account of disinformation against me, undermining my status in my new community.

~

In 2007, I was a week or so away from a trip to Peru, when someone recommended a woman to stay at my home and care for my cat.  Actually, it was a couple, I was told, a man and a woman, about my age, who were hip and “into community,” and had some circumstances that had stranded them in Silver City, needing a place to stay; the husband was working, but hadn’t gotten a paycheck yet.  I agreed to let them stay in my home, even though afterward I realized that I didn’t like the woman at all, and she had talked a solid streak for 90 minutes, essentially wearing me down, and making me feel sorry and embarrassed for her, as if to say No would force her to recognize she had been obnoxious, which would be hurtful to her, so I couldn’t say No.  Not logical, but defininely my sort of neurotic, self-defeating kindness.

In Tucson, I was supposed to be at the airport at 6 am for an 8 am flight, but I woke at 4 with a severe toothache that made it very difficult to move with any more than a shuffle, so I canceled my flight with a medical excuse.  I would have a root canal later that afternoon.

Mid-morning, when my plane was in the air, I began receiving bizarre emails from my house sitter who assumed I was on the plane to Peru.  She told me my stove was leaking gas, the phone wasn’t working, two crews of repairmen had been in, and my cat was acting ill – all in her first day at the house, and the first day of my 20-day trip.

Even though I immediately suspected this was probably a form of harassing disinformation, it was shocking to think of how very distressing it would have been to be on a plane to a faraway place with this bombardment of distressing news.

Thankfully, I wasn’t gone, and I’d been around enough FBI lies and other tricks that I found it all suspicious.  So I answered her emails without telling her I was still in Tucson.

Her stories continued to hammer on distressing probabilities and were amped up with direct accusations (13 specific, weird accusations against me! in emails still saved) that I was “paranoid” and similar negative assessments – even though I’d been extremely cautious not to say a single inflammatory word, but simply asked calm questions about my home. It was as though she’d intended I become paranoid.

I called a handy woman friend who visited the house and was told by the woman that the phone was repaired.  Since I’d asked my friend to enter and check out the stove and look around, she asked to enter, but the woman refused.  When my friend next called to tell me the phone was supposedly repaired, I was still unable to call home, and was told by the woman via email that the phone was “down again,” working only during the short period my friend had come to the door.

After drilling and filling my tooth, I hit the road immediately to Tucson, calling another friend along the way, who arrived at the house shortly after I did.  The woman was shocked to find me at the door and was barely willing to let me into my own home.  When my friend arrived, we confronted the woman with the crazy contents of her emails, as I wanted to be entirely fair and consider the possibility that perhaps she hadn’t send them, and they were instead sent by disinformation specialists; I reviewed all 13 accusations with her, and she confirmed she’d written them – even as she stammered to explain some of her more bizarre accusations.

We then had to demand she leave, as she was intent on staying in my home as I’d “promised” to let her, and she even had the gall to suggest I leave.  When she continued refusing, we finally threatened to call the police to remove her and she finally accepted our demands.  But as she left, and we realized to our astonishment that she didn’t have anything at the house other than her small purse – no overnight bags, no toothbrush, no food, no nothing, even though she’d supposedly stayed there the night before and her husband was due there shortly and she desperately wanted to stay there again that night.  But the bed hadn’t even been slept in, and the kitchen was unused.  We assumed she wanted us to leave so we wouldn’t discover this, and she was actually there for some other reason.

As we pondered this, my friend’s phone rang, she answered it and heard silence.  After hanging up, she hit the call back button and was greeted with an office name with “Intelligence” in the title.  My friend and I assumed the woman and her husband were functioning as low-level spies, watching the house so that others could come in (under the guise of repairmen?) to do whatever they do to activists and others on federal “watch” lists.  Perhaps they’d used some high technology to identify and call her phone, perhaps to add a bit of warning to our overload of weird information and seeming threats.

The next day, I called the gas company and was told she had called and a repair person had come out, but no gas leak was found, and the stove never did have problems.

I used my cell phone to call the phone company because the home phone still did not work.  When the repairman came out the next day, he worked for two hours and finally concluded, “This is the strangest problem I’ve ever seen in my 20 years of phone repair, and I can’t figure it out.”  And he rewired most of the house.

My cat never showed any signs of illness.

A few days later, another phone repairman appeared at the front door.  I called Qwest to confirm he was legit, and was told something vague I don’t remember, even as I realized the feds certainly have the ability to intercept my call, redirect it to their own office, and have someone pose as a phone company rep, telling me whatever I needed to hear.  I let the guy in.

He checked the phone jacks, then went outside and climbed a ladder to the box attached near the roof line.  I wondered if I’d detect him putting a bug on my line, so I stood beneath and watched.  He talked and seemed to be wasting time, repeating motions, and getting impatient with me standing there looking up constantly.  I smiled and asked him if he was finished.  He looked confused and irritated.  Laughter was close, but I had no desire to mock a fed.  I also knew I couldn’t stop them if they wanted to put a bug on my line, and if he didn’t do it today, they’d do it another day soon, and it might be less fun next time.  So I walked around the corner, gave him a minute, then came back to find him climbing down, looking relieved.  Ever since, my old-style ringer phone makes a little noise a few seconds after every time I hang up, and around 10 pm every night, which I think of as shift-change, and maybe other times I haven’t yet noticed.

The woman and her husband, I later learned, went to live with a young, hip couple out in the Mimbres, whose friends overlapped with mine, but whom I only knew because the husband clerked at a store I frequent, a store central to my community.  Immediately, the man quit being friendly with me and instead acted as though I were a terrible person he could barely be civil to. And in following years, a number of their acquaintances have continued to keep distant even though we have many friends and interests in common.

I assumed the woman had told the young couple poisonous things about me.  But I didn’t know them well enough to try to discover what they’d been told, and my questions might be received as very weird.  It was very weird, and I didn’t trust anyone to accept it at face value without having to reconsider a lot of assumptions and probably wonder also if I was just plain crazy, so I said nothing to anyone except the two friends who each witnessed part of the event.

Every so often, about once a year, people on the edges of my community suddenly act cold or confused around me, as if they’d heard something terrible and didn’t know whether they should even acknowledge me.  I notice quite a few people all change at once and continue in the pattern for some weeks or months, until slowly the awkwardness fades a little, but doesn’t go entirely away.  I just stay away from them, to lessen their discomfort and mine.

I sometimes review the experiences of friendly acquaintances turning away or looking fearful and try to convince myself the events are not significant, but they seem to display a consistent pattern.  And then there’s the other parallel evidence:  the woman at my house with no personal possessions, her emails full of lies and inflammatory accusations, and my phone line mysteriously wired.  And mysterious Taser burns and similar wounds on my very own body keep me from dismissing my total experience as imagination – as some friends, family, and doctors would like me to.

See-no-evil-hear-no-evil-speak-no-evil-monkeys-14750406-1600-1200I’d love to dismiss it as imagination and believe in a different America, but that’s not my experience.  For 8 years now, I’ve been asking my online readers, and no one has come up with any explanation better than the one that’s supported by government documents:  federal agents practice disinformation, harass, encourage divisiveness, and more, under the rubric of COINTELPRO (Counter Intelligence Program).

Recently I learned there’s a name for people like me: “targeted individuals” – abbreviated TI’s, with multiple websites documenting experiences of many others who describe things similar to mine.

Beware of lies.  If you hear something bad about a person, check it with the person it’s about.

Only once in these nine years has a friend checked a rumor about me with me; it was a lie, and she’d believed it for six months (it sounded reasonable) and even passed it on to others herself during that time.  I told her the truth as I understood it and asked her to pass it back onto the grapevine.  I don’t know if she did or how well it traveled.

Disinformation is usually planted in such a way and with people removed from the target just enough that it’s very difficult (and no likely to be successful) for the TI to confront the perpetrator.  Only the people in the middle – those told the lie – can do anything about it – by wising up, and checking.  Thanks for doing that.

A Petition to: BAN ELECTRONIC WARFARE ON CIVILIANS

First published at GardenHealingChurch.org.  (I keep thinking this is the last post on this site, but here’s one more.)

This petition, http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/synergy, and all the people commenting on it – inspired me to comment too, and I ended up writing a short essay that presents my story briefly, so I’ll share it here with a few photos added:

Bombed car sm

After doing media work for the historic “Judi Bari vs FBI” federal trial, in which the feds were found guilty of charges related to an assassination attempt on Judi Bari, my lifelong mind control torment has been seriously amped up.

IMG_1725I’ve woken with Taser burns, a burn on the back of my neck – both third-degree with skin burned off – scoop marks, injection bruises, “donut” bruises, lacerations and punctures in my vagina, healed scars including one my doctor thought was a thyroid surgery scar, total exhaustion, and occasionally dealings that seemed to be with aliens (which could be induced hallucinations or real).   

After 13 years of freaking out and being suicidal about my mind control, I’m beginning to see that it’s not a simple horror – it’s actually everything and everywhere.  And it may not be human.  Everything in nature is under control of many things.  Mind control begins with DNA and the elements like weather, then language and our calendar, then economics, laws, education, government, etc.  And eventually science did to people what it’s done to the Earth – turned everything into a resource.  We are human resources; they’ve been honest in calling us that!  We’ve heard it and shrugged.  Now we’re realizing it’s full implications, and it’s shocking.  One more major trauma in the history of humanity.  (Think back:  much of history is trauma.)

Without hope in the other realms, we on Earth have been reduced to resources, regardless that we’ve been led along with lies about freedom, human rights, etc.  If we only have this Earth life in which to hope, then we must toe Their line or be seriously punished.

[Can we tell them (since they’re spying and listening all the time), “Hey, I change my mind.  I’ll quit whistle blowing [or whatever] and join you”? if we’re willing to sacrifice our beliefs for relief (as it seems others must be doing)?  I don’t know.  I’ve gone to that edge and wondered, but haven’t crossed it.]

Mostly, I believe I have Helpers in other realms who rescue or resuscitate me now and then, though I do have to suffer indignities and pain and loss of will to live and sheer energy to live – way more often than I sometimes think I have the spirit to sustain, but then my Helpers bring me back.  (Or might it be the controllers, keeping me alive for another day? I don’t know. I think I’ll chose the more palatable option, my Helpers.)

It’s a weird life to live.  Good thing I know we have other lifetimes, so I can feel less attached to this one.  It helps to step into the role of Witness.  We are witnesses of an incredible time in human history – from the deepest darkest inside, which few see and fully understand, but we do.  There’s something important in our role, as witnesses regarding human evolution.  It’s incredibly lonely because no one wants to hear, but it’s important.  And one day, maybe on another realm, we’ll help others understand how this came about, so maybe we can help protect the future.  Don’t know.  Playing with ideas.  Imagining from a higher height….

As far as this world right now, though, I’ve quit believing we can change anything through political action, like this petition – BUT, I know I could be wrong, so I hedge my bets and support causes like this one that encourage us – but I don’t see the possibility in America anymore.  On the other hand, I KNOW we get help from Other Realms – rarely when we think it’s due, but enough.

And that’s another silver lining:  having lost all hope in this Earth insanity, we are forced to cut our emotional connections to Earth life and look beyond.  Atheists, I know, will hate this, but I do appreciate that this pain does send me into other realms where I believe it is important to connect, and I don’t otherwise, as least not as often as would probably be good for me, because Earth happenings and all the entertainment is way too entrancing.  It’s almost like our mind control tortures us so badly that we are saved from the mainstream soul-deadening delusions of the masses, slowly boiling like frogs in a pot; whereas, we are the frogs that jumped out of our mesmerized complacency, thanks to the extra-high heat.

rf-2nd-ed-front-cover-20[I write and video blog about my life and struggles on Paradigm Salon.net, my other sites, and in my book, RattleSnake Fire, called “not only great literature, but an important historical document.”]

Blessings on us all.  Peace, friends.  Please don’t give up too easily.  Remember this world is bigger and more complicated than we can know; and the bully in our life might be about to get whumped by someone bigger.  We don’t know, but we shouldn’t discount it when the stakes are so high – our life.

Also, leaving this life (as many people entertain, including me) may not be an escape, if the other dimensions are extensions of this, as I believe they are.  So it behooves us to develop our extra-dimensional minds, as the only way to see a bigger picture and have a chance.

At the moment, we are in trauma at the hands of the most Powerful people on Earth; therefore our only salvation is beyond this Earth, where we can’t go, or beyond this dimension, which we can.  I conclude: it’s time to develop our extra-dimensional minds.

pablo amaringo Llullon Llaki Supai

I hope this helps someone.  Compassion for all.

Acting Like Things are Normal

smile_hide_overwhelmedWritten in September 2014, forgotten, just discovered:

So, this is what it’s like to live on a planet with everyone overwhelmed and mind controlled.  I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

~ Ineffective Governments

~ Corporate control of governments and economies

~ Economies very vulnerable

~ Poverty and malnutrition growing

~ Most water poisoned or sources destroyed

~ Land poisoned from pole to pole

~ Air polluted

~ Food genes modified to not reproduce

~ Weather apparently manipulated

~ The “free press” controlled by corporations

~ Families and cultures fragmented

~ Individuals isolated

~ Justice system racist and classist

~ Prisons corporatized and growing

~ Mind control extensive

~ Assassinations common and ignored

~ Terror constant around the globe

~ Slavery, including child and sexual slavery, growing and ignored

~ Wars and threats of war

~ Biological and technological weapons beyond our understanding

~ Local communities militarized

~ Warrantless searches and secret courts

~ Pervasive spying

~ Earthquakes and toxic water from fracking

~ Most Americans, and many children, on mood-altering drugs

~ Electronic gadgets offering custom-made entertainment instantly, constantly, and inexpensively.

So, why are we still talking to politicians?

 

Because we’re dependent on their system.

I am absolutely certain we cannot negotiate or fight our way out of this.

So I have two hopes for survival:

yy121) The two opposing, entwining forces on this planet will be in such disharmony that we will break apart into two different dimensions, each in our own vibration.  Those who believe in slavery or are willing to be controlled by others will go one place, and those who appreciate the stability and endurance of diverse ecosystems, noted for mutuality, and cooperation – and who have made it part of their life to nurture those qualities – will go into another dimension.

Sorta like the Rapture.  Or sorta like I once heard that Hopi mothers tell their children, “One day, the bad people will just be gone.”  So many prophecies of endings and new beginnings….

Or maybe it’ll just end in some manner beyond our imagination.

Maybe we’re in the process of it now, as many suggest by way of encouragement.  Maybe we’re in the grasping death throes of a dying culture, and we simply must be patient – and keep practicing cooperation.

2) Or maybe we’re learning something from this horror of watching an entire planet under threat (though we in the United States remain relatively well for now, relatively oblivious of the masses at war and dying).

What if we’re souls being taught to be responsible by having our actions reflected back on us collectively?

Since we keep animals in pens, “They” put some of us in pens.  We feed animals our waste; They feed us crap.  We treat animals like things; They treat us like things.

Could this be a house-of-mirrors dimension, and if we’d change our ways, our conditions would improve?

This theory has a certain elegance, but it’s rather constructed.  On the other hand, there do seem to be dimensions of reality that are constructed, if you believe the shamans, which I do.  Dimensions of inorganic beings, thought forms, memes, mathematics, fractals, etc.  So, like Carlos Castaneda trapped in the world of the inorganic beings, our entire planet might be trapped by an idea (capitalism?) – an idea that, unfortunately, reflects back on us and hurts.  It resonates with me sometimes as too true a possibility.

If that’s the case, then the tales of Jesus and other aliens returning to rescue, save, or rapture us seems hopeful.  I resonate with Christ, so I pray he picks up my signal and has me in his plans.  I’ve promoted cooperative living most of my life, so I’ll accept a rescue from my spirit family, if that turns out to be the reality.

3) yy12Okay, one more:  The worst, most evil-feeling thought I have cross my mind sometimes is that the System, evil as we think it is, is intrinsic to human evolution.  It’s half the driving force of things, just like the yin-yang symbol.  Just like a tree, half in light, half undergound, consuming dead things.

And just like the human body can’t have toe cells demanding a better gig, we gotta have people who fulfill their jobs exactly, and if it takes mind control, then so be it.

(I could almost talk myself into the necessity of this, except that the System is systematically destroying the planet and devastating souls.)

I can understand Life including Death, but I think we can evolve without the depths of depravity we have here.

On the other hand, if all this nastiness turns out to be actually necessary for our evolution, then I have to let go of my idea of the Creative Force as a thing of elegance, harmony, and love.

On the other hand again, there’s an awful lot on Earth that is explosive, crashing, rotten….and it’s natural and seems necessary.  So maybe this is just life, and we’re supposed to accept it.  Ugh.  As I said, Worst theory.

4) Finally, I can accept that, since we are genetic experiments, we might just be too imperfect, too much trouble as Enlil thought (and Jehovah), and they’ve been threatening to wipe us off the planet for thousands of years.  We’re Their herd, crop, failed genetic experiment, facing our end.

Now, they might keep a few good slaves or other useful specimens, in which case there’s nothing I want to do but convince them I’d be way too much trouble and they don’t want me.  I believe our souls have other lives beyond this one, so I’ll emerge somewhere; doesn’t have to be here….

If I think of more reasons for hope, I’ll add them.  What are yours?

Earth Being?

smithsonianWritten long ago, and just discovered:  

As someone who used to call herself an “Earth First!er,” I have a very difficult thing to say:

I no longer believe we’re supposed to necessarily remain on this planet, Earth.

Yeah, this is shocking to me too.

But consider this:

~ All the planet’s water is poisoned and major sources destroyed

~ The land is poisoned from pole to pole

~ The air is polluted by multiple sources, including chemtrails

~ Food genes have been modified to not reproduce

~ Weather is apparently manipulated

~ Fracking is causing earthquakes and toxic water in wells and springs

And that’s just what’s been done to the planet.  We humans also face:

~ Multiple concurrent wars

~ Biological and technological weapons beyond our understanding

~ Warrantless searches and secret courts

~ Pervasive spying on everyone

~ Ineffective governments, rigged elections, and rigged voting booths

~ Corporations controlling governments and economies

~ Economies unjust and vulnerable beyond anyone’s imagination

~ Poverty and malnutrition growing everywhere, including in the US

~ The “free press” controlled by corportions

~ Families and cultures fragmented

~ Individuals isolated

~ Justice system racist and arbitrary

~ Prisons corporatized and growing

~ Mind control happening on multiple levels

~ Assassinations common and not investigated

~ Slavery, including sexual and child slavery, growing

~ Local communities militarized

~ Major figures guilty of child sex slavery not investigated

~ Most Americans, and many children, on mood/mind-altering drugs

~ And:  Lots of electronic gadgets offering custom-made entertainment instantly, constantly, and inexpensively.

And everyone continues to act like things are normal!  

And good-hearted people (like me) continue to try to work for good causes like protecting our local water source from destruction, but we waste our time asking politicians to act in the public good.  

That’s insane.  And then we do nothing more, as if we’ve “acted.”  Arghhhh! to political action.

~

Psychopathology is the word most commonly used today to describe the people pulling all the strings on the planet today, but I’m not sure.  It could be psychopathology, but I think there could be another reason.

The gods may have decided (again) it is time to clear the planet of humankind  So, just as a gardener clears a flower bed, or a cook super-cleans a cutting board, a lot of life is getting disrupted, but the web of life will re-heal.

We think those destroying the planet are psychopaths, but maybe they are no more than we are to the microbes in our soil.

~

I get glimpses now and then that some vibrational current will soon separate from the ugly energies on the planet, and we’ll relax and live out in another dimension, Heaven on Earth.

But this “dimensional shift” theory may only be the only way I can imagine staying on this planet. As Earth seems to be becoming unfit for life – fulfilling ancient prophecies from across the globe.

Bummer.  I hate to confirm such devastating ideas, and the ring of religion only makes it worse. But at least I don’t keep talking to psychopathic politicians, trying to convince them to have a heart.

Still, I’ll hold out hope that I’m wrong, and the Life-giving will soon overpower the Death-dealing.

