Podcasts let us listen on our phone while washing dishes, walking to the mailbox, driving to town. Or we can sit on our sofa – away from the computer – lights off, eyes closed, a fine radio production washing over.
“In the Dark” is a quality production worth this attention. I’m grateful those radio professionals are in the world today. Each episode makes me hungry for the next. And it’s all true investigative journalism, told well.
The series exposes suspiciously negligent police work – something some of us need to be reminded happens sometimes.
Season 2 takes on another case, and I’m in the midst of bingeing through the second season now.
It’s satisfying to hear an example of this widespread horror exposed.
Check out this video for some important history:
Eve Lorgen, author and counselor for those with “anomalous trauma,” offers an online support group now and then.
I’ve always been too afraid to participate, afraid that my stuff was too different, or that I might distrust people in the group, or it wouldn’t do me any good.
Today was the first day I participated in one, and I’m pleased I did.
Coincidentally, I had listened to a radio interview with Dr. John Hall, MD, about electronic harassment of targeted individuals (which fits the patter of my last 14 years), in which he mentioned the BrainWave binaural brain entrainment system (whopping price of $3.99, an app on iTunes).
I tried it out and had an immediate relaxation response, as if something electrically depressing had been cancelled or dampened. So I’ve been wearing earbuds now fairly frequently for two and a half days.
(I’m not crazy about the idea of using technology to protect myself – I’d assumed spiritual protection would be all, but I’ve failed and have felt close to death a great deal this last year. So I’m happy to accept this technological crutch and am thinking of it as a metaphor, that perhaps I might emulate psychically.)
These two and a half days since feeding simple frequencies into my ear canals, I’ve had impressive energy, a positive mood, and focus enough to finish an important task I had not been able to focus on for a year. Of course, maybe it’s just how I would have felt anyway, but I’m going to give them a thumbs up.
So, feeling stronger than I have in a long time, I took a job application I’d filled out last December to the business this morning, and was offered a job in the afternoon – for two workdays, just as I wanted, and exactly the situation I asked for. Law of Attraction? Working for me??
We know that sometimes everything can seem go against us at once, so it’s good to remember that sometimes everything can go for us too. And then it’s time to be grateful and go with it.
I’ll talk about other good stuff happening in my next post.
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.
My life is exquisitely difficult to talk about. It’s woven with extreme themes – sexual abuse, mind control, aliens, mysticism – and with accomplishments that make me shy, and failures that embarrass me, and critical facts that embarrass other people.
And none of the themes, for simplification, can be hidden or glossed over, because each intertwines and sometimes explains the others.
I can’t begin at the beginning, because it is either boring, or if I tell certain details, it sounds too woo-woo.
Since I almost always get interrupted fairly early with the question, “Why you?” I think I’ll begin there.
It could be any number of things, but is probably all of them together. Plus the fact that I won “the lottery.”
(Remember that classic, creepy short story, “The Lottery”? We read it once in grade school and again in high school, about a community that killed one person every year by stoning, a person drawn by lottery.)
My lottery ticket to this crazy life may have been as simple as my birth date. I was born on a Full Moon, on a Monday (Moon Day), in the middle of Cancer, also known as Moon Child.
And it wasn’t just a Full Moon, somewhere inside that 24-hour window; no, I was born 8 minutes before the Full Moon, 8/(24×60) = 5/1,000ths of a degree of perfection. Moon energy was strong. (Astronomical charts, not astrological, show the coincidence.)
So were the numbers: I was born on July 7, 1952 − 5+2 adding up to 7. Three sevens. Then my mother gave me a name with 7 letters: Jean Ann.
My last name, at birth and now, is Eisenhower. My father was second cousin to Dwight, who was nominated to the Republic ticket for President of the United States later on the day of my birth. The next day, the local paper would give my birth a short column to remark on the coincidence.
Maybe all these coincidences explain my winning/losing lottery ticket. Or maybe mind control was already in the family.
[I’ll expand on these later: Eisenhowers = Iron hewers (secret society protecting metallurgy secrets for the king). Grandfather Hollywood veterinarian of Rin-Tin-Tin – Mason – money lender. Father Navy CASU 33 – unsolved mystery.
[Petersens – Mormons. Grandmother with her handler. Mother I saw switch alters, in trance. Unexplained terror re Mormons. Flashback of babyhood ritual.]
I seem to have won/lost the lottery and was treated to MK. Then, having developed a bad attitude toward our culture due to MK, I joined the counter-culture and offended my handlers – again and again, beginning with rejecting the invitation of another secret society, calling them “plastic,” accepting their invitation to “try them,” taking the vows, and then de-activating and breaking my vows. I assume my actions resulted in another layer of MK, as they warned us that breaking our vows would have severe consequences (which I didn’t believe, as it was contrary to “American values”).
In my 20s, I became an activist for peace, and later for social justice, and environmental sustainability. Along the way, I insulted the FBI with media releases exposing their most incriminating statements which I sent to 600 major media around the world, nearly every day of the 6-week “Judi Bari v FBI” federal trial – and the FBI was found guilty.
They stared me down in the hallways of the courthouse, damn scary dudes. They might have amped up my treatment then and following the trial, when I lived alone in the desert – things got extremely frightening after the trial, to the point I was ready to give up this life.
Perhaps they amped up my MK again when I published my book. And maybe they amped it up again each time I published a particularly hard-hitting blog or video. There seem to be correlations.
So now that I’ve given you an overview of my story, maybe answered the Why?, and I’ve gotten my paranoia out of the way – or demonstrated and acknowledged it at least – let me tell you my story….
In my next memoir, I’ll summarize my life through 2007 briefly, as it’s detailed in RattleSnake Fire: a memoir of extra-dimensional experience, and spend most of the book recounting the most recent eight years.
To help me wrap my brain around it all – my fractured, fragmented mind full of experiences is often difficult to remember as a whole – I created a database to record all my anomalous experiences, from sublime to terrifying, everything out of the normal. My list is nearly 700 items long, and the last half of them have occurred in the last 5 years. Things are accelerating.
[to be continued]
Feedback? How’s this to open an update to my story?
Disinformation is finally being better understood and acknowledged throughout the culture, but few people understand its full extent. And understanding and reading reality correctly is an important survival skill for all of us.
Therefore, I’d like to share what I’ve learned, as both third-party observer and victim. I’ll chose an older story rather than a new one, to lessen the chance the guilty will be recognized – which I assume will lessen the repercussions I will experience for telling.
Before I tell this 7-year old story, I first want to tell a little about the concept: I didn’t know the word disinformation until I was involved with Earth First!, and then I witnessed it a great deal, as our expert-witness scientist supporters from around the world were ignored by the Media, and our peaceful protests, humorous skits, and potluck dinners (at my home) were treated like national security threats in FBI reports (I have copies).
When Judi Bari, a non-violence activist and mother of two, was car-bombed in 1990, she was maligned in the world-wide Media as a would-be bomber. But subtler lies are also told for different effects.
I’d become a thorn in the FBI’s side when, in 2002, I wrote or helped write, almost every day for six weeks, media releases for the Judi Bari v FBI trial. When I returned home to my desert hermitage, I began to be plagued by frightening bouts of amnesia and immobilization, with physical wounds, including lacerations and puncture wounds to the inside of my vagina (also photographed) – to the point that I considered suicide frequently.
Feeling like a sitting duck in the desert, I sold my remote home on 20 acres and, because I didn’t think I could stand a big city anymore, found my way to Silver City, in great need of friends to surround me.
Unfortunately, frightening events continued to happen, including third-degree Taser burns and biopsy scoops that appeared on my hands and arms and back with no memory of how they happened – and weird events of disinformation that undermined my reputation and sense of community.
Over the nine years I’ve lived here, my wounds have also included scores of injection bruises, two donut bruises, dozens of other weird bruises, sexual mysteries, and even some healed scars, one of which a doctor assumed was from thyroid surgery. Most I’ve photographed, and many I’ve shown friends, though few want to hear about them – I gather because it’s just too upsetting to their world views.
I totally understand not wanting to hear. It took me a lot of years of having this actually happen to me before I could adjust my world view to get over the “freedom and justice for all” mythology and accept what was happening.
If you find this hard to believe, I do understand, and hope you can read on, because this is part of our reality – and properly reading reality is essential to our survival. Following is an account of disinformation against me, undermining my status in my new community.
In 2007, I was a week or so away from a trip to Peru, when someone recommended a woman to stay at my home and care for my cat. Actually, it was a couple, I was told, a man and a woman, about my age, who were hip and “into community,” and had some circumstances that had stranded them in Silver City, needing a place to stay; the husband was working, but hadn’t gotten a paycheck yet. I agreed to let them stay in my home, even though afterward I realized that I didn’t like the woman at all, and she had talked a solid streak for 90 minutes, essentially wearing me down, and making me feel sorry and embarrassed for her, as if to say No would force her to recognize she had been obnoxious, which would be hurtful to her, so I couldn’t say No. Not logical, but defininely my sort of neurotic, self-defeating kindness.
In Tucson, I was supposed to be at the airport at 6 am for an 8 am flight, but I woke at 4 with a severe toothache that made it very difficult to move with any more than a shuffle, so I canceled my flight with a medical excuse. I would have a root canal later that afternoon.
Mid-morning, when my plane was in the air, I began receiving bizarre emails from my house sitter who assumed I was on the plane to Peru. She told me my stove was leaking gas, the phone wasn’t working, two crews of repairmen had been in, and my cat was acting ill – all in her first day at the house, and the first day of my 20-day trip.
Even though I immediately suspected this was probably a form of harassing disinformation, it was shocking to think of how very distressing it would have been to be on a plane to a faraway place with this bombardment of distressing news.
Thankfully, I wasn’t gone, and I’d been around enough FBI lies and other tricks that I found it all suspicious. So I answered her emails without telling her I was still in Tucson.
Her stories continued to hammer on distressing probabilities and were amped up with direct accusations (13 specific, weird accusations against me! in emails still saved) that I was “paranoid” and similar negative assessments – even though I’d been extremely cautious not to say a single inflammatory word, but simply asked calm questions about my home. It was as though she’d intended I become paranoid.
I called a handy woman friend who visited the house and was told by the woman that the phone was repaired. Since I’d asked my friend to enter and check out the stove and look around, she asked to enter, but the woman refused. When my friend next called to tell me the phone was supposedly repaired, I was still unable to call home, and was told by the woman via email that the phone was “down again,” working only during the short period my friend had come to the door.
After drilling and filling my tooth, I hit the road immediately to Tucson, calling another friend along the way, who arrived at the house shortly after I did. The woman was shocked to find me at the door and was barely willing to let me into my own home. When my friend arrived, we confronted the woman with the crazy contents of her emails, as I wanted to be entirely fair and consider the possibility that perhaps she hadn’t send them, and they were instead sent by disinformation specialists; I reviewed all 13 accusations with her, and she confirmed she’d written them – even as she stammered to explain some of her more bizarre accusations.
We then had to demand she leave, as she was intent on staying in my home as I’d “promised” to let her, and she even had the gall to suggest I leave. When she continued refusing, we finally threatened to call the police to remove her and she finally accepted our demands. But as she left, and we realized to our astonishment that she didn’t have anything at the house other than her small purse – no overnight bags, no toothbrush, no food, no nothing, even though she’d supposedly stayed there the night before and her husband was due there shortly and she desperately wanted to stay there again that night. But the bed hadn’t even been slept in, and the kitchen was unused. We assumed she wanted us to leave so we wouldn’t discover this, and she was actually there for some other reason.
As we pondered this, my friend’s phone rang, she answered it and heard silence. After hanging up, she hit the call back button and was greeted with an office name with “Intelligence” in the title. My friend and I assumed the woman and her husband were functioning as low-level spies, watching the house so that others could come in (under the guise of repairmen?) to do whatever they do to activists and others on federal “watch” lists. Perhaps they’d used some high technology to identify and call her phone, perhaps to add a bit of warning to our overload of weird information and seeming threats.
The next day, I called the gas company and was told she had called and a repair person had come out, but no gas leak was found, and the stove never did have problems.
I used my cell phone to call the phone company because the home phone still did not work. When the repairman came out the next day, he worked for two hours and finally concluded, “This is the strangest problem I’ve ever seen in my 20 years of phone repair, and I can’t figure it out.” And he rewired most of the house.
My cat never showed any signs of illness.
A few days later, another phone repairman appeared at the front door. I called Qwest to confirm he was legit, and was told something vague I don’t remember, even as I realized the feds certainly have the ability to intercept my call, redirect it to their own office, and have someone pose as a phone company rep, telling me whatever I needed to hear. I let the guy in.
He checked the phone jacks, then went outside and climbed a ladder to the box attached near the roof line. I wondered if I’d detect him putting a bug on my line, so I stood beneath and watched. He talked and seemed to be wasting time, repeating motions, and getting impatient with me standing there looking up constantly. I smiled and asked him if he was finished. He looked confused and irritated. Laughter was close, but I had no desire to mock a fed. I also knew I couldn’t stop them if they wanted to put a bug on my line, and if he didn’t do it today, they’d do it another day soon, and it might be less fun next time. So I walked around the corner, gave him a minute, then came back to find him climbing down, looking relieved. Ever since, my old-style ringer phone makes a little noise a few seconds after every time I hang up, and around 10 pm every night, which I think of as shift-change, and maybe other times I haven’t yet noticed.
The woman and her husband, I later learned, went to live with a young, hip couple out in the Mimbres, whose friends overlapped with mine, but whom I only knew because the husband clerked at a store I frequent, a store central to my community. Immediately, the man quit being friendly with me and instead acted as though I were a terrible person he could barely be civil to. And in following years, a number of their acquaintances have continued to keep distant even though we have many friends and interests in common.
I assumed the woman had told the young couple poisonous things about me. But I didn’t know them well enough to try to discover what they’d been told, and my questions might be received as very weird. It was very weird, and I didn’t trust anyone to accept it at face value without having to reconsider a lot of assumptions and probably wonder also if I was just plain crazy, so I said nothing to anyone except the two friends who each witnessed part of the event.
Every so often, about once a year, people on the edges of my community suddenly act cold or confused around me, as if they’d heard something terrible and didn’t know whether they should even acknowledge me. I notice quite a few people all change at once and continue in the pattern for some weeks or months, until slowly the awkwardness fades a little, but doesn’t go entirely away. I just stay away from them, to lessen their discomfort and mine.
I sometimes review the experiences of friendly acquaintances turning away or looking fearful and try to convince myself the events are not significant, but they seem to display a consistent pattern. And then there’s the other parallel evidence: the woman at my house with no personal possessions, her emails full of lies and inflammatory accusations, and my phone line mysteriously wired. And mysterious Taser burns and similar wounds on my very own body keep me from dismissing my total experience as imagination – as some friends, family, and doctors would like me to.
I’d love to dismiss it as imagination and believe in a different America, but that’s not my experience. For 8 years now, I’ve been asking my online readers, and no one has come up with any explanation better than the one that’s supported by government documents: federal agents practice disinformation, harass, encourage divisiveness, and more, under the rubric of COINTELPRO (Counter Intelligence Program).
Recently I learned there’s a name for people like me: “targeted individuals” – abbreviated TI’s, with multiple websites documenting experiences of many others who describe things similar to mine.
Beware of lies. If you hear something bad about a person, check it with the person it’s about.
Only once in these nine years has a friend checked a rumor about me with me; it was a lie, and she’d believed it for six months (it sounded reasonable) and even passed it on to others herself during that time. I told her the truth as I understood it and asked her to pass it back onto the grapevine. I don’t know if she did or how well it traveled.
Disinformation is usually planted in such a way and with people removed from the target just enough that it’s very difficult (and no likely to be successful) for the TI to confront the perpetrator. Only the people in the middle – those told the lie – can do anything about it – by wising up, and checking. Thanks for doing that.
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.
A two-part article with detailed info (6 years old, but….) about evidence that went to court!
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.
Impressed by the incredible actor Laura Prepon, of Orange is the New Black, I looked her up on Wikipedia and read:
In 2005, Prepon starred in the film Karla, the true story of Paul Bernardo and his wife Karla Homolka, a couple who kidnapped, sexually abused and murdered three young girls – marking a contrast to her usual lighthearted roles.
Not my type of movie.
I’ve been in such deep darkness lately, that it seemed bizarre to watch this movie now, but, if I might state the obvious, I thought the description of the psychopathic couple could have a lot in common with the mind control network that controls me. It seemed it might be therapeutic. And, numb from all my own darkness, I could take it today.
And because I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom this past week, in which I’ve remembered and dwelt on a whole lot of stuff and the larger pattern, I thought the content of this movie wouldn’t be as shocking, and I’d be able to watch it with some dispassion. I thought I’d somehow benefit, and maybe even something revealing and healing could be triggered.
Here are my notes made during the movie:
– Many of my partners have signs of having been mind controlled too and of controlling me in a wide variety of ways.
– “She doesn’t even have to know.” Drugs and electroshock.
– I realize I’ve also been set up for sexual videos many times. Some of these I was too afraid to write about, even in my own journal, even many years after the fact. I remember wanting to write about an event a couple of times, but when I tried, my hand froze, so I said “Okay,” and never wrote about them anywhere. I
– The “knock-out drug.” Maybe that’s why I’m so hyper-sensitive to all sedatives.
– And if I wake up too soon, they just zap me afterward. Which explains my random heart problems, Taser burns, etc.
– Karla’s character traits: severe obedience, fear of abandonment, mistaking need for love, ability to precisely follow orders.
I relate to this totally, feeling painfully the work it has been in past decades to break free of even parts of it to create new patterns in more of my psyche. (Though I know I’m still being controlled – or have been recently – by someone commanding buried alters I’ve not yet been able to heal).
– Karla was a psychopath, who felt no remorse for others’ pain. I’m glad to know I hurt for others all over the planet, and still feel bad about a time when I was a Senior in high school (and never again, it felt so bad) “trying on” the behavior of a bossy former leader whose place I was taking, and I hurt a girl’s feelings, I thought – and I apologized to her a couple/few decades later! (She didn’t remember the event.)
I don’t believe I have any psychopathology, but I’m pretty sure I have a trained killer alter, whom I’ve only experienced once in my life, and that was when someone tried to break into my partner’s and my apartment, and I was ready to kill the man — quickly and efficiently.
After a moment of confusion, being awakened in the night, I snapped into a totally-unrecognized, but efficient and graceful series of behaviors, bouncing on my toes with a butcher knife in my hand, having commanded my partner to call 911. In my head was a recitation of the route my knife would take under his ribcage and up, the weight of the knife now becoming familiar as I bounced it in my fingers, the thought-feeling of the knife cutting its way through layers of skin, fat, and muscle – all running through my head with an absolute certainty that this would go perfectly. But the door held, and the police arrived and took him away.
They only took my report after arguing with me for quite a while about the non-necessity of arresting “a young man on a Saturday night with a little too much alcohol or drugs,” then the report didn’t exist the next morning, and no record of it was in any log, or so they told me. They were either protecting the drugged-up son of some powerful person, or they were testing my training. I wonder. But I do feel that I did have the complete knowledge in one hologram of my being for what I planned to do.
So, I guess they programmed some part of me to kill, and when my life felt threatened, I was ready – and more than willing – to kill someone who “clearly,” I thought then, deserved it. No second thoughts, just total focus: bouncing on the toes, watching, hefting the knife, feeling the path, ready…. Good thing the police saved him.
Their videos of their murders …. chilling.
I think there are probably many videos of me; I’ve had lots of events over the years where the possibility something was a set-up for this was definitely in my mind, and my gut felt horrible about its real possibility, but my mind kept telling me, “No, just go along, don’t be paranoid….”
I feel so weak now, I can hardly lift my hands… but now refocused…. I think I should not be weak. I should face this stuff.
I remember, “A seed must break apart before it can bear fruit.”
I’m breaking….feeling totally destroyed….
– Need to post the art showing demons on unconscious women, a small collection I’ve come across.
This institutional rape of women is not unique to our culture, but ancient.
– Rapes, psychotic personalities… curiously familiar feelings as I watch them,
slowly making connections in my conscious mind….
And I realize how powerfully I’ve been programmed to not be able
to distinguish psychotic lies from the truth
– in my younger years; I’m better now.
No wonder I’ve had such a series of “handlers,” rarely lovers.
(Mind control subjects need their handlers.)
– Her fear of being hated and abandoned was extreme to the point of numb terror,
very child-like and unthinking.
I’ve never been as bad as Karla, but I’ve had severe tendencies, and still do, I think.
– Karla mistakes her neediness for “love” because she was programmed that way. I was too, though now, thankfully, I recognize the difference. But that’s only one part of the control in their big bag of tricks.
– She’s seriously obsessed, more than I’ve ever been,
but I can see so clearly the patterns of how seriously we’ve both been MK’d.
Karla went psycho though. I became “multiple” (a better thing), cordoning off the ugliest stuff, leaving the rest of me, but only part of me, somewhat “normal.”
Splitting off, as a “multiple personality,” has made living a somewhat “normal” life, even a successful life in some modest ways, and often happy life possible. And I’m grateful.
But I have to keep aiming for fuller consciousness; it seems the only responsible thing to do. So I keep trying to remember and heal.
– I think my implants (typically thought of as “alien” or sometimes government), might also be associated with this. And one of their purposes, besides GPS and other sorts of control and harassment, is to identify me as to ownership – like a ranch animal.
– Flashing back on Prepon’s character in Orange is the New Black, Alex Vausse – cold, hard, “seen it all,” willing to take pleasures where she can, willing to lie and seriously hurt her best friend and lover.
I might have alters who lie, but I don’t lie in my conscious life, except a few memorable times when it might have literally saved my life.
(Though some would say we all lie, all the time. Great TedTalks video on lying here.)
The difference between psychopathic and multiple: I have alters with behaviors for sex and killing locked away neatly (though they could be triggered on command, making the main part of me amnesic), whereas Karla has integrated the soul-deadened killer and liar into the whole of her.
I don’t think my killer alter can be triggered accidentally again, now that I’ve recognized her. But she gives me some confidence, knowing she’s there and capable if ever needed.
Mind controllers, though, can trigger that alter, which is why I tell everyone about this, and why I’m trying to heal – or hoping to die if things don’t get better.
(I don’t want the responsibility of choosing, in this conscious state, to ever kill someone, or myself. Too much appreciation for Life and the Mystery to destroy any of it – even though I talked about dying in January. I still believe I have the right, and conditions could change, but I’m not aiming there now.)
– I think there have always been psychopaths on the planet, but they’re increasing to record numbers and power now, it seems – at least I feel their heavy presence in my life.
Pulling back from despair….
– If I have any purpose in life, it’s to document my experience, which documents the worst of humanity at the end of the era. Feels important. So I record….
– I think this entire Earth is the subject of a turf war between warring global or cosmic gangster factions, the highest class (Illuminati?) to the lowest, and who knows how many factions and sub-factions there might be. It’s probably as complicated as global politics. Actually, it’s a big part of global and national politics. And maybe cosmic politics. Taking slaves of various sorts.
– Different aspects of this System have been called mind control, ritual abuse, gang stalking, demonic, Satanic, sex slavery, CIA mind control, psychopathic, dark magick, human trafficking, Freemasonry, Mormonism, The Greek System, the Senate page scandal….and lots more. (I might have wrongly included a few of the above, but maybe not.)
– Karla was clearly trained to endure violence in numbness.
– Her husband is also a psychopath, but has features of a “multiple personality” as I understand it — even though the movie never makes a point of that, and he does no dramatic switching of alters. He’s charming in his social self, but he eventually is taken over by the desire to act out horrific sexual abuse on women, which he uses his adult intelligence to carry out, but when frustrated in any way, he reverts to behaviors that are what a six year old might do: scream, abuse, and yell incessant profanity – and rarely cry – all while otherwise appearing and conversing as an (immature) adult. And it’s clear to me that he was sexually brutalized around the age of six, much like many of us. Some go psycho. Some split. I’m so glad I split.
– Subconsciously, they recognize each other as “also abused,” and that’s their attraction: they are familiar to each other.
Great movie. (Here: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0424938/business?ref_=tt_dt_bus.)
Plan to be seriously disturbed. (Maybe don’t watch it, or wait till the right time.)
It’s top-notch acting, directing, everything.
And a true story.
I grieve for the world….
May it be over soon.
– 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….
Twenty years ago last summer, I became estranged from my parents for seven years, and then for the next thirteen years only saw them for a few hours usually once a year – until last week. For five nights then, I slept in their house and visited, mostly just them and me.
That summer day, I had a rare talk with my sister on the phone. (I’m close to no one in my family.) (I believe it’s part of mind control disinformation to discredit MK subjects within the family and elsewhere, especially when they begin to show signs of remembering. However, I’ve been subject to discrediting for a very long time.)
I asked my sister if she had any weird memories of our childhood, and she said no. But, she told me, she’d just seen a 20/20 television show on the so-called “false memory syndrome,” which she asserted was my problem.
For the record, there is no “syndrome,” by definition: a group of symptoms that consistently occur together or a condition characterized by a set of associated symptoms. There has never been a set or group of symptoms defined for this supposed syndrome.
However, the supposed “syndrome” serves as a cover story for anyone accused of anything, usually sexual crimes. The “false memory syndrome” asserts that the memory was invented by a person who’s mentally unwell, either unable to tell reality from imagination, or hatefully vengeful – which I’ve been called more than once for privately asking my sister the question I did and then, when confronted, recounting my memories – but not blaming my parents, only asking for help understanding.
The backlash of blame and hysteria, even when I recalled other individuals has continued to this day. (Those other individuals were military men. I thought this would relieve my parents of culpability, but it only made them more enraged and intent on proving me “deluded.” Their reaction never made sense until I learned about the military being involved in mind control experiments.)
Before I ever heard about the “false memory syndrome,” my parents began planting doubts in my mind, and in my siblings’ minds, about my ability to tell fantasy from reality. It began when I was a child and my mother told the doctor I had a tremendous imagination and talked to imaginary friends. He told her it was okay, even common, but she continued to tell other people within my hearing. Once, another mother responded that sometimes genius and insanity were hard to tell apart, and I took heart.
In adulthood, one Christmas holiday when everyone was together and we were sharing old stories, I recalled the earliest memory I have, of reaching up to my mother’s hips – I seemed to be barely able to walk, not understanding that she couldn’t pick me up while she cooked dinner, and I fussed. As I proceeded with my story, I realized that the next part of the memory didn’t put Mom in a very good light, but I’d already begun and didn’t know how to end it other than just continue.
Generally, I can’t invent – regardless that Mom has always contended I have – so I recounted the story as casually as I could, knowing that plenty of us have experienced frustration as parents and haven’t been perfect, but assuming we were all then mature enough to understand and not judge harshly, but today I wish I had not said it:
As I fussed and reached up to her hips, Mom threw down the spatula she was using at the stove and screamed, “I can’t take it anymore! I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back!” Then she stormed out the door and left me standing alone in the quiet tiny kitchen of their student housing dorm. I was terrified.
I knew that I needed a mother, and I thought I’d have to go outside to solicit another one. I imagined an expanse of concrete – common on the campus, of course – and imagined reaching up my arms to other women walking across the expanse, but in my mind’s eyes they were all busy and walking too fast. Only one in my imagination paused and considered me for a moment, then kept on walking.
I wailed and crawled to hide in the space between the red brocade chair and the wall – but when I gasped my next breath with my face in the upholstery, microscopic pieces of fiber and dust burned my nose and I cried harder.
Suddenly someone was pulling me out and I was surprised to see that my mother had returned. She then tried to assure me she’d never leave me, but I was wary. Even at that age, I guarded my heart from being so terrified again. I let her hug me, but recall no feeling of comfort. Only relief that the terror of aloneness was now gone.
Of course, I only told the bare bones of the story, omitting my imagination and tears, very sorry I hadn’t thought ahead and cut it shorter.
“Oh, I would never do that!” my mother huffed.
I tried to redirect attention from this aspect and turn it back to what I’d meant to be my point – that we can remember things from our very young years – which for some reason I was then absolutely fascinated by.
I grabbed a paper napkin and sketched. “The front door was here, almost directly behind someone standing at the stove. The wall next to the front door had glass you can’t see through. And just left of the stove began the carpet, and the red chair was here, at an angle.”
“You couldn’t remember that! You were only 14 months old when we moved away from there,” she countered, gesturing at my map, as if she’d proven me wrong.
But her face and her gesture told me I’d mapped those items correctly. “Mom, you just indicated that I drew the floor plan correctly.”
Her face went slack as if horrified. She rose from the table, mute, walked to a window where she stared out and said something, I realized with a shock, that I’d heard her say a few times before, and always in the same lilting, trance-like, sing-song voice, as if she’d said it to herself a thousand times, maybe to comfort herself, or maybe to practice saying it casually, “I’ve always said… you had a vivid imagination… and you mixed up your dreams… with memories.”
A sensation of memory was triggered somewhere deep inside me. Something was disturbed. Something felt a little sick. My mother had just sounded like a person in a trance. Why? Why would she go into a trance like that? Did she have a terrible memory herself of those times?
I felt terrible for hurting her feelings. And at the time, I thought it was impossible that my mother would do anything to hurt any of us, so I assumed she was beating herself up unnecessarily for something that couldn’t have been all that bad. Certainly not just walking out on me that day. Was there something else?
I tried to imagine the worst that could have happened if she were totally pushed over the edge with multiple stresses – and imagined locking me in a closet for awhile – that was as bad as I could imagine – and I thought, “Forgiven!” No problem. See, I’m fine now. I’m totally fine.
I know how terribly hard life can be, and can imagine it was infinitely worse back in the 50s when wives took a vow before God and all to obey their husbands. And I know I’ve hurt my kids in ways I didn’t mean to when I was exhausted and ran out of patience. I understand imperfection. And I understand forgiveness. Whatever it was that she was so haunted by, I thought, It’s okay, and I wanted her to forgive herself.
I hoped I’d find some private time to tell her, but I never did. We all went on with our lives for years, decades now, and those words were never spoken.
Decades later, I would learn that the campus on which I’d lived the first year-plus of my life was the home of the Society for Investigation of Human Ecology, a front for CIA mind control experiments.
Of course, a generic type of mind control is nearly impossible to avoid in America, but there’s also an intense, Above-Top-Secret version, the subject of two Senate hearings in the 1970s, which resulted in the program being strongly criticized, after which it was not ended, as promised, but simply shifted further outside government accountability into the world of Special Access Projects, part of the nation’s Black Budget.
The subjects of these experiments have been mostly American and Canadian children and adults in certain demographic groups, including military recruits, members of certain churches, orphans, children in Indian schools, members of secret societies, and special bloodlines, among others.
I fit into at least four demographics that come up frequently among other former subjects who remember their mind control. I’m an Eisenhower; my father had done his tour in the Navy; my mother was a “fallen away” Mormon; and my father’s father was a 33rd degree Mason.
I imagine now my mother reacting, not to a fussy child, but to a child that, through coercion, had been recruited into a government program that she must then cooperate with. Maybe they paid my parents. Maybe they blackmailed them somehow. Maybe they said I’d be serving my nation, and as a benefit I’d be made disciplined, obedient, smart, and successful. Maybe my parents had regrets, but I imagine they had no power to change the course of their agreement with this secret network.
Later, I’d realize something else that might have made me of interest to mind controllers. I was born on July 7, 1952, the seventh day of the seventh month of the year ’52, which adds up to seven. It was a Monday (Moon Day), in the middle of Cancer, also known as Moon Child, on the Full Moon. Not only that, but the time was 4:25 a.m., just 8 minutes before the precise moment of the Full Moon, at 4:33 a.m. That’s within 2/1,000ths of a degree of perfection. I’ve been told these elements are extremely attractive to Satanists, who are supposedly also involved with secret societies.
I assume my parents were innocent victims, like me. I lost two years of my life in amnesia and a lifetime of mental coherence – in exchange for obedience, discipline, and certain sorts of high-level intelligence. And my parents lost their natural relationship with their little daughter.
Virtually no one knew about mind control in America back then. It was a time of great optimism. America was riding high.
