Hi Readers. Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted. Thanks for returning to read.
Great news! I’m no longer a nomad living in my truck camper. I inherited enough money to buy myself a small hermit-home in the desert again. More about this later, but I’m very grateful, and life seems to be getting easier. I wonder if I’ve paid some debt and if I might be left alone in my old age.
For now, I want to share the start of my second memoir, updating my understanding of this mystery since I published my first memoir in 2008 (rattlesnakefire.com). It opens when I’m still living in my camper.
I hope you’ll give me your feedback.
She imagines herself from behind, where shoppers are coming and going from the store, maybe seeing her in the dusk, maybe not, in her faded, wrinkled skirt, overshirt, sandals, hair bundled behind her head, as she grabs the camper’s handles and hoists herself up inside, then reaches back to pull the door shut behind her.
Inside, she straps the light thing around her neck, switches it on red, which allows her to sleep better than with typical blue-white LED light. That’s another good thing about this life, she tells herself: good sleep, usually in nature – though not tonight. Clean air, and moving with the seasons, she occasionally explains to others, lets her be outside all year long and get exercise.
She sits at her usual place, facing the door and a window, though she’s closed the blind now, no table before her, removed for ergonomics, just a little empty space there, nice when everything else is so crowded. She stares and thinks about the strange turns life has taken to bring her to this place.
Delusional notations had begun to appear in her medical charts – but not for any true reason. No, they only began after she wrote her memoir and told more truths people don’t want told.
She’d disappointed so many people who had such high hopes for her, then she’d turned against them. They deserved to be rebuffed, she was still certain.
She’d been trained for beauty and duty. She’d even been a beauty queen – against her will. She’d thought it mortifying to say, by entering the pageant, “I deserve to be here, because I’m beautiful.” Mortifying. Everyone else in her world said she was crazy, it was great to be beautiful, they said, and she didn’t know what she was talking about, they said. Nobody saw the world her way. And everyone kept at her. So she did it, and it was “the worst thing I ever did in my life,” she’d say for decades.
Fortunately, she was also intelligent and could take on almost any project and carry it out well or exceptionally well, so she won awards frequently and led an interesting and independent life, first as a journalist, then supporting progressive causes with media relations and organizing, then radical causes, where she stepped on some certain powerful people’s toes with her incisive words published around the world. She also worked for not-radical groups, like the United Way and local food coop.
She used to have homes of her own, homes in the city, one in the country on twenty acres with seven ancient oak trees along an intermittent creek. Her homes were usually funky, but still nice and some very nice. Now she only had this old truck and camper, and she’s accused of being delusional, by doctors who never asked her questions and one who never saw her.
Some of those people whose toes she’d bumped or seriously crushed threatened her explicitly, others with just a glare, but she never took them seriously. “They can’t do that” in a free, democratic society, she thought – despite the history she’d read of activists assassinated, even in the U.S. She just didn’t believe it could happen to her. Maybe rabble-rousers, she thought, but not mild-mannered, polite, well-spoken, well-dressed, former minister’s wife, President of the PTA her.
Sometimes she could be accused of rabble-rousing. Once she was caught on film at a protest and looped repeatedly on one TV channel for the news that night, jumping and punching her fist into the air, but mostly her rabble-rousing was through writing, shining a light where she thought attention needed to be. And so she continued to irritate leaders of corporations and others in power.
Then one week, everything in her life fell apart. It began naturally – with illness. Her 17-year old son was diagnosed with cancer, her health insurance company declared bankruptcy a few days later, her husband acted so cruelly she decided to finally leave him after years of talking about it, her children hated that she was making them move, and she found herself unable to stay conscious at work, waking up repeatedly, wondering when she’d laid her head down.
In one week, she lost her marriage, her job, her ability to work, and the illusion that her children would stay healthy and live, and that they would love her. All the fundamentals of her life were ripped away in a few days.
After leaving her husband, the radical environmental organization to which she’d sacrificed her career and devoted the last seven years was infiltrated by saboteurs who “bad jacketed” her – labeled her a spy – and convinced the movement to ostracize her, costing her also her community. She would soon have a nervous breakdown.
