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.
Anomalous 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
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
“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
4 scoop marks
other weird bruises x 4
inch-deep puncture up beside clitoris
spine mysetriously hurt
tones in ears
beam follows me around house
next morning: ears ringing badly, never quit
house entered, things moved, hot water in tap on New Years, footsteps in snow
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”
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:
blue-green energy healing alters
person inside me helping
another healing x 2
nighttime healings x ?
seeing energy, controlling it
yogi comes in
felt g-spot heal
understanding, writing about the cruel teacher
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+
bruises x 3+
needle bruises x 34
4-5 clear tones
2 scoop marks
injured back/no reason x 2
neck out, rib out- pain
weird neck problems x 3
Wake to find friend whispering/instructing me x 2
realize MK as child on vacations, collapse to floor
iridescent golden mucous glob from sinus
felt severely drugged
weird answering machine message
phone interruption: “record again”
happy drug? too much energy
male friend confirms Archons
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
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
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
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
anxiety, unable to center self
more 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
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
many 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)
“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
scoop 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
“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
visions amazing, then forgotten
saw red UFO, hard sleep
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
Voice 2 Skull transmission test
downloads to hidden alter: “MK is All”
dream of remote viewing
alien dreams, anxiety
July 2014 – July 2015 Blessings:
watched 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
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
vibration in head
ligament mysteriously inflamed in left pelvis
headache, mind scrambled
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
father’s Navy record suspect of special project subject
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
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.
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:
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.
I’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.
[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.
I hope this helps someone. Compassion for all.
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.
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)
Usually 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!
Sometimes 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.
After 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.
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).
I’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.
(*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.
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!!!
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 ~
(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.)
On 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 frogs making their first forays into life, and sit on the mountaintop, breathing pure air, watching clouds, and hawks and beautiful blue beetles.
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 when 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:
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:
I 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),
And 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 ~
This colored pencil sketch is by Asante Riverwind, my former partner, from 2003-2005. He said it was a portrait of me.
Since 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.
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.
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.
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.
And 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.
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.
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.
And 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.
So, I’ll be sitting by my fire, passively knitting and thinking, It’s all gonna be okay.
– 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):
* 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.
We recorded our original “Lying Here with You” on video, and received great feedback.
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.)
I 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.
We 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
* 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.
* 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 photographed (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.
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.
* 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:
2nd half of August: 2 “donut” bruises, 1 injection bruise, 2 scratches similar to biopsy scoops, another injection bruise and other bruise.
September: 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 (“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.)
November: 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.
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 problem: What 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.
(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….
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.
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.
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.
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 ~
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.
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.
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.
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.
My 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.
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.)
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.
All 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.
Lumping 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.
Richard 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.
All 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.
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.”
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.)
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.
Here’s Jackson singing it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tr1d0ivyTTk
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.
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.
In 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.
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….
To read another essay about watching the documentary, The Abolitionists, which inspired this essay – and more reflections on political activism, click “Political Activism: Why I respect it but can’t do it anymore.”
Saturday 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.
I’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!
Something 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.
I 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.
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.*
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.
It 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 Brown, Neil Young, and so many others who write explicitly or hint about travel and beings in the multi-dimensional cosmos.
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.
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.
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 stump.
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.
Blessings to you all on your walks in Nature today ~
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.
That’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 space. I 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!
What a pleasure to report nothing weird all week – except for two things positive!
One non-normal happening was my sighting of a series of – apparently – energetic beings in a storm cloud! Now, I’ve never seen this sort of thing before*, though I also would not automatically discount it. Still, I was very surprised to see an approaching storm cloud rolling our way suddenly “open up” – and an energetic being didn’t just appear, but sort of teasingly danced, as if to say, “You see me! I know you see me! Don’t pretend you don’t see me!”
When I silently accepted that, yes, I did see “her,” she disappeared into the cloud, and another spot in the cloud opened up to display another being with an entirely different energy. One after another, different beings with different energies displayed themselves, conveying to me that a storm cloud is filled with energies of all sorts, some ready to inflict damage on the land beneath, others ready to bless the land with rain.
How do I explain this? Years ago, I wrote an essay titled, “Paracelsus, Rudolph Steiner, and Aliens,” a summary of the best-selling author Peter Thompkins’ book The Secret Life of Nature: Living in Harmony with the Hidden World of Nature Spirits from Fairies to Quarks.
Below are two short paragraphs from that essay, which will explain why, until I’d seen these beings myself, I would not have immediately discounted the idea, despite our “rational” training in this culture:
Paracelsus gathered his data by going straight to his source, Nature, in which he steeped himself deeply. He also asked herbalists, faith healers, gypsies, hermits, witches and anyone else who claimed knowledge of the healing arts – aside from doctors – what they knew. He discovered that their lore had a form and structure which matched his own experiences of intelligent, immaterial beings working within nature. [my underline]
The rebel alchemist defined these spiritual intelligences as “elementals,” which he explained perform important tasks, that we in the first world today call “forces of nature.” These elementals are also identical with the beings that mystics and primitive societies call spirits of mountain, sea, storm, etc.
So, I’m honored to have been blessed with this small vision. (* And I now recall a similar experience from a decade ago, I’ll recount at the end.)
The second strange thing this week, just for the record: my left shoulder continues to feel highly sensitive, as it has for months, but the bruise (pictured here, near the former implant site) that had been there for over a year is finally entirely gone! And the implant removal injury, seen in the photo, is gone too.
Other than those two things, my sleep was “normal,” I found no marks on my body, and I enjoyed a lot of mundane pleasures: for one, my partner and I built the last section of fence around the house, including two gate handles hand-crafted from an oak branch.
* Regarding the similar storm cloud vision a decade ago (recounted in my book, RattleSnake Fire): I was sitting on the west-facing porch with my daughter and a friend, watching an Arizona sunset-storm, with clouds of charcoal gray filling the sky, rimmed with dramatic golds and reds.
Suddenly, we all gasped when two “eyes” simultaneously “opened up” to the northwest, glowing gold. The two eye-shaped spots opened together as if they had upper and lower lids, and after we’d all noticed them and expressed surprise, they closed together. A moment later, two identical “eyes” opened up about 20 degrees higher in the sky and, after we’d again exclaimed in astonishment at their similarity to the first two eyes, they too closed.
The next thing we knew, my daughter stood up, saying she wanted to go inside. I recognized she was uncomfortable, which I attributed to the mystical nature of the “eyes.” I stood up to follow her, saying, “It means something. I know it means something.”
Having turned to go inside, now facing south, I noticed the next strange thing – but the whole event doesn’t make sense unless we accept that we’d all had “missing time”: A new opening in the clouds to the south caused us to gasp again, but this time, instead of light shining through, we saw the dark, starry sky. (Had an hour or more of time passed, for which we had no memory?)
The opening was just a long strange-shaped crack – exactly the shape to show just the stars of Scorpio, but no other stars! I knew this was an omen, and stood in amazement while the others hurried inside. I did not know that Scorpio is often a sign of death; I only knew that the sting was hurtful. “Something painful has happened,” I said, adding, “something to do with a shaman” – the last words I had no idea why I’d said them, except that I’d felt them.
The next day, we got the message that a friend had died in a tragic car accident that night, in Washington state – to the northwest, the direction of the eyes. Within a few days, I’d also learn that she’d spent the last year traveling in Mexico, living and training with a shaman and a midwife, and people were beginning to call her a shaman.
In short, yes, I believe we can get signs everywhere (from truthful spirits and tricksters – so beware). And I’m grateful to have received these playful messages this week, reminding me.
While I was sitting in the sunroom the other day, a very pregnant-looking preying mantis came to the window and tapped on it repeatedly – as if trying to get my attention – maybe to let her in.
I chose to let her stay outside, but enjoyed taking a few photos.
I also enjoyed making a few improvements to the narrow sunroom – only 3 1/2 feet wide, but functional as both a sitting space and a passive solar addition to the house! I hung artwork, covered the tattered cushion with a forgotten piece of fabric, brought the basil in pots inside for the winter, blocked a distracting view with a screen I had stored, and splurged on a pretty carpet runner.
These simple pleasures also remind me (again) of something very important: When I’m happiest, I write the least. That means readers of this blog usually hear the worst and I need to remember to keep it in balance.
This “Friday Random Beauty” series will help me correct that.
“They” may occasionally use my mind (or one hologram of it) and body, but they do not touch my spirit.
The week’s highlights:
~ a powerful (and surprising!) heart-healing experience
~ discovered and rediscovered reading and videos
~ cleaned and cleared energy in house and yard
~ decision to limit computer use
Most amazing first: It began with a massage. Greg thought he was being intuitive, but I experienced it as being gouged in that soft spot just below the heart at the highest point beneath the ribs. It was so shocking that I ended the massage and was physically ill for two days afterward.
Greg felt terrible to have caused me pain and was confused because he didn’t think he’d gouged me at all. I went through bouts of serious fear that he’s multiple too and had subconsciously (in another alter) tried to hurt me. I freaked out quietly and practiced being calm and open-minded that maybe something else had happened that I just couldn’t understand yet. As my friend Darlene often says, “More will be revealed.”
As soon as Greg left for work the next morning, I called a healer friend. After asking me a few questions to eliminate more serious possibilities, she told me to treat myself very gently that day, hold that place, send it love, and give myself permission to cry. I did all those things, cried, then refocused on the work I wanted to do that day. But I also read a bit online and became convinced that Greg had bruised my liver.
For two days I moved slowly, skipped exercise, and the second day called a Nurse Hotline to make sure there wasn’t something else I should know about a possibly bruised liver, and was encouraged to go to Urgent Care – which I thought I’d do, but decided to keep doctors out of it.
My journaling was full of hate and despair for two days, though I could always turn my attention back to working on this site. (I had signed up for a WordPress blogging course, so it was helpful to keep my mind otherwise occupied.) I also slept two long 10-hour nights.
The second morning, my journal says, we talked in bed from 4:45 − 8:45 — four hours! – after which I wrote in the margin, “Really??” – meaning that I wondered if there was some amnesic time in there – more stuff I might have worried about, but I didn’t.
Instead, I felt inspired to do yoga for the first time in many, many months. I continued to upgrade my website, deciding it was worth spending the money on to be able to load videos onto. That was immensely satisfying.
Later, I went to exercise and worked the machines with more power and conscious sensation of my physical body than I usually have – of muscles exerting and relaxing, exerting and relaxing – fascinating and very satisfying. I marveled at this and was happy to tell Greg when I got home.
That evening when I finished my website work, Greg was playing music in the living room, songs I like to harmonize with, so I sat down and I joined him in a few.
Suddenly, I became aware that the area around my heart and liver felt different. The writer in me sought for the descriptive word, so I focused my attention there, and seemed to perceive a hole, an opening – something through which energy was moving! Energy was flowing, breathing in this place – so central to singing, obviously – so that now I could perceive – after the fact – the blockage that I’d always known was there but couldn’t feel or address, and now the blockage was gone.
I thought to test whether this was the blockage that had dogged my singing all these years, see whether I could sing with more power now, and I did notice a little new energy flowing up and into my voice. It was exciting. But I was tired. It had been a difficult couple of days, and I’d expended a lot of energy already in exercise, and it was late, so I’m looking forward to the next practice.
Apparently, Greg had pushed a trigger in me, probably something that has existed locked up in me for decades, hurting me for a few days, but ultimately releasing an old knot of something that had been clenched in my chest for who-knows-how-long.
I’ve heard more than once that sometimes in spiritual healing, you don’t need to re-experience all the horrors to clear them; sometimes, you can just feel the general essence of them, acknowledge them consciously, and “let them go,” bless them for whatever learning or wisdom they brought, however difficult, and let them go.
Sometimes they’re biggies and might take lifetimes to heal. However long we carry them, eventually, when we understand enough and accept enough, they can be released. And we feel the release in our bodies, and our bodies becomes freer, our minds become freer, our emotions become freer.
And I’m so grateful. (And grateful that I didn’t waste much time in “Oh, my God, this is horrible” mode. That would have been a big waste of time.)
“More will be revealed.” Yes, sometimes it makes the best sense to just suspend judgement and wait for that more. Thanks, Dar.
And thanks, Greg! And Elizabeth.
Not to say that some of those dark things that had me in their spell for a few decades doesn’t represent some important truth worth knowing. They are very worth knowing; they just aren’t the whole truth.