I imagine my mother was given the repeated phrase, much like Ewen Cameron gave his MK subjects in the true story and movie, “The Sleep Room“*: “Just tell her: ‘I’ve always said you had a vivid imagination. And you mixed up your dreams with memories.'”
And she said it to herself so many times, it became part of the sing-song trance that kept her going. It was cruel, cruel, cruel, to her and my father, and to me.
* (Entire movie free on YouTube at the link. Hard to watch at points, but important history.)
Be strong. And practice compassion for all of the parents who were coerced.
PS Newest research discovery from Wikileaks:
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 ~
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 think I’ve been afraid for a very long time to be too powerful. But I’m trying to get over that. So here’s my second attempt at beginning a new memoir. I’m also thinking of entering it in a memoir contest. I’d love you’re feedback.
After the Second World War, my father and mother lived on the GI Bill while he attended veterinary college and my mother kept house. It was July 7, 1952, 4:25 a.m., eight minutes before a precise full moon, that I was born.
The next things I’ll share I’d have cringed at in embarrassment most of my life, but something has to explain the crazy life I’ve lived: It was not only a Full Moon, but a Monday, long ago known as Moon-day, and smack-dab in the middle of Cancer, previously known as Moon Children. And the eight minutes between my birth and full moon is 2/1000th of a degree, dang close to precise.
Dwight David Eisenhower, my grandfather’s second cousin (or so claims the family), would be nominated to the Republican ticket as candidate for President of the United States later that day. Our local paper would write a smarmy short column about the coincidence.
At home on the UC Davis campus, the CIA was experimenting with mind control as they had on various campuses for the last five years. I would live on this campus for the first fourteen months of my life.
(Thank you for your comment!)
For subscribers who haven’t visited in awhile, I’m posting the contents of my new Home page. The entire site has been recently reorganized, rewritten, and become, I hope, a more useful, and “friendly,” resource for those needing to learn about this subject. I invite you to visit.
I am an educator on mind control, artist, author, publisher, mind-controlled “multiple personality” in healing, and activist working for the healing and human rights of mind control subjects.
To that end, I offer these pages of information – non-academic, easy-to-read – which touch on folklore, history, religion, spirituality, cosmos, and culture as they relate to mind control and multiple personality — along with my personal, on-going reports on the path to healing. Below is a 3-minute video, produced in 2010:
Is Multiple Personality Disorder “crazy”? Actually, it’s considered a creative solution, usually emerging accidentally in childhood, to keep from going crazy when experiencing something like torture. The vast majority of us experienced torture as children in one way or another.
Children under torturous conditions who don’t “leave their bodies” and dissociate, and the torture is repeated, usually become schizophrenic. So dissociation, MPD, is a blessing in disguise, as it’s fairly easy to heal (unless complicated by mind control); whereas, schizophrenia is considered incurable.
How it comes about, in simple terms: Under extreme stress, a person, especially a child, might “leave their body” to escape unbearable pain; the mind, however, keeps recording – now on a blank slate – which then becomes another personality. This creates a pattern in the person called dissociation; with ongoing stress, the pattern is repeated. (Today MPD is called Dissociative Identity Disorder, but many of us prefer the old term.)
Being a multiple personality has not been easy, but it’s been far less difficult than typically depicted in books and movies, and in some ways, it seems to be an advantage: I have the capacity to manage a wide variety of mental tasks, as I seem to have a lot of “minds” holographically in my being. Managing them is the trick, and I have always done pretty well, most of the time. (At the bottom of this post are some of my accomplishments.)
The common perception of “multiples,” as being tragically out of their own control, is true for some, but many multiples are also very high-functioning, even testing at genius levels (as I have a few times), though they often have severe mental, psychological, emotional, and spiritual challenges — as readers of my book can appreciate.
Mind Control There’s also, obviously, a very serious downside to “multipleness,” which is that the people or groups who created my alters probably still have access to my programming and may continue to re-program me to use at will. When they do, I have bizarre perceptions, find wounds on my body, and afterward usually am severely depressed and sometimes emotionally incapacitated for extended periods of time.
Despite the foregoing, I must acknowledge the positive aspect of multiple-ness because it masks my disability. In other words, I look not only “sane” and “normal” nearly all the time, but sometimes exceptional; therefore, a person might ask, how could my crazy theory be true?
I also mention the positive aspect because it contains my hope for full recovery: Having the perspective of many minds, I have, since 1993, been working with my alters, untangling messes, and removing unwanted programs. It has taken time and emotional stamina, sometimes incapacitating me for mundane things, at which times, I have not appeared “exceptional” at all, but severely messed up. And I’m still not “one.” But, I’m working on it.
Friends and acquaintances who know my story often don’t know what to make of it, because they rarely see the symptoms or don’t recognize them, so I’m accepted well enough in my community to be employed (when I want and am able) and have a wide circle of friends. Besides, so many people are struggling with something.
My hidden disability, though, makes it very hard to make a living, and I’ve been bailed out by my parents many times. Good therapists seem to be rare and hard to find, or else I’ve been controlled to avoid them, or they’ve been threatened by my controllers into avoiding treating me (commonly reported by others).
The worst of my experiences involving apparent mind control – that I recall – happened in 2010: I woke up extremely debilitated after a ten-hour sleep and found a third-degree Taser burn on my arm.
Much more is documented on this site, including weird bruises, apparent injection bruises (most common), a broken door lock, deep vaginal lacerations, biopsy “scoop marks,” and more.
Why am I not terrified? Well, I have been, and suicidal more times than I can count. But I’ve talked myself out of it. I’ve worked and prayed to try to understand our world, Good and Evil, the psyche and our power to navigate treacherous waters. And here I am.
Life has been moving on an upward course since I’ve been focusing my spiritual practice. I have a wonderful home and garden, lots of friends and friendly acquaintances, a supportive partner, enough work to pay the bills, and a satisfying artist’s life.
After 38 years of never singing in public (stage phobia related to mind control), in 2009 I began to sing publicly again – a most amazing breakthrough for my mind and psyche. And I’ve regained my ability to participate in life and see what Goodness I can add to our amazing human drama here.
And as a life-long activist for a variety of causes (saving mountains and downtown inner city schools, for instance), I now feel called to shine light on this criminal enterprise which steals people’s free will. I thank you very much for reading this far. I applaud your courage.
How do I really know I was a mind control subject? Check this page for a little bit more of my personal and family history.
I pray the content here and in my book helps others trying to understand their own stories and heal.
My best advice after gathering information: Remember fear and anger are natural, but a stage to go through and to move beyond. Remember that everything Good in this world is stronger, eventually, than the Dark, and focus on that Good. And check out my pages on Healing!
If you believe in a benevolent Higher Power, by whatever name, connect, hold fast, communicate, listen, and keep the best possible vision in mind in order to generate a vibration sympathetic with the energies of the Higher Power.
Today I believe these experiences have blessed me with one other thing: greater awareness than I would ever have had of the larger realities of this world. Therefore, they are extremely important to my life. We do believe we have the power to survive, understand, and help things improve for each other.
I have no idea exactly how. I feel that everyone on this planet, though, is facing a huge cataclysm very soon, and our world will change in ways we are probably not prepared for, and our minds are probably not prepared for.
So it will require an especially flexible mind to survive the ontological shock I believe is coming. And those of us who’ve already been shocked out of our shoes – who knows? – we might find it easier to adapt and see and respond to what’s going on.
Ontological shock is the disorientation a person endures when deep foundations of their mental framework become shaken. It will change our entire meaning of life – and who we think we are as humans. (Sort of like many lifelong Catholics have been experiencing for a decade or more, or a married person feels when they discover their spouse is cheating, or a parent feels when a baby is born with a problem, or anyone feels when someone near them suddenly dies – but much bigger.)
Our current structure of thought will not survive the changes. Words will truly fail us. So it’s imperative we get our energies, our vibrations clear, to be able to trust our perceptions.
Blessings on you ~
(p.s. All these photos were taken in the last couple of years, though I often look decades different in age.)
For more on how it feels – to me – to be a multiple personality, check out this page: Multiple-ness: What it Feels Like.
For a quick definition and overview of Mind Control – check out my page “Mind Control Defined.”
For links to some of my Healing posts, check out “Hope for Healing.”
And please remember to “Join/Listen!” (Button’s up top in the right corner.)
Author: RattleSnake Fire: a memoir of extra-dimensional experience;
The 2013 or Year One Almanac, Datebook, and Journal;
the 2004 Almanac/Datebook/Journal for Southern Arizona;
the 2003 Almanac, Datebook and Journal for Tucson and Southern Arizona;
the international Permaculture Drylands Journal (associate editor, 1989-91);
and numerous articles and newsletters, including international publications.
Praise: “great literature….tour de force!….important historical document,” and more.
Awards in journalism (UPI First Place, Arizona-Utah region), creative writing, art, theater, videography, real estate, Permaculture, and national recognition for non-profit fundraising. Others: served in Leaders Circle of Tucson Resources for Women. Invited to Leadership Tucson and Mensa. Served on numerous local boards, twice as president.
Thanks for visiting ~
Many new improvements on my site! New organization, new material, new look!
Among them: a new video page – with almost a dozen videos watchable right there!
The series of videos, each 5-8 minutes long, I produced to provide a simple overview of criminal mind control, multiple personality disorder, and my healing work. There’s an introduction, and each subsequent video covers briefly one subject: my experience with MPD; my experience with MK; reasons I believe I was chosen; marks left on my body; memories from childhood; a reading of the first chapter of a friend’s book which sets the scene quite well for mind control in American history; and my immediate recounting of a cathartic healing event.
And then there’s 35 more videos by others, which link to YouTube – but one click and all 35 are lined up and ready to watch or choose from: Terrence McKenna, Colin Ross, Travis Walton, and many others speaking on American culture, mind control, and other related topics!
I hope you’ll visit! https://paradigmsalon.net/videos/
This Sunday Summary of Soul Healing I intend to make a weekly series, featuring the most significant of my week’s journal entries including spiritual experiences, disturbing anomalies, accomplishments, and progress on my Big Questions.
(My poll here last week said that “personal experiences” was a major interest of my readers.)
I plan to keep it short and to the point. So here goes….
Note: This first Sunday Summary will cover the previous two and a half weeks, rather than one week, laying a better foundation for the weekly series.
My last journal notebook ended with 2 Big Questions, one of which was: Is mind control “just what is” and we should all learn to accept it? (This is not as depressing a proposition as I’ve mused on it – but I’ll get to that soon.)
~ This journal began with a bang: October 9 I was so speedy (and I drink no caffeine), that I couldn’t believe how much I was getting done, though I was happy about it. Eventually I began to worry about myself. (Getting seriously manic? Will I become seriously depressed next? I’m usually a highly productive person, as I was trained to be, but this is over the top!) In the evening, I was embarrassed when my daughter came over with a friend and I was not just chatty but practically performing a humor routine while cooking and having a blast! Not me.
The next day I crashed and for the next 9 days, my sleep was extremely erratic – anywhere from 4 hours to 11 hours, but my days were approximately normal. Then…
~ Disturbing anomalies – three new hypodermic bruises (they seem to me, or they could be Taser marks, as they often seem double) appeared where they usually do – on one of my thighs. I discovered this on the 18th – though it might have been there earlier.
On the 19th, I discovered two more, and one was clearly double, and I had no energy, just drug around all day in a stupor. And both days, I ignored my notebook journal all day long.
[In case new readers think these tiny bruises are “nothing,” I have to say I would agree except for the context: I’ve woken with many hundreds of weird marks on my body in the last decade, including healed surgical scars, Taser burns, weird donut-shaped bruises, and more (check my “Photo History” and “Summary of 18 Months as an MK Subject“), not to mention all the other evidence of mind control.]
~ A lifelong recorder of my dreams, I’m still experiencing long periods of not being able to remember any – and I worry the controllers are keeping me from remembering them, since I believe they’re important to my healing. I even told some dreams to my partner – instead of writing them down – and then promptly forgot them! And then he couldn’t remember either.
~ Energy infusion – October 20, sitting at my computer, I had what I call an “energy infusion,” in which energy pours into me with such power, I have to stop what I’m doing and just receive it. It feels great, not frightening at all, and usually I just get back to work, as I did this time. In the past, these experiences have sometimes resulted in fascinating conversations with spiritual beings offering me good counsel. Perhaps I had a conversation but don’t remember.
(Context: In the past, when I’ve tried to describe the sensation, the only thing I could compare it to in our spiritually-compromised culture was my old memory of Bill Bixby and Lou Ferrigno in the 1978-82 TV show, The Hulk, when energy would pour into Bill’s character, causing his back to hump up and his arms and legs to tighten, just before the Hulk went on a rampage to right some intolerable injustice. In my book, I flippantly called my energy infusion events “the Hulk routine” because the energy download flows powerfully into my muscles – and I can’t stop it. But, as I said, it feels great. Afterward, I feel energized and rejuvenated. When others have been around and have seen the energy contort my muscles, I’ve usually tried to disguise it and have occasionally moved as if spontaneously deciding to stretch, once danced with it, and at least once posed, trying to hide behind a little humor, a bit like Lou Ferrigno is here, sans roar, and without ripping my clothes or turning green. I’m shy about these events – have never heard anyone describe anything like this, so this is only the second time I’ve written about them. Sometimes, the experiences have come with profound healing events. Once, I suddenly felt the presence of teenage-aspects of me, a lot of them, all wounded and crippled, suddenly released and sorta milling about in me, then whoosh, they began to flow up and out into another dimension, freeing me of all their pain and confusion. I then called in Goodness and Healing to fill the space. Once after an infusion, I sensed a spirit who seemed very familiar, existing in other dimensions, and I asked her, “Who are you?” She didn’t answer (or I was programmed to forget), but she gave me one bit of advice: “You gotta buff up.” The jargon was so unexpected, it struck me as very funny. But, since I had gotten out of shape and overweight, I answered, Okay, and have been working to keep on a better health regimen now. I have no idea how many energy infusions I’ve experienced – I’d have to read a few dozen hand-written journals to make a count, and I’m not going to do that any time soon – and I probably don’t write them all down, they’re that common – but it’s been a few dozen anyway.)
A few minutes after the energy infusion, I experienced a fairy-like being dancing near me, even inside my aura, in another dimension. I love those experiences! I didn’t get or don’t remember any particular message, but I sure appreciate it when they drop in. Continuing to feel great, I worked again until 5:30 in the morning.
~ Two days later, I “crashed” and felt sick all day. Then I was back to normal. The day after, though, I felt okay until l tried to meditate or pray. My writing turned from sad to musing on being off this planet and out of this life as a mind control subject – I used the word suicidal (not uncommon) – but I recovered and got myself back to normal. In bed that night, I received another energy infusion that went on unusually long, and I directed it into a spontaneous yogic stretch exercise, for ten minutes or more, which felt extremely healing.
Unfortunately, as I began to communicate with my Spirit Family, I experienced something not uncommon that I interpret as communications-jamming from the controllers: black and white films (seemingly chosen randomly from old libraries) played on top of each other in my mind’s eye while I tried to connect with Family. (The films are varied and nothing from my own life: from dusty street scenes in third-world nations to boating trips involving people I’ve never seen.) As I wrestled to clear my energy field, I saw my aura being pulled out of my body while an idea teased that I could leave this life now if I wanted. I had to do spiritual warfare to keep my body and spirit together and drive the vision away. This weirdness is intense and also pretty routine – I seem to be developing skills to cope with it – so I accomplished the feat, went to sleep, and the next day was “normal.”
~ During this time, I mulled over – a lot – a blog I’ve been thinking of posting, titled, “Mind Control: Just What Is?” The idea continued to pester me, and grieved me at the same time. Just now, I discovered it was already posted (last April!) and read it again and think it’s well worth discussing.
~ Related to that, I’ve been mulling over a question I’ve actually been asking myself for at least a year or more: Is the way controllers treat their mind control subjects like me no worse than most of humanity treats other animals (either directly or complicitly through tax dollars and no objection)? I believe the answer is yes. And then I’ve asked my journal, Does that mean we’re not necessarily dealing with “Evil” from an external source as many claim (Satan’s demons spawning Satanists, Illuminati, and murderous psychopaths in secret government programs), but just dealing with a fractal-like manifestation of our own human selves, macrocosm reflecting our microcosm? And the corollary: If we, collectively, learn to treat animals and the planet better, might other humans stop creating and abusing mind control subjects?
I have partial answers to these questions, hinted at in “Mind Control: Just What Is?”, but there’s more complexity I need to introduce soon. For now, I’ll leave you with this “Summary” and welcome your observations and questions.
(Lest this all sound too wacky for you and you want to write it all off – wait! Perhaps your world view (your paradigm) could use some stretching. To that end, you might want to read my pages “Multiple Personality – Not Crazy,” “Jean’s Spiritual History,” “Mind Control Defined,” and/or my business site, JeanEisenhower.com, with a fairly extensive history of my accomplishments in business, activism, and the arts.)
I also plan to write a Friday weekly series on folklore, history, religion, culture, cosmos, and spirit – as they relate to mind control, multiple personality, and healing – starting this Friday. Any ideas for the series title? Philosophical Friday? Fundamental Friday? Foundational Friday? Friday Folklore and More?
For years I’ve wavered between appreciation and being highly pissed-off when I’ve heard people talk about “creating our own realities.”
(“Yeah, tell that to a baby who’s being …,” I used to say.)
So it is with a sense of irony, humility, and real appreciation that I repost part of an email from Jon Rappaport, along with a link to his site. This is the beginning of a sale pitch for a package he’s selling – out of my price range, so I won’t buy – BUT just the approach he presents to this very important question is quite powerful I believe.
I’ll use it to further empower some new ideas that have been stirring in me, and attitudes I’ve been practicing now for a little while that have helped me a great deal with healing.
The Matrix Revealed: victimized or inspired?
By Jon Rappoport
October 25, 2014
When I was putting together my collection, The Matrix Revealed, I was acutely aware that people, when confronted by external power structures, often fall into a state of despair.
This is, in fact, an objective of mind control. It seeks to trap people with their own knowledge.
It seeks to make insight a self-defeating proposition.
But there is another way.
When a person sees the “artistic” blow-by-blow creation of these power structures, in progress—rather than the finished product—an entirely new consciousness arises.
“If they can create Reality for me, I can create my own.”
“If they are artists, I can be an artist, too—but in an entirely different direction.”
The Matrix ceases to be a monolith. It is revealed as an ongoing weave, and one can see the process at work.
Then, one’s own insight operates on behalf of liberation.
A person can actually see how he cooperates in the progression of accepting “the weave.”
And he sees other options.
JE: Spider Woman, of Native American lore, constantly weaves and reweaves the Web. Let’s keep weaving – and making it beautiful.
In my Blogging 201 seminar, I’ve had requests for basic information on both Mind Control and Multiple Personality – so I’ve created two new pages. The second one is copied here, as well as in a new page at the top of the site under “Multiple. The first is also right up top of the site under “Mind Control.“
For all the multiples….
Is Multiple Personality Disorder (Dissociative Identity Disorder) “crazy”? Actually, it’s considered a creative solution, usually discovered in childhood, to keep from going crazy when experiencing something beyond what the psyche can handle, like torture. The vast majority of multiples experienced torture as children in one way or another.
(Today MPD is called Dissociative Identity Disorder, but many of us prefer the old term as more descriptive of our experience.)
How multiple splitting comes about: Under extreme stress, a person, especially a child, might “leave their body” to psychically escape unbearable pain; the mind, however, keeps recording the body’s experience – now on a blank slate – which then becomes another, separate personality.
The initial separation sets a repeatable pattern in the person called dissociation (dissociating mind from body); with ongoing stress, the pattern is repeated again and again, creating more and more alternate personalities, called “alters.” Since some of the alters are too afraid to come back into the body and risk torture again, they remain children. Interestingly, their young psyches may actually help the body stay young-looking – until an older alter comes out.
While the fragmentation of the psyche is not “normal,” each of the fragments, alters, is sane. They each have a sane perspective on their piece of the world. If they escaped pain, they have a psychology that never experienced pain and is normal for that experience. If the alter was one that did experience pain, they may have a neurotic personality, but totally appropriate to and sane for their experience.
Most positive: with all those alters, multiples have potentially more perspective than most – like insects with multiply-faceted eyes. The trick is coordinating the alters, helping the suffering ones heal, giving disruptive alters appropriate new “jobs” and identities, and if communication is a problem, helping everyone communicate, etc.
In ancient societies, multiples were supported and often honored for their diverse perspectives and skills, usually broad, including a range of skills from the mundane to psychic – as the alters who spent the most time dissociated from the body often develop significant psychic skills. These individuals were often trained as shamans.
In modern society, on the other hand, there is little recognition, much less appreciation or caring support for multiples. Some find good therapists, but many do not, and the cause of their affliction, the torture, is typically ignored by society. If individuals cannot function well enough to pass as un-fragmented, they live as “disabled” – even though they may have a lot of wisdom with all their perspectives.
Relationships between the alters can be very different from multiple to multiple. Some alters are entirely unknown to the other alters, which causes tremendous problems for the person. Sometimes a person has “co-conscious” alters which work together quite successfully (like myself), though there may be disconnected alters as well that cause occasional problems.
Children under torturous conditions who don’t “leave their bodies” and dissociate often become schizophrenic. So dissociation, MPD, is a blessing in disguise, having saved the child from a far worse possibility. MPD/DID is fairly easy to heal (unless complicated by mind control); schizophrenia, on the other hand, is considered incurable.
Being a multiple personality has not been easy, but it’s been far less difficult than typically depicted in books and movies, and in some ways, it seems to be an advantage: Many of us discover we have the capacity to manage a wide variety of mental tasks, having a lot of “minds” holographically in our beings. Managing them all is the trick.
The common perception of “multiples,” as being tragically out of control, is true for some, but many multiples are also very high-functioning, many even testing at genius levels (as I have a few times). Granted, we also often have severe mental, psychological, social emotional, and spiritual challenges as well – as readers of my book can appreciate.
As for the torture that causes multiple-ness: In the past, torture of children usually happened by accident, a child surviving a wild animal attack, for instance. Unfortunately, people lacking empathy and any moral code recognized that multiples have a propensity for amnesia and learned to take advantage of this, sometimes making literal slaves of the multiples.
In the 1940s, China and the United States each sought to protect their secrets from adversaries at war and began experimenting on soldiers, inducing split minds through intentional torture on their own citizens and others. In the United States, the CIA began intensive studies, now called MKULTRA, and experimented on an estimated 20,000 children and many more adults between the late 1940s and the mid 1970s – individuals who had no idea they were experimental subjects, did not give their consent, and have never been acknowledged or assisted in healing. (The CIA director testified that they destroyed all files. As a consequence, no subject can prove they were involved and disabled in this program.) More on American mind control history is in my page “Mind Control Defined.”
More of my personal experience is in my post “Multiple-ness: What it Feels Like.”
This is the most popular post on my site, from January 2012.
It’s long – but fascinating history! The documentation by the courts is impressive. The human story a heartbreak.
It’s important for this reality to be fully appreciated today. It’s happening still, and understanding that would explain a lot..
Thanks to the arrogant bragging of a criminal hypnotist Bjorn Nielsen, his manipulation of Palle Hardrup (also Hardwick) in Denmark in the 1940s to rob a bank and murder a teller and bank manager was witnessed by numerous people and corroborated by a police investigator, resulting in Palle’s acquittal – unfortunately, only temporary.
Nielsen was a street-smart, self-taught con man who bragged in prison about having developed a “perfect” crime, in which someone else would take the fall.
Palle Hardrup had been a serious, spiritually-minded teenager when he was recruited – for three months which he said ruined his life – into the Nazi party and then was sent to prison after the occupation along with other Nazis. There, he was recognized by prison staff as a “polite…well-behaved…young idealist,” though Palle wrote in his journal about his depression and despair over his relationship with God.
Nielsen befriended Palle with stories of his spiritual mastery and, because Nielsen had daily access to Palle on the prison workforce, he was able to slowly convince him to let him be his teacher, though Palle initially resisted. Yoga and meditation exercises eventually led, when they became cellmates, to trance states and hypnosis. After daily contact for most of two years, Palle and Nielsen were both released.
Nielsen was able to convince Palle to marry a woman he did not love in order to get him out of his parents’ home, and then tried, less successfully, to make his wife another hypnotic subject, but he didn’t spend as much time with her.
He also filled Palle with ideas of a national revolution for which Palle would be the instigator, and for which Nielsen had Palle draw up organizational charts and badges for members while he was under hypnosis, to support a story he’d have Palle tell as an explanation for why he needed the money, should he be caught.
After two more years of hypnotic conditioning, Palle robbed the first bank and gave all the money to Nielsen, but felt confused when his wife asked him questions that hadn’t been covered by his hypnotic instructions. His phone calls to Nielsen calmed him but aroused his wife’s suspicions.
Two years later, when Nielsen’s money was running out, he tapped Palle again for another robbery. This time, the teller hesitated and Palle, in hypnotic trance, shot the teller and the bank manager dead.
When an alarm went off, which had not been covered by hypnotic suggestion, Palle became suddenly wide awake, confused, and panic-stricken. Nevertheless, when he was captured, he followed his programming and claimed to have robbed the bank entirely alone without any accomplice. Nielsen had chosen to be out of the country at the time.
When news of the robberies and murders was published, fellow prisoners began to come forward, including one who told investigators that Nielsen had made Palle “virtually a slave, giving up all his personal possessions and even much of his prison food to him. The code, or trigger sign which always sent Hardrup into a deep trance, was the sign of an X, and Nielsen had so conditioned his subject that whenever this sign was made, he went straight into a state of somnambulance. The informer insisted that although Hardrup had carried out the raid, Nielsen’s was certainly the mind controlling him at the time.” (police investigator notes) Released prisoners and those still in prison all told authorities the same thing: Palle was Nielsen’s hypno-puppet.
Palle, however, continued to protect Nielsen, claiming to have committed the robberies and murders to fund his revolution, and the first doctor to see him diagnosed him as having a “psychotic-like condition” caused by subjection to prolonged, intensive hypnotraining.
Police decided to question Palle again with Nielsen in the room, during which they noticed that Nielsen sat “forward with elbows on knees, arms crossed and hands on his shoulders, thus making a clear X sign. When told to sit properly, he changed his position for a more upright one, but immediately crossed his legs. For the duration of the interrogation, a matter of some three hours, he stared intently into Hardrup’s eyes. It was observed that whenever Nielsen made an X sign, Hardrup renewed his own confessions and protestations of Nielsen’s innocence.”
While Palle was in jail, Nielsen sent him daily letters with innocuous content, always signed with an X. Another prisoner told authorities that Nielsen had paid him to draw X marks on walls where Palle was sure to see them.
Nielsen was defended in court by the best attorneys money could buy, while the police called in Dr. Paul Reiter, one of Denmark’s foremost hypnosis experts, a lecturer at the University of Copenhagen on psychotherapy and psychosomatic medicine, and an expert on criminal psychiatry. Until meeting Palle, he did not believe that criminal hypnosis was possible.
Over a period of months, Reiter was able to break through Nielsen’s programming to program Palle instead to begin chronicling his relationship with Nielsen over the years, in careful detail, only what he knew was absolutely true with no embellishment. With Nielsen’s communications broken, Palle began to write about and finally come to understand his four years of hypno-programming by Nielsen.
In court, the police seated Nielsen and Palle next to each other, and witnesses claimed to overhear Nielsen remind Palle of his duty to X, after which it took Reiter ten days to return their hypnotic rapport to what it had been.
Unfortunately, Nielsen’s defense team was able to have Palle’s attorney dismissed from the case and replaced by a new attorney who had only two weeks to prepare to argue one of the most technically unfamiliar and complex legal cases to ever enter the Danish court system.
At trial, Palle and Nielsen were again seated next to each other, where Nielsen murmured about what X wanted.
Toward the end of the trial, both Nielsen and Palle were given one week to read Reiter’s report on Palle, and Reiter was not allowed to see Palle during this time.
Reiter’s report reflected his clinical strategies, tightly focused on winning the case by proving that Palle could indeed be hypno-programmed – but it was not written with what might have been a therapist’s concern for a client’s sensibilities on reading about his own victimization. Despite the fact that Palle had written down memories of what Nielsen had done to him, he had not yet fully processed the emotions.
Reiter pleaded with the court to delay this move, to let him prepare Palle for the shock of what was in the report and its clinical and legal style, but that request was rejected, as Nielsen’s lawyers were demanding the report immediately. The court denied Reiter permission to see Palle until two days before the next court date.
So Palle was handed Reiter’s report and told he had a week to read it. Until he read it, Palle had believed his autobiography had been his own idea, he hadn’t remembered much of his sessions with Reiter, and he had believed he’d fallen in love with his wife on his own and had allowed Nielsen to have sex with her of his own will – for which he had felt terribly guilty, and now was filled with grief and anger. He writhed in shame as he read the clinical report and had no one to talk to about it. Crafted for the judge and jury, of course, the report didn’t give any impression that Reiter even liked him. Palle’s lack of sleep and mental distress led to nightmares about X.
Two days prior to trial, Reiter was able, with effort, to reestablish his benevolent control over Palle and suggested that Palle have no more nightmares, which worked the first night, but not the second.
When Palle appeared for court, he was exhausted and very ill-at-ease. Reiter needed to demonstrate that Palle could be hypnotized (defense asserted that he could not be) and then demonstrate that Palle’s obedience to X was really obedience to Nielsen. Palle, in a hypnotic state induced for the court audience, struggled against a dark angel who threatened to throw him in the abyss for his disobedience, which distracted Palle from Reiter’s attempts at demonstration. As Palle fell into his imaginary hell, he was on the verge of healing himself from all hypnotic spells, during which he saw X and Reiter come together into one! Both had indeed forced their way into his susceptible mind; both had made him do things he was not aware of; and in that moment there was no difference to Palle. And in that moment he woke up – on his own accord, and then burst into violent sobs.
When Reiter tried to induce him again, it did not work. Instead, he jumped up with such agitation that two guards immediately jumped forward to protect Reiter, followed by six more. Palle could not be restrained and broke away from all eight officers, but paused in the hallway and allowed Reiter to calm him. Reiter sedated Palle on the stand, where he demonstrated that even with the narcotic, he was no longer hypnotizable. Palle explained to the court the edge of the abyss of damnation he’d been on, his struggle with X, his falling, and the merger of the X and Reiter figures.
Reiter, at first, could not believe it and asked Palle to agree it was not logical. Palle agreed. “It’s not logic but my soul that’s speaking, my soul which is in shreds. It is my unconscious part…and that has nothing to do with logic.” Dr. Reiter could never hypnotize Palle again.
This was only the trial preliminaries. Palle’s new lawyer stayed on the case for the next two years, during which time Nielsens’s defense team set out to prove that Palle was insane and/or a liar, and they worked to deprive Palle of legal and psychiatric aid.
Even though Nielsen’s attorney’s employed a medical expert witness who asserted the dogma of “moral integrity,” stating that no one will do anything against their will under hypnosis, the judge and jury found Nielsen guilty of robbery, attempted robbery, and manslaughter – having determined that serious criminal acts could be caused by a criminal hypnotist’s manipulations of a somnambulist subject.
Unfortunately, the jury also found Palle guilty and sentenced him to life in an institution for the criminally insane.
Palle began writing another autobiography, often expressing grief for the sorrow he caused his parents and wife and child: “what a blight it must have cast over their life…to see how I slowly drifted away from them in a strange way that they could neither understand nor do anything about.”
Reiter negotiated to have Palle released from the institution for the insane to a regular hospital, but two days before he had the confirmation, Nielsen’s attorneys submitted new information to open the case.
Rather than face another trial, Palle, not knowing he was soon to be a “free man,” secretly sent a letter to Nielsen’s attorneys, admitting to all crimes and denying that Nielsen had anything to do with them. Then he sent a letter to his own attorney asking that the word hypnosis be removed entirely from the case.
Palle’s lawyer asked the court to once again provide a psychiatric hypnosis specialist, which so infuriated Palle that his attorney quit. The new lawyer meekly accepted Palle’s new request.