But that’s not how she ended up in her camper.
First, she’d build a hermitage in the desert (with credit cards) and intended to become a hermit, but would first move away and almost marry her high-school crush, a doctor, and become an award-winning real estate agent for a few years before returning to her hermitage – to complete her nervous breakdown.
Then she’d begin a shamanic initiation, experience what seemed to be alien abductions, and realize she’d been followed all her life and still was – as a mind control subject of the US government.
And her mind control subjection as a child, she thought later, might have even enhanced her psychic skills, as she was left alone so much and under such stressful conditions, her mind couldn’t help but explore other dimensions.
But this was too much information to absorb. It came on her too fast. And it was not imagined. It was real.
She wrote everything down and photographed all evidence. She posited and tested her theories, and wished for other answers than what seemed obvious. She borrowed books from the library. And when she was finally terrorized into selling and leaving her lovely home beside the creek, feeling like a sitting duck for whomever was out there, messing with her, she began to attend conferences to suss out the researchers who presented themselves as having the answers.
Were they credible? Were there really mind control programs still in operation, still overseeing old women like her? Were the alien experiences real, or only made to feel real by the miracles of modern technology? Could someone hit her with a beam and make her think she was having these experiences? Even her governor back in the 80s had accused the FBI of aiming a beam at him to mess with his head. Maybe this stuff was real. Something had to explain the weird things going on. But she didn’t like the answers.
And it wasn’t just her. Others reported very similar experiences. Others saw and heard the UFOs that cruised near her home. And she photographed the burns and bruises and cuts that showed up on her body overnight. Once she woke with a scar on her neck that a medical practitioner asked about five years later: “When did you have your thyroid surgery?”
Yes, it seemed there were people very interested in her health, or she thought they were people. Was she supposed to consider maybe that they were aliens? She didn’t want to consider that possibility.
After fleeing her home, she met a world of people who already believed in stuff like this, both the alien and the government stuff. But even among these people, her life seemed to contain too much weirdness for one person. It was understandable to have alien contact; it was understandable to be a mind control subject; but no one (yet) had claimed to be both. She didn’t want to be the first.
She was exceedingly tired of keeping it all a secret, trying to protect herself from others’ judgement, even protecting others from scary stuff that might disrupt their reality.
Despite trying to ignore it, a few mornings every month, she woke with strange marks on her body. Were these medical tests or procedures? Injections by doctors who were secretly caring for her health? Or by doctors who’re using her as a guinea pig?
Eventually, she met a few shamans, and learned that aliens are commonly seen by them in other dimensions. One shaman had told her she needed to write her story and if she did, he’d write the Foreword. She knew Ralph Metzner had a reputation to consider, so she took his encouragement seriously.
He’d been the non-flamboyant academic and now shaman, after decades of making cultural history as the quiet third pioneer beside Tim Leary and Ram Dass, upsetting the world in their quest for consciousness, to which he’d devoted his life ever after. In his Foreword to her book, he called her a “spiritual warrior.”
She didn’t feel like a spiritual warrior that night, but she didn’t feel like a failure either. She felt suspended, ready, willing, able, but waiting for right conditions. Watching.
“Just perceive,” she’d heard recently.
Please share if you find this information important!
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?]
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.
Yeshiva – (I meant to write, and thought I wrote “Yeshua,” but I wrote this interesting derivation! Wonder where that came from….
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.)
I also like this portrait of him. His counsel regarding prayer: “Pray alone.” I like that. Feels most real to me.
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.
Please share if you find this information important!
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.
Please share if you find this information important!
[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”?
First, What is shamanism?
Shamanism exists across all cultures under different names, but the Siberian word has come to stand in for our contemporary understanding of the global, cross-cultural practice.
In all cultures, a few people (some estimate 2% or fewer) seem to have greater ability than others to perceive energies and intelligences in other dimensions and are often encouraged by their tribe to spend time in this practice of perception for the good of the people.