Even when we think they’re the most controlling energies in our lives, we need to remember they’re not All. There are also wonderful energies dancing all around us all the time.
We must experience both, but we don’t need to go down the drain just because some of the energies seem to want to pull us there. Our job is to keep rediscovering our relationship and learning new skills. (Hmmm, sounds like my old definition of shamanism.)
(Ironically, the last accomplishment I’d noted in my journal before the massage that kicked off my heart disturbance and healing was the creation of a new Spiritual Healing page, “Healing Help,” in which I compiled my best offerings.)
My other favorite writing this week: My first “Friday Foundation” series, “Mind Control in World History,” my first “Friday Random Beauty” post, a few new paragraphs at the end of my Home page, and a draft, “Scribe for our times” post that isn’t up yet.
Rediscovered writing and videos: The transcript of DC Hammond’s “Greenbaum Speech,” offering the psychotherapist community help in healing multiples, and The Century of the Self video series – we’ll be rewatching all four hours of these over the next weeks – they’re that good, and that important.
Just discovered last night: The Culture High:….”is the riveting story that tears into the very fiber of modern day marijuana prohibition to reveal the truth behind the arguments and motives governing both those who support and oppose the existing pot laws. … incredibly moving testimonials from both sides of the spectrum. Top celebrities, former undercover agents, university professors and a slew of unforgettable characters from all points of view come together for an amusing yet insightful portrait of cannabis prohibition and the grasp it has on society as a whole.”
And the Citizens Commission on Human Rights videos – regarding the abuse that psychiatry has become – in a series of engaging, entertaining, and scary videos. Maybe a little heavy-handed at times, but I’ll be watching more and reporting back.
One more accomplishment is both negative and positive: I collected a huge to-do list from my last weeks’ journals. So I gotta ask my muses – or multiples with so many great ideas: You/we gotta slow down.” Breathe. They’re all on a list. Nothing bad will happen if any don’t get done. Relax.
So, I decided I want to limit my computer work. When I was a hermit on the land, I always kept a commitment to turn off the computer before sunset and to be out on the west patio every evening, whatever the weather, watching the sun set and the light change from day to night. It was a wonderful practice.
My new home here is nestled into a hill on the eastern slope of the southern Rocky Mountains, which block the dramatic views that were the daily staple of my previous life. Now, to the west, there’s just small-town neighborhood rising up the hillside toward the Continental Divide. So I lost my daily sunset habit, and sometimes now I write all night long.
So, to support my healing, I want to write and otherwise be on the computer only part-time, and so I plan to experiment, and see whether I can turn off the computer at noon or early afternoon each day, leave behind the world of ideas in bits and bytes, and make it a joyful ritual to go into the garden (or the sunroom if the weather is unpleasant outside) and see how the plants are doing, reconnect with the living world.
Healing comes in lots of forms. The most recent I’ve encountered and written about are: accidental (thanks to spirit helpers guiding us), clearing space in our physical environment (a biggie!), spending wordless time in the garden, exercise, and eating excellent, tasty, healing food.
Wishing you, my readers, many healing blessings,
And very grateful for mine ~
Silver City, NM
November 3, 2014
Fridays at the Paradigm Salon will now bring a yin-yang of complementarity with Friday Random Beauty and Friday Foundation [of this MK Stuff].
To begin the Friday Random Beauty series, I’m offering this example of the type of art I try to create all around me.
Years ago, a book came into my life, titled “Altars,” advocating an alter in every room of one’s house as well as various places outdoors. Basically, anything can be an altar if it causes us to stop and reflect. And the author’s point was that we could use reminders like this many times a day and in many locations. I began creating altars and immediately found myself increasing the frequency of my mini-meditations or moments of mindfulness throughout the day – and the frequency of my healing events! So I highly recommend this.
This “alter” is in the bathroom, so it’s made up of a couple of plants, each with crystals around their bases, lavender from a friend’s garden placed in a thrift-store pitcher, and a few things we use in the bathroom that I think are pretty: oils in natural or ornate containers, my natural earth-pigment duster (blush) in its pottery jar, perfume in a carved-stone container, primitive-pottery earrings hung on the rim of a small hand-crafted pot, pottery water glass, wooden hand mirror, and my own framed, seven-sided-mandala art. At the base of the tall cactus is a tiny bottle in which I place tiny fresh flowers from the garden – even “weeds” will be there sometimes. (These bright fuscia flowers are the desert salvia gregorii from my front door.) I also like how everything is reflected in the mirror.
I don’t need an art studio or any expensive materials! I can play with these common things I already own any moment that the urge hits. And this art can change any time I want to change it.
This sort of approach to art keeps me feeling that, despite all, life can be creative, beautiful, and thereby meaningful. It lifts my spirits many times a day and puts me in the mood to look for beauty everywhere.
Other ways I create beauty can be found at my sister site, JeanEisenhower.com, which contains a collection of a variety of my artistic inclinations, including sketches, fabric art (from recycled materials), natural plaster sculpture (from recycled materials and dirt), garden design, and more! Check it out!
Re: Friday Foundation [of this Mind Control Stuff]
In a recent poll to help me set my focus of developing this less-fun, but important, series, readers gave the most votes to “Mind Control in History,” which will be the next post I publish shortly.
Stay tuned! It’s provocative!
“Too many inspirations” has long been my excuse, as well as my pride, but a couple of months ago, I said, “I quit!” and I really, truly did quit quite a few things:
~ I quit my home and yard design business.
~ I quit singing.
~ I hardly planted anything in the garden.
~ And more I’ll spare you.
What I decided to do was two things: 1) Pay primary attention to healing – figuring out how to monitor my wandering, easily-distractable mind, meditate, pay attention to the communications of my alters and their healing status, stay focused on my “big questions,” track my progress, etc. – and 2) write about it. That’s all I would do, besides the necessary mundane work.
I was due to get my first Social Security check, and Greg was willing to take up the slack while I practiced this discipline for some unknown length of time – Thank you, Greg!
So I’ve been monitoring, listening, focusing and tracking since early August – applying effective business skills to my head – and writing about it in my various blogs. (Details here.)
And exciting things are happening! I’m noticing phenomenal changes in my ability to track my own ideas more coherently, also feeling more calm, alert, and present – a powerful experience for me.
And just what I’d hoped for.
But there was a surprise too: Singing, which I’d always felt was the least of my talents is the one thing that has come back to me.
After six weeks of leaving the house when Greg and other musicians would get together, he drew me back for a single song, and then “just a few,” and then one night he led the band in a whole series of my favorite songs, and I just couldn’t leave. And here’s the surprise: I liked my voice. It had changed.
That, plus the fact that so many people challenged my decision and told me they wanted to keep hearing our harmonies gave me permission to accept singing back into my life.
As they say, “If you let it go and if it returns, it’s yours.”
So: I accept. Gratefully. And I enjoy it so much more now that I’ve discovered my voice is new.
A few days ago (Oct 3), Greg and I were singing and I spontaneously suggested we go into the office and record one of our co-written originals, “Lying Here with You,” with the minimalist PhotoBooth software on the Mac. Not fancy recording equipment by a long shot – but, wouldn’t you know, it was heart-felt, and got heart-warming responses on Greg’s website and Facebook page.
So I invite you to take a listen. It’s sensuous and sweet.
Maybe we should all just quit things now and then. And see what comes back.
One more thing I was hoping for, but not too hopefully: teaching Greg to do more of his marketing! But that came back to me too! I spent all day Sunday – 15 hours! – happily updating it – and it wasn’t work – it was artwork, and very satisfying. (Greg kept me fed, and responded to my every need while I worked.) Here’s the new design.
I pray all our activities are exactly what we should be doing, and if we have any doubts that we have the Courage to Quit – at least for a while, to see what returns.
Many happy returns!
A month or so ago, we were helping a friend “consciously” die. It was a wonderful experience that released him from his pain and immobility (which he said was “no way to live,” regularly asking for a shotgun when we inquired what he might need), and brought together a community of friends to support his decision to quit eating and drinking.
We had nurses and chaplains and shamans in our group, as well as plain-old caring people – to talk and read and sometimes watch TV with him – and singers – us! After he had passed, we all realized what a blessing we had not only provided but had received.
(Some of us plan to write a guidebook soon.)
A few days before his passing, we were working at home when we found a strange-looking insect emerging from a hard shell. I thought it looked rather monstrous.
Within minutes, the monster had turned into a fairy-like thing with ruffled wings!
And within the hour, the wings were dry and extended, ready to fly.
And it did fly into the elderberry tree above the pond where it had – we understand now – climbed out.
I knew the dragonfly as a totem guardian of the portals to other realms, so I’d thought this was a good harbinger of our friend’s passing soon. It would be two more days before he passed – but it’s common for dying people to commune for days with loved ones on the other side before they complete their passing, and we thought the dragonfly represented the opening of those portals for those important communications.
When we sent the photos to the man’s wife, she was doubly moved, because the dragonfly had aways been their totem.
Now, over a month later, the wife, my friend, yesterday shared a video with me that tells us a little more about the dragonfly’s birth. http://www.genekeys.com/free-webinars/vaporising-the-victim/
Around minute 17 or 18, the teacher describes (in just two minutes) the dragonfly nymph living for years in a pond (we have one beneath the location where we took these photographs) until one day, it does what it has never done in its life: it climbs up a stalk of grass and begins to dry out. The shell dries first, and then the pressure of the watery self inside bursts the shell open! (And doesn’t the dragonfly look vulnerable in the first photo, hanging up-side-down? With little sign of the wings about to be.)
We were very moved by the idea of a life form suddenly following an impulse to do what it had never done before, climb into the light and allow itself to dry and even burst! Wouldn’t most of us want to fall back into the familiar water?
The teacher uses the term “vaporize” for what we need to allow to be done to certain aspects of ourselves. In this case, the dragonfly’s excess moisture did need to literally vaporize in order for it to fulfill its destiny. I love it.
Wishing us all faith in a process we may not yet understand. It might look ugly. But let’s not despair. I do believe there’s new life ahead.
“I’ve been like a balloon in a storm for twenty-one years, and finally I’ve set down!”
– How it works: Journal pages and Daily Check Sheets
– Additional pages: Alter descriptions, DAAA, to-do’s, scribbles, art pages, meditation help.
– Finishing a “Chapter”
I really love my Journal/Notebook – the one I wrote about here, and will write more about now….
This notebook/journal has been amazingly empowering! It helps me compensate for my fractured mind, and helps me track thoughts that I otherwise lose track of, so I can actually develop ideas and follow through on them. It is such a relief!
To review: I use a timer every 30 minutes (Yes, I know it seems crazy, but it works for me and sometimes I absolutely love it) every day to make me stop, remember what I’ve done for the last 30 minutes, write it down so I can remember later (otherwise, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t), breathe deeply, remember not to move too fast, say any necessary prayers, acknowledge things I have to be grateful for, and make sure I’m on track for what I want to do.
The Journal Pages I write on require me to write the date (many times a day), day of the week, phase of the moon, time, page number, and a code just before the writing lines to indicate journaling, activities, dreams, meditation/prayers, summaries (more about this later), and planning (J, A, D, M, S, or P) – so I can find things later more easily.
I drew these pages by hand (I like the look and feel, and it reminds me it’s my idea) and every so often I make thirty copies, hole-punch them, and put them in my notebook. Today, after almost 2 months, I’m on page 173. A moveable paperclip marks the current page and is easy to read through.
Daily Check List
As soon as I began using this Notebook/Journal, I realized I needed a Daily Check List to help me do a number of things that I have intended for years to do more consistently, but just haven’t been able to, as all my alters aren’t equally on board, I guess. My checklist I did design on the computer, maybe because it was the sort of task enjoyed by my business woman alter – and I suspected I’d be updating it, and it was long. On the top of each page, I fill in the date, day of the week, phase of the moon, and maybe a note at top to identify any specialness that day, such as a big community event or waking to a big rain.
The first line of the Daily Check List is for noting the hours I slept and how I feel. The second line is to note whether I remembered any dreams (which would be detailed in my journal pages) and first thoughts of the day. If I forget to remember my dreams, I have to acknowledge that, which helps me be more conscious the next morning. And if I’m wondering how I’ve done on that count for the past while, I can see it at a glance by flipping through these pages.
Third, I note the time I meditated, prayed, or sat listening that day, and add a page number for reading details.
