Category Archives: up times

“Afterword”

RF 2nd Ed coverFrom 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.

Adios ~

My Story

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.

My Story

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.

Healing From the Treatment of Psychopaths

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.)

Do You Fly? Do You Come From a Star?

UnknownDo you dream of flying?

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.

flyI’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.

pleiades-uks018I 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.