Prophesy and Money-ism

Wrote last June, just re-discovered:

I had a vision this evening of a cockroach burrowing into moist earth, working to turn dead things into more easily digestible other things to feed the roots of plants.

I “hate” roaches, but I saw tonight how essential they are to Life.  They’re the clean-up guys.

I wondered, “Why are you showing this to me?” and the answer came:

Because you humans are in the process of being cleaned up.

What?  Did I invent that last part?

What do you think?  Are humans in the process of being cleansed from this Earth?  Too many of us are too violent, reckless with the planet, and reckless with each other.  So, just like the Sumerian god Enlil and, later, the Hebrew god Jehovah both threatened, are our days numbered?  Will most of us be composted, like kitchen scraps, for roaches?

After those few survivors made it through the flood, so the stories go, neither Enlil nor Jehovah were too enthusiastic about giving humans another chance.  They agreed, but made it clear, especially in the Christian “Book of Revelation,” that we’re on probation.  Jehovah was going to see how we did for 1,000 years, and maybe he’d extend it another 1,000, but no more.  And here we are.

And now Dad’s not happy with our behavior.  And he promised to destroy us.

As should be, as any gardener knows.  Some crops you don’t want to save the seed from.  Some seed you burn, like Yeshua said.

Am I inventing this?  Please tell me I am.

Kissinger, I hear, called 95% of us useless eaters; and many forecast a 95% die-off on Earth soon.  And it sure seems they’re planning – no, executing right now – plans to assure the greatest certainty that most of us will die, with our food seeds infected with terminal genes, honeybees going instinct, and our water sources poisoned or polluted and recently mixed with oil from fracking operations all across our nation.  They’ve compromised all the most important aspects of our survival.

Reminds me of the tens of thousands of Sumerian clay tablets of history, in which the god Enlil intended to kill humans with a flood and did kill most, a story told all over the Earth, including in the Hebrew account.  Human remnants survived and promised to please their Creator, but I have a suspicion we have not.

Now, the threats of the gods always embarrassed me, especially as delivered by preachers –  but destroying our culture seems like a very appropriate thing to do, given that we’ve destroyed the environment and torment each other so.  It might be what I’d do if I were head gardener of Earth.

But I don’t understand how the people who are the worst offenders are doing the job that I imagine God would do.  Why are they playing the role of the Gardner’s plow?  

I trust in the idea of many lifetimes, and assume this destruction is simply of human genetics, and the soul essence continues on the learning path.

So, this vision isn’t so bad after all.  We’re just about to lose our physical bodies.  And that might be the best thing for our souls right now.  A lot of us are hurting in this terrible place.  Greed, in the form of capitalism, has twisted our minds, and it’s time for us to retreat from this dimension and think about the nature of money and keeping track of each other like that rather than just taking care of each other.

We’ve wasted far more of our life energy competing with others and keeping track of it all (banking, accounting, investing, bookkeeping, printing money and checks and ledgers, insurance, cash registers, grant writing, advertising, etc.) than we feared we might lose if we simply gave to others.

Money competition might have been an interesting test, but I think we’ve all seen that it has been disastrous, and I trust we’ll devise a whole new approach to “economy” in our next lives.  I look forward to that.

My pathway through this human period of history has been especially turbulent, and I’ve seen the darkest underbelly of capitalism – in which children are sold for perverse entertainment.

Money-ism is weird when you think about it:  money (easily manipulable) acts as the “blind” guideline for all our social interactions.  Which is horrifying when pedophiles steal children, abuse them, put them on show, and often murder them, because there is someone willing and able to pay a network of police, judges, and other criminals a great deal of money.

Someone should have foreseen that coming.

But no one did, and now we have the world we’re living in, and it’s not something the head gardener wants to keep dealing with.  Season’s over.  And very little seed, so the prophesies say, will be saved.

If that’s true, perhaps it’s good.  Because we don’t want this sort of life spreading through the universe.

 

It’s good to know who we are

child not smilingLonely, obedient, good girl, good student, shy, dancer, math and puzzle genius, occasional amnestic, community theater performer, raped, reluctant sorority girl, reluctant beauty queen, college run-away hitchhiker, Jesus hippie, minister’s wife, battered, mother, divorced, children conned away by ex, atheist, woken out of a trance, children returned, degreed in broadcast journalism, UPI award-winning radio reporter, remarried, business owner, PR consultant to social service and activist organizations, board member and president, Permaculture certified, radical activist, pantheist, arrested twice, jailed twice, Tasered twice, news feature “Supermom,” winner of more awards and recognitions, divorced again, child with cancer, offered ownership of $3-4 million birdwatching world-tour business, flashbacks of childhood sexual abuse, nervous breakdown, business offer passed, unable to work, praying again, son healed, aware of dissociative parts, confidant of healing, master of non-fiction creative writing, desert hermit, ayahuasca_visions_pabloamaringobuilder of small passive solar strawbale homerock creek house, experiencer of many things shamanic, including Jesus, memoirist, in love with old high school crush, moved to new city, engaged, a real estate agent, disengaged, award-winning agent, offered six-figure management position (declined), hermit again, UFO experiencer, shamanic initiate, media consultant to successful “Judi Bari v FBI” car-bomb trial,car bomb psychically attacked, suddenly aware of life-long mind control subjection, relieved that life makes sense, terrified, near-suicidal, partnered with teepee-dwelling artist, budding artist in pencil and fiber, repeatedly terrified, mysteriously vaginally cut, heart attack, spiritually healed and encouraged, environmental activist again, solar oven educator, passive solar designer, single again, driven from hermitage by poverty, moved to small town, student of consciousness, Transpersonal Hypnotherapist™, author, mind control activistI Was Onetaser cumysteriously Tasered, mysteriously bruised, healing dissociative splits, encouraged, despairing, home renovator in natural plaster sculpture, passive solar advocate, Permaculture designer, identified with Persephone, enjoying the springIMG_2965, identified with Black ElkUnknown-2, committed to service… old woman.IMG_1725

My Last Blog Here

This idea has been coming on for a long time.

There’s no reason to write anymore here.

I’ve been withholding a lot in the last year or so anyway, feeling there are things I know that I’m just not willing to commit to print, and so I point out details or tell my experiences, and leave readers to connect the pieces.  But I’ve been withholding more and more recently.

Besides withholding, I spend so many hours trying to communicate intense, multi-dimensional realities in the language of this 3D world, yet have no idea whether my readers are real and I’m helping them, or if I’m writing for mostly agents – or if my words are published as I actually write them.  I’ve seen too many weird things happen on my computer to really want to invest too much more here.

Finally, maybe most important, writing keeps me locked in the past when I could be looking forward and grounding into my present with more attention.

So I’m saying good-bye on this site to spend more time in my garden and art studio, with friends, grounded in my actual world, and better connected to my Helpers.

I’m very tired of this virtual world.

And I recommend my readers also look for what they need inside themselves, in Nature, within their community, and from their Helpers.

I’ll leave this site up for the information it contains, but don’t expect any new blogs here.

If you want to know what I’m doing beyond this, I’ll probably continue to blog every week or so on my other sites – Home & Garden Inspiration, Garden Healing Church, and Jean Eisenhower.com, and the other sites near the bottom of the right column.

~

A bit more on Why:

No one who doesn’t already understand wants to hear this stuff.  They claim their right to not listen because it’s too scary, and their own lives are already filled with more drama than they can handle, or if it’s not, they want to keep it that way, and it’s their right.  It’s only natural.  It’s survival.

Therefore, this task is futile, and I should find better things to do.

We might think we need others to hear and understand.  But after that, there’s really not a lot anyone can do but sympathize.  And that gets old and, in a sense, by putting the information in another person’s head, locks us into that picture in another person’s mind.  So we communicators get nothing useful, and they get bummed out.

The only enlivening thing, after we’ve learned to develop better skills of perceiving and responding where we’ve been blinded, is to keep on with the cosmic dance of creating as much beauty and goodness as we can in our moment of life here.

I’m on to other things.

Psychopaths or Just Bad “Gardeners”?

cia doctorsThe usual interpretation of mind controllers is that they are psychopathic, predatory, sexual perverts, Satanic, demonic, or something else, in any case trying to rob people of their souls or at the very least rob them of their life energy to use them for the controllers’ own purposes.

I’ve lived with variations on this theory since 2002, and it’s very unpleasant to contemplate every time I’ve woken up with a bruise, scoop mark, surgical scar (sometimes oddly healed), Taser burn, etc.  The terror of this weird unknown has pushed me to the point of wishing I could die more often than I can count.

Obviously, I haven’t wanted to continue to be their pawn in a game of – I don’t even know what, because I’m amnesic for it.

Something recently caused me to try to perceive “outside the box” of my current theories – and all the other theories I’ve explored, which are all pretty much unanimously upsetting if not terrifying.

A chance to reconsider my interpretation might have come about through my gardening.

11709244_952326054824119_5618222184044544084_nI know my plants are living, sensitive beings, and yet I’ve been guilty of treating them poorly.  Sometimes I put off watering too long, or delay feeding them nutrients they need.  Or I prune them without cleaning and sharpening my tools.  Or I transplant them at the wrong time or otherwise in such a way that they don’t survive.

And I wonder what they think of me.  Do they think I’m evil?

And so I began to wonder if the mind controllers might not be evil psychopaths, or demons, but simply the equivalent of lousy gardeners.

I even tried to imagine that I might be a creative spirit on other dimensions, working with a team of beings, and together we imagined trying to amp up the human potential by splitting individuals into parts, as we’d noticed that natural “split personalities” seem able to multiply their intellectual interests and capacities.  We developed our theory, believed that pain could be ameliorated with amnesia, and thought we had a useful idea.  And I volunteered to be a guinea pig.  Or I drew the short straw.  Whatever.  Just a theory.  But I can imagine it.

To be honest, and for complete disclosure, the worst of my strange experiences has suddenly, quite dramatically, ceased earlier this year, for what reason I don’t know (though I can guess, but am not ready to share that guess).  For quite a long time, I’d been having at least two weird events, usually what I call “injection bruises,” every single week, and there were also many weeks when I was totally devastated, exhausted, depressed to the point of wanting to die, and felt fairly good for nothing.  And suddenly it stopped, earlier this year.

But the upsetting stuff had gone on for so very long that I don’t know if this is just a temporary reprieve and it’ll begin again, or if they really did “put me out to pasture” as I’ve been expecting they should, now that I’m in my 60s.

Whatever is the case, a fear response doesn’t go away easily.  I don’t know if I’ll ever relax from it, though I certainly try.

Even though I’m symptom free now and have been for months, I am still fascinated by this subject.  What does it mean?  What is the nature of our reality that we can be amnesic for things that cause pain, and have serious, photographable wounds?

I’ve been open to other theories for a very long time.  And in all my years of blogging and receiving responses from people all over the world, the greatest number of people confirm my experiences with similar ones of their own, and few offer a “comforting” response.

IMG_2099Some people have theorized – and this is one of the “more comforting” ideas – that one of my alternate personalities is creating the wounds on myself at night.  I can imagine this being the case for something simple like what I’ve called “injection bruises” which always appeared on one of my thighs, usually the front.

DSC01402But I can’t figure out how anyone could create the scoop marks – on my right hand.

Taser burn (second degree burn with skin removed) delivered November 29, 2010, photographed 2 days later.

Taser burn (second degree burn with skin removed) discovered November 29, 2010, photographed 2 days later.

Or the third-degree “Taser” burn – on my right arm.

Or the “thyroid surgery” scar, healed, that appeared one morning on my neck, and which a nurse questioned me about ten years later (I didn’t mention, but she saw the scar which she said was just like her thyroid scar)!

Do I have a violent, left-handed alternate personality who wants to hurt me?  And who has access to technology beyond what any of us understand – that can take surgical scoop biopsies and make scars heal overnight?

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.

How about the “beam” that hit me while talking on the phone with a friend, that left a huge bruise on the side/back of my leg?  (Which I didn’t photograph for two weeks – why?  Because I was mind controlled not to?  Don’t know.)

This bruise showed up ten days after another very similar showed up on the back of my leg. No explanation except...

This bruise showed up ten days after another very similar showed up on the back of my leg. No explanation except…

DSC04837Or how about these two donut-shaped bruises that appeared within days of each other.  How did I create them?

As strange as it may all be, I think I’d rather accept the theory that some trans-dimensional (spiritual) being is doing all this.

I REALLY don’t like the idea of it being CIA, even though there’s 100,000 pages of released government documents and CIA director testimony to Congress to support it.  Maybe I should just stop there.

But I want another theory.  Maybe just so that doctors will respect it and help me rather than label me “delusional.”

Am I in denial?  Maybe….  But nearly everyone in my life wants me to deny it.  My own flesh and blood deny it and won’t speak to me of it.

Strangers around the world support me in the CIA (and Satanist) assumptions.  My book and these hundreds of pages on this site all support the same assumption.  And yet I wish for another explanation.  I guess I’m in denial.

Or maybe I can theorize that, yes, even though the CIA is involved, they’re under the direction of Bad Gardeners in the Cosmos.

What do you think?

Multi-dimensional Wounding AND Healing

by http://artoftu.deviantart.comI have to confess I’ve been downplaying part of my story.

I’ve been neglecting to share, or minimizing, the fact that my strange experiences – that often seem related to mind control and sometimes to “alien” weirdness – are sometimes accompanied by events that seem to be spiritual healings.

This is HUGE.  And I want to explain – if only to myself – why I’ve minimized this fact.

I’ve been hesitant to claim them publicly because, in the context of mind control, it’s confusing to me and I assume to others, because mind control, as I understand it, is done by humans for dark and dark purposes, whereas healings seem spiritual and positive – and they often seem to be related.

Of course, sometimes I’ve wondered if those with dark purposes are only healing me to keep me alive for more of their dark purposes, but I won’t assume that’s the truth necessarily.

Outside the context of mind control, I’ve worried that the healings might be construed by others as “spiritual bragging,” i.e., I’m so special that spiritual beings granted me this miracle – even when I hadn’t asked!

Uncertain how to overcome these hurdles in my head, I waited, thinking I’d eventually understand, and now years have gone by while I wrestled with this quandary, and I apologize for minimizing this very positive aspect of my story.

Here are some of the experiences:
(more fully described with many more in my book RattleSnake Fire, 2008)

energy linesUsually in the evenings, and usually while alone, but not always, I sometimes get a sudden and powerful sensation of energy that seems to pour into me from my head or neck and flow, over the course of maybe 10-30 seconds, down throughout my body.  The sensations feel wonderful, and I’ve described them in various ways – sometimes as healing or clearing, sometimes filling me up and making me feel my cells are enlarging, to such an extent that it seems my vertebrae are spreading apart, lengthening my spine, so that I need to adjust my body to “allow room” for a bigger, taller me!

hulkSometimes I’ve called the energy “the Hulk routine,” because it’s so powerful.  (Remember the Hulk got his power in order to whoop bad guys.)  Indeed, the power has often been so great that I could not resist moving with it, bending forward to make room for the energy flow down my back, my arm and leg muscles also moving with the force.  When someone else was around, if they already knew about this, I’d often attempt a weak muscle-man pose to indicate “this again” – since I couldn’t speak while this was happening.

Sometimes I’ve been frightened by this, as when a friend suggested it might be “a possession.”  And, indeed, I’ve strongly resisted it at times, but it overpowers me.

Other times, these have been so clearly healing.  Once, while visiting some friends and feeling weirdly distressed, I went alone into the dining room, sat down, and first felt a procession of teenager selves lift off me and up into another dimension.  After looking down and seeing the energetic form of my legs which seemed to be hollow from the knees down, suddenly golden energy poured through me like a golden cascade flowing down into my feet and legs.

I was fascinated because a decade earlier a Rolfer had told me he could see no aura beneath my knees and had begun his work there and continued to work all year to bring energy into them and never told me he succeeded.  I theorized that I must have lost that grounding during the trauma of my teen years, and now the trauma seemed dramatically released (odd place and time, but I accepted!) and the space within me filled with Goodness.

These inpourings of energy have been so frequent that I couldn’t begin to count them without going through at least twelve years of journals.

by http://artoftu.deviantart.comAfter my most recent, probably third, heart attack last month, I had two such healing events.  One happened, incongruously – proving that this comes from an outside source, not my own doing or imagination – while watching a video with a friend.  Of course, I was surprised at the timing, but grateful, and didn’t even mention it to my friend.  That night, while lying in bed, drifting off to sleep, I was awakened by the healing energies again.  They were “the usual”:  wonderful, expansive, clearing, and healing.  The next day, after 12 days of extreme weakness, I woke feeling very well, and my 12-day long crisis was passed.

The meaning of this?  I think I know, but don’t want to say.

You, Readers, formulate your own theories.  Don’t get stuck as I have been too long, thinking the horrors are only horrors.  There could be something else at work.

I’ll talk about this more later.

Blessings on you and on us all.

 

Healing/Deprogramming with the I Ching!

I could not have been more surprised.

I’ve investigated every sort of information I thought would help me either make sense of the strange and sometimes horrifying (apparently trans-dimensional) experiences I’ve had – or help me stop them or appropriately deal with them.  I’ve read about religion and spiritual/demonic attack, mind control and criminal hypnosis, and the psychology of fear and obsession (in case I could be creating or triggering this by the power of my mind, as some people believe and imply).

DSC01395I’ve practiced prayer, shamanism, reading Tarot, other divination methods, ignoring it, positive thinking, and more, and continued to sometimes* feel like a babe in the woods, still subject to waking with bruises, scoop marks, burns, and other scars, including sometimes apparently surgical scars and third-degree burns (very hard to imagine I was creating this myself!) – with amnesia for the cause of these injuries and deep-gut anxiety and disabling dread – since 2002, when (coincidentally?) I did work that offended the FBI.

IMG_3746

That’s a pretty good-sized burn to have happened without me remembering it.

(*I said sometimes because, thankfully, these events have not been happening in these recent 8 months since I cleared my home of excess “spiritual paraphernalia” [a clue?] and called again on Christ; since then, I’m happy to say, I’ve been mostly free of weird experiences – though I found an unexplained burn on the back of my neck on June 30.)

While I’ve usually interpreted my ongoing experiences as the result of mind control and/or spiritual attack (yes, could be both at once), I’ve never said for certain that any particular theory was sufficient – because I don’t believe we currently have the worldview and language to sufficiently describe the multi-dimensional nature of these intrusions into the human experience, as least as we’re perceiving it now.

And even though I’ve been mostly injury-free for eight months, I still suffer from memory problems much like a multiple personality, but not nearly so bad as how it’s typically perceived and presented in media.  Nevertheless, I want to heal myself of whatever has been going on.

The BEST place to buy used books: Addall.com, where you can often pay a few cents more and not have to buy from the amazon Amazon.

So imagine my surprise to be loaned I Ching:  The Oracle of the Cosmic Way, by Carol K. Anthony and Hanna Moog – and to discover it talks extensively about “spells” and deprogramming!!!

imgres-1I was so impressed by it, I bought another book by the same women:  Heal Yourself the Cosmic Way:  Based on the I Ching.  It’s a handbook for healing programming!

I’ve seen a lot of self-help books, and this is the only one I’ve ever found that talks specifically about deprogramming, in a spiritual sense!

I’ll let you know how it goes.  Meanwhile, perhaps some of you will purchase (Addall.com link) one or both books yourself, and let me know what you think!

Peace and Healing to you all ~

I’ll share more later ~

Jean

(PS:  Again, the BEST place to buy used books is Addall.com, where you can often pay only a few cents more and not have to buy from the amazon Amazon.  And you can see the prices of small and large booksellers all over the world – on one site!  Tell your friends how to boycott the amazon.

(Why?  Because small booksellers are the ones who support small-niche authors and provide us information on topics that the mainstream corporatists don’t want us to have.  Thanks for supporting independent authors and small publishers, by keeping the small publishers and small distributors in business.)

Out of the Woods

In this video, I outline a few of the “political connections” to mind control in my life (Dwight Eisenhower, the CIA’s mind control front Human Ecology Project, Stuart Udall, and Dan Quayle), then describe the spiritual forces in my life, with which I’ve danced for decades and now have more consciously aligned for the purpose of serving others.