Fourth, I note the time I first set the timer for the day. Sometimes I don’t set it at all, but usually I’m happiest when I set it for the whole day, and let it bring me back to record the route of my wandering consciousness, and remember that I’m taking control of my own mind – which makes me feel proud a couple dozen times a day!
Fifth, I note whether I took my supplements that day. Sixth, I note what vegetables and fruit I ate, and any junk.
Seventh, I note what exercise I got that day. Eighth, I note whether I was out in the sun, which is always good for me, especially for Vitamin D.
Finally, ninth and tenth, I write down my accomplishments of the day and next goals.
Some days, there are blanks, but I don’t kick myself for it. More and more, I’m feeling very pleased by myself.
Not only have I pinpointed problems, tested and brainstormed my own solutions, and documented progress on practical goals, but I’ve made progress on important philosophical questions that help me put a framework on my situation that helps me understand and break down some psychological hurdles that have kept me in some trenches for decades.
I can’t say I’m out of the trenches, but one evening, with the help of my journal and all the record-keeping that has flowed out of it (yes, there’s a bit more to share), I was able to state some important truths for the very first time and after Greg and I had discussed them, I cried, “I’ve been like a balloon in a storm for twenty-one years, and finally I’ve set down!”
While the current page of the Daily Check Sheets is the first page when opening the notebook (where it’s easiest to read and write on all day long), and the Journal Pages are next, after those sections are a few others: “Alters,” for recording information on various alters (which I’ve previously forgotten or ignored! – now each having their own pages or a few, hopefully to keep growing as I understand better and integrate or heal them more completely), a To-Do list (to be integrated into my calendar or written about at the computer as Spirit moves), art pages, Meditation Help/ideas, and a chart I designed and call “DAAA,” for recording Dreams/sleep, Anomalies, Activities/accomplishments, Alters/helpers, and other important notes for each day.
I created the DAAA template (which I copy every week or so) with columns (hand-drawn) across two pages. Horizontal rows are drawn in after recording each day, so I can conserve paper when little happened, and I can use all the space I need when a lot happens. I usually can get a week or ten days summarized on a two-page spread.
This lets me look more easily for any patterns between sleep/dreams, moon phases, energy levels, anomalies, my activities, alters who’ve emerged, etc. In the past, there has often seemed little correlation, except that anomalies have often been accompanied by exhaustion – but not always; sometimes it seems the controllers give me the equivalent of a “vitamin shot,” and after a weird night, I race around with energy to spare. This chart serves my curiosity about this, and will hopefully help me understand what all goes on.
I’ll probably redesign my pages in order to track things in a different manner now and then. And anyone who likes this idea should think about how their mind works (or doesn’t) and what sort of compensation they need, and design accordingly.
Finishing a Chapter
When I was on journal page number 109, my notebook was beginning to be difficult to open and close the rings, and coincidentally I realized I was feeling at a point of completion in one area of my life – time to close a chapter! I pulled all the pages out that had been written on (except for alter pages which probably will stay for a long time in my main notebook, until there’s some completion with them), and I put the “first chapter” of this healing phase in a notebook on the shelf. In the mostly empty original notebook, I still had the templates, Alter pages, Meditation Help, and unused Journal Pages and Daily Check Lists. I numbered the next Journal Page “110,” and kept right on going, with a sense of something important completed and very well documented – and a new chapter being written, by me, directed by me, my mind and life – documentably – under my control.
[This photo-essay was first posted on my (MK) Garden Healing Church site: http://gardenhealingchurch.org/2014/08/14/dragonfly-birth-day/.]
My partner and I are supporting a friend in the process of dying.
I’ve been feeling myself drawn toward this sort of work for a decade, and now the time has arrived.
I’m amazed at how calm I feel and comfortable with the process. (Ten years ago, I was invited to attend the dying of another friend, and I had to decline.)
My partner and I spent a couple of hours each day the last few days and watched our friend decline to sunken cheeks, faint gestures, and occasional phrases turned to whispers of single words or phrases not understood.
We scheduled our volunteer time for late afternoon, and have spent our last few mornings cleaning out our shop which had become a nonfunctional store room. (Perhaps his dying made us want to put our things in order, bring new life into our lives, get energy unstuck, and keep things functioning optimally at home.)
This morning shortly after we’d gotten back to work, Greg noticed something strange hanging on the wall of the house right next to where we were working and called me to come with the camera.
Almost the first thing that came to my mind was Alien, as in the thing that sprung from Sigourney Weaver’s chest.
– though first I’d thought it was one insect eating another. It took a few moments to realize, it was not death, but birth. One being was not being consumed by another; one was emerging from its own former shell.
Death and rebirth. We thought of our friend, and how frightening death is to so many people – as frightening as this monster-looking creature. But that was just a bad first impression. This monster would become absolutely beautiful.
Greg noticed what he called “umbilical cords,” white threads that connected the new dragonfly to its shell – even after she removed her tail, righted herself, and let her wings emerge. Now she looks like a faerie in pink and lime green lace and ruffles! (Please click and zoom to see amazing detail!)
Eighteen minutes later, her ruffles are smoothed out, and her cords are disconnected.
I came in close for this “smile”:
Here she’s looking mostly like the dragonfly we know:
And then she spreads her wings, an hour and a half after her birth:
I’ve always loved dragonflies, and once called on Dragonfly for a healing ceremony. They are said to be guardians of the portals to the dream world, allowing in healing, or allowing the soul to pass to the next world.
Since we’d talked with our friend about death as a passing into the next world, a rebirth, we couldn’t help but think of this dragonfly birth as a herald of our friend’s passing.
In a moment, the old shell was left behind…
and she began her life, anew, in the garden.
Can you see her?
This afternoon, our friend was far less responsive. Faint smiles, apparent sleep, fewer gestures.
When we told his wife about the dragonfly, she said it had always been an important totem for them.
Our world is so powerfully magical! (If we invite it in.) It answers, “Yes!” in case we forget, that we have friends in spirit all around us. (Yes, there is powerful grief in our world also, but the Magic is here still, just waiting for us to recognize it.)
The portal is opened. Happy travels, Friend.
“I’ve been waiting for something to happen
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear.”
— Jackson Browne, Lives in the Balance
(Greg and I have been singing this song almost endlessly for weeks.)
Last Full Moon, something got me out of bed, and I wrote for hours, suddenly understanding some new work I’m supposed to do, which brings together in harmony all the varied activities and impulses of my life, but in a totally surprising way – to me.
We’re at a moment in history when people need to wake up to our multi-dimensional reality and political reality, and speak their truth.
The urgency of this moment requires our bodies, minds, and souls; and it’s our bodies, minds, and souls that are on the line.
This involvement of our souls is what convinces me we need to speak with the authority and legal status given in our culture (often mistakenly) to churches. While spirituality certainly does not require a church (and churches can even be detrimental to one’s spirituality), churches do receive important legal recognition by our governments. And since we who have been abused need all the legal status we can get to defend ourselves and continue our healing, I have begun a church.
Admittedly, this part was daunting to me the first time it crossed my mind. For healing work legal purposes, I was ordained in 2006, but then mostly forgot about it. Besides, I thought, I have no ability to counsel anyone, as I’m still fighting these things called demons.
Then a few months ago, I was inspired by Martin Luther King, Jr. to put my spiritual beliefs into political action as he did for his civil rights work. I knew he too was imperfect, but he accepted his calling and did incredibly important work.
Then Greg read to me the introduction of Black Elk Speaks, about how he’d had visions (like me) for all his life too – and was tormented by demons until he finally accepted his calling!
His description of his struggle stunned me, as he could have been describing my last decade-plus. With astonishment, I told Greg – and at the same time God – that I would accept this calling and act as soon as I understood it.
A few weeks went by, and the concept remained certain, but I saw no details, no practical first steps, so I didn’t think about it, other than that it was compelling, but more “out there” than I like to be. And part of me wondered if my Spirit Help would actually convince me to do anything.
Suddenly, in the middle of the night of this last Full Moon, I drafted almost everything I needed to define this church and ministry here on this new church website.
I never wanted to take on this role of minister – except in a very private way – but now that I’ve written all this, it feels very comfortable and right. (And it feels great to have written my own spiritual history – and not hold it secret any longer.)
I have a short list of upcoming sermons I’m looking forward to writing.
So please check out this website, MK Garden Healing, and if the Spirit moves you, become a member and subscribe.
“I’ve been waiting for something to happen
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear.”
— Jackson Browne, Lives in the Balance
(Greg and I have been singing that endlessly the last few days.)
Last week I wrote a blog on ParadigmSalon.net, titled “New Starting Point.” I’d finally realized I’d written for too long the way I’d been taught as a radio journalist: simple, 6th grade level for the average American – and finally realized that it wasn’t working, at least for “this stuff.” I couldn’t get in “the people’s” shoes and still take my leaps.
I decided to quit writing from anyone’s vantage but my own. I’d write only from my own, real, only partly-journalist self – the one who’s been drifting between dimensions all of my life, trying to act normal, and finding it quite a struggle.
In my 30s, as a single mom, I used to win awards and recognitions regularly, but I’ve not been very productive for the last two decades (though I’ve been trying to be useful and I think I’ve been). I haven’t been too bothered; I’ve known something’s brewing, and soon everything’s going to change. (I think we’ve begun.)
Since January I’ve been having two weeks at a stretch every month when I can hardly function, and Greg has to do most of the work and bring in the income. I’ve been apologizing, but we’ve both felt that something good was coming out of all the extra sleep.
And suddenly last Full Moon, something got me out of bed, and I wrote for hours, suddenly understanding quite clearly the work I’m supposed to do, which brings together everything in perfect harmony that I have ever done in my life, but in a totally surprising way – to me.
I need to articulate what I see in the world, and what I see is a moment of history in which people wake up and speak their truth.
The urgency of this moment requires our bodies, minds, and souls; and it’s our bodies, minds, and souls that will experience the benefit.
The involvement of our souls is what makes it right that this conversation be in a church.
Now, that’s the part that daunted me, that has held me back for over a decade when this sort of idea first seemed like “crazy stuff” that would’t go away. The idea had a sort of reality to it, so I was ordained, but then mostly forgot about it. Besides, I thought, I have nothing to tell anyone, as I’m still fighting these things called demons.
Then a few months ago, Greg read to me the introduction of Black Elk Speaks, about how he had had visions like me for all his life too and was tormented by demons until he finally accepted his calling.
His description of the struggle stunned me, as he could have been describing my last decade-plus. With astonishment, I told Greg, and God, that I would accept this calling and act when I understood it.
A few weeks went by, and the concept felt certain, but I saw no details, no practical first steps, so I didn’t think about it, other than that it was interesting, more “out there” than I like to be, and I wondered if my Spirit Help would actually convince me to do anything.
Suddenly, as I said, on the night of this last Full Moon, I got up and, not having had any ideas before, suddenly “saw it” and drafted almost everything I needed to define this church and ministry here on this website. And I’ve been polishing and expanding it for four days straight, and I’m totally energized by speaking this much truth!
So that’s how it’s come about, Friends. I never wanted to take on this role, but now that I’ve written all this (including my own spiritual history – nice to not hold it secret any longer), it feels very comfortable and right.
I have a short list of upcoming sermons I’m looking forward to writing.
So please check out this website, MK Garden Healing, and if the Spirit moves you, become a member and subscribe.
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear.”
— Jackson Browne, Lives in the Balance
(Greg and I have been singing that endlessly the last few days.)
Last week I wrote a blog on ParadigmSalon.net, titled “New Starting Point.” I’d finally realized I’d written for too long the way I’d been taught as a radio journalist: simple, 6th grade level for the average American – and finally realized that it wasn’t working, at least for “this stuff.” I couldn’t get in “the people’s” shoes and still take my leaps.
I decided to quit writing from anyone’s vantage but my own. I’d write only from my own, real, only partly-journalist self – the one who’s been drifting between dimensions all of my life, trying to…
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I’d been experiencing bizarre, confusing, and sublime events for years, some seeming like alien and UFO contact, some that felt shamanic and promising, and others that seemed to involve government agents who could immobilize me and leave marks on my body that terrified me with my helplessness.
I’d been drawn in different directions: to bravely face the Mystery, strengthen my spirit, and open myself to teachings from the Unknown, and alternately cower in fear and even consider killing myself rather than let some unknown agents use me against my will.