(The exception is for those born into a society hostile to or afraid of other dimensions, in which case, the shamanically-inclined person’s perceptions will be discouraged subtly or violently, i.e., those born in the United States.)
The natural shaman who is allowed to explore his or her facility will devote the majority of his or her life to learning to perceive more clearly, learning to protect him or herself from dangerous energies or intelligences, learning to communicate with useful and benevolent intelligences, and learning how to apply what they learn to help their tribe. They will be an important source of knowledge to the tribe, for instance on growing and harvesting food and medicines, knowing of food game migrations, knowing the approach of strangers or bad weather, and healing for various illnesses, physical, emotional, spiritual, and social.
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.)
Taser burn (second-degree, removing skin) that appeared overnight, November 29, 2010, photographed two days later.
So I still wake up with evidence on my body that tells me that something was done to me in the night for which I have absolutely no memory: two Taser burns, four or five incidents of two or three obvious “scoop marks” or biopsies, many bruises including apparent injection bruises, lacerations inside my vagina, apparent implants in various locations, and mysteriously healed and obvious surgical and other scars – a total of well over one-hundred physical marks since I began recording them a decade ago (see photo history on this site). Plus many incidents of “missing time,” being conscious but immobilized, sensing vibrational/dimensional changes, being shot with energy beams, and even surrounded by strange fog forcing me to stop on the highway (one of three times).
I’ve tried not to assume the worst about this, that I’m being used by others for bad purposes. When I have assumed the worst, I’ve sought help, found none, and then wanted out of this life – but I feel very certain that that’s not best for my soul, so I stay and eventually come out of my depression. And I try to keep an open mind to other possibilities while also enjoying life and being a useful member of my community.
A positive explanation for all these marks is that they’re left by spirit family who, for whatever reason, can’t communicate with me because of my personal and our cultural mind control or other reasons, and actually all these things (or some of them) are for good, though I can’t understand now. But I have no support for this other than my own wish for a positive interpretation.
Where does Jesus fit in?
I’ve read a few times that there’s no historical evidence for the existence of Jesus, and I’ve read that there is. I don’t know.
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
Please share if you find this information important!
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.
Another favorite quote of Don Juan Matus. Mini-poster by Jean Eisenhower. (credit and copy freely)
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.
Please share if you find this information important!
These three parts, plus the two introductions before them, will be followed soon by my first attempt to clarify what I believe are the relationships between beings we call “spiritual,” beings we call “alien,” and mind control.
I have to put “aliens” in quotation marks because that’s the word our culture uses, but it needs a lot of explanation.
Alien means strange, of course. We mean it, in this arena, to refer to beings from another planet. But there are also aliens who live on or in our Earth, maybe on another dimension. They’re terrestrial like us. But different, alien. Some aliens look just like us. And there is much history from religions and ancient texts all over the planet that says we were created by beings from elsewhere – aliens – who used some of their DNA to create us – making them our relatives, not strangers.
So we need new nomenclature. But for now, I’ll use this deficient word regarding these strange relatives.
I was never interested in aliens or UFO’s until 2003/2004 when I had shocking experiences that seemed like what others had already described. I never watched Star Trek. And once I dumped a man I’d been interested in immediately after he brought up the subject. I was embarrassed that he had said that word aloud in a cafe!
Much later, I realized that I rationally believed in their likelihood for most of my adult life and had even argued for their possibility in college against a professor who wanted to denounce the idea; I just didn’t want to talk about them because the subject was ridiculed, I didn’t want to be ridiculed, and I believed they had nothing to do with me, so why talk about them?
Thinking back, though, I remember one silly event: being on a beach with my first husband and some of his friends who brought up the subject, when we all stood with our arms in the air for a half-minute and said, “If you’re real, we’d like to meet you.” Nothing happened (I think), and that was the end of that.
Other than this, I remained blissfully ignorant of the subject and that event was the full extent of my interest in this subject for most of my life, until 2000 or so.