I hope this video (as short and concise as I could make it) will inspire.

Ahhhh…. Healing Power of a Hot Spring….

IMG_3714_2On the way home from a soak in the Gila (Wilderness) Hot Springs on Monday, we pulled off the highway and up to the top of Cienega Ridge, where we enjoyed a 360-degree view of the wilderness.  The view, weather, and setting were as perfect as two people could ask for.

We were, as expected, wonderfully relaxed and sat there longer than we’d imagined we might.

The next day, the sometimes to-be-expected de-tox kicked in.  I’d been suffering from an out-of-joint sacro-iliac for a few weeks, compounded by a bad chiropractic treatment (bad in more ways than one) which had made me hurt so badly that the next chiropractor didn’t want to do much until he’d seen x-rays – I was in that bad a shape after the first “doctor.”  I’d followed through and had gotten the x-rays, which only showed what I’ve known for a few years – and had told the first doctor, which he scoffed at:  bone spurs, flattened disks, and more – though no one has compared the two sets of x-rays yet – that no serious damage was done by the first jerk – er, doctor.

Thankfully, the second, good doctor (Dr. Rios, at HMS, for local readers) was cautious and careful, got me back into a stable place once again, and the hot springs brought me back almost to normal – but I still had to de-tox.

Detox is a natural bodily process to release toxins, which we can encourage by taking in certain foods, herbs, and fluids, maybe using clay internally or externally, exercise, and soaking in pure, warm, relaxing water, among other methods.

Generally, it’s thought of as a release of material toxins, but I seem to have also needed to release toxic emotions as well – from my encounter with that violent and egocentric doctor who dismissed my concerns about my spine – and violently, repeatedly crushed me, worse than any chiropractor I’ve ever had – and I’ve had a few since a minor automobile accident over 20 years ago.  (More about the doctor in a moment.)

And I believe I did release those emotions.  Yesterday, I felt like hell.  I had no energy.  I felt like crying.  And I was angry, appropriately, I believe.

I’d already called the first chiropractor’s office and left him a message, which he ignored.  And I’d called the New Mexico Attorney General’s Office, and was waiting for their help with whom to report this misguided man to.  While waiting, I decided to also report him to the Sexual Assault Support Services (yes, that was part of the “more ways than one” bad-ness) and the Silver City Police, both of which I did.

The licensing board for NM chiropractors has received my initial call, and so my detox is nearly complete.

So keep doing your work!  It might not always be easy.  But there are also those days when we soak in the spring, see tiny new frogsIMG_3663_2 making their first forays into life, and sit on the mountaintop, breathing pure air, watching clouds, and hawks and beautiful blue beetles.IMG_3683_2

Wrote poem last night ~ “Mind Control: In four parts”

Mind Control

entails

creation

constraint

guidance

teaching

skill building

rewards

punishments

passivity training

mental anesthesia

physical anesthesia

health care

judgment

deception

encouragement

support

destruction

experimentation

accidents

use

abuse

commerce

and more.

Each person experiences different aspects.  It’s okay – I say – to tell others, “I am here, and this is what I see and experience.”

It’s a big, beautiful, horrific yin yang.

What’s a person on this edge to do?

Die?  (No, I already decided that; just mentioned it for rhetoric, a perfectly good subject of philosophical deliberation.)

Or communicate, negotiate…?

Or create!

Is it possible in this moment in history?  (I do it, but…  I wonder a lot.)

Only from other realms, it lately seems…

but I am always open to the possibility of miracles and surprising energies…. upsetting everything.  And like a smoldering fire, the whole place erupts. 

Yeah. 

Naturally.

[What the hell am I still doing here?  I thought I’d be outa here before things went crazy.  I think I’ve always assumed that’s what I’d bargained for.

Yeah, but I’m seeing a picture that implies staying here.  Sheesh.

– Where’d that come from?  A different alter adding her stuff in the middle of my essay.]

~

Part II

Some experience Earth differently.

All these things – creation to commerce – have been attributed to gods and other beings from the heavens throughout history.  Most of them apply to Jehovah.  All of them apply to the Sumerian gods, the Annunaki.  And many to the gods of every other culture on Earth.  Not all are in the histories, but a good many.

And Mind Control – MK – happens to work a whole lot like the entire rest of the world.  As if it was intrinsic to this world.  As if it was our world.  I.e., we live in mind control; we are mind controlled by virtue of living on Earth at this time in history; all of us are subject, just to what degree and for what purposes is the question.

~

Part III

Sometimes I feel I can accept it.  Sometimes I feel like the saddest victim on the planet.  And sometimes I feel like just one of thousands of test subjects, suffering like –

– like the plants I forget to water, or my chickens I cage and try to treat well, but I don’t all the time.  I’m not evil.  I’m just not fully conscious, at least not all the time.  And I imagine having less-than-perfect creator demi-gods, bumbling a bit, like novice gardeners, resident doctors, first-year teachers, or well-meaning and established – but absent-minded – professors.

Or maybe they’re brilliant angels, but they’re under attack.

Or – I get it – they’re brilliant angels, under attack, and they’re trying to rescue some of us from this Earth trap (of mind control), and it would sure be easier if I’d – and everyone would – wake up, more.

Whatever, I don’t know; but I’m starting to see the polarities blur more than ever, and the terror turning to mist and drifting away as I see these other energies as accidents, not acts of Satanic psychopaths, but rather maybe even by our friends and family, trying unsuccessfully to rescue us, like an animal in a trap who hurts itself in the net the rescuers have for it, not because they are evil, but because of the unnecessary struggle.

But that could be Mind Control, seducing, “Don’t you worry….”

.

.

.

Should I relax and not take so much personally, not try to understand, not try to change things?

Or should I be a hero and lead the way for victim’s rights on Earth?

Why has no one else tried to do this already?

Because no one wants to hear.

.

Other times I think I’m nothing special and I should get over myself and just try to live a happy life with what good days they give me.

Then I think that idea is just a carrot they dangle to keep their subject alive another day.

And I think they don’t deserve to suck my soul like this.

.

.

And round

and round

I go.

 

“A Good Day to Die” – revisited

A while back, I wrote about the right to decide it’s a “good day to die” – because I wanted to die.

My reasons I thought were compelling (and, I thought, in line with a newish New Mexico law):  As a mind control subject, I am not only dissociative, but have suffered from regular, unexplainable, random events that happened usually while I slept and left me scared, scarred (literally), and often debilitated for days or weeks at a time – and were happening way too frequently (twice a week) to believe I could still make a living, socialize and contribute to my community, and be happy when I didn’t know Screen Shot 2015-02-13 at 8.20.32 PMwhen the next “hit” would come.

It really seemed as though I were victim to the same mysterious forces depicted by numerous artists like this one – typically a woman, unconscious in her bed, with a demon on her chest.  Prayers didn’t seem to help.

Nevertheless, I knew I’d been through difficult times before and would later feel happy and confident again, and I was willing to believe it was possible I could be at least content again – though it seemed unlikely, I was willing to believe it was possible – so I determined to “get my affairs in order,” in the event I continued to feel this way, but not act too hastily, and be open to the possibility of seeing things anew.

Now, weeks later, my affairs (will and medical directives) are in order, and I’m still in a place of openness and tentative hope.  I’ve had a few more profound experiences that feel “healing” in a sense, and I know that more is possible.

Therefore, I found it interesting when this video came across my desk this morning, about others choosing this option:

http://www.nytimes.com/video/us/100000003586181/a-right-to-die.html

It reminded me that I should update you all, who might have worried about me – and thank those of you who’ve written me over the past weeks to ask about how I’m doing and offer your concern.  I’m making no immediate decision, but have found help and counseling for various issues:  my heart, which is getting better with supplements of CoQ10, DHEA, magnesium, and more; my TMJ, which has become very problematic and sometimes painful – if my insurance company will cover it; and even my thumbs which were damaged in an old skiing accident and now my right has become a trigger-thumb making it difficult to knit or even write my name – though typing is fine.  The controllers seem to have given me a bit of a break, I assume because they want me alive, not because they have any compassion.  Oh yes, and I’m talking with a counselor, exploring other ways in which I might frame my situation and doing “somatic trauma therapy” – which impressed me yesterday with a quick exercise that released a heart and neck pain immediately!

I still feel tired a lot, but I’m moving forward as though I might continue to contribute to our world:

solar cook bI am still a distributor for Sun Ovens, and will demonstrate them at our local, upcoming Earth Day (and sell them at the lowest-possible price to anyone – ;} – anywhere in the continental US – anytime, on my other website),

bird nest bagI’ve become a member again of our Southwest New Mexico Fiber Arts Alliance, with my artwork at The Common Thread retail gallery, and two other stores downtown,

front yard windingI planted flowers in the garden a couple of weeks ago,

IMG_2720And I plan to go into debt to finish the natural plastic sculpture I began in my house over five years ago.  (The unfinished tree sculpture is central in my living room/library/craft room/office here.)

So, life goes on.  It feels better conjuring hope than not.  Even if we have to pretend we have power to craft our life story, that pretense has power, sometimes very little, but enough to get me moving, enough to get me in the garden or at the art table, and it feels important to try to continue to make meaning.

Nutritional food is critical too.  And sunlight.  And exercise.  I’ve had to force all these on myself to generate a new will to live.  Simple things, but critical.  Any readers suffering like me, please remember these simple things.  And do what you can do.  We might find meaning after all – again.  And it would be sad to leave too soon to discover that.

PS:  It’s important, also, I believe, to acknowledge the good in hitting the bottom:  With nothing left to lose, I began speaking truth to myself and to my partner.  Those truths were very hard to tell, but they’ve had very good results.  And who knows, but they might be the very most important thing that has happened.

So I’m respecting even these very hardest of times as critical to my life.

Blessings on you all, dear Readers ~

Monsoon Rain “Dancer” – burned

monsoon rain dancer 2

This colored pencil sketch is by Asante Riverwind, my former partner, from 2003-2005.  He said it was a portrait of me.

rock creek houseSince I’d been having years of spontaneous shamanic experiences while living in my hermitage, each of the emblems in this portrait had some meaning – but I never thought carefully about how all the parts went together.

It’s interesting how we can sometimes fail to see what’s right in front of us.

Now, ten years later, I find this all quite disturbing – but something I can deal with.

On a card we made of this art, he’d written this poem:

Monsoon Rain “Dancer”

Star-winged serpent   clouds gifting

cleansing waters and lightning’s fire

quenching thirsts of the life-blood

of turtle island earth

While the snake or serpent is an ancient symbol of life, renewal and transformation, it’s usually depicted in an ouroboros – a circle, egg-shape, or infinity symbol – with the snake eating its own tail, consuming its own life.  I don’t know about this star-winged serpent.

I’d always thought those star wings were on me, a symbol of some power to access the cosmos, perhaps – I never saw before that they belonged to the serpent.  And I thought the snake was near me, but now I see both the serpent and the wings are not only way too close to my back, but appear almost attached!  And they’re both larger than me, seeming to overwhelm me!  The snake is even tangled in my hair, representing thought, and even bursting through my hair.

The snake is golden, a symbol of the power ruling our world for ages; whereas my body, naked, is red and blue, the swirling colors of nature’s blood.  And my humanness is clearly overwhelmed by that unnatural, golden, reptilian power of the night.

And why is the word Dancer in quotation marks?  Maybe I’m not really dancing, but in a trance, dancing like a puppet, controlled by… the snake.  My face is not just solemn or quiet, but looks definitely unhappy.

Also, I seem to be cramped beneath the upper frame, as if unable to rise, prohibited by the frame of another twining, golden snake.  The power is not singular, but constructed, like mind control, in layers.

The rain, which we love in the desert, is an absolute deluge in this art, too much – and water symbolizes emotion.  Everyone knows I’ve been highly emotional about this mind control I’ve so long sought to escape – to the point of desiring death more times than I can count.

And the dancer’s intimate region is wide open, and red, as if hurting – as I have been, for years, for all my life, actually, as readers know.

(There’s more I could discuss, but that’s enough for now.)

~

Today I see this art as representing me under mind control:  entranced, kept from rising, exposed intimately, trapped in a royal cage, overwhelmed and controlled by a powerful being of the proverbial night.

~

Since Asante’s artwork has value and cachet among some people, I’ve been proud to own this piece, especially of me.  And I paid Asante $500 for this – a voluntary gift, actually – an amount I thought generous, but which I could do because I’d just sold my home and wanted to help him in his move – so of course I’ve usually displayed this art, though privately – meaning, in my bedroom, which is where I often pray.

I now believe it was not a good item to have in my prayer room.

So I’ve just ritually destroyed it in fire.

IMG_2704

And I realize we’re on the cusp of an Easter morning now, and so I hereby I assert my own resurrection.

It feels good.  And powerful.

So be it.

And I’ll create my own art, perhaps tomorrow, using my symbols of my life.

Aren’t we always in the possibility of rebirth?

I claim it.

Watching “Karla”

orange-new-black-season-3-spoilersImpressed by the incredible actor Laura Prepon, of Orange is the New BlackI looked her up on Wikipedia and read:

MV5BMTYzNjU3OTAzNF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwOTcxMjIzMQ@@._V1._SX94_SY140_In 2005, Prepon starred in the film Karla, the true story of Paul Bernardo and his wife Karla Homolka, a couple who kidnapped, sexually abused and murdered three young girls – marking a contrast to her usual lighthearted roles.[7]

Not my type of movie.

I’ve been in such deep darkness lately, that it seemed bizarre to watch this movie now, but, if I might state the obvious, I thought the description of the psychopathic couple could have a lot in common with the mind control network that controls me.  It seemed it might be therapeutic.  And, numb from all my own darkness, I could take it today.

And because I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom this past week, in which I’ve remembered and dwelt on a whole lot of stuff and the larger pattern, I thought the content of this movie wouldn’t be as shocking, and I’d be able to watch it with some dispassion.  I thought I’d somehow benefit, and maybe even something revealing and healing could be triggered.

Here are my notes made during the movie:

Many of my partners have signs of having been mind controlled too and of controlling me in a wide variety of ways.

“She doesn’t even have to know.”  Drugs and electroshock.

I realize I’ve also been set up for sexual videos many times.  Some of these I was too afraid to write about, even in my own journal, even many years after the fact.  I remember wanting to write about an event a couple of times, but when I tried, my hand froze, so I said “Okay,” and never wrote about them anywhere.  I

The “knock-out drug.”  Maybe that’s why I’m so hyper-sensitive to all sedatives.

And if I wake up too soon, they just zap me afterward.  Which explains my random heart problems, Taser burns, etc.

Karla’s character traits:  severe obedience, fear of abandonment, mistaking need for love, ability to precisely follow orders.

I relate to this totally, feeling painfully the work it has been in past decades to break free of even parts of it to create new patterns in more of my psyche.  (Though I know I’m still being controlled – or have been recently – by someone commanding buried alters I’ve not yet been able to heal).

– Karla was a psychopath, who felt no remorse for others’ pain.  I’m glad to know I hurt for others all over the planet, and still feel bad about a time when I was a Senior in high school (and never again, it felt so bad) “trying on” the behavior of a bossy former leader whose place I was taking, and I hurt a girl’s feelings, I thought – and I apologized to her a couple/few decades later!  (She didn’t remember the event.)

I don’t believe I have any psychopathology, but I’m pretty sure I have a trained killer alter, whom I’ve only experienced once in my life, and that was when someone tried to break into my partner’s and my apartment, and I was ready to kill the man — quickly and efficiently.

After a moment of confusion, being awakened in the night, I snapped into a totally-unrecognized, but efficient and graceful series of behaviors, bouncing on my toes with a butcher knife in my hand, having commanded my partner to call 911.  In my head was a recitation of the route my knife would take under his ribcage and up, the weight of the knife now becoming familiar as I bounced it in my fingers, the thought-feeling of the knife cutting its way through layers of skin, fat, and muscle – all running through my head with an absolute certainty that this would go perfectly.  But the door held, and the police arrived and took him away.

They only took my report after arguing with me for quite a while about the non-necessity of arresting “a young man on a Saturday night with a little too much alcohol or drugs,” then the report didn’t exist the next morning, and no record of it was in any log, or so they told me.  They were either protecting the drugged-up son of some powerful person, or they were testing my training.  I wonder.  But I do feel that I did have the complete knowledge in one hologram of my being for what I planned to do.

(When I wrote my book, RattleSnake Fire, I didn’t think this had anything to do with the rest of my book, or I would have included the story at the start of Chapter 16.)

So, I guess they programmed some part of me to kill, and when my life felt threatened, I was ready – and more than willing – to kill someone who “clearly,” I thought then, deserved it.  No second thoughts, just total focus: bouncing on the toes, watching, hefting the knife, feeling the path, ready….  Good thing the police saved him.

 

Their videos of their murders ….  chilling.

I think there are probably many videos of me; I’ve had lots of events over the years where the possibility something was a set-up for this was definitely in my mind, and my gut felt horrible about its real possibility, but my mind kept telling me, “No, just go along, don’t be paranoid….”

I feel so weak now, I can hardly lift my hands… but now refocused….  I think I should not be weak.  I should face this stuff.

for a seedI want to cry.  

I remember, “A seed must break apart before it can bear fruit.”