The appeals court now had to determine which of Palle’s three confessions was the true one. Nielsen, too, began writing letters to the court, referring to the “poor psychotic fellow” and writing letters again to Palle, which the court allowed!
Palle appeared on the stand “aggressive, cynical, impudent, reticent, dishonest.” Reiter, an observer now, wrote, “His artificially created secondary personality was now plainly dominant.”
Dr. Sturup, the head doctor at the Institution for Psychopaths, where Palle was confined testified that at the hospital Palle was well-behaved, always quiet and appropriate, and curiously different from his courtroom behavior. He also said that Palle rarely spoke of his case, but when he did, it contradicted his statements in court. For instance, in the hospital he told the doctor, “Of course, hypnosis played a part” in what was going on, and “Anyone ought to be able to see all that is in Reiter’s report can’t be wrong.” He and many other observers noticed the affect Nielsen’s presence had on Palle and his continuous making of X gestures.
After calling Reiter to testify (but still not allowed to speak with Palle), the court agreed to stop communication between Nielsen and Palle, but another prisoner had just previously been brought in to Palle’s unit who began giving Palle instructions from X, resulting in Palle turning over his parents’ full inheritance to this new resident, who escaped, was captured, and confessed all.
The Court of Appeals issued a preliminary report in May 1957, evaluating Palle’s mental state as “an artificially established, induced psychosis, created and developed through the influence of another person…making use of all the ways and means at his disposal…including hypnosis.” It concluded that “induced impulses (post-hypnotic suggestions) had been used by Nielsen to exploit his control over Palle with criminal intent.”
Unfortunately, a month later, the same court concluded that Palle’s second confession best matched the evidence, finding him guilty, and refused further appeals. Mercifully, he only spent a few more years in prison.
Nielsen’s attorneys, however, appealed to the European Court of Human Rights, which decided in Nielsen’s favor.
Reiter’s book about the case also reviewed expert research and opinion from the 8th and 19th century European hypnotists.
This case is usually misrepresented by American writers, especially by Aaron Moss, ironically an expert on disguised hypnotic induction! Several American research hypnotists have quoted Moss as being the final word on Palle’s case.
Reiter has opined that these strident denials of the possibility of unethical hypnosis in the face of so much evidence amount to simple dogma: “… the growth of this dogma was due to very human motives, not the least on the part of a number of professional hypnotizers…who understandably enough wished to reassure a public likely to be alarmed by the dangerous potentialities of hypnotism.” (Reiter, 1958, pp 38-39.)
This article is a summary of “Case History: Palle Hardwick,” a chapter from Secret, Don’t Tell: The Encyclopedia of Hypnotism, by Carla Emery, which covers: five cases which made world history, a partial history of CIA mind control research, trance phenomena, induction methods, and legal and therapy issues in criminal hypnosis. Carla Emery is most known for her classic Encylcopedia of Country Living, a best-seller since the 1960s.
When I spoke with Carla before she died, she told me that she’d been motivated to do this research when a friend began to struggle to understand and heal her government mind control programming. I hope to summarize more from the book.
If you want to buy it, please do not buy from Amazon, but from http://www.hypnotism.org – a small bookstore site operated by her widowed husband, who works with old-fashioned checks in the postal mail. (Plus, they cost a lot less!) Alternatively, go to Addall.com if you need to purchase online.
Still very well worth reading. Delivered at the Fourth Annual Eastern Regional Conference on Abuse and Multiple Personality, Thursday June 25, 1992, at the Radisson Plaza Hotel, Mark Center, Alexandria, Virginia. Sponsored by the Center for Abuse Recovery & Empowerment, The Psychiatric Institute of Washington, D.C.
Hypnosis in MPD: Ritual Abuse (The Greenbaum Speech) – transcript
By D.C. Hammond
I want to start off by talking a little about trance training and the use of hypnotic phenomena with an MPD/dissociative disorder population. I will also talk about exploration of the unconscious, the use of symbolic imagery techniques for managing physical symptoms, input overload, and things like that. Before the day’s out, I want to spend some time talking about something I think has been completely neglected in the field of dissociative disorder, and that’s methods of profound calming for automatic hyper-arousal that’s been conditioned in these patients.
I also want to talk about hypnotic relapse prevention strategies and post-integration therapy. Finally, I hope somewhere in our time together to spend an hour or so talking specifically about ritual abuse, mind control programming and brainwashing – how it’s done and how to get on the inside. This is a topic that in the past I haven’t been willing to speak about publicly. I have done that in small groups and in consultations, but recently decided that it was high time that somebody started doing it. So we’re going to talk about specifics today.
In Chicago [in 1984], at the first international congress where ritual abuse was talked about, I can remember thinking, “How strange and interesting.” I can recall many people listening to an example given that somebody thought was so idiosyncratic and rare, and then all the people coming up afterwards saying, “Gee, you’re treating one like that, too? You’re in Seattle? Well, I’m in Toronto.” “Well, I’m in Florida.” “Well, I’m in Cincinnati…” I didn’t know what to think at that point.
It wasn’t too long after that I found my first ritual abuse patient in somebody I was treating, and we hadn’t gotten that deep yet. Things in that case made me very curious about the use of mind control techniques, hypnosis, and other brainwashing techniques. So I started studying brainwashing and some of the literature in that area. I became acquainted with one of the people who’d written one of the better books in that area.
Then I decided to do a survey. From the ISSMP&D [International Society for the Study of Multiple Personality and Dissociation] folks (http://www.isst-d.org/), I picked out about a dozen and a half therapists that I thought were seeing more ritual abuse than anyone else around, and I started surveying them. I got the same reaction almost without exception on the interview protocol.
Those therapists said, “You’re asking questions I don’t know the answers to. You’re asking more specific questions than I’ve ever asked my patients.” Many of those same therapists said, “Let me ask those questions, and I’ll get back to you with the answer.” Many of them not only got back with answers, but said, “You’ve got to talk to this patient or these two patients.” As a result, I ended up doing hundreds of dollars worth of telephone interviewing.
I came out of that with a grasp of a variety of brainwashing methods being used all over the country. I started to hear some similarities. Whereas to begin with, I hadn’t known how widespread things were, I was now getting a feeling that there were a lot of people reporting some similar things, and that there must be some degree of communication to cause this.
Then approximately two and a half years ago, I had some material drop in my lap. My source was saying a lot of things that I knew were accurate about some of the brainwashing, but was telling me new material about which I had no idea. At this point I decided to check it out in three ritual abuse patients I was seeing at the time. After careful inquiry, without leading or contaminating, I discovered two of the three had what the source was describing.
The fascinating thing was that as I did a telephone consult with a therapist that I’d been consulting for quite a number of months on an MPD case in another state, I asked her to inquire about certain specific things. She said, “Well, what are those things?” I said, “I’m not going to tell you specifics, because I don’t want there to be any possibility of contamination. Just come back to me and tell me what the patient says.”
She called me back two hours later and said, “I just had a double session with this patient and there was a part of him that said, ‘Oh, we’re so excited. If you know about this stuff, you know how the cult programmers get on the inside, and our therapy is going to go so much faster.’” Now many other patients since have had a reaction of wanting to pee their pants out of anxiety and fear rather than thinking it was wonderful thing.
But the interesting thing was that she then asked her patient, “What are these things?” They were word perfect the same answers my source had given me. I’ve since repeated that experience in many parts of the country. I’ve consulted in eleven states and one foreign country, in some cases over the telephone, in some cases in person. In some cases I gave the therapist information ahead of time saying, “Be very careful how you phrase this. Phrase it in these ways so you don’t contaminate.” In other cases I didn’t give the therapist specific information ahead of time, so they couldn’t contaminate the results.
When you find the same highly esoteric information in different states from Florida to California and from different countries, you start to get an idea that there’s something going on that is very large and very well coordinated, something that is systematic and requires a great deal of communication. So I have gone from someone kind of neutral and not knowing what to think about it all to someone who clearly believes ritual abuse is real, and that the people who say it isn’t are either naive – like people who didn’t want to believe the Holocaust – or they’re dirty [involved in the programs].
Now for a long time I would give information to a select group of therapists that I knew and trusted, and say, “Spread it out. Don’t spread my name. Don’t say where it came from. But here’s some information. If you find it’s on target, share it with other therapists, and I’d appreciate your feedback.” People would question me in talks. They were hungry for information.
Later, I and a few others that I’d shared it with were hedging out of concern because of personal threats and death threats. I finally decided to hell with them. If they’re going to kill me, they’re going to kill me. It’s time to share more information with therapists. Part of why I’m willing to share this is because we proceeded so cautiously and slowly, checking things in many different locations and finding the same thing. So I’m going to describe for you ways of dealing with ritual abuse programming. I certainly can’t tell you everything that you want to know in forty-five or fifty minutes, but I’m going to give you the essentials to get inside and start working at a new level.
I don’t know what proportion of patients have this. I would guess maybe two-thirds of your ritual abuse patients may have this kind of programming. What do I think is the distinguishing characteristic? If they were raised from birth in a mainstream cult, or if they were a non-bloodline person, meaning neither parent was in the cult, but cult people had a lot of access to them in early childhood, they may also have it.
I have seen more than one ritual abuse patient who clearly had all the kind of ritual things you hear about. They seemed very genuine. They talked about all the typical things that you hear in this population, but based on prolonged extensive checking, they had none of this programming. So for instance I believe in one case I was personally treating that the patient was in a kind of schizmatic break-off that had kind of gone off and done their own thing and were no longer hooked into a mainstream group.
Here’s where the ritual abuse appears to have come from. Near the end of World War II, Allen Dulles [later to become Director of the CIA] and other people from our intelligence community were in Switzerland making contact to get out Nazi scientists. As World War II ended, they not only got out HYPERLINK “http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Paperclip”rocket scientists, but they also HYPERLINK “http://www.personalgrowthcourses.net/video/mind_control_nazi_experiments”got out some Nazi doctors who had been doing mind control research in the concentration camps. They secretly brought them to the United States [through HYPERLINK “http://www.wanttoknow.info/a-project-paperclip-dark-side-the-moon”Project Paperclip].
Along with them was a young boy, a teenager, who had been raised in a Hasidic Jewish tradition with a background of Cabalistic mysticism. That probably appealed to people in the cult, because by the turn of the century HYPERLINK “http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleister_Crowley”Aleister Crowley had been introducing Cabalism into Satanic stuff, if not earlier. I suspect it may have formed some bond between the boy and the Nazis. He saved his skin by collaborating and being an assistant to them in the death-camp experiments. They brought him with the Nazis to the US.
These escaped Nazis started doing mind control research for military intelligence in military hospitals in the United States. These Nazi doctors were Satanists. Subsequently, the boy changed his name, Americanized it some, obtained an M.D. degree, became a physician, and continued this work that appears to be at the center of cult programming today. His name is known to patients throughout the country.
What they basically do in these programs is they get a child and start programming in basic forms, it appears, by about age two and a half, after the child’s already been made dissociative. They’ll make him dissociative not only through abuse, like sexual abuse, but also things like putting a mousetrap on their fingers and teaching the parents, “You do not go in until the child stops crying. Only then do you go in and remove it.”
They start in rudimentary forms at about age two and a half and kick into high gear, it appears, around six or six and a half. They continue through adolescence with periodic reinforcements in adulthood.
During the programming, the child will be put typically on a gurney. They will have an IV in one hand or arm. They’ll be strapped down, typically naked. There will be wires attached to their head to monitor electroencephalograph patterns. They will see a pulsing light, most often described as red, occasionally white or blue. They’ll be given, most commonly I believe, Demerol. Sometimes it will be other drugs as well depending on the kind of programming. They have it, I think, down to a science where they’ve learned you give a set amount every twenty-five minutes until the programming is done.
The patients then will describe a pain on one ear, their right ear generally, where it appears a needle has been placed. They will hear weird, disorienting sounds in that ear while they see photic stimulation to drive the brain into a brainwave pattern with a pulsing light at a certain frequency not unlike the goggles that are now available through Sharper Image and some of those kinds of stores. Then, after a suitable period when they’re in a certain brainwave state, they will begin programming oriented to self-destruction and debasement of the person.
One patient about eight years old had gone through a great deal of early programming which took place on a military installation. That’s not uncommon. I’ve treated and been involved with cases who are part of this original mind control project, as well as having their programming on military installations in many cases. We find a lot of connections with the CIA. This particular child was in a private cult school where several of these sessions occurred a week.
She would be taken into a room to get all hooked up. They would do all of these sorts of things. When she was in the proper altered state, they no longer had to monitor with electroencephalographs. She also already had electrodes placed on her; one in the vagina, for example, four on the head. Sometimes they’ll be on other parts of the body. They would then begin and would say to her, “You are angry with someone in the group.” She’d say, “No, I’m not,” and they’d violently shock her. They would say the same thing until she complied and didn’t make any negative response.
Then they would continue. “When you are angry with someone in the group, you will hurt yourself. Do you understand?” She answered, “No,” and they shocked her. They repeated again, “Do you understand?” “Well, yes, but I don’t want to.” Shock her again until they get compliance.
Then they keep adding to it. “And you will hurt yourself by cutting yourself. Do you understand?” Maybe she’d say yes, but they might say, “We don’t believe you,” and shock her anyway. “Go back and go over it again.” They would continue in this sort of fashion. She said typically it seemed as though they’d go about thirty minutes, take a break for a smoke or something and come back. They might review what they’d done and then stop, or go on to new material. She said the sessions might go half an hour, or as much as three hours. She estimated three times a week.
Programming was done under the influence of drugs in a certain brainwave state, with these noises in one ear and the programmers speaking in the other ear, usually the left ear, which is associated with right hemisphere non-dominant brain functioning. All this while they were talking to her and therefore requiring her intense concentration, intense focusing. Often they would have to memorize and say certain things back, word perfect, to avoid punishment, shock, and other kinds of things that were occurring. This is basically how a lot of programming goes on.
Some of it will also use other typical brainwashing techniques. There will be very standardized types of hypnotic things done at times. There will be sensory deprivation which we know increases suggestibility in anyone. According to the research, suggestibility is significantly increased with total sensory deprivation. It’s not uncommon before they do certain of these things for them to use this a great deal, including formal sensory-deprivation chambers.
Now because we don’t have a lot of time, let me give you as much practical information as I can.
The way that I would inquire as to whether or not some of this programming might be there was to use ideomotor finger signals. After setting them up, I would say, “I want the central inner core of you to take control of the finger signals.” Don’t ask the unconscious mind. The case where you’re inquiring about ritual abuse, that’s for the central inner core. The core is a cult-created part. “And I want that central inner core of you to take control of this hand and of these finger signals. For yes, the finger will float up. I want to ask the inner core of you is there any part of you who knows anything about Alpha, Beta, Delta, or Theta.”
If you get a yes, it should raise a red flag that you might have someone with formal intensive brainwashing and programming in place. I would then say, “I want a part inside who knows something about Alpha, Beta, Delta, and Theta to come up to a level where you can speak to me. And when you’re here say, ‘I’m here.’” I would not ask if a part was willing to do this. No one is going to particularly want to talk about this. I would just say, “I want some part who can tell me about this to come out.” Without leading them, ask what these things are.
On consults where I’ve come in, sometimes I’ve gotten a yes to that, but as I’ve done exploration, it appeared to be some kind of compliance response or somebody wanting, in two or three cases, to appear maybe that they were ritual abuse – and maybe they were in some way – but with careful inquiry and questioning, it was obvious that they did not have this kind of cult programming.
Let me tell you what these programs are. Let’s suppose that this whole front row here are multiples, and that she has an alter named Helen, she [the next woman] has one named Mary, she has one named Gertrude, she has one named Elizabeth, and she has one named Monica. Every one of those HYPERLINK “http://www.didlegit.com/alters.html”alters in each of you may have a program installed, perhaps designated alpha-zero-zero-nine. A cult person could say, “Alpha-zero-zero-nine” or make some kind of hand gesture to indicate this and get the same part out in any one of them, even though they had different names by which they may be known to you.
Alphas appear to represent general programming; the first kind of things put in. Betas appear to be sexual programs, for example, how to perform oral sex in a certain way, how to perform sex in rituals, or programming related to prostitution and producing and directing child pornography. Deltas are killers trained in how to kill in ceremonies. There will also be some self-harm stuff mixed in with the assassination and killing programs. Thetas are called psychic killers.
You know, I had never in my life heard those two terms paired together. I’d never heard the words “psychic” and “killers” put together. But when you have people in different U.S. states where therapists inquired and asked, “What is Theta,” and patients say to them, “Psychic killers,” it tends to make one a believer that these things are very systematic and very widespread. This comes from the programmers’ belief in psychic sorts of abilities and powers, including their ability to psychically communicate with “mother,” and their ability to psychically cause somebody to develop a brain aneurysm and die.
Gamma appears to be system protection and deception programming which will provide misinformation to you the therapist, try to misdirect you, tell you half-truths, and protect different things inside. Then there’s Omega. I usually don’t include that word when I ask my first question about this to any part inside that knows about Alpha, Beta, Delta, Theta, because Omega will shake them even more. Omega has to do with self-destruct programming. Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. This can include self-mutilation as well as suicide programming.
There can also be other Greek letters. I’d recommend that you go and get your entire Greek alphabet. You can verify that some of this stuff is present, and that they have given you some of the right answers about what some of this material is. And I can’t emphasize enough: Do not lead them. Do not ask yes or no questions like, “Is this killers?” Get the answer in statements from them, please.
When you’ve done this and programming appears to be present, I would take your entire Greek alphabet and, with ideomotor signals, go through the alphabet and say, “Is there any programming inside associated with epsilon, omicron,” and go on through the letters. There may be a system to some of the other letters, but I’m not aware of it. I found, for example in one case, that Zeta had to do with the production of snuff films that this patient was involved with.
With another person, Omicron had to do with their linkage and associations with drug smuggling and with the Mafia, big business, and government leaders. So there’s going to be some individualism, I think, in some of those. Some are come-home programs, “come back to the cult” programs.
Here’s the flaw in the system. They have built in shut-down and erasure codes, so if they should get into trouble, they could shut something down. They could also erase a program. These codes will sometimes be idiosyncratic phrases, or ditties. Sometimes they will be numbers maybe followed by a word. There’s some real individuality to that. At first I had hoped if we could decode some of these, maybe they would work with different people. No such luck. It’s very unlikely, unless they were programmed at about the same point in time as part of the same little group.
Stuff that I’ve seen suggests that the programmers carry laptop computers which still include everything that they did twenty, thirty years ago in terms of the names of alters, the programs, the codes, and so on.
Now what you can do is go in and get these erasure codes. And I always ask, “If I say this code, what will happen?” Then double check. “Is there any part inside who has different information?” Watch your ideomotor signals. What I’ve found is that you can erase programs by giving the appropriate codes, but then you must abreact the feelings.
So if I erase Omega, which is often where I’ve started because it’s the most high risk, afterwards I will get all the Omega – or what were formerly Omega alters – together, so that we will abreact and give back to the host the memories associated with all the programming that was done with Omega, and anything any Omega part ever had to do in a fractionated abreaction.
They use the metaphor – and it is their metaphor – of robots. It’s like a robot shell comes down over the child alter to make them act in robotic fashion. Once in a while internally you’ll confront robots. What I found from earlier work, and I speed the process up now because I’ve confirmed it enough times, is that you can say to the core, “Core, I want you to look. There’s this robot blocking the way in some way, blocking the progress. Go around and look at the back of the head and tell me what you notice on the back of the head or the neck.” I just ask it in very non-leading way like that.
And what’s commonly said to me is that there are wires or a switch. So I’ll tell them, “Hold the wires or flip the switch, and it will immobilize the robot. Then give me a yes signal when you’ve done it.” Pretty soon you get a yes signal. “Great. Now that the robot is immobilized, I want you to look inside the robot and tell me what you see.” It’s generally one or several children. I have them remove the children. I do a little hypnotic magic and ask the core to use a laser to vaporize the robot so nothing is left. They’re usually quite amazed that this works, as it has for a number of therapists.
Now the problem is that there are many different layers of this stuff. Let me come over to the overhead and give some ideas about them. What we have up here are innumerable alters.
I’ll tell you one of the fascinating things I’ve seen. I remember a little over a year ago coming in to see some cases, some of the tough cases at a dissociative-disorders unit of a couple of the finest of the MPD therapists in this country. These therapists were always part of all the international meetings and have lectured internationally. We worked together and I looked at some of their patients. They were amazed at certain things, because they had not been aware of this before.
We worked with some of the patients and confirmed this kind of programming. I remember one woman who had been inpatient for three years and still was inpatient. Another had one intensive year of inpatient work with all the finest MPD therapy you can imagine – abreactions, integrations, facilitating cooperation, art therapy, on and on and on. She was journaling intensively for one inpatient year followed by an intensive year of outpatient therapy two to three hours a week.
In both patients we found out that all of this great work had done nothing but deal with the alters. It had not touched the deeper mind control programming. In fact it was not only intact, but we found that the one who was outpatient was having her therapy monitored every session by her mother (who was her programmer), out-of-state, over the telephone. She still had intact suggestions that had been given to her that at a certain future time she would kill her therapist.
There is one thing that I would very carefully check. I would suggest that you ask not just the unconscious mind, but ask the core, “Is there any part inside that continues to have contact with people associated with the cult? Is there any part inside who goes to cult rituals or meetings? Is there a recording device inside of Mary,” if that’s the host’s name. “Is there a recording device inside so that someone can find out the things that are said in sessions?” This doesn’t mean they’re monitored. Many of them just simply have a recording device.
Ask also, “Is there someone who debriefs some part inside for what happens in our therapy sessions?” I have the very uncomfortable feeling from some past experience that when you look at this you will find the large proportion of ritual abuse victims in this country are having their ongoing therapy monitored.
I remember a woman about twenty-four years old who came in and claimed her father was a Satanist. Her parents divorced when she was six. After that, her father had visitation, and he would take her to rituals sometimes up until age fifteen. She said, “I haven’t gone to anything since I was fifteen.” Her therapist believed this at face value. We sat in my office. We did a two-hour inquiry using hypnosis. We found the programming present. In addition to that we found that every therapy session was debriefed, and in fact they had told her to get sick and not come to the appointment with me.
Another one had been told that I was cult, and that if she came I would know that she’d been told not to come, and I would punish her. If anything meaningful comes out in a patient who’s being monitored like that, my belief is you can’t do meaningful therapy other than being supportive and caring and letting them know you care a lot, and you’ll be there to support them. But I wouldn’t try to work with any kind of deep material or deprogramming with those being monitored, because I think it can do nothing but get them tortured and hurt unless they can get into a safe, secure inpatient unit for an extended period of time to do some of the work required. From what I’ve learned thus far, they’re tortured with electric shocks.
I have a feeling that when you make inquiries, you’re going to find that probably greater than fifty percent of these patients, if they’re bloodline – meaning mother or dad or both involved – will be monitored on some ongoing basis.
Now when you go below the HYPERLINK “http://www.didlegit.com/alters.html”alters, you then have programming named Alpha, Beta, Delta, Theta, and so forth – the Greek-letter programming – and they will have backup programs. There will typically be an erasure code for the backups. There may be one code that combines all the backups into one and then an erasure code for them, in other words, one code that erases all the backups.
So I will get the code for, let’s say, Omega and for all the Omega backups at the same time. After I’ve asked “What will happen if I give this,” I will give the code and then say, “What are you experiencing?” They often describe computer whirring, things erasing, explosions inside, all sorts of interesting things. I’ve had some therapists come back and say, “My Lord, I had never said anything about robots and she said something about robots vaporizing.”
I remember one therapist who’d been with me in several hypnosis workshops and consulted with me about a crisis MPD situation. I told her to inquire about Alpha, Beta, Delta, Theta. She did. She got back to me saying, “Yeah, I got an indication it’s there. What is it?” I said, “I’m not going to tell you. Go back and inquire about some of this.” We set an appointment for a week or so hence. She got back with me and said, “I asked what Theta was, and she said, ‘psychic killers.’ I asked her what Delta was, and she said ‘killers.’” Okay. So I told her about some of this stuff for a two-hour consult.
This therapist called back and said, “This seemed too fantastic. I heard this and thought, ‘Has Cory been working too hard?’ I held you in high professional regard, but this just sounded so off in the twilight zone that I really thought, ‘Is he having a nervous breakdown or something?’” She continued, “But I respected you enough to ask about this.”
The therapist said, “I asked another MPD patient.” In this patient she started describing things like how she worked, for example, with an erasure. She was describing things like robots vaporizing and all kinds of things. She said, “But I hadn’t told her about any of these things.”
Well, here’s the problem. There are different layers, and I think some of them are designed to keep us going in circles forever. They figured we probably, in most cases, wouldn’t get below the alters which they purposefully created.
The way you create Manchurian Candidates is you divide the mind. It’s part of what the intelligence community wanted. If you’re going to get an assassin, you divide the mind. Cases like the assassination of Robert Kennedy fascinate me. HYPERLINK “http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,840003,00.html”Bernard Diamond, on examining Sirhan Sirhan, found that he had total amnesia of the HYPERLINK “http://www.wanttoknow.info/a-was-robert-kennedy-killed-a-real-manchurian-candidatestyle-assassin”killing of Robert Kennedy. Yet under hypnosis he could remember it. But after he was out of hypnosis, he could not remember a thing, despite suggestions he would be able to consciously remember. I’d love to examine Sirhan Sirhan.
It appears that below this we’ve got some other layers. One appears to be called “Green Programming.” Isn’t it interesting that the doctor’s name is Dr. Green? Here is one of the questions I use in a way that does not contaminate after I’ve identified that some of this stuff is there and they’ve given me a few right answers about what some of it is. “If there were a doctor associated with this programming and his name were a color, you know, like Dr. Chartreuse or something, if his name were a color, what color would the color be?”
Now once in a while I’ve had some other colors mentioned in about three or four patients that I felt were trying to dissimulate in some way. In one case I got another color, which I found out later it was a doctor whose name was a color who was being trained by Dr. Green almost thirty years ago. He supervised part of the programming of this particular patient under this doctor. I remember one woman couldn’t come up with anything. No alter would speak up with anything. I said, “Okay,” and we went on to some other material. About two minutes later she said, “Green. Do you mean Dr. Green?” We found this all over.
There appears to be some green programming below that. I suspect that you get down to fewer and more central programs the deeper you go. Well, all green programming is ultra-green and the green tree. Cabalistic mysticism is mixed into all this. If you’re going to work with this you need to pick up a couple of books on the Cabala. One called “Qabala” with a “q” is by a man named Dion Fortune. Another by Ann Huffer-Heller is called “The Kabbalah.”
It was interesting. I knew nothing about the Cabala. Then over two years ago, a patient sat in my waiting area who got there considerably early and drew a detailed multicolored Cabalistic tree. It took me two months to figure out what it was. Finally, I showed it to somebody else who said, “You know? That looks an awful lot like the Cabala tree.” That rang a bell with something esoteric in an old book and I dug it out. That led to the background of Dr. Green.
Now the interesting thing about the green tree is his original name was Greenbaum. What does “greenbaum” mean in German? Green tree. I’ve also had patients who didn’t appear to know that his original name was Greenbaum volunteer that there were parts inside named Mr. Greenbaum. Now let me give you some information about parts inside that may be helpful to you if you’re going to inquire about these things, because my experience is that one part will often give you some information and either run dry or get defensive or scared and stop. So you punt and you make an end run. You come around the other direction, and you find another part.
I’ll tell you several parts to ask for. Ask if there’s a part by one of these names. And, by the way, when I’m screening patients and fiddling around with this, I throw in a bunch of spurious ones and ask, “Is there a part inside by this fake name or by that name” as a check on whether or not it appears genuine. Just to see what kind of answers we get. For example, “Is there a part inside named Zelda?” I’ve never encountered one yet! I try to do this carefully.
“In addition to the core,” I ask, “is there a part inside named Wisdom?” Wisdom is a part of the Cabalistic Tree. Wisdom, I’ve often found, will be helpful and give you a lot of information. “Is there a part inside named Diana?” Diana is part of the Cabalistic system that is associated with a part called the Foundation. You will be fascinated to know about that. Remember the Process Church? Roman Polanski’s wife, Sharon Tate, was killed by the Manson family who were associated with the Process Church?
A lot of prominent people in Hollywood were associated with the Process Church, but then they went underground, the books say, in about 1978 and vanished? Well, they’re alive and well in southern Utah. We have a thick file in the Utah Department of Public Safety documenting that they moved to southern Utah, north of Monument Valley, bought a movie ranch in the desert, renovated it, expanded it, and built a bunch of buildings there. The compound is carefully monitored so that very few people go out of there, and no one can get in. They changed their name.
A key word in their name is “Foundation.” There are some other words. The Foundation is part of the Tree. So you can ask, “Is there something inside known as The Foundation?” I might ask other things to throw people off. “Is there something known as the sub-basement?” Well, maybe they’ll conceive of something. Or “Is there something known as the walls?” There are a variety of questions you can come up with, to sort of screen some things out.
I’ve also found that there will often be a part called “Black Master,” a part called “Master Programmer.” And there will typically be computer operators: Computer Operator Black, Computer Operator Green, Computer Operator Purple. Sometimes they’ll have numbers instead, sometimes they’ll be called systems information directors. You can find out the head one of those. That will be a source of some good information for you.
I will ask, “Is there a part inside named Dr. Green?” You’ll find that there are, if they have this kind of programming, in my experience. Usually with a little work and reframing, you can turn them and help them to realize that they were really a child part who’s playing a role, and that they had no choice then. But they do now. You know, they played their role very, very well, but they don’t have to continue to play it with you, because they’re safe here. Ask them, “If the cult simply found out that you talked to me, that they you had shared information with me, tell me what would they do to you.” Emphasize that the only way out is through you, and that they need to cooperate and share information and help you so that you can help them.
Now they have tried to protect this very carefully. Let me give you an example with ultra-green. I used to think this programming was only in bloodline people. I’ve discovered it in non-bloodline people, but it’s a bit different. They don’t want it to be just the same. I don’t think you’ll find deep things like ultra-green and probably not even green programming with non-bloodline people. But let me tell you something that I discovered first in a non-bloodline, and then in a bloodline.
We were going along and a patient was close to getting well, approaching final integration in a non-bloodline. Suddenly she started hallucinating and her fingers were becoming hammers and other things like that. So I used an affect-bridge, and we went back, and we found that they had given suggestions that if she ever got well to a certain point she would go crazy.
The way they did this was they strapped her down and they gave her LSD when she was eight years old. When she began hallucinating they inquired about the nature of the hallucinations, so that they could utilize them in good Ericsonian fashion and build on them, and then combine the drug-effect with powerful suggestions. “If you ever get fully integrated and get well you will go crazy and will be locked up in an institution for the rest of your life.” They gave those suggestions vigorously and repetitively. Finally they introduced other suggestions that, “Rather than have this happen, it would be easier to just kill yourself.” In a bloodline patient then, as I began inquiring about deep material, the patient started to experience similar symptoms. We went back and we found that identical things were done to her.
This was called the “Green Bomb.” Lots of interesting internal consistencies like that play on words with Dr. Greenbaum, his original name. Now in this particular case it was done to her at age nine for the first time, yet hers was different. It was a suggestion for amnesia. “If you ever remember anything about ultra-green and the green tree you will go crazy. You will become a vegetable and be locked up forever.” Then finally the suggestions added, “And if you ever remember, it will be easier to just kill yourself than have that happen to you.”
Three years later at age twelve, they used what sounds like an amytal interview to try to find out if they could breach the amnesia. They couldn’t. So then they strapped her down again, took and gave her something to kind of paralyze her body, gave her an even bigger dose of LSD, and reinforced all the suggestions. They did a similar thing at the age of sixteen. So these are some of the kinds of booby traps you run into.
There are a number of cases where they combined powerful drug effects like this with suggestions to keep us from discovering some of this deeper level stuff.
What’s the bottom? Your guess is as good as mine but I can tell you that I’ve had a lot of therapists who were stymied with these cases who were going nowhere. In fact someone here to whom I told some basic information about this in Ohio a couple of months ago said it opened all sorts of things up in a patient who’d been going nowhere. That’s a common thing.