First Event: Crop Circles and Highway Stop – forgotten
During the first year or so of my 7-year desert hermitage, I took a 60-mile trip to Bisbee, Arizona, to attend a movie at the public library about crop circles. I’d heard they had interesting mathematical formulas associated with them, and I was into math, and for some reason their connection with aliens had completely escaped me – or I’d chosen to ignore it.
When the movie was over, I was dumbfounded to hear everyone talking about aliens. It had not been part of the movie, and I had not gotten the connection.
On the way home, winding through the foothills, facing a long drive home, I suddenly experienced a bright light shining in my eyes, making it extremely hazardous to drive. The idea of a space ship came to mind, and I scolded myself that I shouldn’t imagine such a stupid thing just because I’d just heard people talking about them. Anxiously, I thought of alternative explanations and decided that it must be a Border Patrol helicopter irresponsibly shining a very bright light into my windshield. I was angry and planning my call to the BP the next morning. The light was so bright, I thought I should pull over, as it was extremely difficult to see, but instead I only slowed down. I didn’t want the BP to ruin my night, and I had a long way to go, so I held one hand up to shield my squinting eyes, with one hand on the wheel to negotiate the curves.
Finally reaching a straightaway, I saw the BP tower and realized that the brilliant light was sitting on top of it, so I decided that this stationary light must have malfunctioned, gone dangerously super-bright for some reason, and created this situation. I amended the scolding I would give the BP.
The tower sat near the corner of two highways where I made a turn, and immediately after I did, I spontaneously pulled off the road to look at the light. After a few seconds (I thought), I drove home. The next day, I decided not to call the BP, a little concerned that they might tell me nothing was wrong with the tower. Years later, I would realize that the BP tower is impossible to see from the winding road inside the foothills.
Another morning (not sure how long after), I woke up with a thought so startling that I sat immediately bolt upright – just like a comedy routine – with this idea: being out here alone in the desert (where I’d been very happy and felt mostly safe until this moment) makes me very vulnerable. I looked out the array of south facing (passive solar) windows, curtains open that summer morning, and felt/thought: a “space ship” (something I never thought about) could land out there amongst the mesquites, and aliens could come right up to my windows … and look in. But those last words I said to myself felt like a lie, as I had to squelch an image of aliens, not looking in, but coming through the window. Immediately, I jumped out of bed – not my usual lazy way – telling myself I must have had a weird dream, and got busy, forgetting that idea as well as I could.
A man came to live with me after three years of living alone, and one night while he was working late, I went to bed by myself in the bathhouse, a separate building, part of which we’d turned into a bedroom. I woke up after a little while to a racket, with the idea that a washing machine was out of balance with a heavy load – but I didn’t have a washing machine. The bed was shaking, and I realized a metal bed frame stored under my bed was making a racket on the concrete floor. I was momentarily alarmed, then a calm part of me seemed to recognize the vibration and said, “Oh, this….” as if it was something familiar and comfortable, and I lay back down and “fell asleep.”
I’d had a very similar experience at the Judi Bari v FBI trial (which I forgot to recount in Part II on mind control), and so the next morning I thought that this was the FBI intruding into my life again, and I was very upset. To quell my nerves, I decided to sit and read a book for awhile before getting to some work I needed to do for a client.
I pulled a book off the shelf – randomly, I thought – and sat down to read Whitley Strieber’s Communion, which I’d read years ago; I’d found it in a used bookstore for $2 and decided to see why this was a #1 bestseller. I’d found his account credible but, thankfully, nothing I needed to think about, and I forgot it. Suddenly, though, in the first pages, I realized Strieber was describing events that seemed terribly similar to what I’d just experienced. I could barely spit the words out to my partner, alien being such an embarrassing idea, so ridiculed. I did not want this!
Events keep happening
For awhile I had experiences a couple or three times a week, always aware only that I was vibrating, then falling asleep, and I’d wake up wondering what had happened. I often wondered if they were alien or government harassment – or a joint project.