I’m breaking….feeling totally destroyed….

~~~~

Need to post the art showing demons on unconscious women, a small collection I’ve come across.

This institutional rape of women is not unique to our culture, but ancient.

Here:

Screen Shot 2015-02-13 at 8.24.02 PMScreen Shot 2015-02-13 at 8.20.32 PM Screen Shot 2015-02-13 at 8.20.21 PM Screen Shot 2015-02-13 at 8.20.03 PM

– Rapes, psychotic personalitiescuriously familiar feelings as I watch them,
slowly making connections in my conscious mind….

And I realize how powerfully I’ve been programmed to not be able
to distinguish psychotic lies from the truth
– in my younger years; I’m better now.
No wonder I’ve had such a series of “handlers,” rarely lovers.
(Mind control subjects need their handlers.)

Her fear of being hated and abandoned was extreme to the point of numb terror,
very child-like and unthinking.

I’ve never been as bad as Karla, but I’ve had severe tendencies, and still do, I think.

Karla mistakes her neediness for “love” because she was programmed that way.  I was too, though now, thankfully, I recognize the difference.  But that’s only one part of the control in their big bag of tricks.

She’s seriously obsessed, more than I’ve ever been,
but I can see so clearly the patterns of how seriously we’ve both been MK’d.
Karla went psycho though.  I became “multiple” (a better thing), cordoning off the ugliest stuff, leaving the rest of me, but only part of me, somewhat “normal.”

Splitting off, as a “multiple personality,” has made living a somewhat “normal” life, even a successful life in some modest ways, and often happy life possible.  And I’m grateful.

But I have to keep aiming for fuller consciousness; it seems the only responsible thing to do.  So I keep trying to remember and heal.

 

 

I think my implants (typically thought of as “alien” or sometimes government), might also be associated with this.  And one of their purposes, besides GPS and other sorts of control and harassment, is to identify me as to ownership – like a ranch animal.

Image result for laura prepon alex vause imagesFlashing back on Prepon’s character in Orange is the New Black, Alex Vausse – cold, hard, “seen it all,” willing to take pleasures where she can, willing to lie and seriously hurt her best friend and lover.

I might have alters who lie, but I don’t lie in my conscious life, except a few memorable times when it might have literally saved my life.

(Though some would say we all lie, all the time.  Great TedTalks video on lying here.)

The difference between psychopathic and multiple:  I have alters with behaviors for sex and killing locked away neatly (though they could be triggered on command, making the main part of me amnesic), whereas Karla has integrated the soul-deadened killer and liar into the whole of her.

I don’t think my killer alter can be triggered accidentally again, now that I’ve recognized her.  But she gives me some confidence, knowing she’s there and capable if ever needed.

Mind controllers, though, can trigger that alter, which is why I tell everyone about this, and why I’m trying to heal – or hoping to die if things don’t get better.

(I don’t want the responsibility of choosing, in this conscious state, to ever kill someone, or myself.  Too much appreciation for Life and the Mystery to destroy any of it – even though I talked about dying in January.  I still believe I have the right, and conditions could change, but I’m not aiming there now.)

 

I think there have always been psychopaths on the planet, but they’re increasing to record numbers and power now, it seems – at least I feel their heavy presence in my life.

Pulling back from despair….  

– If I have any purpose in life, it’s to document my experience, which documents the worst of humanity at the end of the era.  Feels important.  So I record….

I think this entire Earth is the subject of a turf war between warring global or cosmic gangster factions, the highest class (Illuminati?) to the lowest, and who knows how many factions and sub-factions there might be.  It’s probably as complicated as global politics.  Actually, it’s a big part of global and national politics.  And maybe cosmic politics.  Taking slaves of various sorts.

Different aspects of this System have been called mind control, ritual abuse, gang stalking, demonic, Satanic, sex slavery, CIA mind control, psychopathic, dark magick, human trafficking, Freemasonry, Mormonism, The Greek System, the Senate page scandal….and lots more.  (I might have wrongly included a few of the above, but maybe not.)

Image result for laura prepon karla imagesKarla was clearly trained to endure violence in numbness.

Her husband is also a psychopath, but has features of a “multiple personality” as I understand it — even though the movie never makes a point of that, and he does no dramatic switching of alters.  He’s charming in his social self, but he eventually is taken over by the desire to act out horrific sexual abuse on women, which he uses his adult intelligence to carry out, but when frustrated in any way, he reverts to behaviors that are what a six year old might do:  scream, abuse, and yell incessant profanity – and rarely cry – all while otherwise appearing and conversing as an (immature) adult.  And it’s clear to me that he was sexually brutalized around the age of six, much like many of us.  Some go psycho.  Some split.  I’m so glad I split.

Subconsciously, they recognize each other as “also abused,” and that’s their attraction:  they are familiar to each other.

Great movie.  (Here: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0424938/business?ref_=tt_dt_bus.)

Plan to be seriously disturbed.  (Maybe don’t watch it, or wait till the right time.)

It’s top-notch acting, directing, everything.

 

And a true story.

I grieve for the world….

May it be over soon.

 

Friday Foundation: “Spooks” – a short radio show about feds

In 2002, it seems the feds did a number on my credibility.

car bombThat May and part of June, I did media work for the historic federal trial, “Judi Bari vs the FBI” – where I experienced weird, nighttime altered states of consciousness (which seemed electronic in nature), then came home to read for the first time websites on mind control, which terrified me – and also let me understand my life – a simultaneous, contradictory relief, which barely counter-balanced my urge to quickly find a way to die.

Between bouts of serious disability, I pulled myself together enough to produce this radio show titled, “Spooks” – which aired on our community radio station on Halloween night, 2002.

(For the innocent – spooks is a term commonly used for government spies.)

UnknownI interspersed sections of my narration with related clips of Bob Dylan’s Subterranean Blues.”

The story was meant to address the paranoia in our local Earth First! community that year over spies and infiltration, but do it in an inspiring way.  So, I self-deprecatingly presented my story of having recently been “bad jacketed” – an FBI tactic, to cast suspicion on certain people, to discredit them.

So I produced this piece while reeling from four major shocks:  first, daily close proximity for six weeks to FBI liars who protected a would-be assassin, arrested the wounded activists, harassed scores of activists with their “investigation,” and put our friends at further risk with false accusations to the media; second, experiences of what I assumed were electronic harassment at night; third, realizing I’d been a mind control subject since childhood and was still almost certainly being monitored; and fourth, having my sincere attempts to calm the group anxiety with simple education turned into my being personally attacked as a probable spy!

I was shocked, dumbfounded, and deeply, deeply hurt.

But, ironically, I probably was a spy!  I just didn’t know it then.  It would dawn on me slowly that, as a mind control subject, I most assuredly had been some sort of threat to them, albeit unconscious, but this hadn’t quite sunk into my mind during those first terrifying months of realizing I’d been a mind control subject since childhood.

So my local Earth First! was probably right to eject me, but the reason was wrong, and the manner was horrifying to experience.

[My voice sounds very young on this recording, even though I was 50 at the time.  (That’s multiple-ness for ya.)  Maybe my younthful-sounding voice is also part of my attempt to assure listeners that a reasonable, even cheerful person could be an Earth First!er – even though the national media had usually presented us as the opposite.]

Now that I’ve listened to this feature (not an extemporaneous yack, but a carefully crafted, radio feature) for the umpteenth time in the last 12 years, and I’m proud of it.

It’s an important story – and world news not covered by the US major media.  (So you’re forgiven if you’ve never heard of this story which everyone should know.)

So Enjoy…

Wait!  I almost forgot:

How this production was used to discredit me:  For the first 16 minutes, I tell the story with music, then I present my solution to fear (which I sorely needed, to deal with my special load): I borrowed a few lines from Leslie Marmon Silko’s book, Ceremonywhich quotes Thought Woman:

Stories…aren’t just entertainment.  Don’t be fooled.  

They are all we have, you see – all we have to fight off illness and death.

You don’t have anything if you don’t have the stories.

Their evil is mighty.  But it can’t stand up to our stories.

So they try to destroy the stories.  Let the stories be confused.  Or forgotten. …

There is life here for the people – and in the belly of this story. 

Very content with my production, I sat in my desert hermitage on Halloween night beside the fireplace, listening to the show being aired.  Suddenly the host cut short my production – just before I introduced my uplifting solution, leaving a long litany of scary shit the feds had done just hanging, resonating fear, fear, fear, with no solution, and said, “Thank you, Jean Eisenhower, for this radio show on fear.

My work had been turned up-side-down!  My lovingly-created, artistic effort to offer something spiritually uplifting to my community was chopped in the worst place possible, making me sound, instead, like a fear monger – the #1-hated boogeyman among EF!ers that year.

The host later agreed to air the piece in its entirety, but instead he did a bad fake of a cassette tape sticking and dragging (then described it as being “eaten,” a different sound), apologized to the audience, and threw my tape in the trash – or so he said, apparently hoping I hadn’t made a copy.

I had, and then he changed his mind and refused.

The next week, I got his co-host (having a tiff with him also) to air my entire show on her (recently split-off) first half of their show.

This is the sort of “mild harassment” that’s been done to labor, civil rights, and other social justice activists for decades – along with random murder attempts.

FBI-Secrets-Swearingen-M-9780896085015One FBI agent, Wesley Swearingen, wrote an excellent memoir late in his life, describing his misdeeds before he died:  FBI Secrets:  An Agent’s Expose’.

We in Earth First! experienced many sorts of dirty tricks similar to his accounts.  And this treatment of me was classic.

Here’s my story.

(I used a hand-held cassette player to record my voice, then copied it, section by section, interspersing snippets from “Subterranean Blues” off an old vinyl record.  Edits sound like they were made on equipment with funky, imprecise functions – which was the case!  Many thanks to Leo Mellon for his tech and other support for this project.)

 

Third video!

child face on 62 year old

Wow, for being 62 years old, I sure look like a child here.  Cornelia Wilbur was right – multiples often look decades younger than their ages.

Hi Friends ~

I just watched my third video again for the first time in many months and believe this is also worthy of another view:  “Part 2:  My Experience as a Multiple Personality.”

Thanks for watching – it’s just under ten minutes, with lots in it (third one down):  https://paradigmsalon.net/videos/

And the fourth video is a ten-minute reading of the beginning of a powerful book by Ann Diamond, A Certain Girl.  Powerful even after many listenings!  Thank you, Ann, for writing it, and for permission to read it.

Two Short Videos – Please Share

2 video ssHi Everyone ~

I just re-watched these videos made last year and think it’s time now for more people to see them.  I hope you’ll watch at least the first two videos:

https://paradigmsalon.net/videos/

Friends in town, I hope and pray, will stop by.

Thanks for all you do in these important times.

Jean

PS And if you didn’t read my last post yet, it’s here:  “Our Right to Say, ‘It’s a good day to die.”’

No longer an activist; No longer an Earth First!er

No longer an activist; no longer an Earth First!er.

Activist has been my identity since I fought the dress code in high school and was sent home to change, seething at the hypocrisy of it, the requirement that women wear skirts, and in all weather, and little girls too, hampering their play.  Pissed me off.

smithsonianAnd locking my neck to the front axle of a roadgrader to stop an astrophysical development on Mount Graham was another highlight of my life, far more important to me than any of the awards and recognitions I frequently won in the mainstream world.

In fact, I often chose activism over other more professionally-enhancing and money-earning work I could have done, leaving me today among the poorest of the poor people on Social Security.  Oh well. 

I’m proud of my life.  There are not many choices I regret.  And I saved some habitat on that mountain, as well as a historic elementary school that anchors a large, mostly Hispanic neighborhood, helped victims and perpetrators of domestic violence, helped get a couple of community radio stations launched, and helped change the dress code.  A better world.

author artist activistBut I think I’ve got to change my business card.  I’m no longer an activist.  And I’m not feeling all that smiley these days.

Activism assumes we can effect change.  And I think we’re spinning toward that drain just a little too fast to keep telling myself, We’ll pull out of this, we’ll pull out.  I’ve exhausted all my optimism.

I think we’re going through it.  And I expect to find it a portal.  So I’m putting my hopes on the Other Side.

And that’s why I’m no longer an Earth First!er (though I’ve stayed away ever since I found out I was a mind control subject twelve years ago; I didn’t want to risk sabotaging the work in a mind-controlled state).

And I love this Earth, but it seems to me that the secret Controllers have poisoned the air, earth, and water, fractured underground aquifers, sterilized the soil, planted unknown numbers of bombs who knows where, and modified our basic food crops to cause cancer and not reproduce.  It doesn’t take a scientist to recognize a pattern.

I believe the Controllers are holding a total liquidation sale of the planet, including the people, of course, who are already used to thinking of themselves as human resources.  And it seems that any of us living things left will have greatly diminished chances of survival.  Maybe this is protocol for galactic entrepreneurs, like American housewives using bleach-water on the counters after cleaning.

All the world’s financiers are making very short-term decisions.  (I’m making short-term decisions now.)  All the wealthiest entities seem to be participating in this liquidation, so I think it’s time to wrap our heads around the idea of leaving the Earth and thinking about where we’re going in the next place or dimension.

crossed pawsInstead of active, now I’m passive, knitting in front of the fireplace, thinking, praying, petting the cat, pondering heavy stuff, feeling it’s all going to be okay.

~

Now, maybe I’m unnecessarily dark.  Maybe things are better than we know – and especially better than I can know – after all, I was trained with torture, so I do tend to have more fundamental distrust of people.

Maybe it’s the time of the Nine of Swords — darkest just before the dawn.  And the worst of humanity, the worst, most demonic stuff that has been allowed to play out on this planet for the last 10,000 years, like capitalism and patriarchy, have had their day and will soon be over.  And we’ll get extra-dimensional help, or the Permaculturalists will design the environmental remediation, mushrooms will eat all the poisons, and we’ll all work together to feed everyone while reversing all the devastation.

…I used to work toward a similar scenario when I learned and promoted Permaculture, community mediation, and all the other skills I thought important for helping evolve a new culture.  But so much that I’ve attempted has been sabotaged.  And the stealing of children goes on.

IMG_1725And someone still, for over a decade now, leaves me with burns, bruises, biopsy “scoop marks,” other scars, and exhaustion during the night, but no memories.  So pardon me if I’m dark.

I’m sorry, Everyone loving your life on Earth, but I’m not sad to see things going down the drain.  Capitalism – and all the child rape, child porn, and sexual slavery it has justified and promoted for way too long – must go.  And I’m certainly ready to get out of here myself, thank you.

fireplace

So, I’ll be sitting by my fire, passively knitting and thinking, It’s all gonna be okay.

Sunday Summary: Highs and (Forgotten) Shocking Lows

– impression that all has been fine, but….
– journals report incredible list of weirdness – almost forgotten!
– accomplishments of 2014 impressive, despite experiences

Well, the life of a mind controlled multiple personality is not boring!  For one thing, all my alters want expression, and that keeps me busy.  And the multiple-ness keeps me “forgetting” the disturbing things, at least in my day-to-day consciousness, which keeps me functional;  when I read disturbing things I’ve written and remember them, I become less functional – like today.

Hmmm….  Memory or function?  Which do we want?

October is not that long ago, but I’m blown away by how many weird things happened in the last few months that I simply forgot!

But first, let’s do something different:  I’ll lead with the good stuff instead of the bad.  Here are some of the highlights of our year, which I find quite impressive every time I read it!

It’s a long list, so just skim if you want, using my asterisks to read the most important (then I’ll list the weird stuff):

Performances

cosmic-folkrock* I performed a dozen times with Greg this year (his collection of folk-rock covers and original Americana – with themes of love, friendship, and home), sometimes out of town, or at our Farmers Market, and at a favorite coffee house, where a few times we presented music by Dylan, Browne, and Young with themes of apocalypse and strange, extra-dimensional events – tied together with my commentary.  Much fun!

We attracted two new musical friendships and call our foursome the Southern Rocky Mountain Band.  We played a single song (Greg’s original) at the historic Pinos Altos Opera House (a fundraiser for the Wild Gila:  Forever Free CD/DVD release party), and we hope to begin playing out and recording more next year.

* In June, I quit everything (the most important thing I did all year) – home and garden design, singing, and more – and determined to do nothing but heal my mind and write about it.  (More, below, under Health.)

I accepted my Social Security.  When asked why I didn’t wait til I was older and would receive more, I said, “All the world’s financiers are making short term decisions.  I’m making short-term decisions.”  (I didn’t tell the other truth:  because I’m damn tired of trying to hold my life together while also working.)

* During six weeks of never singing with Greg or the band, I healed some significant energy blocks, freed my voice significantly, and picked up singing again, then took some voice lessons and made more improvements.

lying here video still lighterWe recorded our original “Lying Here with You” on video, and received great feedback.

Radio Show

In January, I helped Greg launch Silver City Acoustic, showcasing local and touring musicians on our local community radio station.  I ran the board and eventually participated in the interviews.  We aired the live, 2-hour show for 20-some weeks, interviewing 40-some local and touring musicians and bands.  (When the station went off the air for an extended time, we lost momentum.)

J smI quit my weekly Back to the Garden radio show after 40 weeks – seeing that I’d taken on too much again, and this was not my forte anyway.  I like to think I inspired others to say, “I can do that!”  Or “I can do better than that!” so they’ll volunteer to fill those airwaves in my place.   (It was fun, but I had too much on my plate.)

Home and Garden

We emptied our storage room, sold the last “big stuff,” and cleared a lot of stuck energy.  Then we renovated the little 11×20 building into a functional and cheery guest house and studio retreat.

DSC05441 cuWe built a cedar fence around the last of the yard (in front of our next guest house), sporting a curved corner which has garnered very nice compliments, and crafted two beautiful handles for our two front gates.

We turned the also-cluttered sun room into a beautiful sitting space on one side and a functional tool storage on the other.

My Writing and the Cyber World

reunion crop* I redesigned JeanEisenhower.com to no longer hide my mind control work – and I put it on my business card, and on both I used a photo of me that I’ve avoided using for years because it seemed “too happy.”  It’s been a huge psychological shift, though I still worry sometimes when handing out a  card.

I renovated my Paradigm Salon website, consolidated pages, made them more accessible, filled in gaps in the information (and increased readership).

I started the Garden Healing Church, addressing natural healing and activism against enforced medicine – as spiritual necessity. The site continues to attract followers, even though I don’t post often.

I got my old laptop repaired and almost functioning with its own modem – for use by the fireplace!  Yeah!  What a nice way to treat myself!

Family and Friends

* We both reconnected with our parents and families in powerful ways.  I even spent 6 days with my parents over the holiday!  (First time to spend more than a few hours with them in over 20 years.)

We hosted a few garden parties, and stayed connected with long-distance friends.

greg jean kelly color crop* We helped an elderly friend die consciously, working with a wonderful group of volunteers, including nurses, doctors, chaplains, and shamans, making new friends – and supporting his wife.  I monster birthphotographed (and posted) an amazing thing Greg found a couple of days before our friend passed:  a dragonfly emerging from its cocoon, into a new life!

I attended my first women’s gathering in years.

Other Art

Besides designing the guest house, our new fence, two gate handles, our many web sites, photography, videography, audio recording and mixing, and writing, I started knitting again – most satisfying.

Health

* Again:  In June, I “quit everything,” and began focusing each day on what I needed to keep myself calm and able to handle life, and instituted new habits and changes to ensure I had what I needed.  After six weeks, I came back to singing.

* In October, I created a Notebook/Journal to help me remember and track everything I need to remember on a daily basis, but often forget.  I also used a timer every 30 minutes to help me note my activities and improve my time awareness.  After a couple of months, I felt I didn’t need that intense reminder every thirty minutes, so I stopped using the timer, but knew it had been an important exercise in becoming more conscious.

I wrote over 300 pages of journal entries over a few short months, rich with new awareness, particularly about mind control and my relationship to it.  I expect to post about it soon.

* I just created a new system of reminders to be awake on my iPhone:  I created a series of lovely-sounding “alarms” to go off every hour every day (easier than the timer system).  They’re all named “Breathe, Gratitude, and Note,” to remind me to breathe, remember what I’m grateful for, ask for guidance, and note it all, with either a journal note, voice memo, or mental note.

I started up at “Curves” again, started drinking daily turmeric tea, and got back to my supplements.

I invented “sludge cake”! – a gluten-free cake made from the precipitate (sludge) from turmeric tea – even when we eat it plain, we crave it – our cells tell us it’s great medicine.  My recipe is here.

~

So, I was feeling like life had turned an important corner toward goodness and freedom – as I couldn’t remember any recent weirdness – until I skimmed over my journals, which I’d designed to make easy to find things by category.  But when I looked, I found in my “anomalies” category, a lot of unexplainable experiences, which I’ll group by month:

IMG_17252nd half of August:  2 “donut” bruises, 1 injection bruise, 2 scratches similar to biopsy scoops, another injection bruise and other bruise.