Ultimately, I’d become afraid I was “a sitting duck” out there in the country alone, so I left the home I’d lovingly crafted over all those years out of straw, mud, and stone in natural shapes, and returned to society in rectangles of space and time, seeking new experiences to help me understand.
One of the first things I did was look for a UFO/alien conference that might frame my questions in terms of spiritual awakening. I was thrilled to find this very conference was taking place within weeks of being paid for selling my home – and the conference was in Hawaii, with extra events available for those who wanted to swim with dolphins and discuss experiences – for ten days! – with others who believed in the spiritual potential of understanding the UFO/alien connection.
There is no unanimous theory among this subset of people experiencing what has been called “alien.” Some seem to me to be terribly naive, others I distrust as manipulators, and liars, masquerading as exactly opposite of who they profess to be.
Of course, I’ve also considered that I could be paranoid. And, alternately, that I could be naively hopeful myself, and my safety might lie in taking my fears more seriously. So many conflicting theories; so many possible contexts in which to reevaluate my scores of experiences over my lifetime; so difficult, at times, to know what to believe about my own mind.
But I’ve tried: I meditated. I was hypnotized. I prayed. I did ritual. I talked with others. I attended shamanic conferences and events. I refused to read books on the subject in order to keep my perceptions pure and untainted. Then one day I decided to read books to compare my experiences with others’. And I ignored the stuff, testing the theory that it was all in my head, and I could make it go away if I gave it less energy. I tried to live a normal life.
But animals and even plants kept communicating. I saw things. I participated in healings. I tested theories, and other people played out the results.
I kept records of my memories and anomalous events. I studied and collated those events; then I went for years without looking at them, to frame them against the “normal world.” I exercised my rational mind to assure myself that I had looked at these experiences from every vantage point possible. And I worked to plant myself humbly within the mundane world for “grounding” and waited patiently for the big picture to come into view.
Ultimately, I accepted that I’d been invited by multi-dimensional beings to expand my consciousness and see more than the limited dimensions of this mundane world.
Eventually I traveled distances to talk to others who’d experienced events similar to mine.
I became a certified Transpersonal Hypnotherapist™.
I prayed for a teacher to lead me, and none came. Or maybe many came.
For awhile I partnered with a Native American man who’d been invited by his grandfather, a Tewa medicine man, to learn the practices of a shaman. He had accepted the training, then chose the option to not go forward and left the training. It was a comfort to have affirmed the truism that the shaman’s is not an easy path, is indeed hazardous, and must be undertaken with clear sight, and is not for everyone.
It’s okay to say, This is not for me – so it’s said, but it seems that the spirits sometimes insist.
I wondered why I had found myself invited in the first place.
Was I like the man in the medieval woodcut peeking under the veil to see the many layers of reality? Or was I failing my destiny for having not taken up the challenge with my total heart and soul?
Or was it more mundane than that? Had I simply been taken as a child by government mind-controllers (evil demons or their human minions?) whose programming had exposed me to multi-dimensional reality, of which I was not developed spiritually enough to comprehend, so it was right for me to pull back from experiences I couldn’t yet negotiate safely?
I spent years in the mental tug of war, pulled between spiritual desire and utter terror of those who seemed able to enter my home at any time and leave me sick with mysterious wounds – or I found a tenuous balance between those ideas, which I tried to maintain, but never for long.
I certainly couldn’t focus too seriously on making a living, developing a new career, impressing clients that I really cared about their events I was hired to plan. There were days when I laid in bed and wondered what options did I have to protect myself beside suicide.
I knew others who hosted weekly or monthly groups for “experiencers,” and I tried the same, showing movies and hosting discussions that I hoped would help me find others with whom I could share more honestly the full range of my experiences, but too often my groups attracted people whom I didn’t fully trust. I spent thousands of dollars I couldn’t afford and gave myself the reputation in this new community as – I can only guess – another weird person with weird ideas.
I continued to experience strange intrusions in my life. More than once I woke up to discover perfect (surgically-created?) half-spherical “scoops” removed from my right finger, left scapula, and when I posted about that, a line of scoops across my anus. Another time, I suffered for more than a day with extreme fear and nausea after waking on a urine-soaked mattress with a Taser-burn on my right forearm. Once I drove into a strange fog on a remote section of highway, experienced a flood of strange sensations as my perceptions of time, space, sound, and visuals failed to correspond with each other, ending with the sight of the Continental Divide sign (at the top of the mountain ridge, of course) approaching me from below. And that is just one of three weird highway events.
Today, I do not have a conceptual framework I’m willing to share, except vaguely. I believe the larger framework, the larger Realty, is simply beyond what we humans have language for, or at least beyond what English-speaking Americans have language for. Like all wise ones have said. We see through a glass darkly. The Tao that can be spoken is not the Tao. Reality is far bigger and more complex than our words.
Since childhood, many of us have been told that spiritual realities are not real, and most of us have been forced into compulsory eduction, in which we’re forced to spend our days focused on the material world, and forced to see it the way our teachers tell us it is. Eventually, we forget how to perceive other realities, all the other dimensions and wavelengths of energy beyond the narrow bands of human-perceived light and human-perceived sound. And there’s so much more. And then we interpret those narrow bands of vibrational information according to the rules that the teachers relay to us, and only decades later we learn that those rules are in no way certain, but our minds have been trained to work within their limits.
I admit: so much of this game feels “evil” in every sense of the word: So much of it is contrary to Life. The rules of economics, for one example, murder countless people, decimate nations, and destroy the health of the very planet we depend on for all life.
Still, it seems wrong to call all this death “evil,” and it’s my garden that gives me pause in using that word. Underneath the most lovely rose – and everything else alive in the garden – is a mix of life and death at its darkest complexity.
I’m no longer sure the terms “Evil” and “Good” hold significant meaning. While Christians and other faiths find great importance in these concepts, I have begun to doubt them.
In my garden, for example, death is an essential component of life. At the roots of the rose are an infinite number of dead things. All the plants grow because they are fed with dead, dying, and rotting things. The volvox, reputedly the first sexually-reproducing life form on Earth, requires – and probably introduced the requirement for – death eventually of all sexually-reproducing life.
Children commonly misinterpret the well-intentioned actions of their parents as “mean” and only decades later understand the need for those actions.
Children and adults seem to need to hurt themselves in order to learn about the consequences of our actions. Simple things like learning to be conscious and pick up our feet are only learned by tripping and falling down.
Shamans and healers commonly recount terrifying ordeals in alternate realities that they must experience in order to learn their skills.
Many adults credit very tough life experiences for their maturity and even their greatest qualities.
Social movements gain momentum by sacrifices, sometimes human ones.
Et cetera. So I conclude that just because I have physical scars and mental ones does not mean that I have been treated cruelly by evil beings. It may simply be Life. Or even my Creator. I don’t know.
But I do know this: I have become less afraid and less resentful. And less certain that our Creator or “God” or “the gods” are necessarily “kind” or “evil” according to our way of judging.
I perceive a lot of truth in all the religions of the world, and most philosophies. I also perceive a lot of lies and manipulation in religion and politics, education/academia, media/entertainment/news, society, etc. But I feel less judgement toward it, less concerned with condemning it, more ready to compare our society to that of ants: just getting their job done, maybe enslaving smaller ants if they themselves are large.
Even my sweet cat, Peaches, is a killer and tormentor of helpless lizards, birds, and mice.
Finally, the condemnation directed so commonly toward aliens, or human mind controllers, or alien mind-controllers, for the ways they treat their human subjects is no different from the ways we humans treat the other living beings around us. I can imagine my indignation if I was treated the way I treat my cat – which I think is excellent: fed high-end “pet” food, with little variety (a lot for a cat, I think, but far less than I give myself), perhaps missing vital nutrients (how can I know for sure?), confinement, and more. And the way other humans treat animals in their homes, labs, and ranches – the aliens probably compare quite well to many human scientists. And so I feel silly getting too upset about the things that I have experienced.
(And I wonder if we humans might be treated better if we treated our animals better? As above, so below? As below, so above?)
I conclude that I have really suffered little. I’ve been afraid mostly, and most of my fear was around strange perceptions and the loneliness of having so little social support. And memories of events that might still terrorize me but are long past.
Ultimately, those discomforts have done something good for me. Simply, I now know (by experience, not by theory) that we live in a multi-dimensional universe, and I am a multi-dimensional being with an existence far beyond this one. I know that I have assistance on other realms. And more, but this is enough to share now.
In short: Don’t get stuck in fear. Don’t get stuck in black and white. Be true to yourself. Look inside. And look beyond this world. Don’t get stuck in the limiting mindset of this culture. Dream. Connect to your soul family. Be your best self. Have faith.
We are only half-creating our “own” evolution; someone else is tending us as their garden. Sometimes the gardener really rips things up. But we’re more than plants to these gardeners; we’re also their children, carrying some of their DNA. (Just like Jesus said, calling us his children. He also called himself our shepherd and us his sheep, like it or not – another religious metaphor that fits the theory perfectly.)
In my life, I’ve had a few experiences of Jesus, more real than anything I know today. And now I know he’s my tribal leader in the cosmos, my chief, my spiritual help and guide, my teacher. His teachings include the wisdom that heaven should be sought within.
His American name though! I war with it all the time. Jesus is the Americanized version of the Greek translation of Yeshua. The translation would be okay, but it is also made a mockery of by TV evangelists, it’s used as curse, and, more to the heart of things, I was abused under that name.
I’ve tried a few times to go to church, but pews, even the semblance of pews with folding chairs, make me sick. And the name rings in my head with bad memories.
But the man who warned us away from sexism, violence, materialism, racism, and doctrine – he’s my Chief, brother, comrade, friend, compatriot, and fellow-warrior.
Every religion has a true foundation that has been skewed throughout history. His story.
And every religion offers clues to our planet’s past visits by extra-dimensional and/or extra-planetary people. And they’re also right that we are in a spiritual battle.
We may be someone’s stock. And, we are half-creators. It’s a dynamic struggle – just like Earth politics. Just like all of life.
Earth politics flows directly from cosmic politics – what Alfred Webre coined exo-politics (nominated Word of the Year, 2005).
Since creation by our ancestors, we’ve been managed. Some of whom make war amongst us, inventing political stories to explain their actions.
In the Annunaki version, one side of our creator ancestors would like to wipe us off the planet, and sometimes I don’t blame them.
Meantime, the other Annunaki brother has petitioned for us, sometimes convincing his brother to be lenient, other times helping the humans in ways that makes the first brother angry. Many religions tell similar stories.
And we’re in the middle, responding to survive, or to get the most pleasure if that’s our ” fortune” – being part of the Military-Industrial-Information complex, for instance, oppressing the remainder of humanity through economic manipulations and war.
Opposition, though, might actually have utility – to us, as well as to them.
Opposition forces us to become something different from what we want to be. Opposition forces change, and change is fundamental to our lives.
Sometimes, the opposition is horrendous and senseless, for which I have no explanation. Whatever the purpose, opposition cannot be ignored. Awakening to know one’s environment, including the predators, is a simple survival trait. We should be glad to be made aware.
But our culture tells us there’s no one “above us on the food chain.” So we don’t perceive our gardener-ancestors, putting us to work, taking what they need, experimenting, shepherding, killing, teaching (two sides of the family, remember).
These different stories we hear, of evil and good, seeming contradictions and arbitrariness, can all be explained by realizing that what’s out there – and hidden right here – in the multi-dimensions – the world of the alien gods – is not homogenous; it’s a teeming universe. And some of it is opposed to us.
And we also have help.
So don’t be cavalier. And don’t be afraid.
Today we accepted an invitation to see a movie next week at a friend’s house, to watch and discuss a video titled, Healing Mother Earth’s Sacred Sites. The video, I was told, is about the community around Big Bear Lake in California that worked with a local Shoshone medicine man to bring different sorts of healing to the area, including bringing back the water level in the lake after it had dropped sixteen feet.
The controlling (and sometimes evil) Powers of this world are limited, in ways it is up to us to discover.
And while planetary changes or a meteor might bring them down, we also have great power that it’s time we remember how to use.
We are multi-dimensional beings struggling to come to consciousness; others are working to keep us asleep or pacified, and controlled. The eternal struggle.
Yesterday we watched a video that summed up why I’m so ready for change and what we’ve both felt for most of our adulthoods about the charade that is our politics and culture, though the video filled in the gaps in our history, proving our guts were correct. We watched Secrets in Plain Sight.