Whitley, at that time, was calling them “the visitors,” not differentiating between helpful and subjugating aliens, and told of inviting them into one’s life to learn spiritual truths. So I began to try to open to the idea, while also asking them to let me be conscious, reasoning that only someone up to no good would keep whatever was going on secret from me. The sensations of being taken continued, and I was never conscious – except once for a short while.
Stopping the events
One day I got the idea that maybe some of the aliens weren’t good for us, and I prayed a different prayer: I ask my spiritual helpers, if these events are good for me, to let me be conscious so I can learn, and if these events are not good for me, to please stop them. And I never had one of those experiences again, but others continued until I became more serious about developing spiritual protection.
Consciously up in the air
Next I began to ask my spiritual helpers to simply help me understand more of what’s going on here, and to let me meet them and be conscious. One night I woke up as I was passing through the canvas of the teepee that we’d begun to sleep in. I felt myself rising, upright, into the night sky, though I didn’t look around me or down, as some experiencers report. I was grateful for being conscious, and began to thank them and prepare myself for whatever surprise I might experience. I was so excited – and amused to find myself immobilized – I was close to laughing, but wanted to be calm and collected for this auspicious meeting, so I quelled the laughter and tried to prepare.
Suddenly I seemed to hit a portal which spun me around and propelled me out to my left, and shortly after I hit another portal which spun me around again and propelled me out to my right, about 60 degrees behind the first trajectory. Fascinated, I memorized these details and returned to preparing myself for the meeting.
I woke up the next morning, disappointed that they hadn’t allowed me to remember, but absolutely certain that the experience had occurred. Not long after, I read of someone else describing exactly the same experience of going up into something like a portal, emerging to the left, then emerging to the right 60 degrees behind! I wanted to write it down, but felt strongly afraid that I was being watched by the government and didn’t want to let them know what I knew, so I didn’t, and I’ve deeply regretted losing that source of information.
One weekend, my partner and I decided to attend a “shamanic” gathering (increasingly common event, it seems) on the south end of the Dragoon Mountains. On the way there, we saw a miles-long, spaceship-shaped cloud materialize seemingly out of nowhere south of the range. Typically, large clouds of this shape can form over a mountain, from the moisture given off by the trees, but this formed in front of us in the valley south of the mountains. We were quite excited, especially as it wasn’t just shaped vaguely like a spaceship, but was very smoothly and quite exactly shaped, with a horizontal rim circling its wide center. A smaller version, perhaps a tenth the length, also formed alongside the first. We watched them for at least a half-hour as we traveled toward and then under one end of the longest one. When we got to the camp, I was suddenly overpowered with the need to sleep, at 10 am. I did, and woke up certain that “something had happened” – but with no memory.
Typical UFO sighting
On the way home the next night, we saw a bright light move very fast and low, just a few degrees above the horizon, straight and swift from north to south in front of the Chiricahua Mountains, which are about 10 miles long. We immediately estimated the time it took to travel that distance – about three seconds – then did the math at home and came up with thousands of miles per hour.
Another night, at home, we heard a loud roaring sound and assumed it was Air Force jets on maneuvers, flying very low over the house, as we had experienced them doing that frequently. Since we had to get up early the next morning for work and I didn’t want my body flooded with angry adrenaline when I needed to sleep, we decided to ignore it as best we could – then we were very alarmed to hear what sounded like a jet flying just a few feet over the house, or so it seemed by the extreme way it made the windows rattle. I willed myself to say in bed, not get angry at the Air Force, and deal with it later.
The next night we heard the same thing approaching, and since we didn’t have to work the next day, we flew out of bed to see exactly how low the jets were so I could report them. To our great surprise, there were no jets anywhere to be seen, even though the windows of the house were rattling furiously. We were dumbfounded – our senses of sound and sight were not jiving! Then my partner pointed to three lights high in the sky, one pale green, one pale orange, and one … I forget. I said it was impossible for them to be causing the vibration. He said, “That’s not three jets. That’s a huge triangle! See, there’s no stars inside the three lights.”