hip bruise 1 cropSeptember: twice “lost time,” extreme energy issues, worsened ringing in ears, flood of  “mental movies” (random things like family home movies of people I don’t know) that seem beamed in, big bruise on inner arm, scoop mark, time problem, dark bruise on left leg, hypersensitive patches of skin, 5 more days of severe energy issues, forgetful days, very tired.

October:  worsened ringing in ears, movies in head again, heart problems (palpitations, stress, slow heartbeat [61 pbm], extreme weakness, days I thought I was dying), weird sleep cycles, 2 more bruises, one a double two bruises(“hypodermic”? or Taser?), one day so speedy I thought they’d given me some pharmaceutical to compensate for something that might have made me tired otherwise, missing time, feeling “out of it” and struggling to do simple things, another bruise.  (I know the bruise photos sometimes don’t look like much, but they are so consistent and unexplained.)

IMG_2099November:  Very bizarre experience of seeing my hand, while I was writing, as if through a yellow glass, but as if video’d from above my head, then run back into my mind (so I watched my hand writing in this second-person state), felt an “intrusion” of another being into my being, with a sense of goodness and reconnection (or maybe it was just “electronic heroin”), then I lost time and could barely put myself to bed (all one evening with my partner beside me), and my partner had to help me get to bed; another bruise; remembered things too vague to describe and was sick with fear.

DSC05453December:  Another bruise, dreams of medical procedures; energy “download” followed by no memory; dreams of aliens “all night.”

And who knows what happened the first part of the year?  I haven’t the energy to look through my journals.

~

Okay, so I’ve got a problemWhat to do?  What to do when I recognize stuff is going on that is beyond my ability to consciously control or even remember?

This is my ongoing “Do something drastic? or what?” dilemma.

I like life when I have I seem to control my own part of it, but not when I get these hints that someone is highjacking parts of me.  Not fun at all.

child not smilingAnd I just found this old photo of myself with my mother on a train.  It seems I’m about 5 or 6.

(It’s the only sad photo of me I’ve seen from childhood. All the rest are “super-cheerful.”)

Are we on the train to New Mexico?  (That strange trip my mother took me on which seems so out-of-custom for our family?)  For my mind control?  After which I have no memories until age 8?

Ugh.  How do I keep on?  I feel sick.  Have been experiencing nausea and anxiety all day now….

How can I keep putting it away as if it didn’t happen?  Where is there to hide?  Nowhere.

Recently I wrote in my journal about generating the power to control our own minds, thereby wresting control away from “Them.”

Is that even possible?  My new million-dollar question….

Why I’m Not on Facebook

facebook-cover1A few years ago, I tried out Facebook, but quit it after a few months, feeling that something was fishy.  And now i find an article that supports my suspicions:  http://landdestroyer.blogspot.co.uk/2014/12/facebook-colonialism-20.html

“Facebook has turned its features against users, insidiously manipulating their timelines to show selected posts and updates while “soft censoring” others to manage public perception.”

And that’s only what’s been discovered so far.  (And, yes, I know that links were made between Facebook and the CIA years ago, but how Facebook actually distorts information on behalf of the controllers has not, to my knowledge, been studied, tested, or described before now.)

While I was on Facebook, I repressed my desire to post too much “radical” stuff, and just use it to present myself as I am:  someone with a wide variety of interests besides mind control – for instance, gardening, home design, art, spirituality, social transformation, etc.

I figured eventually I’d also promote occasional blogs from this site, but I’d emphasize my other aspects of self first.

Immediately, though it seemed that someone behind the scenes was sabotaging me.

120714 Guthriecr  030Before I go further, let me say that I have excellent face-to-face relationships throughout my community.  I perform.  I was hired as Executive Director of our local Habitat for Humanity, and I’ve been invited to apply for many other worthy positions in this community.  When I walk down the street of this small town, I have numerous happy conversations with folks, sometimes a dozen or more within a few blocks.  And I once filled the house with 60 people at a wonderful party.  (Yes!  …despite having dissociative tendencies – in the process of healing, I like to remind.)

But on Facebook, I had an experience opposite of my face-to-face relationships.

Since things were feeling fishy, I experimented.  I posted something and saw it post on my “Wall” and on my “Home” (community) page.  Then I logged out and logged back in as my partner, and could not find my post anywhereuntil it suddenly showed up 20 minutes later!

When my partner is logged in, we always witness his posts appearing immediately in both places, and they remain there even when we log in as me.  We tested this repeatedly and found that his posts always appear immediately, regardless of who is logged in, while my posts showed up immediately only on my page – and took anywhere from 20-60 minutes to show up on his page.  What was going on?

FBI-Secrets-Swearingen-M-9780896085015I theorized that, as a “targeted individual” (a harassed mind-control subject and activist whistleblower), the controllers have created a special route for my posts, so that they can perform the Brave New World version of COINTELPRO (Counter Intelligence Program) disinformation on them before releasing them into the cybersphere.

What used to take hours or days and multiple agents in the paper-and-typewriters days (explained in humorous detail in this book at right) – but nevertheless was done regularly, even for little-old-lady peace activists – can now be done in a matter of minutes by a single agent with a computer program and individualized instructions for each activist they want to mess with.

car bomb(My information comes not only from books like this one, but also by having had undercover agents in my home, as I learned later when those agents testified against a friend at trial; and I also did media work for the “Judi Bari versus FBI” federal trial and was witness to the death threats she received, and we also received during the trial, as well as the discrediting, violence-inciting posters probably created by agents but attributed to this non-violent peace-activist mother of two, who then became the subject of an assassination attempt on her life – probably incited by things like those fake posters.  The assassination attempt was covered up for twelve years by the FBI, as all the jurors agreed; the FBI paid a historic $4.4 million to Judi’s estate and her friend who was in the bombed car with her.  So, if some judge me “negative,” I believe I have very sound reasons for my opinions of our disinformed world today.)

Some poor federal agent, I assume, sits at a computer all day, doing the newest version of COINTELPRO; s/he receives my posts and other targeted activists’ posts all day long, and as quickly as s/he can, uses individualized guidelines which tell him/her what to do with my communications.  Some of my posts may only show up for a small circle of my closest friends, including my partner), so it’s not too obvious, and I do continue to get some response, but only a fraction.

Other posts, I suspect, may be rewritten in any number of ways (as described in the book above) to discredit me or cause rifts in my community, maybe making my posts sound hysterical, stupid, or ultra-angry, when in actuality I’d carefully crafted them to be calm and well-documented; and those hysterical, stupid, or angry rewrites, which someone wrote and credited to me, but which I’ll never see, are sent to everyone outside my closest circles, to people who are highly unlikely to ask me about them, but even if they do, the rewritten posts are on the same topic, so we’re likely never discover the discrepancy.  Neat trick in a world where people are isolated by so many constructs of culture, and friendships are often virtual.

I theorized this rewriting because it seemed that, after I got on Facebook, there were changes in my face-to-face meetings with my more-distant acquaintances; it seemed they were turning away from me for no reason.  Of course, since they were more distant acquaintances, they weren’t the type I could ask why they seemed to suddenly avoid me.  When I got off of Facebook, things went mostly back to normal (until I found some illegal doings in a non-profit I worked for, called them on it, and made some of those people unhappy – oh well).

Now, there is still plenty of radical stuff posted by others on Facebook, but it may all be tainted with disinformation for all we know, and that’s why it’s allowed to go far and wide.  Only guessing, but it would fit the pattern and the definition of COINTELPRO.

facebook-cover1I miss the idea of Facebook, but I’m convinced it never was what we were promised – unless one is non-political and in no way a threat to the status quo, and then it’s still only half-honest, perhaps delivering that person’s posts as written, but delivering to that person only the posts Facebook and the government wants them to see.  Since I challenge the status quo all the time, I believe I was subject to disinformation tactics all my time on Facebook.

And now this study seems to prove my suspicions are right on.  Check it out:  http://landdestroyer.blogspot.co.uk/2014/12/facebook-colonialism-20.html

Sing-Song Trance

Twenty years ago last summer, I became estranged from my parents for seven years, and then for the next thirteen years only saw them for a few hours usually once a year – until last week.  For five nights then, I slept in their house and visited, mostly just them and me.

That summer day, I had a rare talk with my sister on the phone.  (I’m close to no one in my family.)  (I believe it’s part of mind control disinformation to discredit MK subjects within the family and elsewhere, especially when they begin to show signs of remembering.  However, I’ve been subject to discrediting for a very long time.)

I asked my sister if she had any weird memories of our childhood, and she said no.  But, she told me, she’d just seen a 20/20 television show on the so-called “false memory syndrome,” which she asserted was my problem.

For the record, there is no “syndrome,” by definition:  a group of symptoms that consistently occur together or a condition characterized by a set of associated symptoms.  There has never been a set or group of symptoms defined for this supposed syndrome.

However, the supposed “syndrome” serves as a cover story for anyone accused of anything, usually sexual crimes.  The “false memory syndrome” asserts that the memory was invented by a person who’s mentally unwell, either unable to tell reality from imagination, or hatefully vengeful – which I’ve been called more than once for privately asking my sister the question I did and then, when confronted, recounting my memories – but not blaming my parents, only asking for help understanding.

The backlash of blame and hysteria, even when I recalled other individuals has continued to this day.  (Those other individuals were military men.  I thought this would relieve my parents of culpability, but it only made them more enraged and intent on proving me “deluded.”  Their reaction never made sense until I learned about the military being involved in mind control experiments.)

Before I ever heard about the “false memory syndrome,” my parents began planting doubts in my mind, and in my siblings’ minds, about my ability to tell fantasy from reality.  It began when I was a child and my mother told the doctor I had a tremendous imagination and talked to imaginary friends.  He told her it was okay, even common, but she continued to tell other people within my hearing.  Once, another mother responded that sometimes genius and insanity were hard to tell apart, and I took heart.

In adulthood, one Christmas holiday when everyone was together and we were sharing old stories, I recalled the earliest memory I have, of reaching up to my mother’s hips – I seemed to be barely able to walk, not understanding that she couldn’t pick me up while she cooked dinner, and I fussed.  As I proceeded with my story, I realized that the next part of the memory didn’t put Mom in a very good light, but I’d already begun and didn’t know how to end it other than just continue.

Generally, I can’t invent – regardless that Mom has always contended I have – so I recounted the story as casually as I could, knowing that plenty of us have experienced frustration as parents and haven’t been perfect, but assuming we were all then mature enough to understand and not judge harshly, but today I wish I had not said it:

As I fussed and reached up to her hips, Mom threw down the spatula she was using at the stove and screamed, “I can’t take it anymore!  I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back!”  Then she stormed out the door and left me standing alone in the quiet tiny kitchen of their student housing dorm.  I was terrified.

I knew that I needed a mother, and I thought I’d have to go outside to solicit another one.  I imagined an expanse of concrete – common on the campus, of course – and imagined reaching up my arms to other women walking across the expanse, but in my mind’s eyes they were all busy and walking too fast.  Only one in my imagination paused and considered me for a moment, then kept on walking.

I wailed and crawled to hide in the space between the red brocade chair and the wall – but when I gasped my next breath with my face in the upholstery, microscopic pieces of fiber and dust burned my nose and I cried harder.

Suddenly someone was pulling me out and I was surprised to see that my mother had returned.  She then tried to assure me she’d never leave me, but I was wary.  Even at that age, I guarded my heart from being so terrified again.  I let her hug me, but recall no feeling of comfort.  Only relief that the terror of aloneness was now gone.

Of course, I only told the bare bones of the story, omitting my imagination and tears, very sorry I hadn’t thought ahead and cut it shorter.

“Oh, I would never do that!” my mother huffed.

I tried to redirect attention from this aspect and turn it back to what I’d meant to be my point – that we can remember things from our very young years – which for some reason I was then absolutely fascinated by.

I grabbed a paper napkin and sketched.  “The front door was here, almost directly behind someone standing at the stove.  The wall next to the front door had glass you can’t see through.  And just left of the stove began the carpet, and the red chair was here, at an angle.”

“You couldn’t remember that!  You were only 14 months old when we moved away from there,” she countered, gesturing at my map, as if she’d proven me wrong.

But her face and her gesture told me I’d mapped those items correctly.  “Mom, you just indicated that I drew the floor plan correctly.”

Her face went slack as if horrified.  She rose from the table, mute, walked to a window where she stared out and said something, I realized with a shock, that I’d heard her say a few times before, and always in the same lilting, trance-like, sing-song voice, as if she’d said it to herself a thousand times, maybe to comfort herself, or maybe to practice saying it casually, “I’ve always said… you had a vivid imagination… and you mixed up your dreams… with memories.”  

A sensation of memory was triggered somewhere deep inside me.  Something was disturbed.  Something felt a little sick.  My mother had just sounded like a person in a trance.  Why?  Why would she go into a trance like that?  Did she have a terrible memory herself of those times?

I felt terrible for hurting her feelings.  And at the time, I thought it was impossible that my mother would do anything to hurt any of us, so I assumed she was beating herself up unnecessarily for something that couldn’t have been all that bad.  Certainly not just walking out on me that day.  Was there something else?

I tried to imagine the worst that could have happened if she were totally pushed over the edge with multiple stresses – and imagined locking me in a closet for awhile – that was as bad as I could imagine – and I thought, “Forgiven!”  No problem.  See, I’m fine now.  I’m totally fine.

I know how terribly hard life can be, and can imagine it was infinitely worse back in the 50s when wives took a vow before God and all to obey their husbands.  And I know I’ve hurt my kids in ways I didn’t mean to when I was exhausted and ran out of patience.  I understand imperfection.  And I understand forgiveness.  Whatever it was that she was so haunted by, I thought, It’s okay, and I wanted her to forgive herself.

I hoped I’d find some private time to tell her, but I never did.  We all went on with our lives for years, decades now, and those words were never spoken.

Decades later, I would learn that the campus on which I’d lived the first year-plus of my life was the home of the Society for Investigation of Human Ecology, a front for CIA mind control experiments.  

Of course, a generic type of mind control is nearly impossible to avoid in America, but there’s also an intense, Above-Top-Secret version, the subject of two Senate hearings in the 1970s, which resulted in the program being strongly criticized, after which it was not ended, as promised, but simply shifted further outside government accountability into the world of Special Access Projects, part of the nation’s Black Budget.

The subjects of these experiments have been mostly American and Canadian children and adults in certain demographic groups, including military recruits, members of certain churches, orphans, children in Indian schools, members of secret societies, and special bloodlines, among others.

I fit into at least four demographics that come up frequently among other former subjects who remember their mind control.  I’m an Eisenhower; my father had done his tour in the Navy; my mother was a “fallen away” Mormon; and my father’s father was a 33rd degree Mason.

I imagine now my mother reacting, not to a fussy child, but to a child that, through coercion, had been recruited into a government program that she must then cooperate with.  Maybe they paid my parents.  Maybe they blackmailed them somehow.  Maybe they said I’d be serving my nation, and as a benefit I’d be made disciplined, obedient, smart, and successful.  Maybe my parents had regrets, but I imagine they had no power to change the course of their agreement with this secret network.

Later, I’d realize something else that might have made me of interest to mind controllers. I was born on July 7, 1952, the seventh day of the seventh month of the year ’52, which adds up to seven.  It was a Monday (Moon Day), in the middle of Cancer, also known as Moon Child, on the Full Moon.  Not only that, but the time was 4:25 a.m., just 8 minutes before the precise moment of the Full Moon, at 4:33 a.m.  That’s within 2/1,000ths of a degree of perfection.  I’ve been told these elements are extremely attractive to Satanists, who are supposedly also involved with secret societies.

child not smilingI assume my parents were innocent victims, like me.  I lost two years of my life in amnesia and a lifetime of mental coherence – in exchange for obedience, discipline, and certain sorts of high-level intelligence.  And my parents lost their natural relationship with their little daughter.

Virtually no one knew about mind control in America back then.  It was a time of great optimism.  America was riding high.

I imagine my mother was given the repeated phrase, much like Ewen Cameron gave his MK subjects in the true story and movie, “The Sleep Room“*:  “Just tell her:  ‘I’ve always said you had a vivid imagination.  And you mixed up your dreams with memories.'”  

And she said it to herself so many times, it became part of the sing-song trance that kept her going.  It was cruel, cruel, cruel, to her and my father, and to me.

sleeproom2* (Entire movie free on YouTube at the link.  Hard to watch at points, but important history.)

Be strong.  And practice compassion for all of the parents who were coerced.

PS Newest research discovery from Wikileaks:
https://www.wikileaks.org/w/images/AT-june07-Price-PT1.pdf

“The Company Men” – great film to be removed soon from Netflix, and a Happy one!

slide-001Recently I read that Netflix will be removing (in a day and a half) 65 movies from its list of streamable films, so I went to see what they were and was surprised to find this excellent film set for removal – perhaps as part of our cultural mind control?  (Mustn’t let Americans see too easily how decisions are made in America?)

The Company Men” is about three upper-level managers (played by Tommy Lee Jones, Chris Cooper, and Ben Affleck) of a company investing in and managing ship yards.  When investment choices require moving parts of the industry overseas, all three men have their lives ruined.

Production quality and acting is excellent, though I did wonder about Affleck throwing anger fits he couldn’t control – hard to believe for one who’s made it up the ladder and should have at least learned some diplomatic strategy – but no.  Aside from that plot problem, the movie is excellent and beautifully portrays how callous decision-making now ruins lives all over the world, even for some of the very wealthy.

The movie is available for streaming only through December 31, tomorrow!  Hope you take the time to enjoy it.

ed3One other movie recently discovered is “Happy” (which is available to play at this link).  Winner of many awards, it investigates what makes people happy – all over the world – and is stunning in the beauty and simplicity which make some people quite content and happy with their lives – with some huge surprises.

One of those surprises relates to the issues we’re all interested in here: abuse and lost memories recovered.  That’s all I’ll say.  It’s good for the heart.  Please watch it.

Love to you all in the New Year,

Jean

Healing a Little Girl in Meditation

Time to return to meditation 

Approach:  Imagine my True Self a still vessel watching all the thoughts.

(I’ve always known I was supposed to watch my thoughts, but I’d never thought of the part of me who is the still vessel watching – except once.  I did a meditation by Stephen LaBerge that blew my mind in a delightful way:  at the end of his 15-minute recorded meditation, he asked, Who is aware? – which surprised me so much, I printed a bunch of little slips of paper with the question on it, and posted them on all the mirrors.  But, over the years, some other part of me has continued resisting sitting down to meditate.)

New experience!  I see a child rolling around in place at an impossible rate, super-human speed, just round and round and round endlessly like a swarm of gnats.  She could not be touched, and I knew she was the part of me that had been tortured and was still running from her fears.

My writer self would, of course, want to observe, feel, think, and carefully document.  My part that’s been given instructions on how to meditate says, “Just observe and let it go.”  My healer self  says, We’ve never seen this before.  It is a blessed opportunity.  This child is in pain.  Let’s step in. This is even the point of this meditation:  this awareness.  

The little girl could not be touched or calmed at first.  Any approach, and she rolled away, always away.  We wanted to calm and assure her, but she could not be touched.

A ray of calming energy was shot into her, allowing us to put our hands gently on her upper arms.  She could feel us, and she relaxed.

~

Two other meditation techniques used at the same time:  To relax each part of the body, one at a time, and to recognize the part of me that is the witness.  While relaxing my face and beginning to relax my throat, that was when I saw the little girl rolling, and it led that quickly to its resolution.  Thank Goodness.

Thank All You who read this blog.

Blessings on your meditations.  May they be healing to you.

Friday Foundation:  On Violence, Past Lives, Womb Wounds, What it Means

Past-life sex priestess…Womb wounds…What it means

I have quite a few memories of past lives, from a young sensual woman during a period of ease and abundance on the African savanna, to a teen girl in romance in Scotland, a young girl child on a farm somewhere in feudal Europe, a woman burned at the stake, a just-deceased Euro-American pioneer mother wife to a Native man hated by her parents who tortured him to death, a woman in Cochise’s tribe at the time they were told they’d be removed from their land by train and taken away, and more.