Satisfying, it could have also been, on a bad day, defeating, as it made it seem that nothing could thwart the power of the Elite but a meteor or some major plate tectonic action. It made geological salvation (God-sent?) seem the only real possibility.
Other days, I feel like people could make the change themselves. It will require, though, a major change in consciousness, so that people see their commonality, across religions, races, and social castes, that we are (almost) all enslaved and need to see it to deal with it.
Slavery is kept possible when factions fight among themselves instead of against the overlord. If we acted as Yeshua taught, everyone would be fed, bankers would not charge interest, and we wouldn’t spend half the world’s wealth every day on war.
It does indeed seem that one god brother is trying to kill us, and he’s using humans to do the dirty work against other humans, and we do it. Waving flags, we don’ see that our words fail to match our reality.
When things get dire enough, people wake up. And we are.
While my partner read the last chapter of Botany of Desire aloud, I felt calling from the bookshelf the 1998 Pulitzer Prize-winning book by John McPhee, Annals of a Former World – nominally about geology.
The book opens with this:
The poles of the Earth have wandered. The equator has apparently moved. The continents, perched on their plates, are thought to have been carried so very far and to be going in so many directions that it seems an act of almost pure hubris to assert that some landmark of our world is fixed at 73 degrees 57 minutes and 53 seconds west longitude and 40 degrees 51 minutes and 14 seconds north latitude – a temporary description, at any rate, as if for a boat on the sea. Nevertheless, these coordinates will, for what is generally described as the foreseeable future, bring you with absolute precision to the west apron of the George Washington Bridge. Nine a.m. A weekday morning. The traffic is some gross demonstration in particle physics. It burst from its confining source, aimed at Chicago, Cheyenne, Sacramento, through the high dark road cuts of the Palisades Sill. A young woman, on foot, is being pressed up against the rock wall by the wind booms of the big semis of Con Weimar Bulk Transportation, Fruehauf Long Ranger. Her face is Nordic, her eyes dark brown and Latin – the bequests of grandparents from the extremes of Europe. She wears mountain boots, blue jeans. She carries a single-jack sledgehammer…. She is a geologist.
Why do I like this opening so much? While it concludes with a simple human experience I never imagined before, it begins with a reminder that the Earth has been through many, many changes over the millennia, is moving and shifting constantly even now.
I’m looking forward to some seriously dramatic changes on this Earth again. And I think I’m willing to survive or perish in such a catastrophe – anything to end the wars, torture, child sex industries, financial manipulations, and enslavement.
Alien gods, gardeners, shepherds, ranchers, controllers of our genetics, teachers, war-makers, plague makers, prophets – different sides of our ancestry.
We are the same to others. We control a great deal of the living biota of this planet, plants and animals, even in our furthest reaches. Nothing can escape the DDT we’ve spread. Animals live horrendous lives for our food. Other animals die en masse by our wanton recklessness, like sonar experiments driving whales to beach and kill themselves.
Is the behavior of the ancestors so hard to understand? Either we mirror them, or they mirror us. I wonder which it is.
If time exists (some say it doesn’t, but I can’t see that), I believe the evil comes from them (but of course) first, and we’ve been enslaved into their cruel system. I don’t believe human beings are born as cruel as they have become.
And I believe we can remember our souls if we get in contact and stay in contact with the chosen of our ancestors.
…Listening and reading, I couldn’t help but think about another book we read months ago, Twelfth Planet, by Zecharia Sitchin, an unimpeachable Sumerian scholar, who lays out his research in translating tens of thousands of texts which tell a credible history of humanity as creations of the Annunaki, an inner-planetary race of people the Sumerians called gods, who mixed their DNA with terrestrial DNA to create us and then have continued to tinker with our genetics, as well as our civilization, exploiting us for various uses, employing some of us in an inner circle, a secret society.
Outrageous though it sounds, this story, uncovered in an archeological find of such volume that it could not be suppressed, solves many of our cultural “mysteries”: Who’s really running things? Why does our nation engage in so many meaningless wars, foisting on us such illogical lies? (Lone gunman, 911. No one believes, but the populace keeps them as Rulers.)
And there are many nagging mysteries solved by the Annunaki theory: Why does our economic system not “work”? [It’s goal is not what we’re told.] Why is everyone so tired that they can’t respond to the lies and injustices? Why are private prisons being built to house a greater percent of our population than any other nation on Earth? Why is the American political system so bad? And again: why aren’t we able to respond?
The biggest mystery is why we accept so many mysteries when this one story – told around the world since the beginning of time – could make our world and our perceptions suddenly coherent. Every religion is coherent with it.
Jehovah is a character combined from the two Sumerian brother gods rolled into one, controller Enlil and nurturer Enki. The Bible, Koran, Bagadvad Gita, and sacred texts all over the world tell stories of human history that fit the overall dynamics of the Annunaki story, though the words and images of each religions have evolved over time, turned into cartoons – so we forget it.
One of the most wonderful parts of my life these days has been reading aloud in the evenings with my partner. We often read more than one book at once, and sometimes the synergy is exciting.
We just finished reading The Botany of Desire by Michael Pollan – an exquisite depiction of humans throughout time selecting apples, tulips, cannabis, and potatoes – and in the latter case corporations selecting – the genetics pleasing to humans, letting the other genetics go to compost, and thereby directing the evolution of those plant genetics – half creator.
Half, because humans could only choose from among the limited library that the plant offered. Still: Half-Creator. Us.
I’m reminded that “we have great responsibility,” say our Hopi elders.
Monsanto, though, has gone beyond the plants’ offerings. Insects and pathogens get virulent. The earth is sterilized. People become dependent. Death on many levels, including the soul and psychology of humanity.
I used to call myself an Earth First!er. But now I’m not sure.
In November 1999, I drove from Colorado Springs, where I’d been a realtor for 3 years, to Tucson to pick up three old friends and drive with them to Arizona’s Cabeza Prieta Wilderness on the Mexican border.
We were meeting up with a dozen other environmental activists at the location where the original four guys, among them our friend and mentor Dave Foreman, had hatched up the idea of a radical environmental movement, enlarging the idea of the Monkeywrench Gang of the novel by Edward Abbey, also a sometime colleague and icon in our midst.
We were not the most radical Earth First!ers. We were looked down on by the activists of the Northwest. Once when a controversy arose, we were called Foremanistas, implying we were enslaved in a cult to Dave’s fame. He’d been interviewed on national news and published the Earth First! Journal, controlling its content, of course, and the Northwest Most Radicals didn’t always like his assessment of things they might have done. We were not cool. But we had great parties.
I remember those like halcyon days, an idyllic time of street theater, civil disobedience, camping, even wilderness consciousness raising weekends together. While others risked their lives, we had mailing parties, potlucks, and did a less intense version of radical.
I had dropped away from them almost a decade before, and a lot of weird stuff had gone down in the meantime. In 1989, Dave Foreman had been framed (agent admission on tape) and nearly sent to prison along with four others who did go, one of whom was a friend of mine, Peg Millett. In 1990, Judi Bari had been bombed and the FBI would be found guilty in court twelve years later on numerous crimes related to the assassination attempt.
My husband and I discovered during this time that we’d had two FBI agents in our house on a few occasions and that there were at least 38 pages in other people’s files that included our names in capital letters, meaning that there were files on us. I’d found myself unable to keep up my business, so I got a job doing a limited number of tasks for someone else who would outline the scope. I could handle that.
Then my son got cancer and our health insurance company declared bankruptcy the same week. My husband was not just unhelpful, but hostile, and as things had not been going well between us for years, I left him.
At a counselor’s office, I said a few words I’d had no idea were coming out of my mouth: that I thought I had been sexually abused as a child, which totally blew me away. But when I tried to remember my parents ever looking at me when they weren’t angry, I couldn’t remember any, except the time my father smiled, for which I still remember the powerful fascination of it, and gave me an injection. Something in my body was feeling very harmonious and relieved by this idea, while other parts were hysterical, numb, or sobbing.
At work I began to find myself unconscious with my head laid on my desk – every day for enough days in a row that I finally accepted that I couldn’t work.
I’d been a workaholic all my life, knew the phone number of every activist, progressive organization, and local progressive politician by memory, and had won awards and commendations at most things I put my mind to. But I was a mess.
I had weird memory problems. I screamed at the slightest surprise, then couldn’t use my arms for a half-minute or so because of all the adrenalin lodged in my elbow joints.
If I quit working, what would I do for money?
At a reception for the nominees (I was one) for the Martindale Prize, an annual fiction writing contest with some prestige in Arizona, I won second place and was offered assurance that I would be accepted into the Master’s Program if I wanted.
With the promise of scholarship money and encouragement to write (good therapy) I enrolled.
One humiliating year later, I built a house in the desert and intended to be a hermit for the rest of my life.
My God, the quiet was good for me. My life would revolve around that land for the next 12 years.
One more year later, commuting to Tucson four days each week, I had my Master’s Degree and no idea what to do for income out in the country. A couple weeks later, at my twenty-fifth high school reunion, I met my number one teenage crush, and we fell in love almost on the spot. I had mystical dreams, and one month later I was living with him in Colorado Springs.
Four years and some months later, we’d exhausted the good we had to give each other, and I was planning to return to my hermitage. I came back early, abandoning contracts to colleagues, to meet these long-lost friends near the Organ Pipe National Forest.
The first evening, a friend handed me binoculars and told me to look through them at the Pleiades. I’d never been a skywatcher and didn’t think it that interesting. I was a bird watcher, and that seemed enough time behind those instruments. More, though, I was in an interesting conversation and didn’t appreciate being interrupted.
My friend was oddly insistent, so I finally agreed to look, vowing to tell him the truth about what I saw. Little points of light now look like big points of light. Thank you.
As soon as my eyes adjusted and I saw the stars, I believe I caught my breath and was suspended in an ocean of powerful sensation. Awe. Recognition. Love. Home. Shock. A memory of watching them recede, thinking, “I wonder what it will be like to be gone a long time.” Ten times shock. Numbness. No. That’s the sort of thing that weird people say.
The binoculars slowly sank with my hands to the table. “I think I’m from there,” I said, then having recognized my voice speaking these words to no one but everyone, and that everyone responded with silence, I lifted one hand to my mouth and waited for the murmur to cover the sounds of the desert night and my words ringing in my head.
I told no one else about it for years, and no one ever mentioned it to me. Now, as I write, it’s been 14 years. And I finally want to put it in context.
I believe the Earth resides in a galaxy filled with a complex matrix of intelligent life, of which we are just barely becoming aware, though there are forces lined up keep us ignorant.
Galactic life has political and social complexity not unlike that on Earth. There are coalitions and federations and pirates and researchers and saviors and crazy people and beings far smarter than us and beings not as evolved as us and most of these we cannot see, or they keep themselves hidden for one reason or another, or someone keeps us from seeing. All that and more. Just like here on Earth.
I was going to say “But more dimensional,” but that would be untrue because Earth is also more dimensional than we know.
And we’re beginning to see. And waking up (it seems the dimensional density of Earth makes full awareness difficult) to the fact that we are all from somewhere else in some sense. Either geographically, ancestrally, genetically, or by past soul life. And we have tribe elsewhere, and some nearby, though they might be difficult to detect in another realm. But they’re there, watching, helping if they can.
And we’re here because Earth has been getting so sick – so poisoned, so violent – and we were supposed to inoculate the Earth with good ideas. I have always tried to do this in my small ways, but worry that they don’t add up to much, compared to the corporations and their enchanting technology, which obviously enchants me, as I sit here typing, hoping my words will actually go somewhere.
I used to think that the mind controllers recognized me and worked to destroy my potential or co-opt it, and might have done it. Now, I like to think I chose to be born into that world in order to experience the very Heart of Darkness here on Earth, so my tribe, fellow warriors, could understand it through me, so that they can respond appropriately to what’s going on here. Like I’m a nerve cell in the body, conveying information back to the brain. Which, maybe, is what every single one of us is, nerve cells of God reporting back, yep, this works, no, abort this idea.
And with all our feedback, the gods will know whether to destroy this place or just give it a good cleaning.
Meantime, concerned for my own soul, having been through the Dark and survived but barely, I’ve tried to free myself of any programming that might still be in me, and I believe I’ve been successful, though I can’t say for certain. I’m what literature calls an “unreliable narrator.” You must judge how much of what I say is true.
And now we’re at a countdown. Eleven days till a lot of people think that something Big is going to happen.