I think that we can move down to deeper levels, and if we deal with some of the deeper level stuff, it may destroy all the stuff above it. But we don’t even know that yet.
In some of the patients I’m working with we have pretty much dealt with a lot of the top-level stuff. I’ll tell you how we’ve done some of that. We’ll take and erase one system like Omega. Then we will have a huge abreaction of all the memories and feelings in a fractionated abreaction associated with those parts. I typically find I’ll say to them, “Now that we’ve done this are there any other memories and feelings that any parts that were Omega still have?” The answer is usually “No.”
I usually find at this point in time the majority, if not all, of those parts that used to be Omega no longer feel a desire or need to be different. So I will say, “You were split off originally by them and want to go home now to Mary and become one with her again.” I use the concept often now – which came from a patient – of going home and becoming one with her. “Going back from whence you came” is another phrase I’ll use with them. “Are there any Omega parts inside who do not feel comfortable with that or have reservations or concerns about that?” If there are we talk to them. We deal with them. A few may not integrate. My experience is most of the time they’ll integrate. We may integrate twenty-five parts at once in a polyfragmented complex MPD.
I think it is vitally important to abreact the feelings before you go on. Also for many patients it hasn’t seemed to matter the order we use, but I’ve found a couple where it has. If it doesn’t seem to matter, I’ll typically go Omega, then Delta because they have more violence potential, then Gamma to get rid of the self-deception stuff. I don’t want to assume anything. Once we’ve done Omega and showed them that success can occur and something can happen giving them relief, I will say to them, “I want to ask the core – through the fingers – is there a specific order in which programs must be erased?”
Maybe it doesn’t matter, but most of the time I found “No.” Yet there are cases where we found “Yes.” I recommend doing one or two or three of those because they’ll produce relief and a sense of optimism in the patient. But then I would recommend starting to probe for the deeper level things and getting their input and recommendations about the order in which we go.
Q: What has been the typical age and typical gender of this type of person?
Dr. Hammond: I know of this being found in men and women. Yet most of the patients I know with MPD ritual abuse that are being treated are women. A while back I was talking to a small group of therapists somewhere. I told them about some of this. In the middle of talking about some of this all the color drained out of one social worker’s face. She obviously had a reaction, so I asked her about it. She said, “I’m working with a five-year-old boy. Just in the last few weeks he was saying something about a Dr. Green.”
I went on a little further, and I mentioned some of these things, and she just shook her head again. I said, “What’s going on?” She said, “He’s been spontaneously telling me about robots and about Omega.” I think you will find variations of this, and changes they’ve made probably every few years, and maybe somewhat regionally to throw us off in various ways. But certain basics and fundamentals will probably be there. I have seen this in people up into their forties including people whose parents were very, very high in the CIA, and other agencies like that. I’ve had some that were originally part of the Monarch Project, which is the name of the government intelligence project.
Q: I’m still not grasping how one starts, how you find out how to erase. How do you get that information?
Dr. Hammond: I would say, “I want the core, if necessary, using the telepathic communication ability you have to read minds.” They believe in that kind of stuff, so I’ll use it. I was trained in Ericsonian stuff, I’ll say, “Obtain for me the erasure code of all Omega programs. When you’ve done so, I want the yes-finger to float up.” Then I ask them to tell it to me. “Are there backups for Omega programs?” “Yes.” “Okay? How many backups are there?” “Six,” they say, let’s say. It can be different numbers. “Is there an erasure code for all the backup programs?” “No.” “Is there an erasure code that combines all the backups into one?” “Yes.” “Obtain that code for me, and when you’ve got it give me the yes signal again.” It can move almost that fast in some cases where there’s not massive resistance.
Q: Yes, can you tell me what you know about the risks to the therapist? [Laughter]
Dr. Hammond: You would have to ask.
Q: Yeah, I’d like to know that. What kind of data do you have given that you’ve had contact with large numbers of people. Not just threats but also any injury, or any family problems that have arisen. That’s one question. A second one is are you aware of anybody that you’ve treated – or others – with this level of dissociation and trauma that have recovered, that are integrated, whole and happy?
Dr. Hammond: Okay, I have one non-bloodline multiple, a complex multiple who had this kind of programming where they have a lot of access to the patient as neighbors and where the doctor was involved.
By the way, you’ll find physicians heavily involved. The cults have encouraged their own to go to medical school, to prescribe drugs to take care of their own, to get access to medical technology, and to be above suspicion. There is a couple in Utah, in fact, who have been nailed now. We now have in Utah two full time ritual abuse investigators with statewide jurisdiction under the Attorney General’s Office to do nothing but investigate this.
Okay? In a poll done in the State of Utah in January by the major newspaper and television station, they found that ninety percent of Utahans believe that ritual abuse is genuine and real. Not all of them believe it’s a frequent occurrence, but some of that was imparted from two years of work by the Governor’s Commission on Ritual Abuse interviewing, talking, meeting people, and gathering data.
So when people say, “There’s no evidence. They’ve never found a body,” that’s baloney. They found a body in Idaho of a child. They’ve had a case last summer that was convicted on first-degree murder charges. Two people the summer before were arrested in a case where the teenaged girl’s finger and head were in the refrigerator. They were convicted of first-degree murder in Detroit. There have been cases and bodies.
Back to risk. I know of no therapist who has been harmed. But patients inform us that there will come a time when we could be at risk of being assassinated by patients who’ve been programmed to kill at a certain time anyone that they’ve been instructed to do so. Whether that would come about is speculative. Who knows for sure? Maybe, but I don’t think it’s entirely without risk. A question in the back?
Q: There seems to be some similarity between these kinds of programming and those people who claim that they’ve been abducted by spaceships and have had themselves physically probed and reprogrammed and all of that sort of thing. Since Cape Canaveral is across the Florida peninsula from me, and I don’t think that they’ve reported any spaceships lately, I was just wondering is there any sort of relationship between this and that?
Dr. Hammond: I’ll share my speculation that comes from others. I’ve not dealt with any of those people. However, I know a therapist that I trust and respect who I’ve informed about all this a couple of years ago and has found it in a lot of patients. He is firmly of the belief that those people are in fact ritual abuse victims who have been programmed with that sort of thing to destroy all their credibility. If somebody’s coming in and reporting abduction by a flying saucer, who’s going to believe them on anything else in the future? Also as a kind of thing that can be pointed to and said, “This is as ridiculous as that.”
I recently had a telephone consult with a therapist where I had been instructing her about some of this kind of stuff. When we were consulting at one point in the fifth or sixth interview she said, “By the way, do you know anything about this [UFO] topic?” I said, “Well, not really” and shared with her what I just shared with you. I said, “If it were me being with this guy…” that she’d been seeing for a couple of months, I said, “I would ask inside for the core to take control of finger-signals and inquire about Alpha, Beta, Delta, Theta.” She proceeded to do all that, got back to me a week later and said, “Boy, were you on target. There is a part inside named Dr. Green. There’s this kind of programming.”
Q: What’s the difference between this kind of program and cult-type abuse or Satanic abuse – the kind of cults with the candles and the…
Dr. Hammond: This type of programming will be done in the cults with the candles and all the rest. My impression is that this is simply done in people where they have great access to them, or where they’re bloodline and so their parents are in it. Or they can be raised in it from an early age. If they are bloodline, they are the chosen generation. If not, they’re expendable. They are expected to die and not get well. There will be booby traps set in your way such that if they aren’t non-bloodline people, when they get well, they will kill themselves. My belief is that some people that have ritual abuse and don’t have this programming have been ritually abused, but they may be part of a non-mainstream group. Satanism shows up as the philosophy overriding all of this.
People ask, “What’s the purpose of it?” My best guess is that they want an army of Manchurian Candidates, tens of thousands of mental robots who will do prostitution, child pornography, smuggle drugs, engage in international arms smuggling, do snuff films, and all sorts of other very lucrative things. These Manchurian Candidates will do the bidding of their masters, so that eventually the megalomaniacs at the top believe they can create a Satanic Order that will rule the world. One last question. Then I’ll give you couple of details and we need to shift gears.
Q: You have suggested and implied that at some point there was support of this kind of thing at a high level of the U.S. Government. I know we’re short of time, but could you just say a few words about the documentation that may exist for that suggestion?
Dr. Hammond: There isn’t great documentation on this. The evidence comes from victims who are imperiled witnesses. The interesting thing is how many people have described the same scenario and how many people that we have worked with who have had relatives in NASA, in the CIA, and in the military, including very high-ups in the military.
A friend and colleague of mine has probably the equivalent of half the table space on that far side of the room filled with boxes of declassified documents from mind control research done in the past which has been declassified over a period of a couple decades. This friend has read more government documents about mind control than anyone else. He has a brief that has literally been sent in the past week and a half asking for all information to be declassified about the Monarch Project for us to try to find out more.
Now let me mention something about some of the stuff based on my experience with several patients that you may run into late in the process. I know I’m throwing a lot at you in a hurry. Some of it is completely foreign and some of you may think, “Gosh, could any of this be true?” Just ask. Find out in your patients, and you may be lucky if there isn’t any of this. Somewhere at a deep level you may run into some things like this. Let me describe to you the system in one patient I had treated for quite a while, a non-bloodline person.
We had done what appeared to be successful work and reached final integration. She came back to me early last year and said she was symptomatic with some things. I started inquiring. I found a part there we had integrated. The part basically said, “There was other stuff that I couldn’t tell you about, and you integrated me and so I had to split off.” I had done some inquiring about things like Alpha and Beta as a routine part of it and found they were there. I then said to this part, “Why didn’t you tell me about this stuff?” She said, “Well, we gave you some hints but they went right over your head.” She further commented, “I’m sorry, but we know that you didn’t know enough to help us, but now we know you can.” So the stuff started coming out. It was interesting.
She described the overall system – if I can remember it now – as being like this. The circle represented harm to the body, a system of alters whose primary purpose was to hurt her including symptoms like Munchhausen’s, self-mutilation, other kinds of things. Each of the triangles represented still another different system. She said, “With the exception of me,” this one part speaking, “you dealt with the whole circle with the work that we did before, but you didn’t touch the rest of the stuff.”
In the middle of all this was still another system consisting of the Cabalistic tree, of which some of you are aware. It looks approximately like this with lines in between and so on and so forth. There’s a rough approximation. That represented another system. Then once we got past that, she implied that this entire thing was somehow encompassed by an hourglass.
I kept thinking we were at final integration, but then I’d find still other parts. This person had an eagle-eye husband that was watching for certain things that we found to be reliable indicators. So often I would get evidence of dissociation within a few days. It would suddenly be picked up. I continued to find evidence of dissociation, and I’d find other parts. Finally this part, as I got angry with him and said, “Why when I give these ideomotor inquiries am I getting lied to?” This part said, “Because you don’t understand. You’re going to get us all killed.”
We started talking, and then she basically said, “It’s been programmed so that if you succeed and think you’ve succeeded, you will fail. They build it in as a way to laugh at you, that if you ever get us integrated, we will die.”
Here’s what she said, or rather this male part of her said, “I’m one of twelve disciples.” I’ve seen this in others, twelve disciples within this hourglass, each of whom had to memorize a disciple-lesson which were basic Satanic kind of premises, philosophies of life like “be good to those who hurt you, hate those who are nice to you,” on and on. There may be two or three sentences like that associated with each part, and they had to memorize them.
They said, “We are like grains of sand falling, and when the last grain of sand falls, there’s Death.” I said, “Is Death a part?” “Yes. When the last grain of sand falls, the Sleeping Giant awakens.” The Sleeping Giant was Death, who was then to kill them on day one or day six after awakening unless certain things were followed, and we did some of those.
Well we also found Death had a sister as a backup, used with mirrors to create the sister part. We had to get past that too. Death had certain things that they said had to be done to integrate. I started to say, “Oh, come on, they lied to you before.” She said, “Wait a minute. This is what they said you’d say. They said that no doctor would ever believe that they had to go these extremes to get us well, and that’s part of the reason they’d fail.” I said, “Well, tell me, tell me again.”
She said, “I have to be dressed all in red. I have to have taken Demerol. A code has to be given, and it has to be in a room that’s totally dark. It has to happen on day one or day six after this part has been awakened.”
I said what I’d have to lose? I had a psychiatrist give her a little Demerol. We used the code. My office didn’t have any windows anyway. It was pretty easy. Oh, and there had to be four, I think, candles lit. Well, fine. So we did it, and everything went well. Maybe it would have gone well if we hadn’t done it, but I decided not to take the chance and to maybe trust the patient.
So we go on and then we find another part. There’s Death And Destruction, another backup also with a sister that we had to get through. In fact, I think there were two backups there. Interestingly, the very last part was an extremely nice part, made especially that way so that they wouldn’t want to lose them, because they would be so adorable and so loving and so sweet that they wouldn’t want to get rid of them. Then we found that she continued to have these feelings with this last part left now of darkness and blackness inside. And what did we then find? A curtain.
By the way, we had encountered information about the LSD stuff, the green bomb programming. She then said, “There is a curtain behind which are the remaining feelings and memories, but it can’t be opened from the middle. It’s like a stage curtain. It has to opened this way,” implying that it can’t be opened. They assumed that you would try to deal with all the feelings. That can’t be opened until you’ve dealt with that last part and they’ve integrated. So far it looks like we’ve got integration that’s holding in this patient. So I found Death And Destruction and the Hourglass in non-bloodline patients.
“The Tree and the Hourglass,” this patient informed me, “were made of sand because we were meant to die. We’re expendable. We’re the unchosen generation.”
I’ve heard variously that it’s crystals or blood that fills the hourglass in bloodline people. By the way, it’s important to know that you can do real simple things like turn the hourglass on its side so nothing can fall out, so that time stands still to be able to do certain kinds of work. You can spread the grains of sand on the seashore, so that they can’t be numbered and the time will not be counted. Got that idea from a ritual abuse victim who had seen some of this kind of programming done by another therapist.
So those are just a few other hints about things that may be helpful or meaningful. We’re talking about very intensive therapy and at deep levels. I’ve found this give us two things. One is hope, because it gets to the deepest material, and it makes progress like nothing we’ve ever seen with these people who have it. The second thing it does for me is it demoralizes me, too, because although three years ago I had a pretty good idea about the extent and breadth of what they had done to these victims, I had no real appreciation for the depth, breadth and intensity of what they had done.
I want to come back to the other question over here now of how many of them can get well?
We don’t know. In most things in the mental health profession we accept that two-thirds of the patients are going to improve, or maybe seventy percent. There’s very little hope we can get everybody well. I think one of the sad things we have to face is that many of these patients will probably never be well. My personal belief is that if they are being messed with, their only hope of getting well is if they can somehow get out of contact.
Now I know patients who have gone to other states, but then deep-level alters pick up the phone and called their programmers saying, “This is our new address and phone number.” So now they can be picked up by other local programmers. I mean picked up in an inpatient unit for an extended period of time. If they are in a cult from their area and they are still being monitored and messed with, my own personal opinion is we can’t get them well, and we can’t offer anything more than humanitarian caring and supportiveness.
Lots of therapists do not like to hear this, but that’s my opinion. I believe that if somehow they’re lucky enough and wealthy enough to have protection, to have somehow gotten from their programmers, and if we can work with them without being messed with, then they have a chance to reach some semblance of normality and livability with enough intensive work. My own personal belief is I don’t think anybody with this kind of programming is well in this country yet, though there are some who are well on the way. I’ve got a couple who are well along in their work and have done a tremendous amount, but they’re clearly not well yet.
Q: Could you speculate on the relationship between this stuff and the fantasy games that have been proliferating, Dungeons and Dragons and that sort of thing?
Dr. Hammond: Well, there are a lot of things out there to cue people. You want to see a great, interesting movie, to cue people? Go see “Trancers II.” You can rent it in your video shop. Came out last fall. Fascinating. They’re talking about Green World Order. Yes, “Trancers II.” And who is the production company? Full Moon Productions. I couldn’t see much cueing in “Trancers I,” but who’s the production company in “Trancers I”? Alter Productions. There are lots of things around that are cueing.
There’s an interesting person in the late sixties who talked about the Illuminati. Have any of you ever heard of the Illuminati with regard to the cult? Had a patient bring that up to me just about exactly two years ago. We’ve now had other stuff come out from other patients. Appears to be the name of the international world leadership. There appear to be Illuminatic councils in several parts of the world, and one internationally. The Illuminati is the name of the international leadership of the cult supposedly. Is this true? Well, I don’t know. It’s interesting we’re getting some people who are trying to work without cueing who are saying some very similar things. There was an old guy in Hollywood in the late sixties who talked about the infiltration of Hollywood by the Illuminati.
Certainly what some patients have said is that all of this spook stuff, horror stuff, possession and everything else that’s been popularized in the last twenty years in Hollywood is done in order to soften up the public so that when a Satanic world order takes over, everyone will have been desensitized to so many of these things, plus to continually cue lots of people out there.
Now is this true? Well, I can’t definitely tell you that it is. What I can say is I now believe that ritual abuse programming is widespread, is systematic, and is very well organized based on highly esoteric information which is published nowhere. It has not been on any book or talk show. We have found it all around this country and in at least one foreign country.
Let’s take a couple of quick questions and we need to get on to other material. Yes?
Q: Do you have any techniques for decreasing your level of uncertainty that a patient is or is not still being tampered with, “messed with,” as you said?
Dr. Hammond: Just that I would ask several of the parts I’ve inquired about, Core, Diana, Wisdom, Master Programmer. I would ask several parts inside about these sorts of things and keep asking it. As you do additional work and get a bit further, I would ask again to find out.
Q: I wonder if you’ve heard or you know of the Martin Luther Bloodline?
Dr. Hammond: I know nothing about Martin Luther Bloodline but I’ll give you one quick tip. Ask him about an identification code. There’s an identification code that people have. It will involve their birth date. It may involve places where they were programmed, and it will usually involve a number that will be their birth order, like zero-two if they were second born. It will usually also involve a number that represents the number of generations in the cult, if they are bloodlines. I’ve seen up to twelve now, twelve generations.
Q: I have seen a lot of the things you’ve been describing today in several patients. You mentioned something about systems here. Are there seven systems?
Dr. Hammond: There has been that described in some patients, yes, the seven systems.
Q: Could you say what that is or draw a little diagram?
Dr. Hammond: I don’t think we know enough to know what it is, honestly. I think it may have to do with seven Cabalistic trees.
Q: It’s not a question. But I wanted to say for myself, personally, and perhaps for others here as well, thank you very sincerely for taking this time to come forward.
Dr. Hammond: Well…
Q: Does anyone want to join us for a standing ovation for this material? It’s wonderful.
Dr. Hammond: I have a dear friend who’s one of the top people in the field, who I know has had death threats. I know he struggled for professional credibility because of his belief in MPD. He was harshly criticized for just believing in that ten or fifteen years ago. He struggled to the point of straining professional credibility. I think in his heart of hearts, he knows it’s true, but he will still say things like, “I wouldn’t be surprised to find tomorrow it was an international conspiracy, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find tomorrow that it is an urban myth and rumor.”
He tries to stay right on the fence. And the reason is because it’s controversial, because there is a campaign underway saying that these are all false memories induced by “Oprah” and by books like “The Courage to Heal” and by naive therapists using hypnosis. It’s controversial.
My personal opinion has come to be if they’re going to kill me, they’re going to kill me. There’s going to be an awful lot of information that’s been put away that will go to investigative reporters and multiple investigative agencies. If I ever have an accident, an awful lot of people like you, I hope, will be pushing for a very large-scale investigation. I think we have to stand up at some point as some kind of moral conscience.
I tried to wait until we had gotten enough verification from independent places to have some real confidence that this was widespread.
I know we’ve gone like a house on fire to try to pack as much as I could in for you. I hope it’s given you some things to think about and some new ideas, and I appreciate being with you.
[Long sustained applause]
In 1990, I sat in the center of communications for the radical activist group Tucson Earth First! and networked with many other non-profit organizations in town, including People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, domestic violence organizations, homeless advocates, the parent-teacher association, and had been written up in the daily paper along with a couple other women as a “Supermom.” I think I told the reporter, “I don’t recommend it.”
But I had so many ideas, so many solutions to things, could see the coordinated steps it would take to bring a complicated project, like a publication or a conference, to successful completion, usually had most of the skills, and others encouraged me, so I took them all on, and most of them went well, with a few exceptional bombers, a few embarrassing lapses of judgement, but mostly projects that brought very positive responses, and sometimes awards, and then that news article. I was even asked to run for political office and hounded about it for month before my rejection was accepted.
Before I’d gotten so radical, I’d been accepted into the largest PR firm in Arizona, Gladys Sarlat PR, where I’d been let go after I’d told them I thought a new client was a fraud. Soon after, that man would be on the front page of the business section of the daily paper nearly every day for the next 18 months – on trial for fraud.
I co-wrote a couple of editorials for the dailies, one on the Green Party and another on the FBI repression of Earth First! colleagues Judi Bari and Darryl Cherney which resulted in an assassination attempt on Judi, whose trial against the FBI with Darryl, Darryl was traveling the country for, coming through Tucson, singing songs, telling the horrifying story, showing slides of the bombed car, and soliciting help. Of course. I organized his show, did the media work, wrote an editorial for the papers, and helped him find a place to crash that didn’t have kids. I added it to my notebook of tasks and got it done.
Everything in my life was in my notebook. I worked with pages I custom-designed to help me do everything. I had daily sheets, 4-week planning charts in a 2-page spread, and monthly calendars, along with project flowcharts. I had files January through December and “Next Year,” and files numbered 1 through 31, which helped me organize everything. I carried my notebook everywhere.
One Monday a friend asked how was my weekend. I flipped the page back to Saturday and answered that I’d had a houseful of boys because it had been my son’s birthday. Until I’d read it, though, I’d had no memory of the day. My business persona and mom persona didn’t have a lot of memory connection.
I was burning out from doing too much, and realizing it. My husband always encouraged me to take on more, and he’d even volunteer for tasks that he didn’t have the skills to do – like bookkeeping – and then let me do it because he didn’t want to admit he couldn’t do it. So I’d do it. And when he insisted he’d make up the financial difference in the family because some cause was important to him that he wanted me to keep doing, he’d still keep account of the major times he paid more than his share for something, and occasionally would tell me I owed him that much. So we had arguments. A visiting friend one time said, “Do you realize that I every year I come visit you, you’re telling me the same dreadful things? When are you going to change the situation?”
I was afraid to be alone with two teenagers, so I stayed in the situation and advocated for better treatment. We did learn to have a certain amount of fun together, and we always presented a contented face to the world.
When Judi and Darryl were bombed, it was as if a psychic bomb went off in my mind. I was aware of things like FBI harassment of activists, but I’d pretended that an office person, PR person, occasional spokesperson wouldn’t be a target – they’d want the tree-spiker, not me. But Judi was bombed. She was a visionary, PR person, phenomenal spokesperson, but did nothing illegal; in fact, she’s single-handedly gotten the vast majority of California Earth First!ers to renounce tree-spiking. So why was she attacked? No – almost killed.
For the last four years, our dining room had been the hub of action for the Coalition to protect Mount Graham, combining efforts of a number of organizations, Earth First!, San Carlos Apache Tribal Council, individual tribal members, and some international environmental ecology organization, and we’d been part of demonstrations shaming the Smithsonian Institution into backing out of the astrophysical project (though they’d rejoin years later), and we mercilessly hammered on those who forged ahead: the University of Arizona, the Max Planck Institute in Germany, Arcetri in Italy, and the Vatican. Yes, the Vatican. More on that later.
I knew we were like chihuahuas nipping at the heels of a monstrous mastiff, but we did it. We emboldened each other with tales of valor, creative monkey-wrenching, street theater, affinity groups, legal strategy workshops, and all the joy of camaraderie in the face of an enemy worth confronting. I’d gone to jail twice. Both times I’d gone into altered states of consciousness. The second time, I believe I was Tasered, as I have no memory of the rest of the day or much of the next day after two plainclothes men showed up in jail and walked near me, after which I only remember rising from the ground in rage, swinging my arms, my hair in my face. Then only sketchy disturbing memories of being harassed for hours with disturbed sleep, then let go at 4 in the morning with no phone number, though people had left numerous messages for me. I remember someone finding me in the waiting room, curled, freezing on the hard floor, and following, and am told we went out to breakfast, but I can’t remember it. That was Durango, Colorado, 1992. I hadn’t meant to get arrested; I just hadn’t left the scene of a group’s civil disobedience fast enough.
Back home, to lessen my stress, I backed out of a few volunteer commitments, including most of my work to protect Mount Graham, quit my business, and got a job. I wanted a few well-defined tasks to do each day, not the ever-expanding situation I had with a PR consulting business to environmental, arts, and social justice non-profits – that attracted unending pro bono work, and when they paid I could never charge what people said I was worth, because I didn’t want to take the money out of their accounts.
The job I got was the Customer Relations person for the 3rd largest birdwatching tour company in the world, WINGS. After a few months on the job, the owner told me he’d been looking for years for someone who could take over the business, and he thought I could do it. It grossed millions each year, and he’d let me buy in over time, with an immediate doubling of my pay and opportunities for the rest of my life to travel to exotic natural place all over the world, from Alaska to Antarctica and a hundred or more other places. I would soon have to quit my job.
April 1993, my son was diagnosed with cancer. My husband and I had the final fight of our relationship, and I ended it. The kids and I were going to move out because my husband refused to. My health insurance company went bankrupt. I went down into the basement to cry, and began instead to make an involuntary sound, between a scream and a growl and roar, over and over again, able to stop for just a few seconds before the urge was upon me again, and I could not turn it off. For awhile I thought I’d just let it wear itself out, and continued until I realized that I felt a blood vessel in my throat that felt like it could burst. I felt the real possibility that if I didn’t drown in my own blood, I wasn’t sure how anyone would staunch the blood flow from a vocal cord, and realized I could either drown or bleed to death, and I really tried to stop.
I stopped for ten seconds, then had to emit a small growl-roar, and then another, and another. I headed up the stairs thinking, Oh my God, I’m going to call Helpline. I’m supposed to be someone who would consult to them, not need their services. I’m a Supermom. I’m the business consultant. I’m not someone who needs help. Shakily, I turned to the inside cover of the phonebook and tried a few times with trembling hands – between not-very-well-repressed growls – and finally got the number dialed correctly. Someone talked me down.
The next Monday morning, I walked into a counselor’s office and before I even sat down, I spilled out my litany: My son has cancer, my health insurance company just went bankrupt, my husband and I are divorcing and we have to move and I don’t know where or how, my daughter hates me for making them move…and I could have added that I was in shock to realize that I can’t trust that my children will live, or that they will love me – two monumentally new ideas, two huge shifts in my world…and then another phrase came out of my mouth that had never crossed my conscious mind: and I think I was sexually abused as a child.
It was so bizarre to hear words come of my mouth that never crossed the threshold of my consciousness. For a moment, all reality was suspended, and I tipped my head to the right as if I could peek around a dimensional corner and maybe see my words spelled out there in the air. Anything seemed possible in that moment.
And in that moment I began a struggle that had me falling apart all year long, crying everywhere I went, crying at home, walls breathing, flashbacks of sex from young childhood to teen years, wolf energy entering me, Tarot cards that came up again and again confirming this, and a couple of attempts to commit myself to a mental hospital because I wanted a place to cry and throw myself around and not attract police. For awhile I thought I could go there for the rest of my life so that I didn’t have to make a decision about what was real.
The decision was this: to believe that I was sexually abused and have my whole self change, or believe that was a weird and meaningless string of experiences and all is fine. I wanted to believe the latter, but whenever I told myself that, I felt foggy, hazy, fuzzy, and like I was falling back asleep. Whenever I entertained the former, my brain felt like it was coming out of a fog, like I saw more light – before the psychic pain crept in.
Realizing the difference that clearly, you’d think, would make me to accept the theory that made me feel clearest, but I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t want my whole world to change. I didn’t want to think about who did it. I didn’t want to be one of those women scorned in the papers for jumping on the current bandwagon of diagnoses, particularly one which is so disgusting and embarrassing, that certainly means I must have some secret perversion to have picked that bandwagon. No, I was not going there.
But I’d turn back to the other choice, and feel the haze fall over. I felt I was falling back into an oblivion I hadn’t know I’d been in.
And a whole lot of things began to make sense, things I could never think about before, though they did cross my mind like bats in the night, barely seen, only these things had no name, no context, they didn’t make sense. Into the Anomaly file they went – things that made no sense.
One was the sexual nightmares I had as a child. One was the way I went mute and catatonic the first time a boy attempted intercourse. Another was the altered state I went into the first time I was coerced into leaving my baby in the church nursery and literally forgot I had a child, even when another mother asked me where he was and even answered my question “Baby??” with his name – when I snapped out of it, remembered, and went running for him in sheer terror that I’d left him there.
And the sex play my best friend said I participated in in 5th grade, for which I had no memory. So many things began popping back in my mind. I tried to say I was inventing meaningful connections where there were none, but they kept coming and seemed reasonably connected. More and more, never quitting, scraps of memories, images, ideas, sickening.
I did what I think of as silent crying, diverting the tears down inside my sinuses, giving me a constant drip that I knew was all tears. After my nose got all chapped from wiping it for a week, I resorted to scooping the mucous-y tears out with a thumbnail, and wiping it on a hankie always with me, then after a week ditching the handkerchief and slurping the salty pain off my thumbnail, hoping people wouldn’t notice, but unable to care if they did, wearily accepting that I was more a mess than I’d ever thought possible.
I could no longer work, so I accepted entry into the Master’s Program in Creative Writing after winning an award for a story written and submitted before my life fell apart. My kids and I began living on student loans and, for the first time in my life, credit cards, which were skyrocketing with medical bills.
The only bright side: I’d begun praying, and though my son had been identified as being at very high risk, he was suddenly pronounced in remission.
The last night of the school year, I was facing a free summer – the first three months in my adult life, I realized, that I’d ever had. I’d never had nothing to do for that long a period of time.
The evening after my last class, I was feeling very happy, feeling confident that I’d survive this somehow, accept the reality of my past and begin to do the healing others told me I’d be able to do, making me a better person than I could otherwise have ever been if I’d not remembered and integrated it. I imagined a summer of reading, writing, sleeping late, staying in bed, going to support groups, doing the healing exercises in the books, with lots of time to abreact and recover and whatever else would follow. I’d treat myself well.
As it turned out, I’d build a tiny hermitage in the desert that summer and do very little healing work of the sort I’d imagined.
The emptiness I saw ahead was delicious, and I sat down that evening with my current book in a comfortable reading chair, thinking that the world was seeming beautiful again for the first time in over a year. The Holographic Universe by Michael Talbot is about reality, perception, multiple dimensions, and much more. I found my place in the book and began to read, but soon was experiencing something very odd.
I finished a sentence, had a reaction of great interest to it, but couldn’t remember anything it was about as soon as I reached the end of it. I re-read the sentence repeatedly with the same physical reaction of great interest and then amnesia for it.
I tried it again, and was face to face with something weird happening in my brain. I balanced between fascination and fear. Then an idea popped up: Read the sentence aloud. And I did.
The sentence was about people with multiple personality disorder looking often decades younger than their biological age – which is still true for me today, sometimes (depending on which alter is out), and was even more true then. At forty-one, I was often mistaken for my teenage children’s sister.
Again, the world shifted, but this time it wasn’t as traumatic. In fact, after the acceptance of the child abuse, it felt real comfortable, as though a confirming piece of a puzzle had dropped into place and made things clear.
Still the rational part of me was horrified. I was already carrying this secret stigma of being a child sexual abuse survivor, which was bad enough. But mental illness!? No way. I did not want this.
A response came from inside: Understanding this is the beginning of everything getting better. I can heal. And I decided I’d go first thing in the morning to the medical library at the university and read all I could about multiple personality.