I can’t say I verified that. I have no memory of anything but hearing him say those words, feeling tremendous dismay – this what not the life I thought I signed up for – and walking back into the house to write in my journal.
Another night, we had friends come visit and gave them our teepee to sleep in. When we all went out together to get them acquainted with the space, I ducked inside first and immediately heard my partner and the other man exclaim with great amazement about something then exclaim again with greater excitement. I came out, having missed it, as did the other woman who was looking in the wrong direction, and listened to them both describe having seen a bright light cruising across the sky in the direct of Elfrida, when it suddenly exploded, and a green luminous disk shot out at an angle to the ground.
I insisted my partner draw of picture of it the next day. (Photo at the top of this blog.)
We wondered whether it was natural, like a meteor, or a UFO, and why it had exploded. Because of everything that had been happening, we tended toward the UFO explanation, and wondered whether the military had shot it down, and whether we might hear some reconnaissance activity. In bed about 45 minutes later, we heard a very deep rumbling sound coming south down the highway and surmised that a military reconnaissance was indeed going on. I wished I had the courage to go play spy, but because of my fear of the military as mind controllers, I stayed in bed. A couple of hours later, we were awakened to hear the loud, deep rumbling sound traveling back north on the highway. Of course, we imagined a huge flatbed vehicle with something under a big tarp.
One afternoon, relaxing by the creek in the teepee, I was surprised by a very strong wind that came up quickly. It continued to gain such force that I became afraid that something totally outside recent human experience was about to happen: a pole shift or something else equally cataclysmic. I grabbed the few things I wanted to take with me and leaned hard into the wind to be able to stay on my feet as I walked back the hundred feet to my home. It was frightening. Back in the house, my partner and I watched the sudden dust storm in amazement, which, as suddenly as it had picked up, died down again a few minutes later.
The phone rang, and our neighbor asked if we’d seen “the thing in the foothills.” She wasn’t sure what she’d seen, but described it first as “a biplane, or maybe more like a corral, only it wasn’t on the ground, it was in the air.” I suggested a UFO, and she seemed very embarrassed to be associated with the idea, and said no. Later, we read (and it is interesting how many times we’d read about things serendipitously within a day or two after having an experience) about UFO’s often being associated with strange weather, including sudden storms that obscure them.
Dancing ball of light
One night, driving home from visiting this neighbor, I saw a brilliant ball of light, seemingly the size of a basketball, dancing around in the air about thirty feet ahead of me, bouncing from ten feet off the ground to twenty feet high, staying ahead of me, moving in chaotic, playful ways.
Another typical UFO
Another night, lying on the roof to sleep where I had years ago been lifted off in rapture (see my Part I about spirit), I saw a bright light travel in a seemingly perfectly straight line for a few seconds from above the foothills to above the valley where it seemed to disappear. It had been low enough in the sky to light up the interior of some low clouds. Immediately, I established what I thought would be coordinates for the point when I first saw it and the point where it disappeared and carefully considered the time it seemed to take. The next morning, I checked the map and established its speed – again in the thousands of miles per hour.
Another night, sitting on the roof, I saw what seemed to be a triangle far to the south, apparently near Douglas, Arizona, near the border, traveling east to west. I watched as it seemed to be escorted by two jets, then saw to the west two more jets approach and take over the escort as the first two jets turned around the traveled back east.
I was so certain of what I saw that I called the only friend in the area to alert him. He lived in Tucson and had told us he often watched for them, but he couldn’t see it from there, and that makes sense to me now. Within a few days, I’d come across a reference to large triangle UOF’s often being escorted by Air Force jets.
My only alien sighting
I have seen only one alien, and only briefly (not including three sightings that seemed to be with paranormal vision, which I’ll get to later).
I was getting ready for sleep in the bathhouse again, my partner facing an all-night writing project under deadline, keeping him in the house, when I suddenly felt that I’d been hit between the eyebrows by a perfectly round beam of some sort of energy. At first, I’d tried to tell myself I had just seen lightning out the window, but I had a distinct feeling about the angle of the beam, that it was downward at about a 45-degree angle through the eave and wall, not through a window.