Aside from all the prophesies – which I respect for their age, synchronicity, and global character – there’s the simple fact that the planet is sick.
I’m a pantheist. I believe – and I have experienced – that everything is living. Trees. Rocks. Ocean. Mountains. Storms. Sunshine. And much is intelligent. Much is loving. Some things are teachers, and hard ones.
Thought forms are alive. And there are beings, intelligent and not, kind and not, in the invisible realms all around us. (We know when we have gut feelings about these things, but our minds deny, too well educated.)
And beings exist in what we call “space.” (What a neat piece of mind control, defining words the way we do.) Ancient people called it “the stars,” “the firmament,” “the heavens.” And it was not empty. People came from there, and people have always come from there, since long before they created humans here.
The Sumerian gods, Enlil and Enki, as well as Jehovah, and all the other gods have had their frustrations with humankind, and some have threatened more than once to wipe humans out, and tried, but we get saved by other beings, sympathetic to our evolutionary status, which seems to remain that we are promising creatures with some traits that should be fixable.
I believe we’re at a point in history similar to the days before the Flood. Maybe we’re at the point that the-teacher-our culture-calls-Jesus prophesied when he talked about “the harvest.”
(For the record, I think the crucifixion story is fear-indoctrination with the message: “This is what we do to do people who question authority too loudly.” And it worked. Christians are all about obedience to authority, rather than the radical message this God-sent teacher brought us.)
The teacher said: Treat others well, even people of other races (like the Good Samaritan) and people you think aren’t as good as you (like the Woman at the Well). Be generous and not materialistic. Don’t be violent. Be simple and straightforward with your prayers, in private. Women, don’t put housework over devotion and learning, and if you do, don’t get angry at other women who don’t (story of Martha and Mary).
The teacher supposedly said he’d come back. And I believe he is. What had always sounded like sappy fantasy before is suddenly feeling like reality. And I’m not excited about this just because I like what he taught; the first time I heard the string of Scriptures I just cited above, I had a shocking sensation of recognition as if those ideals were written in my soul so deeply that they were already mine, like I’d been part of the history of those coming to be creed. Amazement as the sensation of recognition burned the memory of that moment in all my cells. That’s why I believe he’s a real being. I believe I know him very well.
And I’m tired of this Earth, and as much as I hate the violence being done against her, I think I understand that violence happens and I’ll never stop it, just as Jesus said, “The poor will always be with us.” And so trying to stop it is righteous, but sometimes even the righteous fighter must yield and recognize a bigger picture. My bigger picture is that I am not from here; I’ve lived here and loved it, and tried to do my little part to protect her, but ultimately my world is bigger.
I’m tired of the materialism, tired of capitalism, tired of money. I’ve read that some alien beings feel sorry for us trapped in this culture in which accounting for our hours buys us our food, and some people live in misery for all they lack. I believe those aliens come from a place like mine, and I’d like to return – when it’s time.
Being here now is quite satisfying, actually now more than ever. So much that I almost feel torn between the desire to leave or to stay, which may be my choice, and as much as I’ve waited for this day, I now find myself seduced to stay if I have the choice! Wouldn’t you know….
So if the Big Thing happens in eleven days, I say Great!
But I’m not really counting on it. I’m not sure my mind didn’t create this idea our of desire. As Ed Abbey said, “There’s not much going for the theory of reincarnation but desire.”
I totally disagree with Ed on this, as I remember a lot of past lives, including that little flash of a life pre-Earth. And I trust those memories that come all at once, with whole-body recognition and emotions that sometimes drop me to my knees or the floor and sometimes make me cry for twenty minutes before I can compose myself. They feel like me, and I trust them.
Yeah, I think I’m from somewhere else, and I’m here now for a purpose: to tell my story of sensing other dimensions and beings, of being appalled at human behavior since I was a child; and to inspire a happy, creative approach to life with as few of the trappings as I can. (Others will do better than me and will inspire different people.)
I hope I get to wake up in twelve days in a better place. Maybe it’ll be a New Way of living on this Earth which we will create through our prayers, meditations, and actions. And we’ll hardly notice the day things changed.
Or maybe like David Wilcock says, an band of energy in the galaxy will intersect us and cause a DNA mutation that will trigger our change, whether we work at it or not, and suddenly we’ll be perceiving in extra dimensions.
Or maybe those of us with positive visions will split off into a dimension separate from the people who are creating these wars and economic turmoil and manipulation. LIke the Hopi tell their children, “One day we’ll wake up and the bad people will be gone.” That has always resonated with me. Or from the Christian perspective, all the good people will rise up and away.
Maybe spaceships will rescue some – I don’t know. It almost doesn’t matter.
I feel extremely grateful. I believe I’ll be supported by my cosmic tribe through whatever comes.
And to that end, I’m envisioning what I want to remain with me in a dimensional shift: cooperation, kindness, nurturing, creativity…
If there was ever a time for deciding what it is we want, this is it.
We don’t know what is coming, but we do know that thought and intention are powerful. And I believe they are alive. And we can feed them. With prayer, imagination, and being.
See you on the other side.
America is “First” in
1) percentage of population which believes, but won’t publicly enter into discussion on, numerous things that affect them in political, social, economic, psychological, health, and other ways, but instead chose to be silent and let themselves and others suffer, and
2) people who think it’s absolutely true that we are the “freest” and thereby most fortunate people on the planet.
I hate to quote the Bible, because I believe it is a compendium of politically-sanctioned trivia with mostly political intent for the spiritual “truths” included; nevertheless, there are gems in it. And I love it when my years as an idealistic young “radical Christian” recall a scripture that makes my body resonate with wonderful recognition.
This is one of those scriptures, very simple: ”The first shall be last.”
I trust in that.
And I ‘m grateful to the prophet and teacher who tried to teach people on this planet how to live peacefully.
(I diverge from mainstream “Christians” in that I don’t believe that Jesus died, or saved or ransomed our souls by dying. I don’t “know,” but I like the story that the famous rabbi didn’t die or was somehow resurrected and returned to teach in the East where he first learned from Hindu and Buddhist holy men who received you into his land when he avoided marriage in his home town of Nazareth by leaving to visit the magi who’d visited him at his birth. [There’s wonderful evidence of this. See the movie, “Jesus in India” by Paul Davids and Edward T. Martin.])
I have no doctrine beyond a few phrases you might glean here.
I consider myself of the tribe of Yeshua.
When I first heard a few Bible stories told by a youth minister in the basement of a local church, in a crowd of young wannabe hippies, all sitting on carpet samples and scraps sewn together – stories against racism, sexism, violence, and materialism – my heart opened in a way I’d never felt, as though these ideas, never demonstrated in the life in which I’d always felt so strange, were written in my bones, and somehow these ideas had triggered an intelligence in me that was not of this life but reminded me who I was in a more infinite manner than in this Earth life, not in concept, but in body sensation.
Something opened up, and I knew this was my teacher, not by rational decision, though my mind was jazzed as well, but because it felt as though it had always been.
I believe Yeshua, Chief of my tribe, is returning. And the “harvest” is in process.
Resonate with whom you are, concentrating on your idea of you.
In this way, your cosmic tribe will find you.
Find yourself. Find your tribe.
From my book:
A few years back, I read about how one tribe supported any members who’d experienced traumatic events. The people traumatized would tell their stories to the entire tribe at night around the campfire. Later they would tell their stories again, remembering more details, describing them as fully as needed. Finally, they would tell their stories a third and last time, making whatever conclusions had become apparent, and afterward no one would ever speak of the traumas again.
The people could leave their traumatic stories behind forever. They would be given new names, indicating the strengths of character they had gained.
Since reading that, I’ve often reflected on how trauma is handled in our culture. We have too fluid a culture, no campfire, no way to share our stories. The result is that we can’t let our stories go, and have to live through telling them again and again.
Or if we quit telling them, then in a fluid society, we can never be known for the fullness of what weíve experienced.
And with storytelling lost, the generations lose powerful wisdom.
I yearn for a tribe to hear my story, then support me in letting it go. I hope, as I publish this for others to read, maybe I’ll have found the best solution for our modern, tribe-less times.
On one of the last days before printing this book, I picked up Carlos Castaneda’s The Art of Dreaming, which I hadn’t opened in seven years. In the early pages, I read what don Juan said about the old sorcerers and the new.
“Sorcery,” as he used the term, is not the evil that common “Western culture” says it is; it is seeing and working with the multi-dimensional world, the same as many of the prophets have tried to wake us up to see.
He said the old sorcerers invented the structures of working with other dimensions, but focused too much on technique and took advantage of their influence over others (which is why we consider sorcerers evil). Castaneda wrote,
“Modern sorcerers, by contrast, don Juan portrayed as men [and women] renowned for their sound minds and their capacity to rectify the course of sorcery if they deemed it necessary. [My italics]
Don Juan went on to say, “I personally detest the darkness and morbidity of the mind.”
As Iíve researched government mind control and related topics, I often come across theories that the underground, renegade Network, the cabal, is not simply slipping over the edge of good judgment, politics gone too far, but has been aligned for eons with the dark side of spirit.
If the evil of the underground Network is sorcery of a sort – and I’ll argue it is (the evil type our culture believes, only not ascribed to the correct people) – then our work at this time on this planet is to rectify its course.
Many religions tell of the cycle of evil having its time, which will end, and is predicted by many to be soon.
And many spiritual traditions say it will require some effort from us. So it feels timely to hear this call now and to believe we can work miracles. We obviously need to end torture, wars, and thoughtless materialism stripping and poisoning the planet.
We need to do nothing less than rectify the course of this sorcery.
To do this, I believe we must reclaim our vision and power as a species existing in multiple dimensions. Many species on our planet have evolved and disappeared when they couldn’t meet a challenge, and that’s a real, and natural, possibility for us.
Each challenge of evolution requires a new response, usually attended by a refreshed worldview . We humans are facing such a challenge now, and we need to revisit our worldviews to see if they actually represent our reality, as Terrence KcKenna challenged: If our worldview doesn’t match our reality, we must be prepared to change our worldviews, and see anew.
Opening our eyes to another world is difficult, I know because I stayed blind to parts of it, at least, for most of my life. Even after I thought I was aware, I continued to think it was a meaningless coincidence that I’d had ET contact and was also harassed by elements within the government, I thought, for being an environmental activist.
It seemed unfortunate and embarrassing because both were ridiculed (contact called impossible and government harassment paranoid), so I kept both mostly to myself and was thereby effectively silenced. It took me until the final day I was completing this book to realize consciously that, not only were political activists being monitored, but so were contactees, and both were subject to well-organized ridicule campaigns.
While I knew contactees were ridiculed, I hadn’t realized it was an organized campaign until I read Michael Salla’s article on “Galactic COINTELPRO.”
While I’d known contactees conveyed messages about our environmental situation and the dangers of nuclear war, both of which threaten our corporations and their minions in the government, I’d naively failed to draw a connection between that and the monitoring and harassment I’d experienced.
Just as the decades of ET/UFO ridicule had made me believe the subject of contact was silly before it happened to me, after it happened to me I still thought it too silly to interest the government – even though I knew some of the aliens’ messages of environmental responsibility impinged on our government’s ideas of national security and corporate freedom, and even though I’d seen a similar pattern up close, in the lies told about Judi Bari.
I didn’t want to see the pattern again, just as I suspect most of my environmental activist colleagues won’t want to hear about this. They won’t want to degrade their noble causes with something so “ridiculous” as alien contact, just as I was offended when the MKULTRA activist brought her fliers to the Judi Bari rally at the courthouse. “Divide and conquer” remains a powerful strategy.
Even in the ET/UFO community, some UFO researchers refuse to consider the claims of contactees, not wanting to be aligned with what they fear will lose them credibility. But if UFO researchers understood fully that the media is thoroughly controlled by the underground cabal, theyíd realize their research will never be accepted, no matter how narrowly present their cases, so their withdrawal from contactees only hurts those with messages that might actually contribute to all our understanding.
According to polls, a high percentage of American people know they are being told lies about this and other related subjects; they just don’t understand why. With the Why unanswered, people return their attention to their TVs and working to pay off their credit cards, as the underground cabal hopes they will.
I believe we can compellingly answer Why would the government lie about this? with the messages offered by contactees.
The fact that the messages are mixed shouldn’t deter, as we need to remember that the message senders are a mix – and that’s an important reality of our world to understand. We live in a cosmic ocean, and the delight of dolphins doesn’t negate the danger of sharks, and visa versa.