The next day I was greatly affirmed. Despite multiple personality’s reputation, it’s not always as crippling as some stories they’ve made into movies. And once diagnosed, it’s relatively easy to heal. Created by trauma, it’s actually the most “sane” response, as opposed to going schizophrenic, the other alternative when the mind cannot assimilate what’s dealt to the body. And many “multiples” are actually very high-functioning, even geniuses – not coincidental, but because of their multiple-ness. They have more “minds” to learn things, and many learn to partially integrate their various alters to network and use all those minds to superior levels.
I’d tested at genius levels a few times in my life, so this news helped me not feel like a freak two or three times over, but like I’d just had bad luck, and others have gone before me. We have highly complicated minds, sorta supercharge potential, not working quite right, but healable.
Now I just had to figure out how to do it. By going to the desert, though, while also enrolled in school, I’d make life too complicated to follow through with counseling. Besides, whenever I did visit a counselor over the years, they kept telling me I was “doing great” and I could just continue on my own.
I moved to the desert, fell in love with my solitude, and thought I’d stay there all my life – until my old high school crush and I had a conversation at our 25th high school reunion.
Soon I had abandoned my hermitage, moved to Colorado Springs, and was engaged to be married to my rescuer I believed was my soul mate. (If we can have a few, he is one.) I snapped back into functioning mode and tried not to think about having anything that needed to heal.
Needing a new career, I got my real estate license and was soon top-selling agent in my office, and was offered management of my franchise’s cornerstone office, overseeing 60 agents, for which I would likely earn “six figures.”
In the previous four and a half years, my fiancé and I had realized we couldn’t blend our lives, and I was yearning to return to my hermitage, to sit in front of the windows and watch hawks. The real estate biz had helped me pay down a good bit of my credit cards, and business was burning me out again, needing to be at every client’s beck and call 24-7 for their most important financial action of the decade. The excitement was over, I’d proven myself, so I declined and moved back home to the desert.
In my hermitage, I’d never had curtains because I lived far off the road and my nearest neighbor, a woman friend, was a quarter-mile away with barbed wire fence between us. One night, though, I knew someone malevolent was outside my large solar windows in the dark, looking in on my one-room house, me sitting in the middle of it, next to the fireplace, facing out. I set down my book, raised my hands in prayer position and prayed fervently that I’d be protected and maybe the man would be moved by my gesture to remember God and pull himself together and do right.
After awhile, I put down my hands and began to read again, and the feeling of horror came over me again. I retook my prayer pose, prayed a while, then turned out the light, and went to bed.
The next morning I found outside a styrofoam coffee cup in pristine condition sitting on my porch, a cigarette butt thrown a short distance away, and a place on the dirt where he’d relieved himself. I called the sheriff and was told it was all insignificant and, no, he wouldn’t even make a note about my call. In the next four years, I experienced a lot of fear, interspersed by events indicating I was being helped through it all with supernatural assistance.
In April 2002, I sat on my roof, watching a rare phenomenon in the sky: a crescent moon and four planets lined up after sunset. I’d been having lots of experiences I understood were called “shamanic,” which excited me. I’d had a year of snakes making dramatic entries into my life, ravens, owls, hawks, phoebes, lizards, a wild cat, and I’d bought a book of animal spirit meanings.
As I sat on the western edge of the roof of my bathhouse and gazed westward, suddenly a cluster of bats rolled in front of my face like a four-foot high, one-foot wide tire-shape in the air, and I knew it was a sign, but I didn’t know of what.
Next thing I knew, I was in a state of absolute ecstasy, seeing the planets and moon from a different perspective, colorful, and could perceive the rotation of the Earth, the Moon’s orbit around us, and the Earth’s and all the planets’ orbits around the Sun as a sensation in my body. I was totally enraptured, felt myself suspended in space, rising, ecstatic.
Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the middle of the roof, the sky was perfectly dark except for brilliant stars, the moon and planets were long gone, no light at all in the west. And I was babbling words of gratitude, unable to stop. I did though when two owls began to fly around me, and flew around me again and again until I began to wish I’d counted so I could one day tell the story with precise truth, and soon after my mind went into that rational track, they flew away.
Back in the house, I looked up bats and owls. They are each complex, but the phrases I remembered were: Shamanic initiation and astral travel. Years later, I realized or remembered that a great deal of time had passed for which I have no memory.
Days or weeks later, walking from my reading chair to get a drink of water, I suddenly had the experience of a spirit crashing into me – specifically, the spirit of Judi Bari! She had died five years earlier of breast cancer while trying to sue the FBI for various civil rights abuses related to the bombing. In an instant, with no words passed between us, I realized a whole lot: She knew from the other realm that I felt myself a very tepid activist. She, on the other hand, to my mind, had been a Superwoman activist, a Supermom activist even, someone to go down in history, except that the mainstream media seemed to be cooperating with the FBI to keep the history-worthy event out of awareness and memory. Still, she was a hero to a lot of us for her amazing work to try to save the last of the Redwood forests. I was nobody in comparison.
She scolded me for my attitude and told me (all wordlessly, instantaneously) that her style (bold and sometimes insulting and sarcastic to the Powers that Be) was not the only way to do things, and in fact it had even gotten her killed, and my gentler style could go further, and I should lay off thinking there was nothing more I could do. And then she was gone.
Standing there in front of the counter with an empty glass in my hand, having been thinking of other things before I got up for water, I was completely dumbfounded. Why would I get this message? Why now? I was so far from activism, and had no intentions of getting back into it.
A few weeks after the night on the roof, and not long after Judi’s message, I received a phone call from Darryl – ten years since I’d talked to him last – asking me if I’d come to Oakland to manage media relations for the trial. I said I would, and two days later I took the Amtrak to Oakland, California, to participate in a six-week trial resulting in various agents of the FBI being found guilty of all the charges, for which they’d pay a historic sum of $4.4 million.
During the trial, I felt made subject to more experimentation. I felt as though I’d been hit by immobilizing beams on at least two occasions. Then, I’d also felt twice taken into another dimension, and upon return it took a minute or more to remember who I was in this Earth life, as if my consciousness was of a higher self who was just dropping in with the Earth-life me to make sure I re-entered and remembered properly before removing herself.
She worried about nothing, found my slow memory mildly humorous, but was fond in her judgement, and left me with a sense that all was well. It sure didn’t seem like all was well, with our FBI overseeing the bombing of activists trying to save the last 3 percent of the native forest of California, but the soul part who seemed to be there with me for a minute felt confident and calm, as though everything was as it should be. It comforted me for a while. Then I worried it might have been a technological mind trick, maybe messing with my mind, but leaving a false memory that all was okay.
I told no one because we all had enough on our hands, working with lawyers every day to craft messages out to the world’s media; no one needed my drama, so I kept my worries to myself, and focused on the job.
My first day home from the trial, catching up on email, I was directed to some websites by one of my most important confidants. She said, “I think these will explain a lot that we have in common.” I began to read, for the first time in my life, about something that causes multiple personality: mind control.
It was horrifying. Mesmerizing. Disgusting. Repellent. And familiar in a way that made me feel that old ghosts were stirring, old memories, little children’s voices whispering, It’s true. And: We’re scared. And: Maybe you’ll recognize us now?
Making this connection between mind control and multiple-ness would explain even more of my life and be both as promising and terrifying as it was to accept that I’d been sexually abused. Promising, because it explained things that had never made sense before. Terrifying, because it implied that I might be being watched and maybe controlled even now. And maybe all my activism had been playing into the hands of my controllers, and maybe I’d done things to betray activists without knowing. I felt like a living time bomb. I thought I should kill myself.
At the same time, I felt I had a chance again to know myself better than ever, and could free myself from it, maybe. That bit of hope, though, was greatly overshadowed by fear so great, that I did not get better any time soon, but went into another deep dark hole for a good length of time, during which I became paranoid that my home was not only bugged, but someone was video recording my every move. I was afraid to speak of critical topics aloud except whispered in a noisy outdoor space.
My efforts to use shamanism to protect myself went awry, and I felt ganged up on from the other side, as if aliens had joined the CIA (the department that has always overseen mind control – according to their own documents and director testimony to the Senate) in harassing me, or the CIA was giving me “screen memories” of aliens.
For five years, I had bizarre experiences, for example, being immobilized in my vehicle stopped on the highway and losing hours of time, and more often, weirdness at home, seeing at least a dozen UFO’s over the years, feeling myself pulled up through the canvas of my bedroom teepee into another dimension, perceptions of people who’d just unexpectedly passed over (before many knew they’d died), and more – a mix of things shamanic and things that could have been technological harassment, including being hit by beams of laser energy, once right between the eyes.
And I never did I do much healing work on my multiple-ness.
My multiple-ness is easy to ignore, and some people might think I’m over-exaggerating or slapping on a diagnosis that’s unnecessary. But Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD) – now called Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) – manifests in a variety of ways, some of which occur after natural trauma or the trauma of random abuse, and others which are the result of intentional trauma inflicted to make the person dissociate so that the perpetrator can embed behaviors triggered by secret commands, called “programming,” into the victim who will then be the subject, controlled, without the subject’s awareness, by the person who knows the secret passwords.
The “work on my healing” I’d hope to do had suddenly become something much more complicated, and something for which I knew I was going to be attacked by those who didn’t want me to heal. Would I even have a chance?
I read books on the subject, from medical library material to popular and therapeutic literature. Therapists claimed healing could be done, but it took money. And it seemed every time I tried to get a job, someone had been there before me, saying something about me – perhaps a federal agent would simply walk in and ask to be notified if I should come in – and then the secretary would stare at me, stricken, as if I were a ghost and she didn’t know what to do. After a few times, I quit looking and decided eventually to leave my home when my computer was suspiciously destroyed, my vehicle quit running, and I began to borrow money again with no idea how I was going to repay it. I sold my land, sad to go, and moved to Silver City, New Mexico. I wondered if they forced me to town to make my programming easier and my potential for use much greater.
As I said, my condition is easy to hide. My alters seem to coordinate fairly well enough, but remembering things like events and people’s names is slow. Expressing opinions is an interesting exercise. I see things, usually, from at least a few different perspectives, see the validity in all of them, compare them, revisit the person’s question to determine which of these viewpoints I want to share to best respond to their question, and usually by then, someone else has moved the conversation along, my opportunity passed, and I appear slow. I, though, feel like I’ve done ten times the work on the idea as anyone else and really only took a few seconds longer, but opening my mouth was too slow for social custom – unless I am in an ultra-high-functioning mode, and then I might be too speedy for some people.
Let me be alone in my office, though, working on a project, and I do better than fine. I win awards. Just don’t bother me.
So I work alone, and limit my social life. And people treat me like I’m normal – I think. Hard to know from this vantage. I’m usually wrapped up in my own mind: observing, comparing perceptions, keeping steady, and lately I’ve been doing better than ever in my social skills. I even hosted my first party ever in my adult life in my current home shortly after I moved here, and have hosted parties regularly since then. And I’ve made a lot of friendly acquaintances. And held jobs successfully, for as long as I’ve wanted them, which often isn’t long. I get tired of the strain of managing my personalities and moods, and all the extra compensation time I need to take to keep up, and usually need to take breaks every few months, which made teaching in the local college a good gig for a while.
The government-military style of mind control (there are others, Satanic, for instance) was probably responsible for my being high-functioning. I’m not sure how many programs they have, but I know they create super-soldiers, super-spies, and sexual entertainers for rewards and blackmail. I know I was trained in the latter. I suspect I might have also been trained as a spy, though I have no hard evidence, only a lifetime aversion to the color blue and an article on mind control (MK) programming linking blue to spies – and the fact that I got myself right in the heart of all the activists in Tucson, which would have been useful to the government which has been spying on and repressing groups like these for decades.
What irony. I suspected others of being spies (and maybe they were), but I never considered myself. My world reeled again.
It’s twenty years now since I first realized I was multiple and was inspired to be on a healing path, grounded with information from the medical library, supported by other women dealing with the same sort of shock and challenge, but in all these years, I haven’t done much. I’ve had lots of memories and alters (alternate personalities) present themselves, but I haven’t worked with that information, regardless of my strongest intentions. I’ve begun to realize there’s probably truth in the literature about programming installed for the express purpose of sabotaging all efforts to heal.
The first thing I might have worked with was the Integrating Woman (I spontaneously felt that was who she was). In the moment I first connected the idea of a multiple personality with myself, I saw/felt, as if seeing in another dimensional space that shares reality with us here, a woman slip herself over me like a glove, holding all my parts together. She didn’t feel anything like an angel, and she didn’t feel like me. Rather, she felt like a calm being, who could help me integrate. I was bothered though that she seemed to avert her face from me, and I never saw it. My vantage point seemed to be from behind her and to the left, although I seemed to be included in her. I felt safe, though I was bothered that she didn’t feel nicer. She seemed functional, mild, and perhaps kind, but not in any heart-felt way, just as if she was a good person doing a job, and she knew better than to expend a lot of energy, or maybe she was just beyond emotions, and way beyond my trembling volcano full. So she kept her distance, blue-green light she seemed to be made of, and left me to deal with my emotions alone, or actually with other help, Wolf to begin with.
Wolf came into me one night and rose up in all her power, ready to rip up the apartment. Quickly I negotiated for her to restrain herself and I’d get emotional help for us the very next day if she could hang tight. The next day, I kept my promise – I didn’t want her tearing up the apartment as I’d felt she was fully ready to use my body to do – and first called two mental hospitals who determined over the phone that I was too sane to admit myself. Then I called an astrologer-psychic I respected and asked for an appointment private enough that if I began raging, no one would hear it and call police. We met in a friend’s vacant office building, and I didn’t make any noise but weeping.
I never experienced Wolf again, but she was good for me, got me back into therapy, let me know there was big stuff that needed to get out. Thank you, Wolf. But somehow I never did any “work” with the Integrating Woman.
I accept that I have programming against healing work, but why have none of my therapists led me to work with any of my many alters or the Integrating Woman? Some, I’ve realized, later were part of the system of managing my programming. But all of them? Why no proper help?
Since 2002, I’ve probably read close to a dozen books on mind control, not a lot (it’s exhausting) from personal accounts to therapy manuals to history. In general what I understand is that I was enrolled into a program, perhaps MKULTRA, but likely one of the others, MKDELTA, MKNAOMI, or some other, now all lumped together under MKULTRA as a generic term for government-sponsored mind control.
There are many different programs for different purposes, and children come into the programs in different manners. Some, more dispensable, come from kidnappers and similar sources. Some children come from the upper-class or upper-middle-class hoping to climb in status by participating in this new program that will make their daughter very smart and disciplined, plus it would support the country.
There is also reported to be families that have been subjected to mind control for centuries, maybe millennia. I sense all the secret societies are involved. Eisenhower is a lineage associated with a very old secret society, that of iron hewers – sworn to keep the secrets of metallurgy for the king alone.
Other children get recruited when their parents are discovered to be sexually abusing them. The CIA knows that the traumatized child is already dissociative, or multiple, so they threaten the family with someone gone to prison and the shame of that – and give the option to put the child into a mind control program instead. Of course, the parents cave.
They also pay cash to the parents for their kids’ recruitment – in the form of employment checks for certain services rendered, such as denying that the child had been asleep for two years and other reinforcement of the program – all in the name of science and the betterment of mankind. If the parents ever think of breaking their contract, the fact that they took money would silence most of them. If that didn’t, then threats to kill the child would.
Many of us recall our families moving into much larger homes about the time we began or ended our two years of amnesia.
Other adult subjects report things that I have no visceral reaction to, but some reports make me feel as though I can remember – and I jump in my chair at the first reading and cringe or cry.
Once my daughter and boyfriend came to visit me on my birthday and one brought along a movie, in their minds, “a classic” of its genre – but a genre I had chosen to never watch any more and had told both of them that for years. They both thought I should watch it anyway, because it was “a classic.” They seemed so certain that we should all watch this movie that I relented. In an early scene, a Mafia underling is being upbraided and threatened by his superior in a brightly lit room, defending himself with poor attempts at lies and bluster. He wears a knit shirt that I associated with the late 1950s/early 60s. The man’s bluster and his shirt felt familiar, as though I knew that sort of man too well, and he scared the shit out of me.
In a panic, I asked them to turn it off, and when they ignored me, felt myself rise like a zombie and walk for the door, trying to keep one foot going in front of another and my mind in my body and not screaming. Outside, I sat down and burst into sobbing, feeling real terror about that ignorant, fearful, blustering man, as if he could do things to me, and my body shook and jumped and jolted for hours afterward, and I continued crying and criticizing them for not listening to me and believing that I do not want to watch movies portraying Mafiosa – it terrifies me, and they should have respected it.
Instead, I’ve had to respect that others simply do not want to believe this is true. They want to believe I’m being dramatic, and they are being tolerant and doing the right thing, encouraging me off your sick fantasy.
The government doesn’t work alone on this. They subcontract out jobs to the Mafia, various churches, law enforcement, medical groups, and any others that are needed. They get their connections through secret societies, which demand loyalty of their members and may entrap or blackmail their recruits into compliance under threat of having some misdeed exposed. A favorite, powerful entrapment is sexual, for which they need to train lots of children in sexual behaviors. The children, though, are usually given more than one type of programming.
Torture was not done strictly because the perpetrators were insane psychopaths, though they probably are; it was done because it is effective. Torture a young child, and their mind leaves their body at some point, a point they were becoming adept at finding quickly by using extreme measures. Therefore, we were drugged, hypnotized, caged, tortured with cold, hunger, dislocated joints, lose-lose psychological games, electroshock, physical and sexual torture, and being forced to witness other disobedient children being murdered.
We went out of our minds. And that was the point. As soon as “we” were gone, the brain, still recording life experience, had a fresh, blank slate, and the researcher told it its name and its function, terrified it into obedience, and sent it away with its only existence being to respond properly so as not to be tortured or murdered as we know very well they will do.
I’ve been punished for disobedience, I assume, fairly recently. One day in 2004, I realized I’d been cut inside my vagina fairly deeply, my g-spot sliced neatly through, right down to the main trunk of the nerve, so that now I can’t stand to be touched there, making sex a rather hazardous enterprise ever since.
Throughout it all, meticulous records are kept on every alter created and what programming command is programmed to evoke which response. Some programming was foundational and dealt with amnesia, pass codes, and obedience to particular individuals, while other programming built on that and involved specific tasks. At the end of two years, we’d been made obedient and disciplined, with amnesic alters who were glad to be in the real world and not be tortured, who would follow the program of acting like everything was normal.
Many of us have bad hearts from all the electroshock, or extreme reactions to pharmaceuticals, not to mention neurotic, disabling reactions to things like a movie with a blustering man in an old-style T-shirt, and alters that come and go and leave us with missing time and the fear that we’ve been used again and we don’t know what for.
Since there’s no honor among thieves, sometimes the pass codes get shared with people who aren’t supposed to have them – someone giving someone a gift of a mind control fuck, for instance – and someone calls us on the phone and says, Open your door tonight at 10 – and the subject does and provides sex and wonders why she’s sore and tired after what she thinks was an 8-hour night’s sleep.
Since they have such high technology, it seems there would be no reason for anyone to use a Taser on me, but I woke up one morning with severe weakness and a third-degree burn on my arm with two bright red dots in the middle. Maybe these were interlopers who didn’t quite manage my pass codes correctly and they had to Taser me to erase my memory. I don’t know. And I was Tasered a second time, I assume, though I wasn’t burned as badly, because the two dots were there again.
Last night, I drafted a post for Paradigm Salon in which I wrote that since removing all my shamanic paraphernalia and putting my focus on Yeshua alone that I hadn’t had any more hypodermic bruises on my thighs. But the next day, I found another one. What does it mean? Someone in my house again? [The day after that, I had two more!]
Back to my alters I haven’t worked with – and why has no psychologist or other counselor supported me in working with them?
A few days after I experienced the Integrating Woman, I lay down in the afternoon and suddenly experienced myself as three, fanned out like a small hand of cards. I was intrigued and thought I’d talk to them and see if they had clues for helping me understand things, and they read my mind and said, “No. It’s too complicated to explain how we came about, would take to long, and you wouldn’t understand it anyway, but we aren’t needed any more, so we’re outa here,” and they “folded” – that fast. I felt them melt into me and disappear.
Later that year, I sensed that some children wanted to come out and be known, but they were afraid. They wanted to know that I was nice. So I bought two stuffed animals and put them inside a shawl, wrapped it around me with them in the sling and carried them with me everywhere I went all day every day for two weeks, taking them off only to sleep, and then I cared for them as though they were real babies in bed with me, talking to them, loving them, really feeling like they were my children and I cared so very much to encourage them that I was strong and competent, could keep them safe, could listen, wouldn’t be afraid of their stories, and would love them.
After two weeks, I set the stuffed animals on the window seat and talked to them throughout my day, demonstrating that I thought they were capable and I was going to respect them and trust them to be strong too, to sit there and not need to be carried constantly. One day, sitting on my bed, a little girl appeared in another dimension a few feet away and a few feet up, sitting in a tree with a leg hanging down. I was so surprised to see her there, and so very happy that she’d presented herself to me, that I reached up my hand to touch her leg. This scared her and she kicked her leg in panic, but laughed a little too, as she indicated she wasn’t yet ready to be touched. I accepted that and told her that whenever she was ready, I’d be ready.
One night, reading a book, she slipped into me. When our hearts connected, I felt her, remembered her, knew that little girl was me, a part of me lost a long time ago. It was amazing to feel her again, so sudden, a surprise, but so familiar too. She was very sweet, and said about my hands, as if surprised by their wrinkled appearance but finding them comforting: Just like Grandma’s. And then she expressed a second judgement about having come into an old body when she was only 6: It’s not so bad.
Her innocence and sweetness, and my sense of the courage it required to come back into this body after what had driven her out, touched my heart and made it hurt so that my hands came up and my face dropped down and I sobbed and sobbed a mix of happiness, sorrow, grief for the child, and grief for me, all of it warmed though by love for the child’s openness and courage.
Over these twenty years, I’ve had lots of alters merge or emerge, and each has been an experience that wrenched my heart and caused me to spend days at home, crying, writing, combing the experience for meaning, making myself strong enough again to go out of the house.
I haven’t kept track of them though. I don’t know if I’ve learned what I should have. Most times I think I have, but sometime I worry that I’ve been letting things slip away. And I hear others report that whenever we heal an alter and erase some programming, they have alternate pass codes or entryways to replace whatever was lost, so our programming never gets broken. And we remain their subjects.
Sometimes it’s a challenge to remember why I think I can heal, or why I should stay if I can’t. But I play philosophical games with myself and invent possible reasons for an unexpected reality to unfold soon that’ll make everything worth it. And sometimes angels pick me up. And I keep on, trying to do some good here.
Amazingly, I have more days that I feel grateful to be alive than days that I want out. But I have to write about this. I am pretty sure they don’t want me to. But I have to.
I often am amazed to think about the “Apocalypse” – which means “unveiling,” “revealing” – a time for us to see! Are we seeing yet?
It’ll be very healing for a lot of us when others choose to look.
These quotes from one of the most respected therapists in ritual abuse, Alison Miller, give a good overview of this subject, from her book ― Healing the Unimaginable: Treating Ritual Abuse and Mind Control:
Imagine that you have periods of “lost time.” You may find writings or drawings which you must have done, but do not remember producing. Perhaps you find child-sized clothing or toys in your home but have no children. You might also hear voices or babies crying in your head.
Imagine that you can never predict when you will be able to have certain knowledge or social skills, and your emotions and your energy level seem to change at the drop of a hat, and for no apparent reason.
You cannot understand why you feel what you feel, and, if you are in therapy, you cannot explore those feelings when asked. Your life feels disjointed and often confusing. It is a frightening experience. It feels out of control, and you probably think you are going crazy. That is what it is like to be multiple, and all of it is experienced by the ANPs. [Alternate Personality]
A multiple may also experience very concrete problems, even life-threatening ones.”
“Since the 1980s, therapists have reported encountering clients or patients who had experienced extreme abuses featuring physical, sexual, emotional, spiritual, and cognitive aspects, along with a premeditated structure of torture-enforced lessons. The phenomena was first labeled “ritual abuse,” and, later, as our understanding developed, “mind control.”
“Those who are aware of their condition and experience themselves as “multiple” might refer to themselves as “we” rather than “I.” I shall use the term “multiple” at times, in respect for their internal experience. It is important to point out, however, that I recognize that someone who is multiple is actually a single fragmented person rather than many people. On the outside, a multiple is probably not visibly different from anyone else. But that image is only an imitation: people who are multiple cannot think like the rest of us, and we cannot think like them. (In fact, since it is difficult for the multiple to understand how singletons think, some of them might think that is is you who are strange).
Just as a singleton cannot become a multiple at will, a multiple cannot become a singleton until and unless the barriers between the parts of the self are removed. Those barriers were put up to enable the child to tolerate, and so survive, unavoidable abuse.
[Multiple: a person with dissociative identity disorder (DID) or DDNOS.
Singleton: a person without DID or DDNOS, i.e with a single, unified personality]”
“Programming is the act of installing internal, pre-established reactions to external stimuli so that a person will automatically react in a predetermined manner to things like an auditory, visual or tactile signal or perform a specific set of actions according to a date and/or time.”
“The first generation of therapists doing this work were told by their clients that the one massive cult was everywhere, knew everything, had access to state-of-the-art technology, and was willing to kill both clients and therapists to stop the information from getting out.”
“The reality is that even before stories of ritual abuse and mind control began coming out to therapists, the groups had agreed on what kind of disinformation to spread, so that clients would be afraid to tell their therapists what had happened to them, and therapists would be afraid to work with these clients.”
“Because the problem of ritual abuse and mind control has not gone away – the survivors are still there – many more therapists have learnt about it. Survivors have spoken out and written their stories, and therapists have learnt a great deal from those brave survivors who have discovered what was done to them. There is a large special interest group on Ritual Abuse and Mind Control within the International Society for the Study of Dissociation. Those therapists who have learnt in isolation or in small private online forums are once again sharing their knowledge widely, and books such as this one are beginning to be published again. The work is still very difficult and challenging, but we now know so much more than we did. We know that there is not one massive Satanic cult, but many different interrelated groups, including religious, military/political, and organized crime, using mind control on children and adult survivors. We know that there are effective treatments. We know that many of the paralyzing beliefs our clients lived by are the results of lies and tricks perpetrated by their abusers. And we know that, as therapists, we can combat this evil with wise and compassionate therapy.”
“A child who is being abused on an ongoing basis needs to be able to function despite the trauma that dominates his or her daily life. That becomes the job of at least one ANP [alternate personality], whom the child creates to be unaware of the abuse and also of the multiplicity, and to “pass as normal” in the real world. The ANP is just an alter specialized for handling the adult world—in other words, the “front person” for the system.”
“In fact, rather than being “more” than the others, the ANP is generally one that is very limited, with little power in the system, little memory of what happened, and limited energy or emotions.”
“It is unlikely that one ANP will serve as a constant throughout the person’s life. Your client is, therefore, likely to have others besides the ones you know, or several who you might think of as “the host”. Adults with dissociative disorders often have several ANPs from earlier stages of life inside. They usually have the same name but are of different ages. Sometimes, there are several current ANPs, each of whom assumes she or he is the “real” person and is amnesiac for the existence of the others. Their current knowledge and experience may overlap, while their other characteristics differ somewhat. This makes them glide easily from one to the other, and the therapist can easily miss the switch.”
“I remember one of my first ritually abused clients confessing to me that for a long time she had remembered being abducted by aliens, but had not told me because she did not want me to disbelieve her other memories because of it. We worked through the “alien abduction” memory and discovered that the “spaceship” was parked in the courtyard of the cult training center.”
“Besides stage magic props and settings, ritually abusing groups use technology, such as that described by Katz and Fotheringham. Military/political groups have the most sophisticated technologies, and much training or programming is now done with virtual reality equipment. Movies and holograms are used to deceive a child into believing in things that are unreal.
When a client says to you “I don’t know if it’s real; how can it be real?” remember that there are several options, not just two: (1) It happened just as s/he remembers; (2) it did not happen at all; (3) something happened, but due to technology and/or trickery it was not what s/he thinks it was; (4) the thought that the memory must be unreal is itself a program, as described in Chapter Twelve, “Maybe I made it up.”
“In my client who had confessed her “alien abduction” experience, an alter had been instructed that if she began to remember the ritual abuse she was to remember the alien abduction, so that nobody would believe her account of the ritual abuse. This program did not work with us, but you can imagine the larger consequences of such a ruse.”
― Alison Miller, Healing the Unimaginable: Treating Ritual Abuse and Mind Control
~ Twelve years flirting
~ Amazing changes since I quit
Twelve years of flirting with “shamanic practice.” I wouldn’t recommend it.
Opening doors to the other dimensions, or recognizing that they were opened somehow, as was my case, and then not acting decisively about it is dangerous. I’ve documented how dangerous it is all over this site, on pages and posts.
It has nearly killed me more times than I can tell, and nearly made me crazy. And that’s how shamanic initiations are described in all the literature. But that doesn’t mean it’s “wrong.” Perhaps our path is to explore this danger.
Sometimes we just stand there like a deer in the headlights, asking, “What is this? Is this real? Should I go right or left? Do I believe what I’ve been told about these things? Are there other ways to interpret what I’ve heard about things like this? What does my heart say? Is it dangerous just because it’s mind blowing? Might it be good? Can I just watch and think and not act quickly?”
Meanwhile, the thing is storming down on you or has already taken you – where?
So after twelve years, feeling somewhat fortunate to be “chosen” or to have attained this awareness of the multiple dimensions, I’ve decided to not just “keep an open mind” to whatever comes through those portals, but to choose. And I believe that’s the point.
I’ve chosen to connect and align with the only spiritual being whom I have ever felt kinship with, who hasn’t mystified me: Yeshua.
When I was a teen, I heard a youth minister recount some stories in which Christ came down squarely on the side of non-violence, non-sexism, non-racism, non-materialism, and anti-doctrine.
(Posts about my struggle with “Jesus” are under the category Yeshua/Jesus, to the right.)
Since making this decision (finally, or again?), and following it up by removing all the cluttering shamanic paraphernalia from the house (and allowing certain items back later, though to different, less prominent places), some wonderful changes have come about:
First, I’ve had no more horrendous experiences of waking bruised, burned, or biopsied with mysterious, debilitating exhaustion. Done. Gone!
Second, I’ve felt and followed the need to “clear energy” (clutter of various sorts) everywhere throughout the house, from the storage room, to my bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, sunroom, and closets.
Not obsessively; just every few days I feel inspired, and it’s been easy and fun! And the energy change is palpable, for both myself and my partner. And interesting spiritual understandings have come about in the process. Life is becoming productive again.
This is not to denounce shamanism (at least I don’t claim to know enough to say for sure).
But I feel fairly confident about this: just because the portals open and a friend suggests it might be one’s initiation doesn’t mean one is actually called or that it is a good call to answer.
Shamanic practice is an interesting phrase, used by those who want to explore the multiple dimensions – which I believe is a righteous desire but, after twelve years of going it alone, I’ll say its dangerous without a guide, and even with a guide it can be dangerous. Just read Carlos Castaneda or any of this team of initiates.
I don’t believe I need any “practice,” which is probably why I resisted it so consistently. Everything in my life tells me that I came into this world with “my lights on,” understanding the portals and extra-dimensional beings very well even in childhood – though I had to pretend not to know, to please my family.
Mind control tried further to convince me that I didn’t know, so I set aside what I knew and tried to be “open” in this realm we call shamanic. Not good.
While I was “practicing” (or trying and failing to be diligent to the practice), I failed to learn the lessons that should have been easy because I was trying to see something others said they saw. I’d been encouraged to make myself blind!
Finally, a few weeks ago, frustrated and seriously afraid (see this page if you wonder why), I realized Yeshua is the only spiritual being I have ever had a deep feeling for, so – regardless that he and his teachings have been perverted in church doctrine (little of which I believe) and made a mockery of on TV – he, the real Being, is my Chief, my Guide, my Counselor.
He’s the first one I speak to each morning, and the last one I speak to each evening, and I stay in touch throughout the day. That’s the extent of my “shamanic” (multi-dimensional) practice today.
And life is no longer crazy.