Some say “past lives” are not our past lives necessarily, perhaps just anyone’s, and I won’t argue, because I don’t know.  I’ll only say these all felt like a past life, a memory, complete with emotions and contextual knowledge that I’d not known before but seemed to feel throughout my body and which were familiar and somehow part of me.  But I’m willing to agree they could all be someone else’s life, never mine in any strict sense, thought for some reason I connected with them and felt a flash of their life.  In any case, they are instructive.

In one life, I was a sex priestess in a temple of white marble, flowing with wonderfully heated waters.  I knew I was very fortunate, one of the most fortunate in all the land.  I lived in luxury.  I consorted with only the most refined of men.  I experienced ecstasy constantly.  I may have also had the responsibility to heal men returned from war, as some have recounted – and it seems right – but at the moment of my flashback, I was impressed only by the beauty and technique we’d developed in raising our art to higher and higher refinements.  It was a day of perfection in an environment of every sort of beauty and delight.  Daylight fell through open spaces above, naturally lighting the walls and floor of white wet marble crossed by a long steaming pool.

There was enough texture on the marble for me to walk comfortably across it to a doorway where I turned and found myself nearly face-to-face with two men in conversation.  I knew them.  They’d both been entertained as consorts at one time but had not been chosen, because their ways didn’t adapt to our refinements.  They were secretly, quietly enraged, I realized as I met their eyes, and I was instantly shocked and afraid.  They were plotting to force huge changes on our world.

They planned to upset the entire system, take it out of the hands of women, and get sex whenever they wanted.  They were stronger, after all, and there was no reason why they couldn’t.  They only had to demonstrate to other men the power that could be had if they’d only take it.  Far more men had been rejected than accepted, therefore they were the majority.  They would spread the word, convince men the women could not longer tell them no.  They could do it.  They would do it.  They would pump their seed into as many women as they wanted.

No one had ever treated women like that, at least not that we knew of in our refined world.  It was a shocking and abhorrent idea – men being violent to women!  But in that moment, seeing those eyes, I knew how badly their souls hurt from the rejection we’d been inconsiderate of.  In that moment, I knew we’d failed.  Our refinements had not included sensitivity to their disappointment, and it had been graver than we’d imagined.  It had seriously wounded at least one and turned into something vile.  He hated all women because of us.  And now he wanted to hurt very badly all the women of the world.

I felt great sorrow for him in that first moment, to realize and feel his pain – that we’d neglected – but I also felt real fear, to see that he’d transformed his pain into active, righteous, empowering anger which he had every intention of carrying out, to prove his manhood.  Not right there and then, but later, in a more far-reaching way.  I had no skills in dealing with courseness, and I shrunk back.

~

This memory came back just now – probably triggered by the wounds I’m currently experiencing.  And it caused me to count, for the first time, all the wounds I’ve suffered to my womb throughout my life.

me cropped from old w susanFirst, I was sexually abused repeatedly as a child and put on stage in sex shows by a psychopathic conspiracy that practiced mind control.  I saw my stretched-out genitals at age thirteen and have never forgotten the image or my dumb shock.  I never looked at myself again for my years, or thought about it; my brain simply froze in a variation of “This does not compute” and then reset my attention onto something else.

When I was a young married woman, I became very worried for a couple of weeks when my husband and brother decided to drive across the country and return with a kilo of marijuana to supply our currently dry county.  The night before they were to leave, I became so sick that their plants were cancelled.  We ended up in the Emergency Room where I had emergency exploratory surgery.  My ailment turned out, not surprisingly, to be “nothing.”  But when the surgeon removed my stitches one week later, my incision gaped open, which he taped back with bandaids.  They didn’t work well and left me with a long, warbling, wide vertical scar down my belly.

When I gave birth to my son, my first child, the doctors did something wrong with the pitocin they used to induce my labor (unnecessarily) and put my baby into shock, slowing his heart rate, then they gave me another drug which stopped my labor after they’d broken my water – all this when I knew I wasn’t even overdue.  I’d told them I wasn’t due for another few weeks, but in the end I submitted – as I’ve been programmed to do.

I was in danger.  All day I labored futilely because, not due yet, my hormones had not yet cued the chemicals to make the plates of my pelvis spread and become flexible, so my son’s head got stuck.  They couldn’t push or pull him back, because it would break his neck.  That ruled out a Caesarian.  They tried all their techniques, and I was fatiguing.  To “help,” they put a gas mask on my face (and soon tied my hands out to my sides to keep me from trying to remove it), gave me extra oxygen, and forced me to sleep between contractions with some sort of short-acting gas.  (What this did to my baby, I wonder.)  Then, a minute or so later when another contraction came on, they woke me up with a different gas when it was time to push again.

I tried to get natural air by scrunching up my face to make a gap in the side of the mask, which worked just once, and then someone came to hold it on my face, hard.

The next time I was awake, they told me they were going to use a vacuum extractor.  In all my Lamaze classes, I’d never heard of it used for birth, only as a tool for doing abortions, so I thought they were going to pull my baby out in pieces to save my life.  But, of course, I couldn’t ask any questions.

The doctors’ hands were too big, so they stopped and he explained he was going to cut the wall between my vagina and my rectum, so the he could get his hands around my son’s head.  My life was being saved.  At the sound and numb sensation of scissors cutting through my intimate flesh, I fell unconscious again.

I might have realized then that I was giving birth, but with uppers and downers flashing through my bloodstream every few minutes (and my baby’s!), I didn’t process information well, and still thought they were performing tough-decision, rescue-a-life surgery – as I pushed and they cut and gave orders and worked frantically under bright lights while I struggled on my back with limbs spread to the four directions.

When a nurse tapped me on the arm and said, “You have a baby boy,” I answered, “I have a baby?”

He was in a coma, but would come out of it in 30 minutes, and immediately yank the wires and sensors off his chest and, thankfully, begin a normal life.

My mother worried that I’d have problems from the surgery but, miraculously, I healed perfectly.  My second womb wound, invisible to all but my gynecologists.

In my second marriage, I had an ectopic pregnancy and needed emergency surgery again.  The doctors “saved my life” once more, but left me with a horizontal scar, which healed weirdly.  Three.  Those are the explainable ones.

Around the age of 50, during an era when I was experiencing strange events that seemed like “alien abductions,” my partner and I were beginning intercourse when I realized I could not stand to be touched inside.  I investigated and found my g-spot had been sliced deeply from back to front and twice from side to side, cutting it into six squarish pieces which hung where one normal half-spherical g-spot had been.  And the gaps between them – including the slice right up the middle where a partner’s finger would naturally curl – could not be touched.  The cuts were deep and, it seemed, down to major nerves.  Three more cuts makes six.

One night, driving home from a women’s spirituality gathering, my Volkswagen van’s lights went out and I coasted to a stop.  It seemed like a half-hour that I sat at the wheel, telling myself to walk back to the gas station to call my partner, but I couldn’t move.  When I snapped out of my trance and drove home, I thought I was a half-hour late, but my partner was nearly frantic because I was over two hours late returning.

When we tried to have intercourse the next morning, I experienced a new sort of pain – not painful to the touch, but when either of us tried to stretch my tissues even a bit.  It felt as though I had something inside my g-spot, above the cut.  It would make sex impossible for years.  Seven womb wounds.

(That afternoon, I blew a large blot clot out of my nose, something I’ve never done before or since.  The malfunctioning lights, immobilization, missing time, and nasal blood clot are all classic symptoms of “alien abduction,” which some people think is a cover memory for CIA abduction.)

insideYears later, in relationship with a photographer, I would convince him to take a photograph of my insides, and I saw for myself – and am now able to prove to others – that I’ve been both cut and punctured – by someone with the power to make me amnesic.

IMG_2099These days, I sometimes wake up with what seem to be injection bruises on my thighs, other bruises, healed scars, Taser burns, and even biopsy scoop marks – all making me quite sure I’m still being used at night as an amnesic subject for who-knows-what.

And every now and then I also wake up with irritations I don’t think I should have, given my habits:  I wake with a sensation that I’ve been inoculated with something, and the inoculators chose to do their work on my anus – where I’m far less likely to photograph it for posting online!  Other times I get reactions there as if I’ve been inoculated with a new strain of herpes.  (The first strain I got by my own promiscuity, so I know the difference between my original strain, which faded away long ago, and the new ones (which swell badly) which I suddenly get “out of the blue,” even when I’ve been abstinent – at least in my conscious life.)

11bgIt’s tough to be an experimental subject of mind controllers and/or aliens.  It’s’ too flippin’ weird to think about very much, and too weird to tell others.  They don’t want to hear.  Or sometimes they laugh, and I know they been influenced by cultural cartoons.  So I keep it all to myself, socially.  I live a lie.  Unnecessarily.

sheep-wallpaper-1Because, it’s not really weird at all.  It makes perfect sense if we can get over the alien cartoons we’ve all been subjected to.

ayahuasca_visions_pabloamaringoExtra-dimensional beings – recognized in every culture except modern America (the most mind-controlled nation on Earth) – have always been involved with humans, according to every ancient history and religion of every culture on the planet.

Just as humans have always domesticated animals and today abduct wild ones from the forest to tag and study, so do aliens do the same to us.  Just as 18mqxydmchb61jpgthe CIA and military and other elements experiment on unwitting soldiers, orphans, and other less-regarded groups, so do certain aliens (and CIA and military, most likely with them) experiment on us.  It’s really not strange at all.  It’s what humans do.  We have no grounds to call it strange or impossible.

nightmareindexAnd those of us who give them trouble?  Even if we think we have every right to object, they re-assign us to worse experiments.

I was thinking about all this tonight, reflecting that I’m in very good health – with a few exceptions.  My weaknesses skeleton-hand-holding-anatomical-red-heart-free-tee-design-sare my heart – probably a result of all the electroshock used on me as a child in mind control programming.  My jaw is extremely tight – probably a result of living with a command all my life to not tell – which affects my neck and upper back.  And then there’s my intimate areas – all hacked up.

Screen Shot 2014-04-05 at 7.41.25 PMI wondered aloud to my partner whether I had any karma to clear – or whether I was being tracked by some malevolent spirit who’d somehow, maybe accidentally, attached to me in some past life.  Perhaps my mind control programmers – some with Satanic bents, I’ve read – drew in an evil and particularly vicious spirit which attached to me.

Of course, it could also just be an unfortunate coincidence that happened to fall to me.  Things do happen in clusters sometimes….

Then I thought of the sex priestess.

I wondered if the man in the temple might even be following me through lifetimes, controlling the minds and hands of doctors and others, and these seven wounds are his handiwork?  Or maybe he’s long gone, but his activism set a course of history, and I’m just one of many still suffering.

My response?  Hatred?  Sure, I’ve felt hatred sometimes for whomever it is dogging me, making my life so very difficult to live at times, driving me to the edge of absolute despair time and again.

Then I remembered my ancient sorrow for the man, and I wondered if, in all my lifetimes, I ever said I’m sorry to him.  Having only the fleetingest scraps of remembrance, I don’t know, so I’ll assume I didn’t and say it now:  I’m so very sorry.

Perhaps this is why I’ve been so concerned with men all of my life.  I feel strongly for their pain in this culture which won’t let boys cry, and tells men they must always be strong.  I feel like I’ve always had an intuition about their secret wounds and a lot of compassion for men, even when other women love to criticize, laugh at, and even hate them.

Once, in grade school, I made a boy cry, and I’ve never forgotten the pain in his eyes, and I deeply regret it.  (Blessings on your now.)

This bruise showed up ten days after another very similar showed up on the back of my leg.  No explanation except...

This bruise showed up ten days after another very similar showed up on the back of my leg. No explanation except: ongoing violence by my controllers done while I’m made amnesic.

I’m getting very tired of life, and, at 62, with occasional spells of heart problems that make me so weak, I can’t do much, I’ve often thought I was certainly close to passing over.

But I keep living, and I wonder what I am supposed to do.  Fight the torturing controllers?  Make things difficult for them?  Document them?  Submit to them?  (crosses my mind now and then)  Or say I’m sorry?

Is there anything that makes sense for me to do, that has something to do with the fact that I’ve seen the darkest underbelly of civilization?

My body tells me something my mind could never grok when I went to church and studied theology in college:  UnknownSatan and his demons are loose on this Earth.  We’ve been lied to about it, and tricked with cute cartoons to make us not see, so the evil does unacknowledged.

Screen Shot 2014-04-05 at 7.41.25 PMThis is not a religious belief.
It is carved into my body.

~

Last week I was “up,” and I’ll be up again in a day or two, but really:  What is there to do at this point in my life that makes sense?  

Ah!  …I have another past-lifetime flashback – just recalled!  It’s a connection (described fully here), with Anais Nin, a writer.

UnknownOh!  And she was also (how could I forget?) a sexual scandal in her day, but for the purpose of appreciating the parallel, I’ll call her as a sex priestess of a sort.  Ex-patriot in Paris in the 40s, lover of Henry Miller and others, pornographer when she needed money.

Anais and I write a lot alike – self-indulgent some might say, I say introspective and useful.  But, actually, I can’t read her writing!  I’ve read a lot about her and have a few books that include her writing, but when I’ve tried to read her (one paragraph is as far as I’ve ever gotten, even in a book I loved and read every other word of, voraciously), I literally shivered in humiliation and had to quit.  (One day I hope to read more, but I’m tired of trying for now.)

So, given I am a writer, somehow connected to another powerful writer, born into this Darkness, what am I to do?  I must write.  So I do, and I speak when invited.  Few want to hear it.  Still, it’s my job.

So, there you go, Friends.  I’m very sorry to bring you a reminder of this Darkness.  But because I have, we now have a chance to deal with it, right?  That’s the good part.  It’s our greatest survival need:  to see properly our surroundings.  Right?

Then what?  Fight?  Dance?  I say: “Aikido!”  Or maybe all three.

Yeshiva - (I meant to write, and thought I wrote "Yeshua," but I wrote this interesting derivation!  Wonder where that came from….

And call on Cosmic Help – whomever that is for you.  (I feel deep connection with Christ, though not Christianity.)

If we see our world clearly together – despite their efforts to keep us in the dark, we can act in greater unison and power.

And so I share these difficult things with you – for our communal enlightenment.

Thank you for being courageous enough to hear.

Government Complicity in Violence Against Activists

news-magnifyFrom the “Top 25 Stories of 2014 Subjected to Press Censorship” – with my story and  response  – JE

7. FBI Dismisses Murder Plot against Occupy as NSA Cracks Down on Dissent (For full story, click here)

In October 2011, when the Occupy movement arrived in Houston, protesters were subject to local and federal surveillance, infiltration by police provocateurs, and police assault. Months later, a document obtained in December 2012 from the Houston FBI office shows that the agency was aware of a plot to assassinate Occupy movement leaders—and did nothing about it. And in Arizona, law enforcement collaborated with JP Morgan Chase CEO Jamie Dimon divulging Occupy plans. The CEO claimed he was simply avoiding possible protests, and local law enforcement was happy to help. Government documents from the National Security Agency and other government offices revealed a grim mosaic of ‘counter-terrorism’ operations and negative attitudes toward activists and other citizens.

Sources: Dave Lindorff, “FBI Document—‘[DELETED]’ Plots to Kill Occupy Leaders’,” WhoWhatWhy article, June 27, 2013. Beau Hodai, “Dissent or Terror,” Center for Media and Democracy’s SourceWatch/DBA Press, May 2013. Alex Kane, “How America’s National Security Apparatus—in Partnership With Big Corporations—Cracked Down on Dissent,” AlterNet report, May 21, 2013.

I used to be a radical activist, and I’m here to say it’s not for the naive, or for mind control subjects.

taserThank Goodness, I only went to jail twice (for civil disobedience both times), but in 1992, I was Tasered while in the Durango Jail (during a peaceful drumming-and-dancing protest against Amoco drilling in critical Elk habitat) and have no memory of most of the afternoon or any of the evening.  I was woken up near midnight and made to sit in a chair for hours while they pretended to be processing me out, but all they did was wake me every time I fell asleep.  After that I remember sleeping, huddled, very cold, on a hard floor because they released me at 4 am and lied that no one had left me any message or phone number to call, so I had no idea where to go in the unfamiliar town, and it was very cold outdoors in Durango at that dark hour, even in the summer.  I remember someone finding me and leading me out, but I don’t remember the breakfast where I was told we all met that morning.

car bombTwo years earlier, I’d wanted to do activist media work like Judi Bari; then she was car-bombed in an assassination attempt that a jury trial would later find the FBI guilty of numerous crimes related to the assassination attempt:  not investigating it, slandering the activists who survived, and other charges.  Judi was terribly wounded and needed a wheelchair the rest of her shortened life.

The year before that, two friends were framed by an agent who pretended to be on our side.  He and an informer had been in our house on a number of occasions, pretending to be friends.  A second FBI informer we’d seen at a gathering once; on trial, he talked about thinking of “pulling a Rambo” and gunning down all of us.

Peg_MillettMy friend, Peg Millet, a horse whisperer and defender of sacred places, went to prison for five years because the agent egged her on to commit an act against a nuclear power plant (rather than the symbolic act against a water pumping station in the wilderness), and even though she rejected his ideas repeatedly, just “conversing” with him was enough to be found guilty of nuclear terrorism!

It’s a mixed comfort to read the item at top for confirmation that someone notices and will report that we are all treated horrifically (it’s not just me!) just for demanding that certain laws be obeyed – laws that defend life on Earth.

dsc01357

The third-degree Taser burn I woke with one morning while finishing up my first video about mind control in 2010.

My story is far from unique and could probably be matched a thousand times or more by people across this nation, working on labor, race, education, surveillance, health, and many other issues.

And this is just one of “25 Top Stories” of stuff going all wrong in this nation.  Check out the stories that the Media is not telling you.  I dare you.  ;}

 

Need to Scream… Memory…. Ah…

images

First journaling in a while.  Feel like I need to scream.  Been worrying about how to read the signs (since I sometimes avoid prayer and contemplation – some programming that hits sometimes) especially when things go wrong like they have today.

I realize:  All the “figuring” is a very basic part of my mind control; I need, instead, to remember during hard times to listen to the quiet things, use my intuition.  And I need to rout out the programming that tells me I don’t have time for prayer and contemplation.

AND NOW I GET IT:  “Rise and shine!  Up and at ‘em!  Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!” – the waking I received from my mother nearly every morning of my life, the same three always-cheerful commands, every day, one after the other – was a major part of my programming  delivered by my handler-mom – of course, programmed herself.

telling me:  Take no time for reflection, no time for yourself.

NO.

NO.

NO.

I will not do that anymore.  Rise and shine.  Up and at ’em.  Bright-eyed and Bushy-Tailed.  It never occurred to me that it was part of my programming, but I think now that it was.  Work.  Work.  Work.

My mother’s father was killed when she was eight, during the Great Depression.  Her parents were working as itinerant farm worker and construction worker.  Now a penniless widow, her mother leased an ice cream sidewalk store, became famous for her sandwiches on fresh homemade bread, and parlayed it all into a successful restaurant and bakery with dining room, patio, walk-up window, and conference rooms.  She catered to a group of bankers and developers, one of whom treated her like a mind control slave.  While she worked to build the business, my mother and her sister spent a lot of time with their Mormon uncles.

I remember him coming to walk with her every day at a prescribed time.  My mother was impressed about this, as I heard her speak of it a couple of times.  Each day, my grandmother sat in view of the front door when he was due and rose immediately, cutting off conversation when he appeared.  “And she never has told anyone what he says to her,” my mother remarked, as if this was impressive and not disturbing.  Once, we walked with her to meet him, but he said little or nothing to us and walked straight away with my grandmother.

The programming:  Give yourself no time for contemplation.  We will give you precepts and our logic derived from them, and teach you how to prioritize and organize.

I think I’m doing better than most Americans because I don’t buy their consumerism, politics, or religion, but I’m still programmed to be productive and not waste time – which sounds like a good thing, but robs us of contemplation.

That’s why I’ve felt like screaming.  Seven stressors hit in the last two weeks, and I kept my cool and performed on Sunday.  Monday, I was tired, but I was so bothered by the desk piled high and our desire to post a recording that I forced myself ahead and had dreams all night long about my most un-fun subject:  aliens.  All night long.  That’s a first.  Then today, I worked hard on my home refinancing, and at the end of the day I was ready to scream.  Actually, I had a response I’ve had a few times in my life, when anxiety is very high:  like screaming, throwing up, and falling-down all at once.

But it’s been good, because a see a new aspect of the Big Lie now:  Productivity.  I think I was put into a number of programs, one of which was to be highly productive and manage complicated tasks.  It’s been useful.  But it has also made me so tightly focused when I work it’s hard to be social, as I need to switch parts, which is doable, but sometimes slow and awkward.  I feel like a fancy experimental race car with a phenomenal engine and a tricky transmission.