The messages weíve received, particularly those encouraging us to be environmentally responsible and end the nuclear arms race, will not only help open people’s eyes to a wider reality, but prompt actions of responsibility, none too soon. Only after that, can the implementation of clean “ET” technology possibly be utilized.
Whereas UFO research, sans abductee testimony, will not likely pave the way, regardless that it’s considered an easier media sell.
Contactee messages, on the other hand, speak to the human heart, of human responsibility, and they answer the Why: Responsible citizenry and total corporate control over our culture are mutually exclusive, and the people from other dimensions have been trying to tell us something like this for thousands of years.
C.B. Scott Jones told the Hawaii conference, in so many words, that he, as a Christian, wouldn’t be surprised if Jesus returned in a spacecraft. Many people laughed, and I understood their reaction.
I’m not sure all extra-dimensional beings require ships to enter this realm. but I think I know what he’s aiming at. As I adjust my attitudes toward the prophets of all religions (though I’m most familiar with Jesus/Yeshua), their teachings have taken on new meaning.
Today I suspect that what some people call shamanic is simply the activities of those conversant with a multi-dimensional world, like the miracles Yeshua said we’d perform (“all these things and more”).
It’s probably unfortunate that we in the “First World” use this word shamanic, as it implies these skills are exotic and rare, rather than our human destiny.
On the other hand, he also said, “The first shall be last” – and we’re living in the First World. So it no longer surprises me that we’re the last to know about extra-dimensional life.
Yeshua also said “heaven” was not assured by correct doctrine, but by having one’s heart connect with Spirit. How we can connect with Spirit when our days are filled with false experiences provided by the media, I don’t know.
How we can survive as a species when we choose to perceive our own environment through the lens of corporate entertainment is a deeply disturbing question, of cosmic proportions, one that many contactees have tried to weigh in on.
(John Mack’s work has the most condensed and powerful accounts.)
Mack noted in Passport to the Cosmos that researchers Norman S. Don and Gilda Moura reported in the Journal of Scientific Exploration that
“when an abduction is being relived or remembered, a frontal-lobe hyperarousal pattern is found by electroencephalogram (EEG) similar to that seen only in advanced spiritual meditators.”
Obviously something unusual is going on, beyond anyone’s imagination or fantasy, which warrants our respectful attention.
Since contactees speak passionately of Spirit and responsibility, it behooves us not to dismiss them in favor of debunking and corporate hypnotism.
(It encourages me that all the TVs of the world could be turned off tomorrow, ending this spiritual pollution without any infrastructure change or a single act of civil disobedience.)
As for the Network, even it has potential for transformation. Inside are people who’ve been trapped, the minions whose intention may never have been to be part of the darkness, who don’t know how to free themselves. They are a majority (though they may not know it) and as such, they sit in key places to do good.
They’re already doing it, judging by the useful paperwork leaked out and other paperwork disappeared (according to activists Iíve known). They only need to act when it’s their time.
And they will, because it’s in their best interests. If they don’t, they know they’ll be the next food; so they’ll act.
Whatever our connection to the minions, though it might sometimes be painful, it’s a wondrous dance: They make us see. We learn, and awaken.
And we go on, finding strength wherever it lies for us.
Rob Brezsny writes in Pronoia: An antidote to Paranoia:
This is a perfect moment – because you and I are waking up from our sleepwalking, thumb-sucking, dumb-clucking collusion with the masters of illusion and destruction.
Thanks to them, from whom the painful blessings flow, we are waking up.
As heaven and earth come together, as the dreamtime and daytime merge, we register the shockingly exhilarating fact that we are in charge of creating a brand new world.
As we stand on this brink, as we dance on this verge, we can’t let the ruling fools of the dying world sustain their curses. We have to rise up and fight their insane logic; defy, resist, and prevent their tragic magic; unleash our sacred rage and supercharge it.
In the new world we’re gestating, we need to be suffused with lusty compassion and ecstatic duty, ingenious love and insurrectionary beauty.
So what will it be? The fearful paradigms of post-apocalyptic Hollywood? They’re only caricatures of what we have already.
How about, when things crash, you simply chose your contribution to your community? Do you want to be a carpenter? A gardener? A baker? A tailor? An innkeeper? A sailor? A fisher? A butcher? A forager or herbalist? A home builder?
Go to your heart, and choose.
Then barter for everything you can, to create a local economy.
A little afraid? Turn up the dial on your intuition, and remember that the past does not determine the future.
Give yourself permission to move away from those who make you nervous. Then move, blessing yourself and them.
All the dance is purposeful.
Thank you for being part of my campfire. It heals me. And I pray it will help to heal others.
Ah, meditation today began with the vision of a blue and white energetic stream, the color of crystalline mountain water and bands of white clouds, flowing upward from my heart like a twisting waft of smoke, curling next downward, and looping like a playful thing – such a surprise after my intense effort yesterday to repair my aura.
Last night, I wrote “my story” in super-short form, telling who I believe I am, based on experiences I’ve had which did not at all fit my construct of reality, but which I could never, over the course of decades, convince myself were not real.
So I think it’s time to publicly admit my beliefs, regardless that they embarrass me somewhat – embarrass me because I’ve sneered at others who’ve written or spoken things like these. But I must tell this story, as information for others trying to assess the nature of reality and as a step in my process of becoming a more-coherent human being.
I’ve had at least six lives on Earth that I can recall and a long life, or series of lives, somewhere in the Pleiades, which when I left was the only life I knew or at least had been familiar with for a long time. It quieted me to see the star cluster withdraw and know it would be another “long time” (if ever) before I would see the place again. (And now, my heart feels as though it is absolutely not in my chest when I remember this.)
On Earth I remember lives only as women: a sensuous tree-dwelling pygmy, a frightened three-year-old in some feudal state, a European country girl in love, a gypsy with a friend in traditional bangles and scarves, a recently deceased Anglo pioneer hovering on the Earth plane near her Native husband as he was drug to his death behind a wagon so that our daughter would not be raised by him or his tribe, a member of Cochise’s tribe when we lost our land and freedom, and a Native American college student arriving home to spend time with her loving family.
I am also connected to beings in a nearby dimension who feel like family – far more than my parents or siblings do. A few of these beings seem like people I’ve read about or heard of in our history, and I’ve had a very strange aversion to reading certain books, as though I already know the history and reading this version might upset me. Some of the figures I’ve met in other dimensions I realize later seem like mythological characters often depicted as cartoons in our culture or in some other limiting way, so I hesitate to identify them as such.
There are also beings on the other realms whom I work to avoid, though it most often feels that my life’s current destiny is to be engaged with them for some reason I assume is either good for me or good for all. Those other unpleasant entities seem the result of my having been a mind control subject as a child. (Documentation is elsewhere.)
I was born into a family on the edge (I assume) of the Elites: Eisenhower means iron hewer, a metal worker. These people were masters of a craft kept secret in a guild society controlled by royalty. Members of this lineage are tested for loyalty, given many advantages, and groomed for service in secret societies still. I was seduced to the door, walked in, was initiated, then changed my mind a month later and bailed. Mysteriously, my memory of the initiation ceremony has disappeared except for a one-second peek. Then I ran away from home (at age nineteen), broke some of my programming (how much I don’t know), and have been struggling ever after to fully free my mind. Sometimes I seem to do very well in life, often when I’m engaged in mainstream business. Most often, I struggle.
Ever since my nervous breakdown (essential for healing, and in my case probably part of my programming break-down) in 1993, I’ve been increasingly aware of things going on behind the mediated scenes. I’ve twice consciously experienced my own body’s in-the-moment manipulation for a few minutes while my consciousness screamed No.
I also sometimes experience healing events and other Carlos Castaneda-type events which I can’t yet judge as good or bad. Sometimes I feel as though I just returned from somewhere else, sometimes I feel like I’m encased in a healing vibrational cocoon, and sometimes I feel hit by an energetic something with which I struggle mightily. Sometimes, mysterious things leave bruises or scars on me, which I sometimes photograph and post.
Did I choose this life? (It used to piss me off royally when people told me that we all chose our lives or, worse, that I have created this through my own thinking it, and I could make it disappear if I would quit.) We could say it was just the luck of the draw – someone had to be born into the heart of darkness – and maybe that was it. Perhaps it’s karma; I hate to think I earned this….
My choice of explanation is that I was strong enough to do this, and someone had to go in, like a cosmic spy, and relay back to the rest of my warrior tribe reports on the psyches of the Elites who have created our war-making, children-torturing, money-driven System, so that it could be disabled. My birth into the darkest heart gave my tribe an inside view to help it more fully understand the System and help devise a plan to transform it.
While I’ve gone through my spasms of pain and paranoia, fear, grief, terror, despair and suicidal urges, my tribe on the other dimensions has been regularly healing me, energizing me, blocking my awareness when I was too young to understand, and basically helping me get through, while also using what they learned to help turn the tide or execute some other plan for Earth.
And if that’s not the case, and if this is all just a story (an amazingly grandiose story, it might be called), then at least it offers me hope for my soul and hope for our transformation.
Both the light and the dark have been very active in my life – and up to fairly recently. Every day I hope to never confront the dark ones again, but it’s clear that the polarity on Earth is still active, and someone has to be in the interface – the space between the white and black paisleys of the yin-yang symbol. And even though I often feel that the energy pouring down on me is so positive and strong that I think we’ve already turned the corner and entered Heaven, I assume nothing. Activists are those on the interface; I’m an activist, so here I am.
I’m here to testify that we Earth humans are not alone, either in the cosmos or here on Earth. There are many, many technologies employed by the Elites to keep us passive and, yes, mind controlled. A few people see it; far fewer, I fear, act in ways that will serve their survival when mind control is increased.
I struggle regularly with this apparent destiny, which seems to be to live in awareness of the darkness and to shine light on it. Few live through the experience of it and maintain the ability to speak. How am able? I assume it’s my help on the other dimensions, as I’m not that personally strong. (Ask anyone who knows me.)
Also, I think they don’t crush me because I do such a lousy job. I sabotage my work frequently.
Sometimes I wonder if the existence of this soul-enslaving system is a figment of my imagination, but I believe this enslavement has been the number-one fact of human history, from ancient Sumer until this day, and it’s time we woke up to the fact that our luxury comes at the enslavement of others, many others. Some, like Ayn Rand, will justify that; others might want to decide, but we can’t if we don’t acknowledge it.
And now our destiny hangs in the balance while the prophesies talk about the end of an age. I’m putting my stock there, in change, in which I believe we must participate consciously. Toward that end, I remind myself of these things:
* Change has always happened, and big change is prophesied.
* Powerful systems are often brought down from within.
* Earth’s powerful system today depends on the cooperation of minions who have little loyalty to it.
* The minions know that at some point they’ll be expendable, and at some point they can change the game.
* It is in their ultimate best interest to help change it.
Besides changing things on Earth, I also have hope in other realms as an escape. Perhaps some of us will disappear like the Anasazi. Or the others will disappear as in the Hopi prediction (told to their children, so I’ve heard) that “one day, the bad people will all just be gone” – opposite the Christian story, in which the righteous will be the ones “raptured.” This apparent contradiction might be reconciled by another prediction with which I’ve resonated, that there’ll be a dimensional/vibrational rift, in which the Earth will move into two or more different future time-lines, where leaving and staying have no meaning.
Every year, the river of my life brings me amazing experiences of bliss, challenge, and everything in between. As a child, tortured, I was pushed through the veil, where I saw that this realm was not the only one. Today, I am sometimes granted healing and visions, and sometimes I dance with the devil. I’ve written a lot about the latter, so it’s only proper now that I tell more of my story.
One of my demons has been the fact that my mind has been fractured by trauma-based mind control. There are actually, sometimes, advantages to being multiple (psychological survival, for one, and a “diversified portfolio” of skills), and I hope to learn more ways to consciously make my condition more useful, but so far it’s often been a disability.
For instance, I go to the store, and an alter (alternate personality) comes out who’s great at making small talk, but she has little to do with the rest of me. Some other part of me might have shared a personal story with someone the day before, who’s now at the store, but the alter yesterday is not out now, and the one who’s shopping doesn’t remember much about this friend when she says hi. I struggle to cycle though a few “files” of personalities before I can retrieve the memory, but often the critical moment is lost and I might never have the chance to explain my struggle to the friend – very disappointing and often almost convinces me that I should remain a hermit.