I assume there are many, different Guides, one (or more) for each of us. Find your spiritual connection/s. Trust yourself. Don’t let cultural lies get in the way. Develop the relationship. We need help here. Can’t go it alone.
Check this out! And pray for this man.
[I just discovered this in my Draft folder since May. Kevin Annett, Eagle Strong Voice, is still working to disclose the horrors.]
The International Common Law Court of Justice – Criminal Trial Division, Brussels
Public Information Bulletin No. 2: An Update from the Citizen Prosecutor’s Office
lThursday, April 10, 2014 GMT
FOR IMMEDIATE PUBLIC RELEASE
The common law trial in absentia of the three top officials of the Vatican and the Church of England – Jorge Bergoglio, Adolfo Pachon and Justin Welby – began last Monday, April 7 with the opening arguments of the Citizen Prosecutor. The Court convened in closed session under tight security, presided by five Magistrates and a complete Court room staff, along with twenty seven sworn Jury members.
The Prosecutor has spent the past three days presenting affidavits or videotaped statements from sixteen (16) witnesses from Canada, the United States of America, England and Holland. These witnesses’ statements and evidence address the complicity of the Defendants or their agents in the sexual and financial trafficking and the ritual rape, torture and murder of children in these countries.
The Prosecution will be calling upon the first of these witnesses to be present in Court for examination and questioning commencing the week of Monday, April 14, when the Special Assistant to the Prosecutor, Reverend Kevin Annett, will also be present in Court to give testimony and assistance.
Here are some details from the Prosecution’s case evidence:
The Prosecution’s evidence falls into three categories: Institutional Genocide, Child Sacrifice and Ritual Killing, and Child Trafficking. Each of these will be addressed by the witnesses and corroborating material.
The sixteen witnesses in this first round of evidence have direct, firsthand experience and knowledge of the role of the Defendants and their agents in all of these crimes, including in the so-called NINTH CIRCLE child sacrificial cult. Besides participants in this cult and survivors of government experimental programs, these witnesses include former officials of the Roman Catholic and Anglican churches, retired and serving policemen, indigenous elders, a retired senior politician from England, an operative of the Canadian Security and Intelligence Service (CSIS), and a former civil servant in the Argentine military junta.
The Prosecution has also received an affidavit from Rev. Kevin Annett, ITCCS Field Secretary, that connects his own victimization by church and state in Canada with his discovery of the activity of NINTH CIRCLE members at Indian residential schools across Canada, and with the continued murder of indigenous women and children by this Circle on the west coast of Canada. Rev. Annett will appear in Court next week, sometime after April 14, to be examined by the Prosecution and present further evidence.
Former NINTH CIRCLE participants whose evidence was presented in Court last Tuesday, April 8 testify that Cree Indians in northern Canada are being continually targeted by the Circle for torture and murder because of the valuable uranium resources on their lands which are coveted by the United States military and corporations associated with the NINTH CIRCLE and their adherents within both the American and Canadian governments. The names of prominent Canadian and American politicians and corporate officials who engage in these Circle ritual killings have been named in Court and entered into the evidence record.
The NINTH CIRCLE began at least three centuries ago in the Vatican but has expanded to embrace local satanic child sacrifice cults across Europe and the Americas. Thanks to Catholic pressure, the Circle affiliated strongly with Nazi cultic groups that had close ties with the Waffen S.S. during the 1930’s and ’40’s, including the so-called KNIGHTS OF DARKNESS, whose members included former Pope Benedict, Joseph Ratzinger. Many of these members continued their murderous acts against children after World War Two, especially in Canada. Testimony was received from the sole survivor of a Knights of Darkness cult at the former Royal Canadian Air Force Base known as Lincoln Park in Calgary, Alberta. The Witness observed the ritual torture and killing of twenty abducted children by a former SS doctor and three other “Knights” working under cover as Canadian military personnel, between the years 1956 and 1958. Records of the SS doctor codenamed “Major Bob Armstrong” (SS number “091374 SS“) have been confirmed by Canadian government documents obtained by the Court from a former official of the Canadian Military Intelligence Agency, the NIS.
Other witnesses to NINTH CIRCLE cults confirm the presence of British Royal Family members MOUNTBATTEN and PRINCE PHILIP at these child sacrifices, whose presence was concealed by defendant WELBY. Jesuit officers including defendants PACHON and BERGOGLIO were also present at the same rituals at Carnarvon Castle in Wales and at an undisclosed French Chateau, during the 1980’s and 1990’s. Similar sacrifices were conducted at Catholic and Anglican Indian residential schools in Kamloops, British Columbia and Brantford, Ontario during the 1960’s and earlier, according to statements from living and deceased indigenous eyewitnesses.
7. A massive child trafficking network operating through official Roman Catholic adoption, “planned parenthood” and foster care agencies was described by a witness with inside knowledge of this network and its coordination through a special office at the Vatican. This office siphons children into NINTH CIRCLE cultic activity and child sexual trafficking networks around the world, according to another witness, a former employee of the Curia in Rome.
8. An eyewitness to the personal involvement of Pope Francis, Jorge Bergoglio, in such child trafficking in Argentina during the reign of the military Junta has presented his affidavit to the Court. He is a former civil servant with the Junta and is in protected custody in Spain. He will appear before the Court to corroborate his statement.
Further evidence of the Prosecution will be disclosed in upcoming bulletins, and according to the decisions of the Court Magistrates.
Issued by the Public Information Agency of The Citizen Prosecutor’s Office of the Court.
10 April, 2014
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPKFk_L7y9g – Common Law Court Proceedings – Genocide in Canada (Part Two) – 1 hr. 47 mins.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ormOIlOi4Vc – Final Court Verdict and Sentencing – 8 mins. 30 secs.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IylfBxm3sMg – Authorizations and Endorsements of ITCCS/Kevin Annett by indigenous eyewitnesses – 10 mins.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CReISnQDbBE – Irene Favel, Eyewitness to the incineration of a newborn baby by a priest at Muscowegan Catholic Indian school, Saskatchewan, 1944
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBUd3UXt6fI – Other key testimonies from our Court case against genocide in Canada
Kevin Annett is a Nominee for the Nobel Peace Prize (2013). Messages for him can be left at 250-591-4573 (Canada) or 386-323-5774 (USA). His personal website is www.KevinAnnett.com .
“I gave Kevin Annett his Indian name, Eagle Strong Voice, in 2004 when I adopted him into our Anishinabe Nation. He carries that name proudly because he is doing the job he was sent to do, to tell his people of their wrongs. He speaks strongly and with truth. He speaks for our stolen and murdered children. I ask everyone to listen to him and welcome him.”
Chief Louis Daniels – Whispers Wind
Elder, Crane Clan, Anishinabe Nation, Winnipeg, Manitoba
Mostly I’ve written about mind control from a very personal vantage – the struggle to get free of the worst sort of it – while recognizing that the most general sort of it may be so intrinsic to the nature of who we are that it will always be a part of society, the only question being to what degree.
In any case, I assert we must do aikido with mind control programming, dancing out of its way – rather than ignore it as we’re so encouraged to do.
Most people think about mind control as hypnotic programming or voice-to-skull technology – both of which I’m certain I’ve experienced, along with a great variety of other technological, pharmacological, and other experimentation – but it is so much more.
Mind control begins with birth trauma (all sorts are induced by modern medicine), and continues with day care, education, news, history, economic manipulation, law, law enforcement, entertainment, war, etc.
But mind control predates even these basic elements of society; when humans were separated from their Earth-based calendars and forced to accept an arbitrary industrial work week, our minds were fractured. We were weakened, given inducements and threats, and we agreed to calibrate our minds to the needs of industry.
In 2002 I’d been feeling a gut horror at this idea growing in me for twenty years. I was still pulling myself together after a nervous breakdown, or spiritual crisis, in 1993, and was obsessed with the idea that we needed to learn to pay attention to the sky, stars, moon, wildlife, and planting and foraging cycles. The idea of a calendar to help me do that had been growing in me since the 1980s, and I finally did something about it.
One October day, I told a friend I’d delayed the project too long again, and it would be impossible to throw it together now, and he (a printer) encouraged me to reconsider. Because my life was fairly simple, living out in the country, I decided I could do it, and began.
I solicited writing and art, designed the weeks, and wrote pages on the Equinoxes and Solstices and others entitled, “Pre-Industrial Time,” “About Moon Names,” “Thanksgiving” (on Native American customs), “Kwanzaa,” “TV Turn-Off Week,” and more.
Each “moon week” began on a Full Moon, New Moon, or Half Moon (any day of the week), rather than a Gregorian Sunday or Monday, and each week was either 7 or 8 days. Gregorian months and days were incorporated into the calendar, of course, but the moon weeks shoved them around instead of the reverse.
People responded well to the Almanac. Three-hundred copies of the 2003 Almanac/Datebook/Journal for Southern Arizona were ready for sale in early December (not much time for a single person to sell them all), and all were sold by February. Next near I sold out my printing of 500.
Because I’d been a hermit ignoring the news, I was surprised to learn almost a decade later that Jose Arguelles had published (also in 2002) a substantial book – Time and the Technosphere – on this subject of the Gregorian calendar being the most fundamental aspect of human mind control. (A web search for the title will bring up many videos and articles by others resonating with this idea that the calendar is basic to our control.)
Some of the metaphysics of Arguelle’s book was beyond me, but I’d certainly felt the subtle impact of the mind control the Gregorian calendar is.
From the time we sit in kindergarten, learning to read the calendar and reciting, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…, we understand we are part of a system which cycles 5-2-5-2-5-2-5-2…work long, play short, work long, play short, work long, play short. And everything from that moment on which has anything to do with a calendar reminds us that we are part of a world of 5-2-5-2-5-2, work long, play short.
Ancient people invented – or discerned – patterns that seemed to facilitate harmonious living, that encouraged an energetic cycling of activity and rest, like inhaling and exhaling, waking and sleeping, summer energy and winter hibernation….
Today’s lifestyle requires many people to work intently for five consecutive days, resting for only two, relying on caffeine and/or other drugs to keep themselves going. Perhaps the equal cycles of waning and waxing moons might inspire us to create more balance in our lives.
My partner then, Leo, claimed that if we all lived with this sort of balance, allowed ourselves to be less productive, slept more, took more time off, travelled less, and shopped less, we could solve a lot of our environmental and health problems.
Inspired, I would later write a poem entitled, “Pssst! Quit Your Job!” in which I suggested a couple/few dozen other things a person might do that would be of service – real service – to their communities, that would be artful and satisfying to do – whatever days we chose to work. (To read more easily, click to enlarge.)
Not everyone all at once, now! (Or maybe….)
But it’s good to know that we can create a different world if we want to. We could ignore the stupid ideas of industry – genetically-modified foods, fracking, and a million unnecessary consumer gadgets that will soon be in the landfill – and do something meaningful instead.
And we could work on our own schedule. “Take it easy when someone’s ill, or the weather is especially nice.”
A few years ago, many years after the first two Almanacs had been published and I thought forgotten, in a single week three different individuals asked me when I’d publish another. I waited for a couple of years and finally produced a third one, The 2013 or Year One Almanac, Datebook, and Journal – taking advice of many people to make it less local, so I could sell to a wider audience. I didn’t like it, but it rekindled my love for the thing – though I didn’t have the energy to create one for 2014.
This is what I think should happen next: Every bioregion should have it’s own Almanac.
To that end, I offer the pages in the back of last year’s version, the section entitled, “Make your own Perpetual Moon Calendar!” It contains instructions, templates for four “moon weeks” (first quarter/waxing crescent, and so on), and “phases of the Moon” through 2017.
Collectives in each bioregion can put out a call for information, art, and ideas, and do like I did: sit at the kitchen table to draw, cut, paste, edit, peruse, and chat with friends (for me in the desert, they were few) while putting the book together.
I chose to eschew the computer for as much of the work as possible:
to remind us all, myself included, that sometimes we can break the rules, relax, and enjoy the imperfections.
Even though this is a day planner, I hope it won’t drive your days, but lead you through them with a little more kindness and ease than our efficiency-minded society usually wants us to grant ourselves.
As Ghandi said, “The purpose of life is not to do everything faster.”
Here’s a link to my last Almanac.
In my next post (since this is after midnight), I’ll upload those “Make Your Own Perpetual Moon Calendar” pages, and pray we unleash a thousand or more bioregional Almanacs around the “civilized”/controlled world, birthed by women and men gathering the wisdom of their elders, reclaiming our relationship with Nature, breaking our mind control, and helping ourselves and our children find harmony again.
Let’s do it ~
And please share your work here if you’d like. I’d love to see it.
* “Pssst! Quit Your Job” mini-poster art by Jean Eisenhower. Different versions of this I began to create around 2004-ish. Even though I said “copyright” on this one, I’ve changed my mind; it and the Almanac are both now Creative Commons. Copy, swipe, redesign, evolve. Distribute freely.
** “Declare the Jubilee” in that poem is a Biblical reference. If you don’t know about it, look it up. It’s good.
“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!
Rob Brezny’s horoscope for Cancers this week is as entertaining as ever, and it provoked me to revisit a subject I’ve been trying to ignore for twelve years: the nature of humans as (among other things) mind-controlled and genetically manipulated for the purposes of Others whom we’re mind controlled not to notice or talk about.
My first reading of Rob’s horoscope was so provocative that I forwarded it to my partner to read with me later, so I could delete it from my inbox and get on to other tasks.
End of day, Greg read me his horoscope – wonderful, inspiring, over-the-top with promise for what we can make of our lives and the adventure it is.
Then Greg read me my horoscope “for the week beginning October 1”:
CANCER (June 21-July 22): In the wild, very few oysters produce pearls — about one in every 10,000.
Most commercial pearls come from farmed oysters whose pearls have been induced by human intervention.
As you might expect, the natural jewel is regarded as far more precious.
Let’s use these facts as metaphors while we speculate about your fate in the next eight months.
I believe you will acquire or generate a beautiful new source of value for yourself.
There’s a small chance you will stumble upon a treasure equivalent to the wild pearl.
But I suggest you take the more secure route: working hard to create a treasure that’s like a cultivated pearl.
Why did I about swoon with that?
And why did I suddenly remember a woman I only knew by name – nine years ago – until the night she spoke to me at a gas station on a lonely dark road in Cochise County, south of Elfrida, Arizona. She was nearly hysterical as I stood listening, truly having compassion, but unable to offer her any consolation, and knowing that no one could.
She’d heard – I don’t know how because I kept it a secret – that I’d had “alien” experiences; she had too, and she began to relate how she finally understood reality: we are like cattle to Them, nothing but cattle, and They will do anything to us that They want.
She saw no point in living – and said this not with despair, but as much impassioned hysteria as a person could show while trying to convey a secret to the only person in the world who might get it – standing next to gas pumps with the clerk looking out through the window.
I don’t remember anything I said in response. I had no hopeful words. I’d been suffering all sorts of weird things in my hermitage – going up into the sky with no other memories, highway stops while immobilized with missing time and no other memories, waking unable to move while people seemed to be moving furniture in my house, being hit between the eyes with a beam and immobilized, waking with a healed thyroid scar on my neck, and a hundred other weirdnesses. I was trying to be brave and figure it out, learn whatever spiritual skills might make me a warrior able to keep Them at bay, and maybe offer help to others. I had no energy for hysteria, but I understood hers very well. Perhaps some inner parts of me were agreeing, “Yeah, that’s how we feel,” while my outer alter just stared.
She was going to flee her land. She was outa there. She’d invested the last decade and all her money there, and now she didn’t know where to go, but she couldn’t stay. She might just run, live in her truck forever, and make it hard for Them by never staying in one place. It might be horrible, and maybe They’d chase her, but she couldn’t stay. Could not stay.
The last I saw of her, this woman whose name I can’t remember was driving away in her old truck with a hand-built wooden house on the back, tearful and hysterical. I worried for her and was frightened that her theory of being like cattle wasn’t one to simply dismiss. It fit all our symptoms, and had obvious metaphors in nature and in human nature. Thank Goodness there were other theories to entertain, less scary, but not all symptoms made sense with each of the theories.
For nine years, until very recently, I’ve mostly evaded the question: What is the nature of these experiences, and is the cattle metaphor in any way instructive? What other metaphors should we entertain? Stepford Wives? Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Or which, if any, of the many other theories espoused by ET enthusiasts and ET fear-mongerers? I’ve come back to these questions now and then, but never stayed on the subject long until recently, when I began tracking my fractured (but “high-functioning”) mind with my new Journal/Notebook.
I’d been playing with this idea that the Controllers are not evil, just inconsiderate – which has this going for it: The theory is compatible with the rest of nature. In fact, it’s suggesting that our experiences are caused by beings just like us (not strange at all!), treating us just like the way we farmers, ranchers, scientists, and consumers treat other beings or endorse with our dollars. We’re not evil, we’re just doing what nature – Nature with a capital “N”? or human nature? whatever – has evolved us to do.
It’s been a week or so I’ve been facing this idea more squarely: of mind control not as an “evil” thing, but simply what we do to other animals and plants being done to us. Then Rob Brezsny’s horoscope arrived in my inbox – though I’m not sure he wrote it the way I interpreted it.
Greg read Rob’s horoscope again to me, and I commented after each line.
“In the wild, very few oysters produce pearls — about one in every 10,000.”
I did not know wild pearls were so rare. I did know that commercial pearls are made by irritating the oyster with a piece of grit inserted artificially between its shell parts, which it otherwise keeps from happening quite well without this intrusion. Insulted, it secretes juices that coat the grit and harden into a pearl, which doesn’t bother the oyster as much, I presume.
I wasn’t sure Rob wanted me to identify so strongly with the oyster, as opposed to, say, a connoisseur of pearls, but I couldn’t help it. Oysters are yet another species on this planet treated to weird manipulations to make them do what someone else wants, in this case, secrete juices that have value to the human in the form of pearls. As a mind control subject, made amnesic and multiple for someone else’s purposes, I relate to the oyster.
Cattle are similar, but who wants to think of themselves as cattle? (Maybe it was that metaphor driving my neighbor acquaintance most hysterical.) What if we thought of ourselves instead as oysters with a pearl of beauty inside – sure it was someone else’s plan, but oh well, that seems to be our fate. Would it be better to rant about evil government or aliens or both? I think it best to try to understand from as wide a perspective as we can (using metaphors to try to understand reality in other dimensions), and if the reality is that we’re like cattle or tomatoes or oysters, then we might as well know that and make the best of it.
I like the idea of being an oyster, even if forced to deal with irritating grit to make a pearl – at least it feels better than being a cow, or – here’s another theory – an energy source for Archons – that’s reality as espoused by no less than the writers of the Gnostic (pre-Christian and Christian) gospels – but it’s just as disturbing to me as being cattle. So I’ll work for a while here with the oyster metaphor.
Back to Rob’s horoscope:
“Most commercial pearls come from farmed oysters whose pearls have been induced by human intervention.”
As I was saying. And today they don’t just put little pieces of grit inside oysters; they’re putting big disks of metal inside to create big disk-shaped pearls, and other irritating objects, just for something different in human jewelry and fetishes. I wonder how the mute oyster feels about that.
And what an appropriate extension of our metaphor! – Earth as a big oyster farm (we humans as the oysters), in which they’re inserting programs and technologies into us, not caring a whit whether we’re uncomfortable, unless we cost them.
(That’s why I’ve considered suicide so often: I want to cost Them! In my gloomiest days I have figured, with numbers, it’ll be the only feedback their organism/organization will heed to decide to run their operations with better care and concern for their producers. Of course, I have my reasons for not offing myself, but it seems to make sense, from a “scientific farming” and business feedback standpoint. The plant, oysters, or cattle must sicken or die and cost Them money before They change their practices. But I digress. And: apologies for being “dark.” Just being practical, “problem-solving,” as I was trained so well to do.)
“As you might expect, the natural jewel is regarded as far more precious.”
Another interesting analogy: A human being with some accidental grit (some traumatic accident) that made them, say, a multiple-personality mystic/shaman – they would be rare and more valuable – as they are. And because they’re rare, they’re able to be cared for properly and supported in their tribe, “precious,” like a wild pearl.
But there’s very little precious about it when everyone is given grit (the irritating mind control of this culture), and no one is left with the energy to value or care for another.
“Let’s use these facts as metaphors while we speculate about your fate in the next eight months.”
Eight months? Are you just having fun, Rob, or do you know something that entails 1/12th of the world’s or America’s population experiencing something life-changing the beginning of next June? Ah – we’ll call it poetic license – and I’ll let that question go.
So what about these metaphors, Rob? Enlighten us, please.
(I should have said earlier that I really love Rob Brezsny’s book Pronoia Is the Antidote for Paranoia: How All of Creation Is Conspiring To Shower You with Blessings. I think it saved my life once. So I make this plea with only a little exaggeration.)
“I believe you will acquire or generate a beautiful new source of value for yourself.”
I like that. I’ve been working at finding some value in what has been done to me. (Sorry I can’t just think about “value for myself,” but I can hardly conceive of myself anymore as anyone other than someone who was mind-controlled and is struggling to be free. But, having said that, I promise to keep an open mind that I might actually discover “new value for myself.”) But I have to admit I’m geared to discover a new value for what has been done to me – this thing I think is depicted so well in the farmed oyster image.
I already do understand some value in my childhood programming: When I want, and when I’m not interfered with, I can focus on a task and accomplish a great deal, successfully synthesizing skills and understandings from various vantages, even testing as genius levels sometimes; I can sense things in other dimensions and sometimes work successfully in those realms; and … uhmmm, I think there’s more, and I hope to become clearer about them in the next eight months.
(They better be worth all the ways in which I’m sometimes a mess, with amnesia, alter switches, lost time, bad memory, social isolation, difficulty keeping or wanting to keep a job, and all the Taser burns, biopsies, surgery scars, and other physical wounds I wake with over the course of a year.)
“There’s a small chance you will stumble upon a treasure equivalent to the wild pearl. But I suggest you take the more secure route: working hard to create a treasure that’s like a cultivated pearl.”
I can work with that. I can see we’re all working with some sort of grit injected into us, and our task is to secrete some juice (I like that metaphor too) around it and turn it into something beautiful.
I’ve certainly been trying. I feel on pretty solid ground, now that I’ve been tracking my mind with my Notebook/Journal, and now that I know (or fairly-certainly suspect) I’m a farmed oyster, I can let go all the fantasies of living in a natural world and society I supposedly helped create and just settle down to live within realistic parameters.
(Of course, They tell us all the time how we evolved here on Earth naturally, and we created this culture ourselves, even though we can see we haven’t been living naturally in a natural ecosystem for a long, long time. And now we’re waking up to discover we’re in a factory farm!. But of course: “As above, so below.” Or is it, “As below, so above”? To secure the metaphor, and the irony, some of us eat factory-farmed shrimp, salmon, and other GMO foods, completing the circle. Damn, maybe some of us even become a food source for some factory-owner/Archon. Fractal harmony. And our progeny will survive if we make a pretty pearl.)
(Uh oh. Do we want our progeny to survive? If not, perhaps that’s why They keep the whole farm a secret and tell us we live in a natural world and culture of our own making, assuring us that mind control and “aliens” aren’t real, so we won’t know enough to consider such a question as whether this is a world for which we want our children to live. But I have digressed again. And into a dark area, for which I apologize, but isn’t this the task of life? To explore ideas that seem to make sense of things?)
In any case, I want to know our reality, even if it turns out we’re living in an oyster – or human – farm. (And I’m not the only one, of course. Others have espoused plenty of variations on this theory: hell planet, prison planet, Archon food source (the righteous Gnostics, after all!), etc., so this isn’t a unique idea that should be shocking to good people.)
Believing the oyster farm is as good a metaphor as any, I still think I’ll stay here on Earth and keep working on my pearl. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’ve been here 62 years, and I’m starting to like life now (with the help of good people like Rob Brezsny and, nearby, my friends). Of course, maybe I’ve been programmed to stay as long as I’m useful to them. I don’t know. Mostly I think I want to be around to give advice to my kids when they ask me about this crazy stuff some decade in the future.
Certainly, life is sometimes more harrowing than I think I can take, and sometimes it’s absolutely inspired – like when we sing, tend the garden, and make our place suit us aesthetically and functionally.
And sometimes I believe we really can create something brilliant, of value, like a pearl.
Sometimes I even understand how irritation, like death, is necessary in that creation. And having been through a lot of it in this lifetime, I think I’ve begun to see its value – even if I resent the hell out of it sometimes. Thanks, Rob.
“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.
Here’s a favorite consciousness researcher of mine, been meaning to post for a while.
Blessings, All ~
I mean no disrespect to shamanic practitioners, but I have just become aware of how unproductive, and maybe spiritually vulnerable, that attempted practice has been for me. Yesterday, I stood at my alter, before an overwhelming clutter of totems of various animals that have played a significant role in my life, many totems of some of them, and felt a cacophony of guilt in my head for not being more disciplined about staying in connection with each of them, as is supposedly my responsibility if I want to accept their gifts. But I have failed in that responsibility again and again.
And I had tremendous guilt about not acknowledging Yeshua more, whom I consider my spiritual leader, my tribal chief – but I hate the images of him painted in our culture by obnoxious evangelists and corrupt doctrine-writers, so unlike my image of him as the counter-culture, anti-materialist, love and peace prophet. And since the foundation of my programming was done in churches with all that other religious iconography and his “name” – JEEZ-suz – being used (American South rendering of the Greek translation of his Hebrew name). (And I’ll save for later the story of how a “Christian” church helped my abusive husband take my kids from me for two years.) So my picture of Yeshua has him in a lotus pose, in saffron robes, flowers in a necklace, surrounded by lotus flowers, his heart open, wounded and shining, a crown of thorns on his head, a halo, a hand sign of peace, a gesture to the heart, and a look of calm sincerity. (It came from a magazine cover, and I’ll appreciate if anyone can help me with the source – I’d like to credit it and the artist.)
So yesterday, I stood before my altar, hands at prayer pose, namaste, feeling very real with him, confused about who I am and how I’m doing, a racket of other voices – or my imagination of them – telling me I’m a bad shamanic practitioner and I can’t keep up any discipline. Suddenly, I realized I didn’t have to. Yes, I’d really believed I was strong enough to accept the shamanic initiation invitation, and I’d told myself, “Once the doors are opened, you can’t shut them” – and that’s true – but I had assumed that that meant I had to use those shamanic practices to keep my bearings in that world. Suddenly I realized that, even though I was invited, and that means the doors have been opened, I don’t have to play by their rules, i.e., shamanism. Yes, I’ve had many amazing, sublime shamanic experiences, but I don’t feel the need to sit in counsel with animal spirits. I believe the animal spirits, trees spirits, insect spirits, and all the elementals and devas and intelligences of every sort in this Ocean of Spirit can come to my aid, and they will when called, but I will take my counsel in prayer with Yeshua. And I realized all those totems were way to much visual noise. I kept a few things to remind me of special events, but those very few are scattered now around the house. My eagle feather hangs in a tree, where it probably likes it better. And Yeshua is uncrowded in the center of my wall.
Oh, my Lord, I can’t tell you what an energy rush that was to remove everything!! Once I began, it was like an avalanche: many, many items now sit out in the sunroom awaiting separation into piles of gifts, piles of things to throw away, and things to sell. (I’m not assuming these things are wrong for someone else, and thereby am recycling them for someone else’s life lessons.) The clearing in here is palpable!
Last night, we talked about some things I’d thought we’d never be able to face, but we did. We hardly slept last night, both racked to our souls, and today we both feel clean and clear and dedicated to love and creative living. What a relief!
At one point I sobbed, “I feel like I’ve been in a balloon, tossed around in a harrowing storm for 21 years, and I just touched ground safely.
Another image appeared of an abscess lanced, gaping open, being flushed out. Relief.
This was posted originally at my MKGarden Healing Church blog.
I’ll explain the practice in a moment. But first let me share my journal entry – written just now – about it:
I love this timer and this practice!! I LOVE knowing what I’ve done all day. I used to have to ask Greg, or struggle to remember, and feel guilty because I was never sure if I was being lazy or not taking care of myself.
This is GREAT!!
I feel like living, like it’s worth it, and like I’m NOT running to catch up because I’m not sure if I’m working hard enough or getting anything accomplished. I’m working with more energy, but not pushing myself. I feel self-possessed, and strong.
What a feeling to know.
I’ve needed this book for SO LONG!!
What did I do? I went back to doing what I used to do as a business person – what helped me handle things with quite a bit of skill: I kept a somewhat complicated datebook of my own design, made to manage exactly what I needed to manage in a manner that took into consideration my particular brain and its quirks.
To develop it, I thought a lot about how my mind works. (I didn’t know I was multiple then, but I knew I absolutely needed my unique calendar or was lost.)
Since 1993, though, I haven’t wanted to use a datebook of any design unless I had to. It represented rigidity and someone who might not be open to possibly-blessing serendipities. So, for the last 21 years, I’ve only used calendars as often as I’ve needed them.
I tried to keep them away from me, as if they’d end the intense spiritual phase of my life which had amplified amazingly when I’d moved to the desert, gotten rid of my calendar, and opened my mind to immediate experiences of sunrises, sunsets, birds, insects, wild animals, weather, light, dark, hunger, food, thirst, water, walking, resting, waking.
While that triggered the most powerful time of my life, very healing, it also triggered some understanding of things very frightening, but important – for understanding simple reality. It helped me begin a long hard struggle toward healing.
So I didn’t want to return to the calendar-mind. No way. I was proud to be oblivious of time.
But I also lost of sense of knowing where I was, what I’d experienced, and what needs to be done. I’d acted as though vision and inspiration were enough.
(What irony, as the work I’ve always done has been teaming up with visionaries to “put legs on the vision and make it walk.”)
But no one was my manager to put the legs on. I tried, but without help with self-discipline, I have too many selves to keep things moving in a productive direction. I’ve been staggering around directionless for a pathetically long time.
A few days ago, after I read about this Full Moon today, I became motivated to prepare myself to catch the wave of this powerful energy. I thought more about my mind and what help I need. I decided to design a notebook for a new sort of business: the business of healing myself.
I – a manager at heart – finally, after 21 years trying and failing to do too much in my head, have designed a system for myself.
First, I made daily check sheets that remind me of all the things that are important for me to do each day, that I want to do, that support this most important thing in my life – my healing – but that I often forget to do, maybe because I’m mind controlled to forget, but in any case, I forget way too often.
They’re simple things:
– Write dreams or first thoughts
– Note the time
– Take supplements
– Eat lots of vegetables
– Eat lots of fruit
– Drink herbal medicine tea
– Track use and reaction to herbal medicine to assure correct dose
– Be aware of physical and emotional energy
– Walk, exercise, or do yoga
– Time in garden
– Summarize highlights of the day before
(and the week on Sunday, the month on the New Moon, and the year on the Winter Solstice)
The check sheets also include places to remember things thought of that day:
– Things to do
– New goals and reiteration of goals
– Day’s accomplishments
At the top of each page is the date, day of the week, and phase of the moon, which I like to attend to (part of my research).
And one more, most important, item: Under “Write dreams or first thoughts”: “Set timer.”
Yes. It’s not crazy-making. It’s the opposite.
First I chose a lovely chime on my phone. Every morning now, I set it for 30 minutes, and reset it constantly throughout the day. (I even did it yesterday when visiting friends. I kept it in the next room, so I could do my record-keeping discretely when it went off, let others think I was checking on an important call, made my notes, and returned to the group.)
Here’s why it’s important: The most important thing I need to do, as a multiple, is track my thoughts, remember them, and notice if I have lost time.
Every time I hear the chime, I reset it immediately, notice that I’m aware (or not) of the last half-hour, and write a word (or more) about what has happened in the last 30 minutes. Takes less than a minute, but it makes me feel in charge.
It doesn’t feel burdensome because it was my decision. I was expecting it to be helpful, but it has also given me a major boost in my confidence – and I feel happy every time it chimes because it reminds me that I created this way to cope, and I’m proud.
I even caught a bit of “missing time” on my very first day, and said to the alter who must have been out during the chime, “Wanna talk? I’m strong enough to listen. I would love to help and will do anything you need.” I’m still waiting, but I haven’t had any missing time since then.