But I’m healing that transmission, little by little.  It’s been a bumpy road with set-backs when I’ve felt worse rather than better, but mostly I know I’m better, despite days like today.  Today was a hard lesson day.  I learned the consequence of taking on too much.  Again.

I should never push that hard, unless it’s really important.  I have to take care of my heart and whole health.  So I need to make more than a commitment.

I need to change things in my environment to support my commitment, so that I have constant reinforcement to evolve, change, or rout out the programming and habit of my lifetime.

From now on, each morning I will give myself time in bed to record my dreams and thoughts, and decide what’s most important.  I’ll take time to listen for any alters’ opinions, so no one’s left out and everyone’s needs are met.  (That way, no one needs to act out to get attention, or have a heart attack, or get sick or depressed.)  We’ll find our center, cooperate better, and not get confused so readily.

Morning will be sacred time, for being still.  Productivity will just have to wait.

When I rise, I’ll walk slowly to heat my turmeric tea.  I’ll sit in the most comfortable place in the house.

I’ll make myself a new journal with nice, functional paper (not these one-side-already-used recycled sheets others would throw away, but something that will honor my words) inside a beautiful, meaningful cover.  I’ll keep a nice bed shawl nearby and pillow for my neck.

gaiajosephinewallAh…. 

The scream has gone.

I’ll return again to listening to my Wise Self and break another bit of programming.  Back to Center.

Blessings on You All ~

Friday Random Beauty: Dar’s Orb

faerie

I’ve come to believe ancient tales of faeries and contemporary tales of orbs and such.

I have no personal experience of faeries myself, but I have a number of friends who either secretly or publicly admit to relationships with them.

51XH32M8WQL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_And of course, I love (and wrote about here) best-selling author Peter Thompkin’s Secret Life of Nature:  Living in Harmony with the Hidden World of Nature Spirits from Fairies to Quarks, which encouraged me to quit being such a dang “productive” person all the time and learn to just sit and listen in my garden, which I do more now, but not quite enough.  Still, last fall, I had an experience with a spirit in a tree (sprite?) which I’ve written about but haven’t yet chosen to publish.  Perhaps soon.

I did have one experience with an orb once, about the size of a basketball, which suddenly appeared while I was driving near my home in the country.  It was bouncing around chaotically about twenty feet ahead of me, to the right of the road, between four feet and fifteen feet from the ground.  While I watched gape-mouthed and clutched the steering wheel, it bounced around for 5-10 seconds – then disappeared.

Dar's orb FR 189So when Dar told me this story, of course I believed her, and she shared this photo with me.

She was walking in nature and came upon an old concrete wall and well that had been long-abandoned.  She had her camera ready to take a photo of the well, when suddenly this orb zipped into the frame, and she captured it!

May we all be open to Magic and Goodness, no matter whether – or maybe especially because – we’re also dogged by unpleasant things.

 

Minimalist Activist-Artist – MAA

free-hippie-boho-hipster-beyou-Favim.com-793893I guess I shouldn’t use the word hippie anymore.  It has way too many meanings.  Like alien.  Useless.

Besides, things evolve.  And I suddenly realized I felt a need to tell someone that I’m  – and here’s where I realized I needed a better phrase than “old hippie,” and I hit upon – a “minimalist activist-artist” (MAA).

Here’s my definition of a MAA:  We were swept up by the inspiration that life was to be lived

Children Kneel Under Desks During Air Raid DrillWe weren’t sure how long the world’s systems would survive, as we’d trained as children to kneel under our desks, preparing for the world’s destruction.  Then we saw cartoons of business men running on treadmills or rat wheels, and I felt I understood, even as a child.

rat-raceWe were warned that if we didn’t work harder and contribute into the system, we’d be hard pressed to live much above poverty level, but we didn’t really believe the system was sustainable, so why invest in it?  Besides, the alternatives looked so appealing.

FamilyFarmScreen5We wanted to go back to the land, work with the cycles of nature, touch plants and animals, create something tangible, useful, and beautiful that would benefit the world into the future.  We tried to do that.  Some were successful.

But some of us were blown off our centers, fragile as we were as young adults in mind-controlled America.  We met up with cons and other dangerous people.  We had experiences that changed us forever.

stressfreewide-420x0Both my partner and I, before we met, began building our own homes by hand with hopes for the country life, family, and friends nearby, and gardens to feed and heal us.  With dreams underway, both our spouses – good people – connected up with aggressive cocaine dealers, who helped them maneuver our children (all around the ages at which mind control programming is begun) away from us, mine for two years (exactly the length of time for typical programming), and his for the remainder of their childhoods.  Was this itself a program?  To “get” to our children?  Or just a coincidence?

My memoir, RattleSnake Fire – and my life – is filled with disturbing weirdness like this.  And a few events are so terrifying I’ve never told them to anyone or even written them down.  (Having my children stolen, as shocking as that is, is not the scariest thing that’s happened to me.)  All together, it’s blown my life sideways and made it difficult to accomplish either my own dreams or social demands.

Besides not being inspired to follow the rat race, I wonder if I’m at fault in other ways.  Psychologically speaking, I know my parents never had any expectations of me except that I marry a college-educated man.  When I ran away from home and eventually became a divorced single-mother back in college (in Radio-TV, hoping to do radio reporting for a radical news station), their greatest hope was that I’d graduate to be a weather girl.

All my life I’ve been drawn to defend the oppressed, beginning in kindergarten where I defended the child who was being bullied.  As an adult I took an active role in the first Cincinnati Peace Conference and teachers’ peace workshops as an organizer.  I attended a church that welcomed all races and sexual orientations, and supported peace and environmental issues.  I played a major role in saving Tucson’s downtown inner-city grade school that anchored a large multi-generational Hispanic population in a large historic district coveted by business developers (we saved it!).  And I worked to save a sacred mountain from a huge astronomy development.

All this cut into income-earning, but it was far more satisfying than any job – and seemed more useful.  And I really didn’t believe the economy would maintain itself this long.

So, I was wrong.  Now what?

I still don’t expect the economy to last long, but as long as it lasts, we’ve got to last.  And I still have the same attitude toward work, now with less energy and physical strength (at age 62).  I believe I’ve given enough of my heart and soul and sweat to make the world and my community a much better place, and as an older person I think I should be supported.  Unfortunately, our laws are more complicated than that.

socialsecurity-1My partner has had a similar view most of his life too, so we both have very modest Social Security checks.  We qualify for food stamps and are grateful for them.  And we sing and he paints houses for extra cash.  And so, like many Americans, we get by in a minimalist way.

sheep-wallpaper-1

I wish we’d been able to create those utopias, and had our farms paid for, and our gardens feeding and healing us, but we weren’t.  And we’ve all been herded back to town, like sheep.

We never had a chance, really.  We’d been educated to believe anything was possible (even outside the rat race), politics and economics were honest, and hard work would get a person anywhere.  And we believed it.  MAA. 

Friday Foundation: Aliens in the Closet

11bgI’ve been downplaying the alien aspect of my experiences for the last few years, I just realized.  (I only added “alien” to the tagline up top last night.)

Years ago, though, aliens were easier (for me) to discuss than the CIA or church involvement in sexual torture, so I tended to hide those angles then.  But I believe all these aspects form a whole which desperately need exploration.

41pHQz8hnQLMy first conference on aliens and spirituality I attended just before I moved to Silver City in 2006.  Having read Harvard professor Dr. John Mack’s two books, Abduction and Passport to the Cosmos, which both comfortingly espouse alien contact as a spiritual or shamanic experience, I knew the two subjects composed a most important angle, though I also recognized the conference seemed to have ignored or downplayed two other very important facts:  a) some aliens seem to be serious trouble, not here for our spiritual enlightenment, and b) our governments and many churches (both established by “the gods” in ancient history) are involved in the most troublesome aspects.

hellyer

Paul Hellyer, former Minister of Defense, Canada

Eventually I attended many conferences on aliens (never any on mind control) and saw and met a lot of credible people – Paul Hellyer, former Defense Minister of Canada, for instance – and made a few strong friendships which contributed to my comfort with the alien angle and my then (subconscious) downplaying of the government and church role.

Dark activities by aliens or government I only recall hearing twice, both times in Roswell.  The first was a presentation in Roswell on Reptilians and the evidence of their working covertly with the US government in experimental projects using human subjects.  (The city-sponsored conference forbids presentations on aliens as spiritual helpers.) event_274863342

The second presentation on dark activities by aliens was at a nearby Christian Church (I attended “as a reporter,” I told myself).  There, all aliens were defined as demons.  Both presentations, when I listened with my multi-dimensional self, seemed as credible, in at least a limited way, as the scores of other presentations I’d seen espousing other angles.

nordic-aliens-tumblr_m5a30quqjA1qzx7rao1_500All the angles are probably true in their own context, i.e., extra-dimensional beings of many sorts have many different agendas, some as cruel to us as human researchers are to rabbits, for instance; and some extra-dimensional beings wanting to help us, like missionaries, if we can get past our cultural programming enough to communicate with them across the dimensions.  And everything in between, including dark aliens pretending to help, like spies, and possibly helpers accidentally hurting and terrifying us.

026349-firey-orange-jelly-icon-culture-space-alien1-sc37Lumping all aliens together under one word “alien” and then pinning a cartoon on that one word seems to have been a very effective way to “confuse our language” (as Jehovah did in Babel to keep the people from building their tower to access the stars), thereby keeping us from discussing our perceptions and having any chance of learning collectively.  Collective mind control.

The Paradigm Salon, at first, was my attempt to create an event in which local people could talk after viewing films about “aliens,” but after a year I realized I was not comfortable sharing much of my own experience with strangers (even though I’d published it all in my book), and I also was not comfortable with some of the people who attended, so eventually I quit holding those events and turned to blogging.

In my journals, I constantly explored the connections between government mind control, churches, and aliens, but over the years, I’ve realized I’ve veered to the opposite imbalance in my blogging – I’ve been focusing on government and ignoring the alien component.

ufos-national-security-state-unclassified-history-volume-1-richard-m-dolan-paperback-cover-artRichard Dolan’s UFO’s and the National Security State is an important book.  Though I frequently recommend Richard’s books, I quit reading in the middle of his first book and never picked it up again – for what reason I don’t know.

On Thanksgiving, since we (thankfully!) made no plans, I sat for almost the entire day and read not only about “UFO’s” documented by various elements of the government, their chaotic responses, public statements, and reversals of public statements, but also the jockeying for control of this issue, executive orders, and creation of huge new bureaucracies that seemed in direct response to UFO sightings – bureaucracies like the CIA and NSA whose budget and activities would be entirely unaccounted for to the public or Congress or even the President.  

And now I realize I need to catch up in my studies, so I intend to finish Richard’s series here and be more dedicated to keeping up with other books, blogs, and videos.  And this time I determine not shy away from distinguishing aliens by type.  And to begin, I’d like to make clear to my readers that I’m quite sure I’ve had contacts with Reptilians on both this dimension and in other dimensions, as well as the tall grays, and possibly others.

archons-CopyAll these may be manifestations of Archons, described by the Gnostics of Christ’s time, and perhaps the same as are now called demons by contemporary Christians.  Not a comforting thought at all, but the opposite to my cozy inclinations after reading John Mack.

Coincidentally, Reptilians have been noted by various researchers as being very involved in mind control.  And Archons are said to feed off our “energies,” most easily gotten by inducing fear and hatred.  Connections?  Others have speculated far and wide, but I hesitate now to share any more of my speculations, especially since mind control and its “screen memory” theories throw everything up for grabs – but I hope to soon.  (I’d love to hear from readers on these points, especially those with anonymity, who might feel braver to speculate.)

I’ve read and learned a great deal more over the years – and then forgotten it.  I’ve also been crippled by the thought that assuming any particular “truth” in this arena, especially using particular names or language like “Reptilians” or “Archons” would discredit me in the eyes of the general public – and why I should care about that I don’t know, but I do sometimes; it might be mind control keeping me from pursuing this most promising direction, but it could also just be the isolation we experiencers feel – SO acute sometimes that we hide some of our truth.  Very few of us blog under our real names.

UFO exploding before diving to the Earth, witnessed by my partner and another friend, while I was nearby.

UFO exploding before diving to the Earth, witnessed by my partner and another friend, while I could only hear their excited reactions. Interesting, and not nearly as threatening as alien mind control. You agree? Art: Asante Riverwind.

Experiencers of alien contact are sometimes even ignored inside the UFO movement!  Yes, some researchers find the “nuts and bolts” of UFO’s so much easier to talk about than strange beings, government complicity, reproductive experiments, or other experiments for which there seem to be no easy-to-stomach explanation.  Those researchers, I assume, think their activism is already tough enough.  It reminds me of the women’s movement of the 19th century when they split over the question of banding together with Black activists for equal rights; the majority of feminists thought they’d be more successful if they only promoted the one “easier sell” and then helped Blacks “next.”

In the same way, sexual abuse and mind control are ignored for similar strategic reasons – they’re just a lot more difficult to explain and sell to a distracted populace, much less one’s Congress, where a lot of “UFO Disclosure” efforts are directed.  Therefore, just as Blacks had to fight their battles mostly alone, we experiencers have to fend for ourselves until UFO’s are more widely accepted.

Meantime, I’m here on Earth to learn, heal, grow, strengthen connections with soul family on other dimensions, and serve my fellow humans.  And this amazing journey requires I shed my blinders of mind control – both Earthly and “alien.”

Sunday Summary: Another Amazing Week

– another injection bruise
– UFO movie with my folks – on the New Moon
– 20th Anniversary of the family’s Big Rift – and hope for break-through

IMG_2099I almost ignored the injection bruise that appeared on Tuesday, the same day Greg woke wondering why his lower back was out.  Denial was attractive, as other than this, life was feeling mellow and productive.  Neither of us has any explanation for our injuries, except that this sort of thing occurs to me all the time (this sort of small, point-like bruise appearing a few times a month or more).  And various injuries occur regularly to subjects of alien abduction and mind control (which Greg is not comfortable assuming relates to him at all, though I consider it a decent theory for him as well as me).

MV5BMTQyNzI2NDM5MF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMTY2NTA2MDE@._V1_SY317_CR12,0,214,317_AL_Acknowledging aliens – or CIA – I do, but hate to do for a number of reasons.  But since denial is not useful, healing, or survival behavior, I accepted a kick in the butt Saturday night when I watched a documentary about aliens with my parents – with whom I’ve had an uncomfortable partial-estrangement for just a little over 20 years.

[Skip the next three paragraphs to skip family drama.]

(The estrangement, if you’re interested, was caused when I was 42 and having a spiritual crisis [or nervous breakdown] coming to terms with flashbacks of having been sexually abused as a child, but not yet realizing it had anything to do with mind control, and much less aliens and/or CIA.  Sexual abuse alone was more than I could handle.

(I asked my sister if she had any memories of sexual abuse from our childhood, and she, having just seen a 20/20 program on the “false memory syndrome” [psychological disinformation], became immediately indignant and, despite knowing little, scolded me that I was mistaken.  Then, without asking more, she told my brother I’d accused our father of sexual abuse.  My brother assumed I’d accused my parents directly and called them to offer consolation and support.

(They became enraged, and we didn’t speak very much for the next seven years, and the thirteen years since have been little better, very tense.  My father has wanted me to exonerate him to the family, but I’ve told him I can’t because I really don’t know, and I never made any accusation.)

I began visiting my parents again (at the family’s urging) around 2000, once every year or two, increasing the visits to a few hours twice a year, and last weekend to one full day including an overnight.  In all these years, we’ve mostly skirted around the old accusation, and when I became aware (in 2002 and 2004) of mind control and aliens as both somehow involved in sexual trauma, both issues seemed nearly impossible to broach in our barely-functioning relationship.

MV5BMTQyNzI2NDM5MF5BMl5BanBnXkFtZTgwMTY2NTA2MDE@._V1_SY317_CR12,0,214,317_AL_So last Saturday, my youngest sister set up our folks’ computer to stream movies, then left us to find something to watch – as it was still early and everyone seemed “talked out.”  I scanned the documentary section, and when Mom seemed to perk up at The Hidden Hand:  Alien Contact and the Government Coverup, I clicked “Play.”.

Screen Shot 2014-11-25 at 11.07.03 AMA moment of panic washed over me when the Time Traveler Productions logo appeared – because I realized this was the film I’d been video-interviewed for in 2008 by the director, James Carman, who’d traveled to this small town just to interview me.  A few months later, when his communications got squirrelly and I happened to see a piece of art online being used in pre-promotion, I feared he might be mocking the whole subject, and I certainly didn’t want to be mocked for all the world to see.  I requested he exclude my interview, and he said he would.  (This documentary is not mockery.)

But in that moment, I wasn’t absolutely sure my face of 6 years ago, in a state of nervous anxiety, wouldn’t suddenly appear, talking about CIA mind control and aliens!  It would blindside my parents and put me in a very awkward situation of needing to explain something terrifically complicated on the spot when we all need to sleep.  It occurred to me to think of an excuse to turn it off….

But reason prevailed:  Carman said he wouldn’t use my interview, and besides, the opening scene looked familiar, and I thought I’d seen it before and was pretty sure I wasn’t in it.  I calmed down and we all began watching it together.

The film is very well done (and available to stream online).  Over and over, I was moved to see friends and acquaintances I’ve made over the last decade give their testimony as experiencers and researchers, putting their faces and names on the line:  Niara Isley, Melissa Reed, Jeremy Vaeni, James Gilliland, Jim Sparks, Whitley Strieber and researchers Paola Harris, Yvonne Smith, and Richard Dolan.  I was proud to have almost been counted alongside them.

Surgeon Dr. Lier was included – who’d once invited me to California to have my implants removed at no cost.  (Not sure why I didn’t, but he’s passed on now.)  I hoped he would impress my veterinarian father – who trusts all doctors far more than me.

Part-way through the video, after the section on sexual procedures, my father announced, “I’ve had all I can take of this” and left to watch the UCLA-USC football game.

When the video was over, I realized something astounding:  I could finally offer my parents the closest thing I could to an exoneration!

“Mom, that,” I said, gesturing toward the TV, I believe, explains my memories of sexual abuse.”

Mom ignored my bombshell statement, but told me about a couple of UFOs she’d seen.  I’d never heard this before and responded with interest because multi-generational involvement is a major theme of the alien experience.

And multi-generational involvement is just one section of many addressed in The Hidden Hand (others being: UFO evidence, alien abductions, sexual/reproductive involvement, alien implants, alien-human hybrids, human-military abductions, exopolitics, positive experiences and galactic consciousness).

Since mom’s sighting of a couple of UFO’s strengthens slightly the possibility she’d accept this interpretation of my experiences, I repeated what I’d said:  “I hope you’ve heard me here, as I think it’s important for you and Dad to know:  That, I believe, explains my memories of sexual abuse.”  She changed the subject again, but it was off my chest.

And I realized it’s easier to consider that my parents’ involvement has probably been more complex than them simply deciding to allow the CIA to use me as a child subject, as was my assumption back in 2002, but maybe my subjection came about because they’ve been mind-controlled themselves, and maybe they never gave permission.

I’ve known for decades that both my parents were separated from their parents at about the same age as the years for which I have total amnesia (1st and 2nd grade)  – and at about the same ages as my own children were taken from me by my husband and a woman who controlled him – and the age at which other MKULTRA subjects report their memories or amnesia.  It all fits just too perfectly the multi-generational theory.

Afterward, I realized it was the evening of the New Moon.  And it’s been about 20 years (maybe plus a month or two) since I first asked my sister about sexual abuse and our family entered this terrible 20-year period of disconnect.

It’s possible this video viewing might have opened a door that will allow us to break through this family impasse.  The emotional cost to all of us has been terrific; I have been off-and-on suicidal for decades; and I’ve been blamed by all the family for causing our bad relations.  It would be nice to get resolution.

At least two of my siblings, I believe, are following my blog (I’ve asked them to, but they haven’t ever chosen to talk to me about it), and I pray they will watch “The Hidden Hand” and talk at least to each other about this.

Alien-government cooperation in mind control of humans is not just a decent theory that might fit, but is a theory that fits very well, with excellent physical documentation collected for years and memories that match the memories of others all over the planet.

Twenty years is long enough for us all to suffer.  I hope we can discuss this.

Friday Random Beauty: “Rebel Jesus”

Yeshiva - (I meant to write, and thought I wrote "Yeshua," but I wrote this interesting derivation!  Wonder where that came from….

We’re preparing for a concert in which we’ll sing this amazing song, “‘Rebel Jesus,” which I’d love to share with you as my Friday Random Beauty offering.