But my destiny doesn’t seem to be in hermitage, and my extra-dimensional help keeps coming to my rescue – sometimes not soon enough, I think – but I keep on going anyway.
When my extra-dimensional help does take care of me, it’s beyond anything I could have imagined. It clears me to my very soul and convinces me that I will not die and I don’t want to.
Because I’ve written a lot about the dark events, and people remember those best, I am probably known to a lot of people as the woman who’s all about “that stuff.” When I occasionally write about the Light, I imagine it is difficult for many to reconcile in our culturally encouraged, black-and-white thinking.
So something moved me to summarize my whole complex story and remind folks that things are rarely static black or white: I was born into a very dark situation, my mind became fractured, I’ve healed with extra-dimensional help, and I’m in a sometimes-daily battle to keep steady and nurture my dreams for myself and the whole of us.
I’ve seen the enemy, and it is not only us. It’s partly us, but it’s also way beyond us. It’s our ancestor’s patterns of abuse, which have been hidden from us, and which we’re called to transform. The task is huge, but we’re not alone. Everyone with a concept of Self as a sentient being connected to the powers of Creation needs to be sure to tap into those Other Powers and see what they need to be doing right now. I’m here to testify that this is not a picnic.
If my life and my teetering on the edge of it, suffering sometimes beyond what I thought I could bear, has had any purpose, I think it’s to say this: Our place in history is not meant to be a picnic, an indulgence in whatever we might enjoy. Enjoyment is lovely, and I want more of it also, but we have work to do.
For over a year (am I right?) Bradley Manning suffered in solitary confinement for trying to get you the information you now get over Facebook and in your email; Congress is right now trying to take that freedom from you. Many activists, like Leonard Peltier, Mumia Abu Jamal, and Judi Bari, are in prison for life, or dead, for telling truths that someone desperately needed for them to expose but the Elites wanted to repress. Some like me are waking up with their bodies Taser-burned and no memory of what happened to them, but a dreadful feeling.
This battle is not a civilized one; it is brutal and involves far worse than what I’ve written here today. If you have the liberty to visit your Congress person to talk about American human rights, please do. If you can feed someone who is hungry, please do. If you can give energy to any project that serves your community, please do, and thank you. And if you can offer compassion to someone like me who seems sometimes to be crazy, please do. We’ve all got stories, and I do believe we’re, most of us, trying our best to make sense of a world that is for the most part hidden from nice people like you.
If the Earth does go through any cataclysms, from environmental poisoning to pole shift, I know that we, as souls, will eventually continue on somewhere, learning, evolving, transforming. But I believe the next life will be easier if we do this work now to transform what we can of this situation here on Earth, particularly to work for justice.
Some say the coming Earth changes will trigger our transformation to the next new evolutionary state. I don’t know. But I’m open to the possibility of expanding my soul into something less trapped on this plane. My experiences in the other dimensions have been so much nicer than most of what I experience here.
In any case, I’m inspired by the possibilities – which are infinite. We have help on other realms, but we also need to do the work today.
Wonderful stuff also keeps happening in my life!
Tuesday night, I healed a collection of alters, sort of a family, a stream, a lineage of wounded inner children who were forced onstage for the sexual entertainment of wealthy psychopaths.
The “child me,” I theorize, went blank at those times, and my empty beingness became a vacuum that drew in other energies. Whether those energies were demons, daemons (human-god guardian spirits), “thought forms” projected by my captors, or my own creation to fill my dire need, something – no, some things – filled the gap and have ever after made my psyche different, and fractured.
Last Tuesday night, a whole network of wounded children were released, leaving an opening in me that was filled with joyous, beautiful light from my spiritual family.
Can you imagine how that might feel? I drafted my best description of the experience, and want my readers to know that I also have these good things happening as well, and I’ll be sharing this story very soon It’s not all horror.
(And I believe it was this wondrous healing that gave me the strength to write about the dark stuff that I did on Wednesday – I needed to speak it for other aspects of my on-going healing.
(And I believe I also needed to speak it for you – as it relates to everything else in our political world. Thank you for being strong enough to read this.)
Around the campfire once, someone told a story about “a flying dream,” to which half of us nodded with varying degrees of knowingness. The other half responded with silent doubt. The dream flyers tumbled out a chaos of descriptions, of flapping or not flapping, soaring over mountains and valleys or around the dining room chandelier, or leaping into the air and staying aloft for exquisite, long periods of time; meanwhile, others exclaimed Yes! when something was particularly well described, or gasped in recognition of something they might have thought until then was their private experience alone, or softly held their breath because they wanted to interrupt with a story of their own, but would force themselves to wait because the discussion was under threat of breaking into groups and no one wanted to miss anything, so the group kept itself barely in order. When it was done, the dream flyers looked as spent and satisfied as lovers after an unexpected romp. The others looked perplexed.
I’ve always been a flyer, but I’ll spare you my litany of dreams. I want to talk about my sense of not really being from here, and maybe I’ll learn, as around the campfire that night, that half of my community silently harbors similar secrets. Or maybe not. We’ll see. (More about my extra-dimensional experiences are available by visiting either link on the top of the column to the right.)
The youngest memory I have that might relate to my not being from here is when I was no more than five, when I looked up at my mother ranting and thought to myself, “This is going to be a very long childhood.” I wonder today: Was it normal to have such a mature perspective at that age?
At night, when I went to bed, I sometimes felt myself flashing in micro-seconds between being as large as the cosmos and as tiny as an atom. I also sometimes saw portals and knew with great happiness that I was going again where I loved to go; sometimes I had been waiting with longing. There was a schedule I didn’t understand; I knew I was to be patient and was always happy when the portal or flashing sensations came over me. One day I was told that I was going to have to wait a long time, but I was old enough to understand that it would be long but not forever. I grieved, and then I adapted.
I seem to have been born into this life with attitudes and opinions. I did not take it for granted that the world simply is what it is.
At another young age, my mother had told me, “I love you best when you’re silent.” So I learned to entertain myself. Adults were fun to listen to, but they seemed too easily pleased to hear their friends quote Einstein from LIFE Magazine. Somehow, I felt they didn’t really know much, despite their nodding encouragement to each other.
At five, I started kindergarten and began tutoring other students for my teacher. On the playground, I was appalled to see adults stand by while young bullies did their routines on the weak ones. When I told the teacher, she aggressively scolded me: “Don’t be a tattletale!” I was regularly appalled at the behavior of adults.
I seemed to have come into life with a standard – and a confidence that it shouldn’t be compromised. Where did it come from?
I made very few friends during my childhood. It might have something to do with my two years of “missing time” – amnesia – at age five and six, during which I have evidence I was a CIA mind control subject. [This story is told elsewhere. I apologize to those surprised by the incongruity – but these parts actually connect meaningfully, but that’s a much longer story.] Every now and then, another child would “resonate” with me, and we’d become immediate and decades-long friends.
In adulthood, I experienced quite a few synchronicities, which felt like divine intervention, as well as clairvoyance, intuition, and mystical experiences in nature. But I ignored them, dropped them into an “Anomalous” file and went on with life as if the scientific model explained everything.
At the age of 47, I had an experience so powerful – related to being from somewhere else – that I could not speak of it at all for at least two years, and then I only mentioned it shyly to a few of my closest friends. Eight years later, in 2008, I included the experience in my book RattleSnake Fire, but I declined to comment on its implications:
Camping in the desert with a group of about twenty people, I was in conversation when a friend, an amateur astronomer, interrupted to hand us a pair of binoculars and tell us the Pleiades looked amazing and we should check them out. I’d been enjoying my conversation and wasn’t interested in looking at stars. My thought was: A star in the binoculars would look just like the stars we could see all around us, only bigger. I’d seen photographs of stars and thought there was a beauty to them, certainly, but nothing to interrupt another person’s conversation. Besides, they’d been there for a very long time and would probably continue to be so. I said “No, thanks,” and turned back to talk with my new friend. The astronomer interrupted again and implored me to look. This time I thought his rudeness had passed a particular mark, so that I, a person who’d too little practiced a healthy assertiveness in my life, decided to practice it then. I said, “You’re interrupting our conversation. And I’ve never had any interest in the stars.” I don’t know what he said next, but I remember being speechless at his insistence. It seemed easier to look through the binoculars than to argue with him, and besides, then I’d be able to say, “Just a bunch of little sparkly things…” and then be rid of the man, whom I had always respected until that moment.
I put the binoculars to my eyes and looked in the direction he’d indicated, moving them a bit until I saw the somewhat famous star cluster. Then, I was shocked, as my heart exploded with a recognition that engulfed me – like an aura: I knew the Pleiades – in some hidden space inside my soul. And I knew, for the first time consciously, that I had a whole lot more history than I’d ever considered, outside of simple theory.
I had a moment’s flashback of being in a vehicle of some sort, standing with a group of close companions, looking out a large window at this cluster receding, and thinking, I wonder what it’ll be like to be gone for a very long time.
The vision ended and I was jolted by grief, a new sort of shock, then longing: Grief for the comfort long lost and almost-unfathomably forgotten; shock that that could be my reality, so far from this “reality”; and longing for the friendship I had with those somewhere else, so far beyond the friendships I’d had on Earth. The word home came to mind, with more emotion than I’d ever felt before.
All that hit me in an instant, and I lowered the binoculars and said with wonder to the astronomer, my new friend and, by accident because I didn’t control my volume, to everyone else around, “Oh my god, I think I’m from there!” Then I slapped my hand over my mouth, realizing that those were words I’d have hated hearing from anyone else. I had no patience for people who said crazy stuff like that. I’d been certain they were delusional. But what had just happened to me didn’t feel like a delusion at all – I wasn’t daydreaming, coming up with stories to which I took a fancy. On the contrary, if I’d wanted to impress my friends, this would not have been the story I’d have invented – far from it!
My words apparently shocked everyone into silence, and no one said a thing to break it for about five seconds, while I reverberated with the humiliation of just having said words that I would never have guessed could come out of my mouth and which I knew had a good chance of being hated. I knew I couldn’t change this, because no one could have changed my mind a moment before. I was alone in this, and that was that. Alone and profoundly surprised. My world, my being, my identity had been severely rocked in that moment, surrounded by friends, but with no one understanding.
The conversations started up again, and I have no idea what we said next, but I don’t believe I told much of the emotional part of my experience. I do recall describing how beautiful the light had appeared around each star, and how the fine, thread-like rays emitted from each one met the rays from the others, and at those points of meeting they defined a three-dimensional network of gossamer light walls, like a ghostly cluster of living cells with a glowing star alive inside each one. The fragility and beauty (and familiarity – did I share that or keep it secret? I don’t know) made my heart ache with love.
It was too confusing. I’d heard of people saying they were from somewhere else, but I thought it was probably self-inflating. Of course, I considered myself open-minded, so that people could be from somewhere else, but if they were, I wasn’t sure why I should care or that it had anything to do with me. It was too disorienting to think about, so I never did. But here I was, maybe one of “those people” at the moment of learning she’s different. Well, I always did feel different….
It’s been eleven years this month since the Pleiades burst onto my consciousness, and I’m ready to face now what it might possibly mean. If no one else had said anything or written the books I’d previously secretly ridiculed, I wouldn’t be writing this now, despite my professed intention to always tell the full truth. No, some stuff I reserve the right to withhold, and this has been a partial “withhold” bugging me for eleven years. Now I’m ready to tell it.
Besides, there are theories, to which I subscribe, that we are all of “alien” DNA. And there are theories that, as souls, we are all from many other places. According to these, my story is not unusual at all, but mundane, and it’s only a matter of each of us eventually realizing the truth. Like remembering our dreams.
Here in Silver City, Greg Renfro and friends, including me, have been singing The Star Song, by Missourian Bob Dyer, for years:
I think you must have come from a star
I think you must have come from a star
I can see it in your eyes, I feel it when you smile
I think you must have come from a star
…I think we must have all come from the stars.
I’ve always believed it was possible – but I thought it was just a theory, for someone else; I never wanted it to be a personal fact for me, which would be too attention-getting; when I was young, my eyes used to tear and overflow spontaneously when more than a few people looked at me at once.
It seems time to come out of my denial. Maybe if I share this along with all my doubts, others will relate to the human dilemma, and we’ll learn that we’re not all alone here. And we’ll have a larger world to discover.