And at the end of the first day, I could see all I’d accomplished – exercise, supplements, energy work, good food, everything I wanted – and I felt great.
I’ve also been noting when I use my herbal medicine, so I can keep perfectly disciplined about how much I use, how often, and notice any corresponding reactions. Any course correction I want to make is informed by clear memory.
(Why did no therapist ever suggest this??)
So, that’s the routine. Every thirty minutes, the chime reminds me to breathe, relax, remember what I’ve been doing for 30 minutes, and record it. I re-set the time, write what I’ve done for the last 30 minutes (sometimes a single word), how I feel, and anything else I want.
How the notebook is organized with a journal:
The current daily check sheet is right on top – best place – when I open the notebook, with previous daily check sheets behind. Each day, a new one goes on top.
Behind those pages is a divider followed by my journal pages. Since I write many pages a day, I refill it frequently with thirty or more blanks at a time. To easily find the current page, I have a sticky-note attached to the back of the page before it, hanging out like a tab, so I can easily grab it and turn all the used pages at once.
Since I needed a way to record my thoughts, but also want to be able to look separately at dreams, accomplishments, and meditation/prayer, apart from my stream-of-consciousness journaling, I created a template that lets me record everything chronologically, but lets me see easily which category things fall into.
I hand-drew the template page (hand-drawing feels better, less rigid). The pages, copied from the template, are filled mostly with lines for writing, with a space at the top for the page number – to keep this record of my life in careful order, hopefully with fewer and fewer missing gaps.
On the left are columns for noting date, day of week, phase of moon, and category of writing (A = Accomplishments, D = Dreams, J = Journal, M = Meditation/Self-Inquiry/Prayer.)
On the right is a column for the time I begin and end any passage, and I also record the time at the beginning and end of each page. Right of that is a column for “notes” to point out things I don’t want missed.
If I am so into my writing when I begin or end a new page that I forget to note the time and don’t realize it until I am not sure of it, I write “oops” – to not reinforce the word forget – but to cheerfully encourage myself to do it next time.
So that’s the full Practice: Daily check sheet of everything I want to do. Daily summary of accomplishments and goals for the next day. I’m reminded to breathe and relax every 30 minutes. I feel in control of my life, in a very positive endeavor, which is showing results already. The minutes it takes is not a hassle, but a joy.
I’ll soon sew a cloth cover for this notebook, with pockets for pens, phone, and paper things that make me happy, right now a collection of birthday cards given me a couple of months ago. It’s good to be reminded every day that there are people who love us. No reason not to carry those things around!
It’s my compensation package – what I need to compensate for my fractured mind – designed perfectly for me. It makes me feel like I’ve given myself back to myself.
Extras: A section for “scribbles” – I use when my mind is going too fast (or too many alters want to talk at once), where I can quickly jot brief notes to write about when the current subject is complete. Art pages (and maybe a pocket for potential collage items for those art pages). And even a page for my current best “talk to myself” for when I don’t feel like meditating!
Whenever I might take on a big project with multiple steps, I’ll add a section for planning pages that can be consulted or added to, perhaps in public, without searching through personal stuff.
And as soon as I figure out some other quirk of my mind, for which I need compensatory help, I’ll design a solution.
When the notebook is filled, I’ll remove all the pages at once, drop them in a file, and begin again.
I will post on how this continues.
Hope it’s helpful to someone out there.
Back in the late 90s, I read a memoir, FBI Secrets: An Agent’s Exposé, by retired agent, M. Wesley Swearingen, who after 26 years in the agency was involved in several successful lawsuits against the FBI related to wrongful imprisonment and civil rights violations. (He was also involved in several successful lawsuits against his former employer, including “The US v. John Lennon,” and also wrote a book attempting to shed light on the murder of John F. Kennedy.)
He described carloads of up to 12 agents with a routine that gave each person a specific job, so that there could be no errors: one person watched in one direction, others watched other directions, more watched from other points nearby, someone opened the house, others watched from various posts inside the house, photographers, observers trained to return everything to their precise places, record keepers, drivers, etc.
They entered the homes of anyone, even elderly peace activists, and photographed all sorts of information they hoped would lead to any sort of understanding of these war resisters and all their connections. Swearingen was concerned because he knew the people were of no real threat to the United States, only practicing their right of free speech and trying to participate in our “democracy.” Nevertheless, they were targeted and their homes broken into on a regular basis.
So I’m not as oblivious as I wish I was. Sometimes, I come home, and my cat is so upset, I ask, “Were the feds here?”
On the second morning after I began to use them, February 8, 2011, I discovered one of them obviously broken, not as it appeared when I installed it the night before – and two very disturbing wounds on my body. The first I noticed as soon as I awoke: an irritation as though something had been inserted up alongside my clitoral shaft more than one inch deep inside! (An implant? What will they do with that?) The second was two scoop marks on my finger, which I’ve already posted about. So much for the door locks for protection.
In 2012, I made a list of 98 various events that had happened between November 28, 2010, when I woke with the Taser burn, and April 12, 2012, when I began a long series of doctors’ appointments for unexplainable and debilitating neck pain – and afterward recalled a dozen more events, including scoop marks that I’d photographed a few days ago and forgotten. In between, I’d experienced lots of debilitating and unaccountable exhaustion, bruises, neck pain, and more, so much that I was having a very difficult time keeping my job.
I’ve written about all these things before.
But there’s one subject I’ve never written about, and that is the communications harassment. I haven’t written about it because it’s hard to prove, but I’ll put it out there in case others have noticed the same.
One close friend I shared my concern with asked, “Why would they bother with you? You aren’t doing anything serious, are you?” Only exposing mind control. She replied that lots of people do that or similar, and they aren’t messed with. Actually, I told her, many are, and probably those who aren’t are only revealing what’s already been exposed by others, then peppering it with disinformation – as Swearingen and others exposing COINTELPRO have described.
(Noam Chomsky was quoted on BBC: “COINTELPRO was a program of subversion carried out not by a couple of petty crooks but by the national political police, the FBI, under four administrations… By the time it got through, … it was aimed at the entire new left, at the women’s movement, at the whole black movement, it was extremely broad. Its actions went as far as political assassination.” Watch.)
As Swearingen’s memoir proves, the intelligence agencies don’t need “serious” targets. They want to quell anyone who’s threatening the corporate economy, war, and their mind control systems. I also theorize they need “lesser threats,” like me, to practice their skills on, at least. But since mind control subjects are kept controlled by fear, the Internet provides a very simple, low-cost way to inject worry, fear, isolation, and more into my life. I may choose not to worry or fear, but I, and others, can still be easily and effectively isolated.
They have a long history of doing exactly what I’ve described back when it was a whole lot more trouble: they’d have to do custom work on typewriters to create imperfections similar to the typewriter of the targeted person! Many people would be required (your tax dollars at work), even for peace activists. They studied people’s styles of speech and writing to make their fake communications most believable, and compiled psychological databases so they could refer occasionally to personal things in a most believable way.
Now it’s so much easier, all the data needed delivered to their desktops. Responses easy-sneezy: no more matching, ink, paper, and handwriting or typeface.
Their goals were and are: to discredit activists, cause fights and rifts in groups, mislead, and more.
For whatever reason, it seemed they were interferring in my Facebook communications. It would always involve someone not close enough to me that I’d feel comfortable calling them to ask exactly what was the wording they read, supposedly from me, that caused them to respond to me the way they did. But usually the response was just subtle enough, not worth a call – or too much trouble to explain.
Regularly, I had friendly acquaintances, just “distant” enough, suddenly become pointedly less friendly and avoid me on the street. And not just a few. I started dreading walking down the street, for fear I’d be shunned for I didn’t know what. It was very depressing.
One day, I posted something then logged out of Facebook, and logged back in under my partner’s name, and checked my page. My post did not exist! I logged out and went back to my page and saw it again. Logged out and back in as my partner, and again it didn’t exist. Fifteen minutes later, it was there on his page, exactly as I’d written it – of course, they wouldn’t be so stupid as to change my post for my partner. But my partner’s posts always show up immediately and get responses from friends in the first few seconds. Mine always took 15-20 minutes before people began responding. Weird.
I theorized that they had created tiers of my friends and acquaintances, changing my posts for whomever I was not likely to talk to and who wouldn’t broach the subject of a weird post with me. It was really upsetting to think that the feds were creating a negative portrait of me that I’d supposedly never know about. And suddenly, even though I did not post about mind control on Facebook, I was losing friends for no other reason I could figure.
Some friends have said that this is just too much trouble, but it’s not. The software to do what I’ve described – diverting communications – already exists. Software for creating “action plans” for various people – serious criminals, mind control subjects, those warranting medium or serious harassment, and those warranting mild harassment, maybe just to practice on. I used to have business software over 15 years ago that would have facilitated most of this.
You can bet there are rooms full of agents with data available at the click of a key to guide them regarding frequency, level of action, key phrases, etc. A single person could easily intervene in 100 communications in a workday. Even if I was a low-level concern, I’d be used for practice, with just enough weirdness to keep me isolated and fearful, just what they want for mind control subjects.
I have similar concerns with email. Recently, I contacted an old acquaintance I was hoping to visit, but he became hostile for some reason I cannot fathom (except for this), and I wondered if the feds made him think I was causing problems, or if the feds made me think he was. He’s just distant enough that I don’t dare call him, especially since he seemed so angry (though he might not really have been). I have no idea what they might have portrayed me as.
It’s extremely sad. And isolating. Making me tough, I like to think, but I don’t know.
With our world so accustomed to instant communication – without being interrupted by phone calls – we’re dependent on the Internet, yet I can’t trust the Internet anymore, and I can’t explain to most people why I don’t. So I keep on, but it feels very vulnerable.
The only option would be to stop my activism, which I won’t.
I also used to get regular Internet reminders to update software for remote control of my computer! Apparently I have the software on it – otherwise, it wouldn’t recommend updating – but I cannot find it; it’s invisible to me. Finally I chose to have it “not remind me” anymore. But I assume it’s still there.
I’ve thought of getting a Linux computer, but then they’d have to break into my house to do what they do, and I’d rather they not. Big Brother is certainly here. If he just weren’t a murderer and torturer, I might accept the “transparency.”
I’ve also had my computer turn itself on in the middle of the night when I was up and unable to sleep. Sitting next to it, it suddenly sprang to life and started humming as if it was downloading or uploading data.
When I produced my first video, “I Was One”, it received over 2,000 hits in less than two weeks, and then one day the numbers dropped to half that! The same thing happens all the time on my channel: I’ve seen the numbers drop from 12,000 to 10,000 in a day, and who knows how many other times it has done that.
Anyone else experience similar?
I’ve always had extreme resistance to ritual.
I have memories of leaving Mormon “Children’s Church” in a state of vile hatred, glancing back with a scowl that couldn’t be dark enough. No memory of what that was about, but I guess it had something to do with ritual.
As a young adult wannabe-Jesus-hippie in various mainstream Christian churches, I always wondered if the minister or choir soloist really felt what they were emoting with this audience, or if it ever became just ritual and they were acting. I thought it a terrible responsibility to have to perform like that on schedule.
When I was coerced into trying out a college sorority (to prove I wasn’t “judging them without really knowing them” [I’d called them “plastic”]) and then succumbed to a charade designed personally for each specially-sought “Rec” (recommendation, which I also then learned I’d been), and was initiated into the secret society, I either went into a trance spontaneously, or else they put me, or us all, in one. I remember nothing of the initiation ceremony, but for a split-second flash. This was the culmination of the entire year for most all the young women there, yet I had no memory but for a flash.
The split-second flash involved our chapter president in a red satin choir-type robe, holding a book open in one hand, while lifting her other hand in a gesture, a confident, almost beatific expression on her face, a candle lit somewhere, red drapes behind her. Everyone else I could see was standing in rows, all dressed in red robes. I went home like everyone else for the summer and wrote them a letter of “de-activation.”
I don’t feel as able to participate in ritual and have real thoughts when following someone else.
It’s not the ritual itself; it’s the fact that others are involved (Jesus said, “Pray alone”) and how the ritual is created.
When my sister told the family she had a very aggressive brain cancer, confirmed by two oncologists, I was afraid to test my ability to pray and my worthiness to have my prayers answered. Each night, I felt guilty for not believing in myself, and felt I should pick up the brightly-clattering Tarahumara rattle I had, but was too embarrassed to pretend I had any right to perform anything like a ritual with it – though I thought I did have the right. I imagined invisible spirits around me who would smirk at my efforts, maybe worse. So I cast off a casual prayer each night and ignored the idea that I should do more.
On the third night, before blowing out the candle, I stopped and my hand reached out for the rattle. Energy coursed through my body with firm intention. Calm, self-possessed, powerful, someone, not me, performed the ritual, and I yielded and took note. We shook the rattle and called in power from the four directions, and called on two spirit animals that I’d had experiences with and one that I’d just read about, but who was necessary in this situation. We sent the trio to my sister with specific instructions, wound up the ritual, and set down the rattle. I was impressed, pleased, and not afraid at all that a healing might not happen. Two days later, my sister wrote the family that the cancer was suddenly no longer there.
I was forced to perform another ritual when my partner seemed to being dying of a chemical dousing after he’d been handing out papers on chemtrails. We woke one morning to find a chemtrail jet flying low, directly over our house. Then he discovered two dogs (never seen before and never seen since) ripping the wall of his art studio teepee from bottom to top, which he would need to repair that day, as a storm was predicted the next. He worked outside all day while I stayed in.
Over the course of five days, he became lethargic and began to have blood in his urine. When I looked at it through a ten-power lens, I saw needle-like formations covered with white globs. He began to sleep a lot and eventually became unconscious and unable to speak more than a single word every hour or so. Neither of us trust doctors, so going to the hospital was not discussed, though I did ask him once when it seemed very dire. He hissed, “No!”
I used a deck of Herbal Tarot cards, hoping to read about an herb I could use, but instead I drew a very rare herb, but the card depicted a shamaness, and I felt the message was to step into this role. I sat sullenly, waiting for more direction.
Finally I accepted Asante’s one-word plea to conduct a healing ritual: “Rattle.” I had to force myself, and shut up the voices in my head telling me I was stupid, stupid, stupid, had no right, no training, didn’t know what I was doing, etc. But as I focused, circled inside the house, began my prayers, and shook the rattle, I felt a healing spirit come in and teach me.
Shaking the rattle over Asante’s body, prone on the sofa, I felt an energetic heaviness that seemed to be breaking up, so I rattled and cast the heaviness toward the door on the west. When one arm was tired, I rattled with the other. He made a single noise of relief, so I kept on until both arms were too weary. Then I set down the rattle and sat to simply imagine the heaviness moving away. When I fell asleep, he grunted for help, and I woke to resume the ritual of lifting up and casting away the heaviness. When he was able to speak the next day, he said it had been like being under a pile of boulders, entirely helpless to free himself, and suddenly I was lifting off the boulders and he saw light.
It was a huge lesson for me: the world is amazing, and even I, reluctant I, can be used to work miracles. But of course – Christ said we would do “all this [healings] and more.”
But I didn’t want the responsibility to do it again. I didn’t want the criticisms I had of myself – stupid, no right, etc – to come at me from others.
But that’s mind control, the cultural sort that tells us we can’t do things, and if we think we can, we are especially stupid and to be ridiculed.
And even though I know I’ve been mind-controlled worse than others, it’s so deeply embedded in me that I have a hard time acting on what I know. Things I know like: We can heal ourselves.
So I’ve done only one other healing ritual. My cousin has multiple myloma and has outlived the “6 months to live” prediction by ten or fifteen years now! He came to visit Asante and me, and someone suggested we do a healing shamanic journey. No one had any dramatic experiences that I recall; I had the impulse to spend my time bathing his skeleton with loving energy, which I did. He’s still on this plane, blessing everyone, a walking miracle, with or without our help.
One of the most dramatic experiences happened when I’d done no ritual. On the way back from Hawaii, just a day after my amazing experience with the dolphins in Kealekakua Bay, I sat next to a woman on the plane who said she was in terrible pain. I asked if I could touch her shoulder, meaning to give it a gentle massage, but instead just laid my hand on the muscle to feel it first. She turned to me in sudden, visible relief and said, “Are you a healer?” I answered, with fear, “I don’t know.”
A few weeks later, I got over my fear and accepted an invitation to be trained and certified in a healing modality, but never practiced it. It felt like a recipe, not intuitive.
New Moon sweat lodge rituals I participated in years ago were spontaneous and different each time, though with just enough ritual framework to keep everyone respectfully focused. I loved those gatherings.
And once I invited friends to our house for a Full Moon celebration with a “Grand Cross” in the sky, supporting something that was happening for Asante and me: we were splitting up. We had already invited friends over when we realized the correlation between the sky signs that evening and our break-up, so we agreed to at least talk about it in the fire circle. As the day drew near, a fun ritual idea bubbled up between us, and that evening, everyone surprised us by joining in, making announcements and commitments for all the things each person intended to release to make room in their lives for whatever was now most important. It was a powerful evening, with tears, cheers, laughter, and major life visions announced. Ritual can be wonderful when it happens spontaneously – at least, that seems best for me.
The last couple of weeks, I made a renewed commitment to my “shamanic” or “medicine practice,” but the commitment didn’t last. In the last few days I’ve “quit” a few activities, and today I dropped all my “practice” too, and just sat. Didn’t even light a candle. Just sat and concentrated on my Self and my connection to spirit family and guides. Then I did what I felt like in that moment: read my journal and picked up some long-ignored Tarot cards – which gave me the most insightful direction I’ve received in a very long time.
Then I wrote down these words:
(Mine [others invent your own]: Go to the garden for grounding, healing, surrounding. Reaffirm all spirit helpers. Reaffirm Self on this Amazing Path, surrounded by Help. Listen….)
Question: What feels real to you, but you don’t do because you’ve been taught it’s “weird”? That’s exactly what you should do. Talk to yourself. Massage yourself. Treat yourself to time. Listen to yourself. Protect yourself. Heal yourself. Talk to plants and animals. Listen to them. Talk to your dearly departeds. Talk to your ancestors. Talk to your angels and spirit guides (decide whom you want to talk to). Discern! Be grateful. Act.
This is my new, personal shamanism. Sometimes I’ll pick up a rattle. Often I’ll light a candle. Always, I’ll be real and in the moment.
And sometimes ritual will flow through.
I’m recovering, yet again, from another “hard day,” Monday, when I woke up at 10 am (I’d been unable to sleep until 3 am) and had to force myself to do anything, which turned out to be very little.
In April 2012, I woke one morning with an itch on my left shoulder blade that didn’t go away for 4-8 weeks. (Greg was bothered by an itch on his left shoulder blade too at the same time, but I’m more highly sensitive and so was bothered longer.)
Later, a fan-shaped bruise appeared, with its point right where the itch had been for so long. I theorized that an implant was radiating some sort of energy that was bruising the tissue.
Over two years has passed, and the bruise has become a more-amorphous shape, but is still there, and doctors have no explanation. (Well, one had an idea, but the diagnosis didn’t fit the condition’s description, and the next doctor thought the first was wrong, but had no idea. She’s seen all my photographs, read about MK, and just shakes her head.)
When I woke with this strange injury on August 17, very near where the original itch had been, I wondered if perhaps “they” had scooped it out, or replaced it, and whether the bruise will soon fade. We’ll see.
The photo above shows the new injury and the two-year-old bruise. (Double click on it to see it larger, and you can even zoom in for decent detail.) I took this photo last night, August 26, a full nine days after it appeared, and it has hardly healed at all.
This is interesting, because most of my weird injuries heal mysteriously fast – like the “thyroid surgery” scar, which showed up on my throat one morning entirely healed). Can’t explain it, other than that it seems like someone with higher technology than ours might have done it.
Learning: I Need to Focus
Now that I’m feeling stronger, I went back through a journal only a week old and read things I’ve totally forgotten – things important to remember, about my healing. And reading my posts from two years ago, I realize they also contain great advice I wish I’d remembered and continued to practice!
Therefore, I’ve decided I need to quit doing so much and just focus on my healing.
So I’m quitting!
I’m quitting a lot of things. I’m quitting my garden design workshop and consulting business. I’m quitting singing. And I’m forgetting any idea to get part-time work. (I’ll get my first Social Security check next month, and I have a partner who brings in a little income, so I have this luxury.)
The only things I’ll keep doing are my own personal healing work and writing related to it. I also plan to keep better track of past writing, so I can remember past lessons and make some progress.
I’m – maybe for the first time in my life – going to make taking care of myself my number one priority every day. Yeah!
Blessings on us all.
And really: Take care of yourself.
PS: Here’s a blog I wrote two years ago with similar conclusions: https://paradigmsalon.net/2012/04/13/tired-of-this/
In 2006, at the end of two weeks of swimming with dolphins from boats, two friends and I went to Kealakekua Bay where people can wade out and swim with dolphins who come in to swim with people. We waded out and, just as promised, the dolphins came in and engaged us in play that lasted for an hour and a half!
I was exhilarated, of course, and even immediately afterward, I was unable to tell what all went on, though I could remember a few different circlings by the dolphins and games played with picking up and dropping leaves, but that’s all. An hour and a half had gone by, and we had treaded water, waiting, for a very short time. So, what else went on? I don’t know. But I was quite exhilarated afterward.
Dropped off at our hotel, I went into the gift shop for a look-around. In a jewelry case, I saw a necklace that immediately jumped out at me as the necklace I’d been looking for for years – though I don’t usually go shop for things like this, just usually wait for things important to come to me serendipitously. And this felt like the serendipity I was waiting for. So, it was a huge shock when I put the necklace on and felt my heart clench in pain. I took it off, and the pain went away. I drew it close to me again, to test it, and my heart hurt again.
I’d seen a book on Crystal Healing on another shelf in the store, so I checked the necklace tag and read that the pendant stone was a green tourmaline. Borrowing the book from the shelf, I read that the tourmaline “heals the heart”! My friend responded to my confusion by suggesting that the healing would take some time, and perhaps I should not put the necklace on until I’d slept with it near my bed for a while, then only wear it for short periods and eventually work up to wearing it all the time.
This was beyond my understanding – I’d never been “into” crystals or stones – but it sounded intriguing, and I trusted my attraction to this necklace, particularly because I was feeling so high from the dolphin experience and was trusting that I was still in some state of heightened awareness. I also bought the book on Crystal Healing, and bought a deck of Angel Cards, and gifts for family.
Back in my hotel room, I found myself too exhausted to even look at the Angel Cards, which I’d opened, so I lay them along with the necklace beside the bed and lay down to sleep. Immediately, I felt a being with me and saw/felt a bright fluttering like glistening angel wings in my aura. The sense of another being so near me, and so benevolent and loving, was a surprise, but very welcome. One of the things I learned with the other participants in the dolphin swim weeks was that everyone else had more confidence than I did in dealing with spiritual beings, for instance, they would ask the being’s name.
For the first time, I asked, “Who are you?” and got an immediate answer: Ariel.
I’m so embarrassed to say that I was disappointed. It sounded like a name I’d heard before, and my rational mind thought that perhaps I’d pulled it from my deep unconscious, and because of this I should probably always doubt that it was not conjured from subconscious realms. I fell asleep quickly.
When I awoke, I looked through the cards and found Ariel: She is the angel associated with all living things, but particularly with the ocean and animals of the ocean. She works with those who protect the Earth – which I’d been doing as an environmental activist since 1986 – and now I’d just swum in an altered state of conscious in her primary realm that morning. I was astounded and grateful.
That evening, after dinner, I was wandering by myself when the leader of the dolphin swim seminar, Joan Ocean, came up to me and asked me how was my day. I’d been wondering whether to tell anyone, and decided then to tell her, “I saw Ariel today.”
“Oh, isn’t she bright and sparkly!” Joan exclaimed – astounding me again, as I’d had some idea that all of our spiritual experiences were unique and individual. I realized that was a silly idea that spiritual reality wouldn’t have consistency. No, it’s reality, and it will have consistency. And my experience of Ariel having identical traits to Ariel as experienced by Joan corrected my silly assumption. (So much rational-mind interference!)
Over the next few weeks, I slowly worked up to wearing the tourmaline necklace and felt that I was truly healing my heart.
A few years later, another necklace came into my life, and I quit wearing the tourmaline as much, then didn’t wear it at all for a few years.
I remembered it recently because my heart problems have returned, so got it out and wore it a bit one day. The second day, I put it on again and left it on, even when I found myself feeling extremely tired, and my heart hurting a bit; I didn’t make the connection to the necklace!
I had re-joined the gym where I work out (Curves – with hydraulic equipment, so we don’t have to worry about setting weights, and just have computerized lights indicating our strength compared to previous days), but couldn’t do anything with my usual energy. I walked very slowly between the machines. At home, I put on a video in the afternoon (which I never do) and lay on the sofa with my eyes closed, unable to even respond to my partner when he asked if he should cancel our music practice that evening.
Suddenly I remembered the necklace and took it off. Immediately, I had my energy back! I got up, stretched, and got productive again and even sang a bit that evening – in between writing, which I was more inclined to do.
If I hadn’t had my first experience with the necklace, I might think it was cursed or something! As it is, I think the tourmaline stirs things up in the heart, which can be part of healing; and maybe it opens the heart chakra, which can be dangerous if conditions aren’t right. I’ll be meditating on this, hoping to learn.
For now, I’ve set the necklace on my altar for cleansing, and I’ll test it again later.
My learning: there are many, many energies interacting in this world. We have lots to learn.
It was oddly painless, and I have no idea how I might have done that to myself.
I found myself telling Greg it reminded me of an audio electrical plug, with one electrical pole, positive or negative, in the center and the opposite pole on the circle.
Tonight, I found an essentially identical bruise on my arm – again, with no idea how it was done, and again, oddly painless.
The only difference is that the hole in the middle is bigger.
To accept who I am, I wrote my spiritual history and discovered that as I write my history and integrate it, even slowly, across my business, activist, spiritual websites, and into my social life, I feel more integrated, more clear, less fractured.
And then this happens.
(In the past, I would have fumed that my controllers are still “doing stuff” to me, trying to undercut my confidence, or worse, send me a message of warning to not try to accomplish anything, and I’d go into depression, helpless and despairing. And then I’d pray and feel guilty for being so undisciplined as to not keep myself continually protected.)
For some reason, I didn’t freak out this time. I even forgot about the bruise immediately after seeing it, forgetting to photograph it as I’d intended, and walked out the door to break my hermitting habit of the last few weeks and go socialize for an hour or two at the restaurant where Greg was performing.
After I’d greeted everyone I knew and sat down, something made me notice the bruise again – and for the first time in 12 years – I showed everyone at the table and told them what I assumed it was. Even a friend who has read my book wanted to believe it was a freak accident. I had to remind her I have ten years of photographic documentation of bruises of various types, two Taser burns, many biopsy scoop marks, healed incisions, puncture wounds, etc, which occur mysteriously during the night, for which I have no memory of anything. And this corresponds to experiences of others with another two strange correlations: seeing UFO’s and/or “aliens” and experiencing mysterious government intrusions into their lives.
Yeah, I told them, face-to-face. Not in a book. Not in a presentation on stage, radio, or TV, but as a friend in a bar, saying, “This is what I live with. This is what I’ve been keeping secret. And it sure feels good to say it – even though I know you’d rather not hear it.”
And I thought: And this is why I’m so f**king neurotic and don’t act like everyone else! I’m sorry. But this is my world. I wish I could confirm for everyone that our world is the simple one we all try to pretend it is. But it’s really more complicated. There’s a lot more going on. And it’s time we talk about it.
That was probably inspired by the video I blogged on a few weeks back, “How to Spot a Liar,” the most revolutionary video I’ve seen in a long time, which has been part of my big shift over the last few weeks.
Pamela Meyer begins her Ted Talk by encouraging us to recognize that we are all liars, and have been trained to be liars since birth. I didn’t believe her at first, but she quickly helped me see that we do all lie, much of the time, and many of the lies are for efficiency and are acceptable, but some lies create habits that allow our world systems, economic, social, environmental, and all others, to deteriorate. She calls on us to stop collaborating.
Immediately I saw that I lied constantly when I pretend I have a life like everyone else’s. And I realized that I needed to present myself more honestly, politely and appropriately, but more honestly, even if people don’t like it.
I’m sorry, I hear myself saying. We live in a world that has gotten us used to accepting a lot of lies. And we want to believe those lies, because they’re part of our paradigm, our mental framework; losing our mental framework is damnably difficult and people avoid it at all costs, even if it’s necessary, the same way we’d recoil at re-breaking an arm if it had healed wrong.
We need to get over those lies and start acknowledging what is the truth.
This is my truth: I get strange bruises and other marks that don’t seem to be accidental or natural, and no one – no doctor or other with “legitimacy” – has any explanation that makes sense.
My explanation I’ll write about soon, and parts of it I’ll also acknowledge in conversation when appropriate.
And this supports the really important thing:
It’s time for me to accept my call to – this responsibility we today call shamanic practice.
I have responsibilities I can feel, to pray, meditate, dream, journey, and heal. And I haven’t been making the time or space in my life for this, for years, though it continues to call. And now we are making changes in our home to support my work.
With this decision, I feel strong, that I’ve re-entered my path which I’ve been avoiding for a very long time, and that avoidance has been making me crazy.
(Black Elk said his elders told him his demons would continue to torment him until he accepted his calling! They were bothering him for a good purpose. In the event my demons are bothering me for the same positive purpose, I pray my new dedication to this work will make them go away.)
So today, when I found this bruise, I just saw it as another clue in a tantalizing mystery, which I’m keenly interested in solving. It could be a horror-story answer, or it could be something surprisingly wonderful –
like the “Dragonfly Birth Day” taught me: Something might look monstrous, but it may turn out beautiful, so we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
Maybe this bruise is a mark left from a procedure my soul family had to do, and it’s too hard to explain to me, given my Earthly and our other limitations, and there’s lots going on that doesn’t allow everything to be explained. Or maybe it’s just like all the rest of life – no one explains anything very well to any of us anytime – right?
So, life’s a mystery. And we’re all doing our best.
Meantime, it’s not a good investment of life energy to get freaked out if we don’t know if a thing is good or bad. And even if it’s bad, it’s still not a good investment of life energy to get freaked out.
In the last few weeks, I’ve had at least one other event that made me want to freak out, and the last time I started to, I remembered that I’ve also been experiencing a lot of powerfully amazing things, especially lately, helping me feel more integrated; so maybe instead of freaking out, this time I could step into new behavior and ask myself if I can develop some new quality or behavior to respond differently to the challenge, say, for instance, become bigger, faster, more insightful, more responsive? I looked at the thing that had felt so threatening, and said, “I can be different [in relation to this],” and felt myself reorient and strengthen in my core, and breathe with deep relaxation.
So when I first saw the bruise tonight, I looked at it through those new eyes.
Something is going on, but I’m not speculating now, other than to say I believe it’s high tech. And I’ll respond.
I’ll write more as I experience, reflect, imagine, dream, feel, and understand it.
[This no longer reflects my views on shamanism and Yeshua. For an update, see this blog.]
What is shamanism? How do I relate to shamanism? Is shamanism dangerous? How does it relate to mind control? Am I a shaman? Am I dangerous? Where does Jesus fit in? Who are “aliens”?
Shamanism exists across all cultures under different names, but the Siberian word has come to stand in for our contemporary understanding of the global, cross-cultural practice.
In all cultures, a few people (some estimate 2% or fewer) seem to have greater ability than others to perceive energies and intelligences in other dimensions and are often encouraged by their tribe to spend time in this practice of perception for the good of the people.
(The exception is for those born into a society hostile to or afraid of other dimensions, in which case, the shamanically-inclined person’s perceptions will be discouraged subtly or violently, i.e., those born in the United States.)
The natural shaman who is allowed to explore his or her facility will devote the majority of his or her life to learning to perceive more clearly, learning to protect him or herself from dangerous energies or intelligences, learning to communicate with useful and benevolent intelligences, and learning how to apply what they learn to help their tribe. They will be an important source of knowledge to the tribe, for instance on growing and harvesting food and medicines, knowing of food game migrations, knowing the approach of strangers or bad weather, and healing for various illnesses, physical, emotional, spiritual, and social.