The lyrics, by Jackson Browne, are amazing.  As John Nichols wrote in The Nation:  “Browne’s lyrics, world-weary and wry in their observations yet warm in their delivery, offer an ancient antidote to the dispiriting crush of commerce, the tyranny of schedules and the theft of meaning that can crowd the better angels of our nature at Christmas:”

(Below I’ll paste a link to a video of Jackson Browne singing it.)

Rebel Jesus

All the streets are filled with laughter and light

And the music of the season

And the merchants’ windows are all bright

With the faces of the children

And the families hurrying to their homes

As the sky darkens and freezes

They’ll be gathering around their hearths and tables

Giving thanks for all God’s graces

And the birth of the rebel Jesus

 

Well they call him by the prince of peace

And they call him by the savior

And they pray to him upon the seas

And in every bold endeavor

As they fill his churches with their pride and gold

And their faith in him increases

But they’ve turned the nature that I worshipped in

From a temple to a robber’s den

In the words of the rebel Jesus

 

We guard our world with locks and guns

And we guard our fine possessions

And once a year when christmas comes

We give to our relations

And perhaps we give a little to the poor

If the generosity should seize us

But if any one of us should interfere

In the business of why they are poor

They get the same as the rebel Jesus

 

But pardon me if I seem

To take the tone of judgement

For I’ve no wish to come between

This day and our enjoyment

In this life of hardship and of earthly toil

We’ve need for anything that frees us

So I bid us pleasure

And I bid us cheer

From a heathen and a pagan

On the side of the rebel jesus.

rebel jesus screen shot

Here’s Jackson singing it:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tr1d0ivyTTk

JacksonBrowne276

Friday Foundation: Big Picture of Hope

ruled-by-criminalsI quit thinking we could change anything politically or by education a long time ago.  (I’m sorry to say that, activist friends.)

Why?  Just look at the extent of our soil collapse, terminator genes, poisoned water, chemtrails, fracking, wars, prisons, racism, surveillance, political charades, media disinformation, mis-education, crazy philosophies, pharmaceutical addictions, mind control, wars – and massive human wage- or other slavery to accomplish it all.

archons-CopyA bigger picture might be terrifying, but it gives me hope, far beyond Earth politics and activism.

My bigger picture draws from all the history of the Earth – not just the rulers’ history of wars and conquest, which tells us a lot between the lies – but also Gnostic accounts of Archons, Hopi accounts of Kachinas, shamanic animism, Sitchen’s Annunaki, Hebrews’ Jehovah, Christians’ Christ, European folklore, contemporary accounts of star beings, Star Trek’s Prime Directive – almost all of it true or a simplified or degraded story of some real aspect of our world.

capitalismoIn broad terms:  The Earth and other planets have been resource extraction sites before.  We humans are also resources – just like the controllers are calling us these days.  And many of us will probably die in one or a series of cataclysms soon involving those jeopardies I named above – just as histories, geology, and archeology have recorded before, as religions have predicted will happen again, and as Henry Kissinger says would be a good thing soon.

So, engaging in politics today recalls for me the cliche about deck chairs on the Titannic.

anima_mundiIt’s good to know we have lives beyond this Earth, and I believe it’s time now to keep our focus in other dimensions where we can connect with our kin beyond this realm.

And while we’re here, imagine the world we want – and work to make it real – now.  We might create community gardens and housing coops here in this dimension, or maybe our efforts will create them in another dimension.  Either way.

Many religions say we’ll experience a separation of energies, good and bad into heaven and hell; but I imagine this “harvest” or “rapture” (under many other names as well) like white light naturally bent in a prism (or split by dimensional shift), refracted into different component colors, separated naturally (rather than by doctrine) by our differing light vibrations.  In which case, the vibes we give off – the music we make, so to speak – will determine where we go after this.

Designing a better world of our imaginations is natural, our human destiny.  So is fighting back when forced to.  But political conversations with trained liars?  Nah….

120714 Guthriecr  030Creating good vibrations in music, design, and community feels good, and it’s probably far more productive.

~

To read another essay about watching the documentaryThe Abolitionists, which inspired this essay – and more reflections on political activism, click “Political Activism: Why I respect it but can’t do it anymore.”

Political Activism: Why I respect it but can’t do it anymore

abolitionist_film_landing_2It’s hard to believe I was inspired to write my next-up essay, “Big Picture of Hope,” after watching the wonderful documentary, The Abolitionists.  (Also available in public libraries.)

fredrick douglasI’ve long had immense admiration for Frederick Douglas (he’s in all my Almanac publications) because of his eloquence and courage – so the reenactment of that eloquence and courage was thrilling.  “I love this man!” I said to myself over and over through the video.

I reconcile my political passivity today with his and others’ dissent with this observation:

In the end, it was clear that “moral ‘suasion,” political activism, even the deaths of many thousands in war, couldn’t change the rulers’  minds.  When Abraham Lincoln finally signed the Emancipation Proclamation, the real rulers simply changed the game and created a different sort of slave by way of economic and other social manipulations.

For the next era, our nation experienced wanton lynchings, and today wanton murders by “peace officers” and mass incarceration of slave descendants by the millions into corporate-run work prisons.  And people in “undeveloped” countries are our “invisible” slaves today – out of sight, out of mind.  And the planet too is treated as slave.

The noble, courageous abolitionists’ error was in believing the rulers of this world had human hearts and could be persuaded to do the right thing.  We have more information today.

264428_495700630483562_1273273762_nEveryone in modern civilization living month to month (most Americans) are wage slaves, required to labor (far more than natural humans), often abandoning their children to “educational” institutions, just to eat, have shelter, and stay out of jail.

And new groups of us are mind-control slaves of a sort equally brutal to that which drove the Abolitionists:  we are raped, terrorized throughout our lives, and murdered just as surely.

Since politicians are bought, blackmailed, and mind controlled too, politics is a no-win game.  Fascinating to watch, but that’s about all.

Screen Shot 2013-09-21 at 4.02.18 PM

Karla Turner

Still, it is right to speak out, if one can.  We might die for our troubles or spend our lives in prison or exile, but  speaking out is still right to do.

It defines the world we want to live in.  It’s our creative act, our human right.  It defines who we are, individually – and the world we’ll enter when we’re freed from this amnesia-inducing dimension.

So I speak out.  To readers here, and other audiences, but not to politicians.

car bomb

Judi Bari’s car after the bombing

I know from personal experience that people who speak out on dangerous subjects sometimes get murdered, like Karla Turner (above) and Judi Bari (a non-violence activist colleague of mine), or threatened with death, like all the abolitionists, or imprisoned for life like so many descendants of slaves today.  

I spoke out for decades when I was younger, went to jail twice, was Tasered and made amnesic in jail once, paid the government thousands of dollars to settle my fines, and spent far too many hours away from my children fighting the criminal system.   When Judi – whom I’d set as my role model in 1990 – was car bombed that year, I had to rethink it all.  Judi and I both still had children at home.

Now I’m 62, and this is what I can do:  write, speak, and sing (occasionally about war and throwing over money-changers’ tables).

Keep healing myself.

Imagine a better world.

Treat all life with respect.

And pray for extra-dimensional help with the collapse of this slave-making system – soon.

 

Sunday Summary:  “Experiment in Sound Healing”

Song-of-the-New-Earth-5Saturday afternoon, after a mild and satisfying week, I watched a video about Tom Kenyon“Song of the New Earth” – then turned off the computer and sat back to try to “tone” for the first time in years.

didgeridooI’ve had amazing experiences with sound before, most notably when I went to hear Tuvan “throat singers” (shamans from Tuva, Siberia).  I was seated directly in front of one of the didgeridoos, it’s base angled slightly away from me, and throughout the performance I experienced energy knots in my aura explode and dissipate away with the shamans’ sounds.  Subtly, I turned, twisted, and bent to present different aspects of my energy field to the healing vibrations.

At one point in the video, Tom said something like:

“All can learn to use sound to be healers for ourselves and others.”

This, I knew, but I also knew immediately it was for me to embrace now.

When the video ended, I sat, intending to make sounds that simply felt good to me – a welcome change from “simple” meditation, which sometimes is so difficult, trying to keep a half-dozen minds quiet.

Immediately, a tone emerging from me felt like “it,” and I intuitively worked to “send it around” to different places in my head.  On my second toning, I was surprised but pleased, to hear an overtone – the thing that had seemed next to impossible for me, since I’d tried this once many years ago.  But now, my dozens of tonings resulted in two or three overtones every time after the first, and sending sounds to different places in my skull and aura around my head and throat and heart.

A few times, I experienced serious pain in my head and around my eyes, but didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing.  It lasted a short while, then seemed to “break through” something – an energy block from some old wound, I assumed – and I immediately began exploring new areas, always on the left side of my head.  (The right side always felt open to sound; it’s the left side that’s always where “my stuff” is.)

Eventually, I found I’d not only made three tones at once, but I’d learned to move them around, make them break through blockages, and become more attractively harmonic!

This morning, I practiced toning again with Greg present, and maybe because I felt shy, I didn’t practice long and could only produce a single overtone – but he heard it!  This thing I thought impossible I can do!

stone peopleSomething else in the video excited me immensely!  In “Song for a New Earth,” Tom recounts a story from young adulthood in which he was mystically drawn into another dimension where he encountered strange beings who asked him if he will “sing the song of the new Earth.”

Being whisked into another dimension is a favorite theme of mine, of course – I love it when others share something that helps me understand my own similar “crazy” stuff.  But I was totally unprepared to see an image – drawn by artists, presumably with Tom’s direction – that nearly perfectly depicts the environment of an extra-dimensional encounter I had in 1999.

I was still healing from the shock of remembering, five years earlier, childhood sexual abuse, but I’d not yet understood I’d also been a mind control subject.  I prayed constantly for information that would help me understand my torment, and one day I was offered the opportunity to go into a terrifying place.

red caveI was suddenly at the mouth of a cave that looked nearly identical to the one drawn for Tom Kenyon!  He met an aboriginal man there twirling a fire stick.  In a similar environment,  I spoke with huge bats that seemed to be part of the cave’s dripstone, which in my vision were thicker so that they blocked more of the view inside than this depiction.  One other difference is that the cave felt like the mouth of a living thing.

The bat people emerged from the living columns near the front where they encouraged me to enter and learn everything I wanted to know about what had happened to me – just what I’d been praying for for years.  In wheedling, syrupy tones, they encouraged and terrified me.  18910-050-28F62F41

Inside the cave I imagined – no, felt – a torture chamber or something equally repugnant, from which I might not find it easy or swift to return.  One part of me tested the idea to “be brave” and enter the passage – but I decided to wait for knowledge and turned away.*

Tom-Kenyon-with-Angels-Animation-Drew-ChristieTom, in his vision of the red cave with the aborigine, when asked whether he would sing the Song of the New Earth, answered he didn’t know.  In this life, of course, his answer has been affirmative.

Watching the video, each time he answered that he didn’t know, I answered aloud, excitedly, “Yes!” and “I will!”  Now, I’m curious to learn what it might mean.  

Greg and Jean photoIt may – for me – mean simply more of what Greg and I already do – sing “good” songs – about love, friendship, home, community, nature, and cosmic mysteries, or the song-and-story sets we’re developing, especially my favorite “cosmic” set with songs of extra-dimensional travel and mystery by Bob Dylan, Jackson BrowJacksonBrowne276n, Neil Young, and so many others who write explicitly or hint about  travel and beings in the multi-dimensional cosmos.

gaiajosephinewallOf course, it’s more too.

I’ve long resonated with a vision I once read, of Earth’s humans, cooperative and aggressive, dividing into two dimensions of future Earth, divided according to their vibrations.

Not divided by doctrine, words, which have been used since the beginning of civilization to tell lies, but in vibrations.  Each of us, human, mountain, and star, singing, harmonizing, creating the vibrating river of Song to the New Earth.

~

The rest of my week has been almost uneventful, except for one set of small suspicious wounds where the sun don’t shine and one unhappy personal encounter.  We hosted friends for a small potluck-fire-music party one evening, which I love even though I usually get overwhelmed by the numbers of people and then unsure about myself in bouts, even among friends if there are a few, and more overwhelmed if there are a dozen.  Worse, a stranger arrived with a friend I thought knew better and set off my alarms, distracting me off and on for the entirety of the party.  Despite that, we’re feeling blessed and grateful for the gathering in our home!

I’ve decided to tell guests more clearly not to bring others.  (Help?)

~

* I believe I’ve received enough of that information – in bits and pieces – over the years and, even so, it has often been nearly too much to handle.  Everyone in healing:  We really do need to be careful what we pray for, qualify our prayers [“Thy will be done”], and not push the river.  Psychotic break-downs and suicide can result.  Trust your Helping Spirit Family to guide and pace you in uncovering repressed information.

Friday Random Beauty: Saving the Life of a Lizard

lizards cuToday, we took a walk around an acquaintance’s property, and at the very beginning of the walk, I spotted one – and then two – desiccated lizards which I picked up to carry home.

I like lizards.  They do insect control, are neat and clean, and are symbolic of the dreamtime.  And I’ve had many good experiences with them over the years – and one experience that felt tragic to me, in which I accidentally killed a large mama lizard full of eggs (all recounted in my book).

Of course, I’ve always felt glad when I’ve been able to save a lizard trapped in some sort of container it can’t climb out of, when still alive and able to recover from its temporary imprisonment.  That happened a lot at my old hermitage.

rock creek house

Once a lizard refused to leave my hand but ran up my arm and rode around with me on my shoulder for almost an hour until I insisted it return to the garden.

Two days later, I found two lizards (similar to the first hitchhiker, so maybe the one told its buddy about me) hanging on the back of my shirt.  Since I’d been on my feet for hours, I could only assume they’d jumped onto me from the doorway of the screen porch where they liked to hang out for cooling breezes.

Since mystical experiences often occur in threes, I wondered when I found the first and second desiccated lizards this morning, Would there be a third?  

Within a short time, we came upon a baby lizard hanging – improbably – up-side-down by the tip of its tail, suspended by a spider web he’d partially destroyed and deformed so that the entire web pulled down with its lowest point a twisted thread of sticky strands wrapped around the scaly tip of the lizard’s tail, leaving the baby lizard dangling helplessly in the air.  It wiggled its legs, so we knew it was alive.

I held my hand up and let the baby lizard climb on, then with fingers of my other hand gently pulled away bits of web still wrapped around the tip of its tail.  In seconds the lizard was free.  Like the other rescued lizards, this one didn’t seem interested in leaving my hand, so I was able to carry it to a convenient tree branch IMG_2088stump.

There, the baby lizard obliged, but turned around to look at me.

I put my face right up to the branch – and the little one stepped forward toward my face, so I leaned in too, and we nearly touched noses.  I assume he or she said thanks, and then I turned and we went on our way.

Later, I returned to photograph this stump where I deposited and last saw the little thing and looked around a bit in case it was nearby, but didn’t see it.

lizards cuAt home I took this photo of the two dried heralds of the life-saving event.

Blessings to you all on your walks in Nature today ~

172 words – start of my new memoir? Give me feedback!

I think I’ve been afraid for a very long time to be too powerful.  But I’m trying to get over that.  So here’s my second attempt at beginning a new memoir.  I’m also thinking of entering it in a memoir contest.  I’d love you’re feedback.  

After the Second World War, my father and mother lived on the GI Bill while he attended veterinary college and my mother kept house.  It was July 7, 1952, 4:25 a.m., eight minutes before a precise full moon, that I was born.

The next things I’ll share I’d have cringed at in embarrassment most of my life, but something has to explain the crazy life I’ve lived:  It was not only a Full Moon, but a Monday, long ago known as Moon-day, and smack-dab in the middle of Cancer, previously known as Moon Children.  And the eight minutes between my birth and full moon is 2/1000th of a degree, dang close to precise.

Dwight David Eisenhower, my grandfather’s second cousin (or so claims the family), would be nominated to the Republican ticket as candidate for President of the United States later that day.  Our local paper would write a smarmy short column about the coincidence.

At home on the UC Davis campus, the CIA was experimenting with mind control as they had on various campuses for the last five years.  I would live on this campus for the first fourteen months of my life.

(Thank you for your comment!)

Survived! Florescent Lights or Electronic Harassment?

2013

What an interesting performance we had last night – the sort of thing I might write into a sardonic movie script:  We played in a room charmingly decorated, but fluorescent-lit and linoleum-floored with lots of hard surfaces for bouncing around all the conversations happening.  Lots of good folks were there, and we enjoyed a number of good conversations.  The fundraiser’s silent auction had great items donated from local stores and galleries, and I even won a few bids.

But as performers – and we anticipated this ahead of time – it was really difficult to sing in a conversation-noisy, fluorescent-lit, linoleum-tiled room!

To make it more difficult, I haven’t been singing much since last spring, as I’ve been going through all these healing events – and I’d also announced to the world that “I Quit!” (everything) a few months back.  And I did quit singing – even practicing – for six weeks while I did other things and truly enjoyed my time “away.”

Of course, eventually, Greg seduced me back, and I discovered that old bad-singing habits had been lost (yeah!), my voice had relaxed, I liked it much better, and I decided to be – not necessarily a performer, but – an occasional performer of a song or two or maybe even a set now and then.  Next thing we knew, a friend had accepted this gig but didn’t want to do the whole three hours, and asked us to help him fill the time.

Despite it being one of the worst settings, the humbleness of it was actually attractive to me as a venue for getting back into performance.  Besides, the group was “good people,” and it was a good cause – SNAP – the “Spay and Neuter Awareness Project – the kicker aspect making it perfect for my one-day, sardonic script.

But that was just the setting.

What I experienced last night didn’t feel like stage jitters.  It might have been the fluorescent lights experienced for too long (never a problem for me in the past), but it felt like being electronically messed with – maybe for the first time immediately before I stepped into our performance space.

Fine arrows of negative-feeling energy seemed to pierce inside my body from outside like 12”-long thin needles (not nervousness emerging naturally from inside – a sensation I am very familiar with) – but, to my credit, I didn’t panic.

I thought:  I’ve always known electronic harassment while I sing was a possibility, and here it is (maybe, if this is what it is).  So what do I do?  Decide not to sing?  Never sing again?  Or take this as a challenge and see if I can develop some spiritual skills to combat it?  Right here.  Now.  Okay.

I took my time getting on stage, stretching and relaxing my body, even as Greg encouraged me to join him on stage then.  As I concentrated on relaxing my body and strengthening my protective energy shield, I realized:  I need a checklist before I go onstage – and even before I walk into certain environments!  Especially like this.

Then I realized:  Oh yeah:  I have a checklist!  (water, stretch, visualize, etc.)  But like many things, it’s lost in some notebook, forgotten.

“Forgotten” – the bane of my life!

Yeah, while most people (or so I think – maybe it’s a minority) have the good fortune of just deciding to improve something and then doing it, some of us have greater challenges – or maybe they’re opportunities!  Opportunities to strengthen ourselves beyond what we believe is possible – not by choice, but because we have too.

So, even though, over and over again, I’ve found work-arounds to my latest challenge, I keep finding new hurdles, for which I often despair and am ready to quit.  But I’m beginning to realize that what this all amounts to is spiritual warfare training.  And I accept it.

skeleton-hand-holding-anatomical-red-heart-free-tee-design-sThat’s exactly what it felt like last night:  While I worked to relax my body inside my aura, pay attention to my partner’s music, remember not just lyrics but the stories we’re telling, and coax the newly discovered energy patterns that I discovered after my break and more discovered in the heart-healing event a week ago – while doing all that – worked to keep control of my body despite these apparently external arrows.

So much to manage!  And I did it.

Others said our music was “great” and “lovely,” Greg was very positive about the quality of my singing, and I thought my most recent improvements – singing with heart energy – was sustained 80-90% of the time, with only 1% “barks” – where the tension in me was too great to control my voice – but I was aware enough to keep a distance from the mike at those times.  So, I guess – unless anyone wants to fill me in on things I’m not aware of (we didn’t get a recording) – I succeeded!

Sometimes I think, with my difficulties in remembering and even perceiving, I’ve been very fortunate or maybe rescued repeatedly by the hand of God, like an innocent child walking in traffic – or maybe Mr. Magoo.  But here I am!  If it’s angels keeping me alive and kicking, I accept.

But I’m also adding all I can.  And I’m jazzed by the strength I discovered – repeatedly last night – to overcome the literal (it seemed to me) arrows of something invading my spaceI found that when I determined to do it, I could allow good energy to flow through that heart space, join with my voice, and a new beautiful sound flowed through.

May we all keep on keeping on!  Our biggest trials may be our biggest opportunities to heal – and, if we’re lucky, create beauty while we’re at it!