Many shamans are those who suffered at least one serious trauma at a young age; it caused them to leave their body and thereby experience the multi-dimensional world beyond the mundane. For this reason, at least one tribe that I’ve heard of, when in need of a shaman, creates one intentionally by inducing a trauma on a young child in a carefully proscribed way: they separate a child of speaking age away from the tribe but within hearing distance in a cage where he or she is kept for a few years, cared for in a minimal way, but never spoken to or spent time with other than necessary. The child can hear the tribe, but cannot interact and so eventually begins to spend more time separating psychically from the mundane and social life of the tribe and turn his or her awareness toward the larger cosmos. This larger world, of course, includes other dimensions with other intelligences that they begin to interact with and with which they develop strong relationships. Eventually the tribe retrieves the child and reintegrates him or her with honor back into the tribe, but the young shaman is never again like the rest. For the rest of his or her life, the shaman will perform the daily work of seeking and delivering information and skills the tribe needs for survival and well-being.
Shamans generally communicate most effectively with intelligences in other realms when in an “altered” state of consciousness, which they self-induce by way of drumming, rattling, dancing, and sometimes using plant medicines. From the standpoint of those trained in church settings, with hymn books, “Sunday clothes,” choir robes, and certain proscribed decorum, especially of First World America, these methods may seem superstitious and perhaps frightening. This is, of course, a matter of cultural indoctrination.
How do I relate to shamanism?
The United States of America, of course, is not a culture that appreciates shamanic wisdom, but rather is hostile to it. So when I, as a young child, had interactions with child-like angels, went into portals at night (which came to me, though I could never open them on my own), and spoke with plants and animals, I learned quickly to keep these things secret, and soon decided to put them out of my life. Of course, when I began school, there was no time to investigate further with a schedule of American “education” and entertainment – probably designed so – and I soon “forgot” about my experiences.
I also remember the time I was told by beings who seemed like my family on other dimensions that I wouldn’t see them for “a very long time.” I was devastated and pleaded for them not to go away. They assured me it was necessary and they’d be watching over me, but I wouldn’t be able to be with them again for a long time. The unspecific “long time” was additionally distressing, as I had nothing to look forward to. They insisted I trust them and do my best on my own, promising they’d watch over me. (I recognize, with this story, that I can’t entirely blame America for discouraging my shamanic awareness; it might have been required anyway, for some reason I do not understand.)
As an adult I continued to experience occasional “non-normal” events, much less frequently, but still very amazing. I kept quiet about them, and this inclination was reinforced when I witnessed the mockery dealt to those who told of experiences like mine.
In 1994, at age 42, when my own children were on their own, I moved to the desert of Cochise County, Arizona, where for half of each week, I spent my days without clocks or calendar, eating when hungry, sleeping when tired, watching sunrises, sunsets, weather, animals, and the landscape changing with the seasons. I read and wrote about whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, and spent every sunset outside. The other half of the week, I attended graduate school for creative writing, and lived on student loans, which allowed me this indulgence.
After a year, I left the hermitage but returned in 2000, uncertain what I would be doing, but willing to live (simply, with no mortgage and few other expenses) on credit cards – for at least awhile. The freedom I gave myself seemed to open doors, and I was soon experiencing a wealth of non-normal events, which a friend put words to: a shamanic initiation.
Is shamanism dangerous?
That’s like asking if the world is dangerous. Yes, depending on what you do in the world or the other realms.
Some shamans don’t use discernment, get conned, and connect with evil or troublesome intelligences on other realms and are subsequently known as bad shamans, bad ministers, witches, brujos or brujas. (Good ones are known as shamans, good ministers, curanderos, curanderas, also brujos or brujas, witches, and many other names.)
How does this relate to mind control?
Bad shamans, I assert, can also be created by others – similar to the tribe’s method for good purposes, but this is done by controllers for potentially very dark purposes.
This, I believe, is a barely understood aspect of the darkest sort of mind control (MK), in which the subject is trained in psychic skills for other’s purposes, not for the good of the tribe.
Milder forms of mind control are of course also practiced broad-scale on the general populace, but I’m writing here about the darkest aspects of a most intense version of MK practiced on selected individuals, which involves the creation of amnesic super soldiers, couriers, spies, assassins, and sex slaves – and among them individuals with enhanced psychic abilities for remote viewing and more.
Our nation’s intelligence agencies have been highly interested in psychic powers for many decades, at least. And many adults who were made subjects of mind control experiments as children recall being tested for psychic skills. (I don’t have this particular memory, but I remember little other than MK intake and nightmares afterward. And I have noticed profound psychic events most of my life.)
If those intelligence agencies could train an army of psychic spies, of course they would. But they would need to make the psychic/shamanic spies totally loyal to them, and amnesic. The subjects’ shamanic skills might not even be known to the subjects and would be totally in service to the controllers.
I believe the process they put us through – mind control, or MKULTRA – included a perverse variation on the ancient, but apparently rare, tribal practice of creating shamans, only they isolated us and tortured us brutally, so that we’d be both amnesic and totally subservient.
It seems to have worked well enough, judging by the number of people who believe they’ve been used as psychic information gatherers for most of their lives, with memories of remote viewing (some of my experiences) and even some with memories of conducting spiritual warfare on behalf of others.
The army of MK subjects is aging now, and our control may be breaking down. With age, mental structures – including amnesic barriers – begin deteriorating. Memories that were supposed stay hidden begin to arise, and the controlled ones begin to put together pieces of what happened to them. Then, controllers have to weigh the risks and benefits of keeping them in service. They may still have value, may still perform their duties regularly enough, but they need reprogramming more and more often. I believe I’m in this latter category and that the frequency of physical wounds left on my body are evidence of this.
Some of us are also talking and educating others. That creates more work for someone in the system to discredit us or divert our communications efforts. If we become too much trouble, then they apparently kill the individual. But if they can manage the downsides without too much effort, they can continue using their assets (representing decades of investment).
While I’ve begun understanding all this, I’ve begun reclaiming my shamanic skills for my own uses.
Am I a shaman? Am I dangerous?
No, I’m not a shaman. I’m a common “shamanic practitioner” (meaning simply, at this point: I pray daily and spend time listening and recording).
I have occasionally been used to heal a number of people, receive messages from people who’d died unexpectedly, and other shamanic tasks. I didn’t try to do this and sometimes resisted, but spirit nudged me and I allowed the actions to flow through me.
I pray I’m not dangerous as a potentially controllable shamanic practitioner, but I don’t know for certain – which is why I quit working with activist groups and quit offering psychic, shamanic, and healing work (which I did for a very short while). It’s even why I quit my own private shamanic practice for a while: occasionally, I’ve thought it best to try to live only in the mundane world.
(Silly me. Once the extra-dimensional doors are open, it doesn’t seem possible to close them. Or else our other-dimensional helpers simply need us on this plane
and won’t leave us alone – as shaman Black Elk described in his biography.)
So I still wake up with evidence on my body that tells me that something was done to me in the night for which I have absolutely no memory: two Taser burns, four or five incidents of two or three obvious “scoop marks” or biopsies, many bruises including apparent injection bruises, lacerations inside my vagina, apparent implants in various locations, and mysteriously healed and obvious surgical and other scars – a total of well over one-hundred physical marks since I began recording them a decade ago (see photo history on this site). Plus many incidents of “missing time,” being conscious but immobilized, sensing vibrational/dimensional changes, being shot with energy beams, and even surrounded by strange fog forcing me to stop on the highway (one of three times).
I’ve tried not to assume the worst about this, that I’m being used by others for bad purposes. When I have assumed the worst, I’ve sought help, found none, and then wanted out of this life – but I feel very certain that that’s not best for my soul, so I stay and eventually come out of my depression. And I try to keep an open mind to other possibilities while also enjoying life and being a useful member of my community.
A positive explanation for all these marks is that they’re left by spirit family who, for whatever reason, can’t communicate with me because of my personal and our cultural mind control or other reasons, and actually all these things (or some of them) are for good, though I can’t understand now. But I have no support for this other than my own wish for a positive interpretation.
Where does Jesus fit in?
I do know that I’ve had extremely positive experiences a few times in my life when I contemplated his teachings and also when I’ve called on him – even in thoughtless, terrorized shock – for protection. At those times I felt, not only that Christ was a powerful inter-dimensional being who could be called on for help, but that I know him on other dimensions, have known him for many lifetimes, and we’re kin.
So why am I not a “Christian”? I used to be. I even used to be a Christian minister’s wife. But I’ve had horrendous experiences with Christians, particularly in assisting my husband in wresting my children away from me for no more reason than that I believed divorce was acceptable. So today I have a visceral revulsion to the sight of pews in a church “sanctuary.” (I got my children back after two years.)
I consider Christ’s teachings and the Christian Church to be entirely separate things. After all, the Church was begun by the same government that for over 300 years used murder and torture to repress his followers; so it’s obvious to me that the Roman Church was the beginning of a massive disinformation campaign to attract would-be followers of Christ and trap them in religious routines. Protestants tried to get away from it, but each break-away group has been infiltrated and controlled in a similar manner. Even my last church, purportedly an independent “home church” where the dozen members would meet and take turns in leadership, was diverted in its intentions by a controlling couple who not only tried to take my children away from me, but did the same over a few years with two other divorcing couples, along with putting down any discussion of social justice (a major teaching of Christ’s) as “divisive.”
When I finally realized that rejecting the Church and rejecting Christ were two different things, I had to figure out how Christ fit into my shamanically-evolving life. For instance, would he accept my efforts to connect with and learn from power animals as well as him?
Here’s my conclusion to date: We live in an ocean of spirit, highly populated with good and bad, benevolent and evil beings, many in-between, evolving, stupid, not-so-stupid-but-not-helpful-enough-to-bother-with, and everything in between. Perhaps it swirls like an infinitely intricate yin-yang design. On the benevolent side is Christ as the leading light, teaching, prophesying, offering to save us and help us everyday; on the other side is everything we call evil, including mind control.
Here’s where my theology breaks from the masses: Even though Christ is an infinitely intelligent being, and infinite in powers, he doesn’t personally, magically do everything asked of him by his followers. I see his existence as much more natural and organic than that. As the largest tree in the forest doesn’t “do everything” for itself, but is served by birds, insects, fungi, moss, mammals, rain, etc., so Christ is served by other connected intelligences who serve our needs as go-betweens on Christ’s behalf.
Some people call the go-between intelligences the Holy Spirit or angels, others call them devas, faeries, elementals, and even aliens. I try to ignore the language because the cultural cartoons associated with the words get in our way of deeper, subtler understanding; cartoons are probably part of our cultural mind control, used to mock and disempower otherwise very empowering truths.
So I imagine an infinite field of intelligent energy, among which Christ is supreme, at least at this arm of our galaxy, at least for me and those of us who choose to align with him. When we direct energy and requests his way, the same way a tree root directs a need toward fungi in the soil, the communication is heard and responded to via a series of interactions, not a simple two-part process; and our needs are met in the multi-dimensional world in a similar manner as needs are met in the natural world on the material plane, via many interactions with many parts, intelligences, or beings.
As a shamanic practitioner, communicating in the multiple dimensions, I petition Christ first and last. Often, he seems to respond by sending a particular person, angel, situation, or spirit animal (or physical animal) my way.
I used to feel very conflicted about this, as though I were hedging my bets, not being loyal to The One – though The One is All, many say. Then I attended a shamanic conference and witnessed three-quarters of a roomful of a hundred-and-fifty shamanic practitioners raise their hands to the question “Who considers Jesus Christ a major help among your spirit helpers?” That gave me permission to trust my vision of this world as a great network of evolving intelligence, inside which I could align myself with Christ, but still be connected to all that was also aligned with him, which is a huge net of Life on many dimensions.
And then I read about the Avodah Zarah, a Jewish text, in which Christ was called Yeshua ben Panther – a very shamanic-sounding name! (Similar to “Lion of Judah” and “Lion of God,” other Biblical names.) And I recalled Christ saying that we would “do all these things [healings, he was speaking of] and more” – exactly what shamans do!
While Christians may pray to Christ each day, their practice is usually based on following proscribed doctrine – words delivered by others – which tell them how to live in this material world. I, on the other hand, have very little doctrine, and that which I have I’ve developed from my own personal experience.
Recently I’ve renewed my dedication to devote a great deal of my time to prayer and communicating with Christ and other intelligences in the other realms, and my communications are most successful when I alter my consciousness and focus my attention into other dimensions using the shamanic practices of drumming and rattling, but that’s not always necessary. The right heartfelt attitude is enough, but the rituals are important focusing activities.
Who are “aliens”?
First, as I’ve said many times, “aliens” is too big a concept for the word to be useful – like using “marine life” to describe everything from algae to whales to human’s submarines.
I’ll use the word, though, to indicate all intelligence not bound to this mundane, three-dimensional planet, i.e., extra-terrestrial and/or extra-dimensional beings.
Many of them are reputedly “good,” supporting our evolution, while some seem to be at the very least challenging our evolution or, at worst, imprisoning us and controlling our minds, and maybe even harvesting genetic material. I don’t know, but others have risked everything dear to them to assert such “crazy” ideas, and I hate to say that I also seem to have evidence all these things as well.
My experience with “aliens” does not include any that seem like the typical small “grays” with large, slanted, all-black eyes. Rather, I’ve been unfortunate to have been terrorized by the types called Reptilians, even though until they became conscious to me, I’d thought the tales were unfortunate disinformation meant to discredit the whole field regarding aliens. I’ve also seen over a dozen UFO’s, sometimes with others as witnesses.
Many researchers have documented connections between mind control and aliens, Reptilians in particular. And while I’ve not read much of their reporting on the subject, I’ve developed my own theory, admittedly vague (vagueness is my inclination while trying to understand multi-dimensional reality with a three-dimensional mindset – seems only honest, given the limitations of language).
My vague theory is this: I believe that, among all the alien intelligences interacting with Earth, most are benevolent, akin to anthropologists, researchers, observers, diplomats, teachers, and prophets, and to other mindsets, angels. But there also exists other intelligence, more self-serving, among them the Reptilians, akin to pirates, corporate resource raiders, and to other mindsets, demons.
This is the “exo-political” viewpoint. (The word exopolitics was coined by Alfred L. Webre, JD, author of Exopolitics and former Jimmy Carter White House appointee, who called my book “an important historical document”). He writes, “We live in a highly populated cosmos.”
(Some even say no aliens are actually evil, as “All is God,” but they are only provoking us to greater spiritual awareness and development. I have a very hard time with this idea, having experienced childhood sexual abuse as part of my fracturing and mind control, but sometimes I truly feel this real possibility – that “It’s all okay.”)
Our already-complex, Earth-bound political views need to be expanded beyond this Earth, and thereby made even more complex (sorry to put on the pressure!), in order for us to understand our multi-dimensional reality and situation.
Until we do that, we are all mind-controlled, to greater or lesser extent, to limit our vision and laugh at anything larger, and thereby miss understanding who we are and where our dangers and our powers lie in the larger cosmos. In accepting this simplified version of life, we remain terribly vulnerable and unable to appropriately address any of our social, environmental, political, psychological, and spiritual issues. And indeed the world does seem incredible “stuck.”
So, even though this world wants to laugh at “aliens,” laugh at “Jesus Christ” (made such a mockery on television and in movies in particular), and perhaps roll our eyes at shamanic practice, I have to say: I was forced to overcome my own personal aversions to all of these and was then finally able to open my mind to the reality of Christ and all the other intelligence in the cosmos.
It was difficult because I then also saw the dark energies surrounding us, and me. Christians have tried to “save” me (again), but I’ve chosen to align with Christ in my own manner, on my own two humble feet, not under the authority of another minister. I’ve been working (more consistently since my last dark three days) to strengthen my connections to Goodness and to break the bonds of mind control.
Like everything in life, the struggle continues. There’s no easy fix. (Shamans must continue to protect themselves daily). And with each day, generally, I become stronger. Sometimes I’ve wanted to give it up, the struggle is sometimes so difficult, but those days pass, and I find I’m stronger yet each time.
Most days, I live quite happily, a formerly “closet”-shamanic practitioner, coming out. Sometimes I’d prefer to avoid the term shamanism, so loaded with cultural misunderstanding, but for others, the word says it perfectly. So here I am: A minister, writer, activist, and someone who relates to spirit in a manner we call shamanic.
Silver City, NM
August 9, 2014
Of course, we all know, or we’ve all heard, that spiritual progress on this human plane is never really “done,” and so I think it’s the same with healing, although certain aspects of healing may be accomplished, we always have more, and we’ll certainly experience more that must be healed.
So I think I shouldn’t have been taken so low last week – I think I should have understood and taken it in stride – but I didn’t. I thought I’d had enough, and I wanted to die.
On the third evening of three painful days, I lay on my bed and really tried to give up the ghost. My heart had been in pain (in a vice, it seemed) for three days, and I’d been shown a print-out of my slow heart rate with an unhealthy delay between the beats of the first and second chambers. My arms and jaw startled me now and then with their own pains throughout those days – classic heart attack symptoms I’ve had before (which I attribute to my life of mind control electroshocks and Tasering).
But after lying down, crying, sobbing, and giving up this life, but not dying, and my heart pain mysteriously gone, I got up, accepted my fate (to live), and wrote in my journal that I was pissed and not happy about it at all.
Even as I outlined my points of justification, I realized things that I could control.
1. I don’t have enough help!
Well, I thought in response, you aren’t very consistent about asking for help.
2. I don’t have enough understanding!
3. I’m too messed with (my biggie, my Ace), which makes me too often too exhausted to do more than barely keep up, not a state worth continuing life for. I never know when I’m going to wake with bruises, biopsy holes, or even Taser burns, all with incredible exhaustion which will zap all my energy and put everything in my life on hold for a week or two, making me look like a totally irresponsible person. Not fair!
Oh, get off it! You’ve known for a long time that nothing’s fair. As for the attacks, you need to learn to stop them. You need to rediscover your warrior part. Yes, you’ve been trying, but maybe you haven’t been trying the right things, or the right timing, or something else, so life keeps on demanding this of you until you figure it out. It’s the human condition, for where you are. Get help, get creative, but figure it out. Quit whining. You know you’ve been strong in past lives and came into this world with a lot of wisdom, and yes, you’ve been “messed with,” as you say, mind controlled, but so has everyone, and even though yours might be a super-demanding version of it, it’s what you came here for. You’re down right now, but you’ll get it. That’s why we haven’t let you die yet. You really do have the power to figure it out, even though you’re stumped now and angry (a cover for fear). You’ll get over it. And then you’ll get back to the Work.
And so I have. And I have realized a couple of things that have kept me from my power:
First, I have been afraid to tell the truth about who I am because… I’m not sure, but I’m willing to bet I’ve been mind controlled to be ashamed about who I am, so I only allude to things most important to me, but usually only very subtly, and rarely. Most of my days I’ve gone around pretending to be Every Woman, or an old-hippie version of Every Woman. And I thought this had value, made my writing most accessible to my audience. This is possibly true, but my writing has also been very limited, sorta of “lowest common denominator” (as I was trained to write as a journalist), and so it’s been least useful.
When I thought I was dying, I gave up “everything,” and I realized later that that also included what others think about me. What a wonderful thing to finally give up!
It is infinitely more important for me to communicate the truth of who I am, to however small an audience, than to communicate a tepid, easy-to-accept version of me to the “masses.”
And that “safe” presentation is part of keeping me split – keeping the real me hidden (requiring splitting) while the “socially acceptable” part plays a role. I didn’t realize I was failing so badly at simple Truth, but I was. It reinforced my splittedness and made me forget my truth.
Second, because I wanted to be and offer something socially acceptable, I forgot what I am: called to shamanic practice – as we call it today. My subconscious decision to hide has made me forget it myself, making me a very irresponsible practitioner, taking “days” off that turned into weeks and months.
I wasn’t afraid that people, at least those I cared about, wouldn’t understand or accept – as most seem to be animists at heart, so they should. But I thought they would secretly ridicule or denounce me as either too stupid or unworthy, or as someone jumping on a bandwagon – and indeed, I myself have problems with others promoting it like the newest fad, putting it on business cards, etc. I don’t want others to say about me what I’ve said about others!
Shamanic practice feels too sacred an avocation to speak of. So when someone asks about one’s vocation, I haven’t known what to say; I kept it a secret, and together with other excuses, it became almost a secret to me.
But this is who I am: I am one who sees the world in multiple dimensions and seeks (hopefully forever now more consistently) to strengthen my relationships with all my spirit help, and thereby continue my healing to the point where I will be more confident about helping others.
This all became clear only after I’d wallowed for three days in my death wish and gave up everything of this world. When all was stripped away, I could see who I was and what is most important to me in this world.
It is: to continue to learn personally about the other realms, develop skills in them, learn to communicate and navigate, learn to bring back information, and learn to help others – what we call shamanism or shamanic practice.
On and off I’ve been living this life for decades, secretly. I’ve participated in healings, and they’ve been life-changing for me and others. I’ve received information from those on the other side. I’ve gone there and come back. I know my helpers. I know my practice.
But there is so much more I need to learn. And there’s nothing more in this world that I want to do, other than create the setting around me to facilitate this, and then use it to help myself and others.
Three days believing I was dying – it was a difficult, but clarifying time, for which I am grateful. I now know (again) what is most important to me. Sometimes we forget. (The world wants us to forget.) And sometimes only great pain can help us remember.
Now, I’m happily back in contact – wait, I forgot to confess one more failure. I subconsciously, for decades, have attributed to my spirit help one characteristic of my parents: that they would love me more the more silent I was and the less I needed them, the less I asked for. One of my shamanic teachers helped me recognize this ten years ago, but I “forgot”!
So now I’ve remembered and I’ve been spending lots of daily time with my help, asking for whatever I need, and making great progress for just a week. I have a half-dozen more essays in my head to write, some designing I’ve envisioned, some practices to practice.
And I believe we can actually get through this, this crazy world in which Carlos Castaneda’s mentor Don Juan Matus said we need to “change the course of sorcery.” The current sorcery is mind control, and we need to help change that, especially those of us who can see it so well. This is our world too. We have a role to play.
Just went to the doctor yesterday for blood tests and EKG. (I don’t follow their prescriptions, but I appreciate their tests.)
My blood work was essentially normal, but my heart is not functioning properly. I have “stage 1” something (I’ll take better notes when I talk again with her next) – the first chamber of my heart is not beating exactly when it should in relation to the other chambers – not a terrible thing, as she says, many people live long lives with this condition. It’s just not as effective at circulating blood, so I get tired.
I’ve been having serious heart issues for at least 17 years. I assume it’s from the mind control electroshocks used to create amnesia and the Tasering (essentially portable electroshock) I’ve obviously been treated to since the late 80s (first time I’m conscious of was in jail after a group act of civil disobedience outside Durango in 1992 – which resulted in amnesia for most of an afternoon, evening, night and next morning), and at least twice in more recent years that left burn marks.
After this burn (pictured), they seem to have got their settings corrected for my size, as the next one left only two small dots on my arm which I found after waking totally exhausted, knowing “something happened again.”
My heart isn’t beating often enough (just 61 beats per minute) to give me energy for normal activities. I’m very tired all the time, can’t do the same exercises I used to be able to do at the gym. And I can’t stand up from squatting down to feed the chickens without holding onto something to pull myself up. This is very new. I’ve always been energetic and strong.
In the last 6 months I’ve written in my journals 103 times (out of 189 days) that I was utterly exhausted 52 days (and there may have been days I was too exhausted to write about it). And I mean debilitatingly exhausted, with comments like:
“Wasted. Wondering: serious disease?”
“Feel bad with weird symptoms.”
“Deep despair of life, lots of sleep.”
“Wrote bye to all, but lived.”
“Weak, nausea, ringing in ears.”
“Regretting commitments of next weekends.” (and cancelled some)
“No energy for anything.”
“If Greg wasn’t cooking, I wouldn’t eat.”
“Woke with weird bruise and had peed in bed.”
“Tired, depressed, headache.” (I very rarely get headaches.)
“Can’t sleep, feeling dread.”
“Jaw pain and heart tension.” (twice)
“Suicidal.” (four times)
“Could barely walk! Confused. Can’t remember last two days! Greg had to help me remember.”
“Scoop mark on same finger.”
“Woke tired with pee in bed again.”
“Long night, exhausted, weird, bad, crust hanging from my eyes. Hell.”
And the bruises I’ve photographed!
This video, “How to Spot a Liar,” by Pamela Meyer has been seen over 8 Million times – with 37 different subtitles added.
It’s revolutionary because it’s so simple: Recognize truth, and challenge lies.
But first we have to realize that we’re all liars and have practiced lying since we were babies! And so we needn’t condemn liars, but simply talk, and help each other find the truth.
Why is this revolutionary? Because we’ve been taught to be silent in the face of lies all our lives. Things like the Inquisition taught us that. And now we live and breathe in a social environment of lies.
Pamela tells us that we need to stop collaborating with those lies and learn some new skills: how to carefully talk about them. (If she’s made a second video to help us with that, I don’t yet know, but I’ll let you know.) Meantime, she suggests we speak carefully but truthfully about what we see.
It’ll demand new skills for a lot of people.
But that simple thing could help us save our world.
I felt so much yesterday, I could barely see. It hurt to walk. I wanted to die.
Today, I feel better and understand quite a few things.
I had just extracted numbers from my journal of the last 6 months and was not surprised to see the huge number of days indicating I was truly exhausted, around half the time, talking about ending my life five times, with bruises
and marks left on my body, and even more details I’d forgotten about (many of which I wrote about in my last blog). It was a lot like the time I summarized 18 months and had a melt-down realizing what all had happened.
So I wasn’t surprised to feel terrible. It seemed a natural response to my life.
But the pain had a good result: I see some important things.
First, I realize I need to not let 6 months go by without helping myself be aware and dealing with stuff!
What was I thinking? I think I know: Trying to stay positive, focused on the Light (ignoring the Dark), in order to stay more easily “functional” in this crazy, numbing world.
Yeah, but that’s not very smart, as I’ve coached others before: Survival requires we be aware of our environment!
(We teach what we need to learn, right? So here I am.)
Second thing learned: To accomplish the goal of being aware, I plan to take one day each week to summarize my journal of the previous seven days (I can handle that), to recognize what are the energies swirling around in my life.
Have I ignored some lie (as Pamela Meyer challenges us not to do in the wonderful video I linked to in this blog)? And in ignoring a lie, has it caused me to lose my strength?
Where are creative juices flowing, or where might they flow? What do I need? I’ll make Sunday my day for reviewing my week, since the culture makes that day more available.
Of course, there’s a daily aspect too and I will always do that, but it’s also important to go retrospective now and then for week’s view, or longer view.
I hope and pray Power and Love are flowing in you also today ~
Oh, God, I’ve been hit again. In the last 6 months, I’ve felt terrible about two weeks of every month, and I felt really bad yesterday: my vision clouded, my joints in pain, my mood so depressed, all I could think was that I didn’t want to live anymore.
Decided to review and collate my journal entries since January 12, 6 months and one week ago:
Days recording severe exhaustion: 52 = over 1/4 of the time, but I know it’s been about half the time. (Out of approximately 217 days, I only journaled 103).
Miscellaneous, usually attending exhaustion: extreme irregularity in sleep patterns, long naps even after very long nights, feeling need to “vomit from my soul,” need for “huge cry but can’t,” jaw pain, heart tension, heart arrhythmias, nausea, ringing in ears (which began November 2010 after vibration hit my head and made me unconscious) suddenly extremely loud, thinking I have some terrible disease, burning eyes, vision problems, difficulty sleeping and waking, unusual extended time spent suspended between sleeping and waking, confusion, fearful inability to remember previous days, a new herpes strain (intense with swollen lymph nodes – but no new sexual partner at least while conscious), weird dreams with MK themes (UFOs, large marble buildings, doctors, people in waiting rooms), vision at night that caused me to sit up and stare, feeling myself “switch” alters (thinking “Oh, that’s significant!” then feeling as though I’d been jabbed by a long pin and suddenly was unable to remember what I’d thought significant), and very odd coincidences of people and events in my life.
I took photos of weirdness on my body: February 4: hypodermic bruise on thigh;
June 8: Huge bruise that appeared on my thigh with no explanation; June 20: hypodermic bruise on thigh; June 14: photo of area above left scapula, behind shoulder that has felt like it’s been burning since mid-April and still does faintly (above a supposed implant site that appeared last year and has itched since then); June 27: scoop mark on right finger again (same place as a couple years ago); and another bruise recently. , which seems to have disappeared from my files.
Five times I wrote “suicidal,” “despairing of life,” or about wishing I could be gone from this life – but I’ve thought it more often than that.
Twice I woke groggily from extremely deep sleep, feeling “like someone did something to me in the night,” and discovering to my shock that I’d peed in the bed.
In the good weeks between, I’ve been as productive as I can be, singing with my partner and our new band, hosting and co-hosting radio shows, gardening, resurfacing our patio, building a fountain (1-min video here), teaching design, blogging, and always cooking fresh wholesome (organic) food, exercising, and keeping the house clean.
I’m sure some would diagnose me as bi-polar or manic-depressive, but I know it’s not that simple – and that would ignore my life history of missing time, amnesia, government connections, and the wealth of similarities in my life to other mind control subjects – all of which is recounted on this series of brief videos: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLPo7-F8Erey5SwKjn7ssWFy-6TCQYs33I.
And I certainly don’t want drugs to try to moderate “my moods” (not moods, but natural and appropriate responses). I am living a life that should support my own natural/spiritual healing: I live in a peaceful small town, surrounded by a lovely garden, in a peaceful relationship, in a small, artful home, with my financial needs small, and with healthy daily practices, such as eating the best food, getting exercise, singing, and spending time with friends.
I believe the evidence is clear that I’m suffering, as are many others, from (experimental or operational) intrusions into my life that have side effects. And it pisses me off.
From Fred Burks’ “WantToKnow” email newsletter:
From the 1999-03-10, New York Times
Fred’s summary of the Times article (the most important summary lines in bold):
Sidney Gottlieb, who presided over the Central Intelligence Agency’s cold-war efforts to control the human mind and provided the agency poisons to kill Fidel Castro, died on Sunday. He … spent his later years caring for dying patients … and fighting lawsuits from survivors of his secret tests. He will always be remembered as the Government chemist who dosed Americans with psychedelics in the name of national security. Mr. Gottlieb joined the C.I.A. in 1951. Two years later, the agency established MKUltra and Mr. Gottlieb was running it. He served two decades as the senior scientist presiding over some of the C.I.A.’s darkest secrets. The first of these were the LSD experiments. Mr. Gottlieb was fascinated by the drug [and] took it hundreds of times. In the 1950’s and early 1960’s, the agency gave mind-altering drugs to hundreds of unsuspecting Americans in an effort to explore the possibilities of controlling human consciousness. In one case, a mental patient in Kentucky was dosed with LSD continuously for 174 days. Other experiments involved agency employees, military officers and college students. In all, the agency conducted 149 separate mind-control experiments, and as many as 25 involved unwitting subjects. At least one participant died, others went mad, and still others suffered psychological damage after participating in the project, known as MK Ultra. The C.I.A. … deliberately destroyed most of the MKUltra records in 1973.Mr. Gottlieb was also involved in the C.I.A.’s assassination plots. [He] developed a poison handkerchief to kill an Iraqi colonel, an array of toxic gifts to be delivered to Fidel Castro, and a poison dart to kill a leftist leader in the Congo.
This, of course, is the conservative New York Times. Even so, they state, “…others went mad, and still others suffered psychological damage” – which is true of an uncountable number of individuals, myself among them.
Because “The CIA…deliberately destroyed most of the MKULTRA records,” as the CIA Director testified in the 1970s, no victim can prove they were hurt by these programs, and no one can be sought out for help.
Of course, many of the subjects who are still alive may very well be successfully programmed “assets” of the CIA, whom the CIA has no intention of helping heal.