Realizing I was immobilized, I was immediately alarmed and just as immediately had the idea to pray, but realized, also immediately, that I was not only immobilized, but also unable to pray – even silently – in words that didn’t sound like they were on tape being caught and stretched in an old recorder. My first word was Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuz…..
As I lay there, I saw in both the window to my left and the glass reflection on a piece of art on my right: a being walking by. Since we lived far out in the desert, no one should have been walking by the building, so I became further terrified, especially as I realized the being didn’t seem to be walking, but gliding, and seemed also to be very thin and tall. My mind was going crazy with the idea that I was being controlled and made unable to even pray, so I imagined my spiritual Helpers in the sky above me and mentally “tossed” my grave need from my heart to them before I went unconscious.
The next morning, I realized that it had a new moon and there had been an overcast sky, so there was no natural light to have allowed me to have seen any being. Soon after I read an account of an aliens vehicle casting light during an encounter.
While that was the only alien I recall ever seeing with normal vision, I had three other experiences I can only describe as seeing clairvoyantly.
One afternoon, when my partner was gone on an errand, I was overcome with an unusual feeling that I must lie down, and so I went into the teepee and “crashed.” I woke up to the sound of someone dragging their back under the arched canvas doorway – which seemed strange, because this was my partner’s teepee, he’d lived in teepees for twelve years, and certainly never dragged his back under the archway. Maybe he was being lazy? I waited for him to say something or come and lie down. I didn’t turn my head to look at him, as I felt so tired.
A knee seemed to press down on the bed next to me, and I assumed my partner would climb over, and then I thought I’d say hi to him. To my surprise, something hard was pressed against the back of my skull, something smallish, which triggered a most unusual imagination in my mind: a claw, and then a whole being emerged in my mind’s eye: a very large reptilian being.
With that, I became immediately terrified and tried to scream, but realized my voice box was immobilized, but it seemed I could still register the effect of a scream on my face to let the being know I absolutely objected to whatever he was doing, and so I “screamed bloody murder” with my face and no sound. I remembered nothing more.
When my partner returned, he found me groggy in the teepee, and I told him what had happened. He tried to encourage me that it probably wasn’t a reptilian. He said he felt the energy and thought it more military (which would have meant mind control – not necessarily a better interpretation) – and also asked if he thought it was “just a nightmare.” It had felt real, and besides I believe nightmares may be real in some way and not “just nightmares.”
Later, a friend told us that he’d had a terrifying experience camping in the Huachuca Mountains, not far away to the west, above Fort Huachuca, a major intelligence center for the Air Force. He hadn’t wanted to be on the side of the Fort, but a storm had forced him to take shelter on that side. In the middle of the night, he woke suddenly, feeling as if he were being “searched for mentally” by a being he felt strongly was reptilian – even though he’d never believed in such things. The sense of it was so real and so terrifying, that he hastily scrambled out of this tent, took it down, and carried it under his arm as he climbed up the ridge and down on the other side, quaking with fear the entire time.
Years later, another friend who did contract work with the Air Force said that he one saw a reptilian dressed in a military uniform on that base.
One night, sitting on the sofa next to the fire, reading a book, my partner sitting beside, I suddenly saw a reptilian child in a dimension that seemed to reveal itself right before me in this dimension. It seemed to be in a womb or other egg-shaped enclosure, looking at me, almost batting her eyelids coyly, as if to flirt and express love. I was dumbfounded, and the vision faded away.
I hate to admit how this next event came about, as it seems so akin to “possession,” but this will explain why I am so cautious about aliens now, and why I have returned, despite my disinterest in being part of the Christian Church, to a relationship with the Spiritual Teacher we call Jesus.
I’d been having strange physical experiences that felt like energy pouring into the back of my neck, which felt wonderful, stretching the fibers of muscles, like a healthy yawn, only throughout my body and far more exhilarating. I came to jokingly called the experiences “my Hulk routine,” reminiscent of the old TV show of my teen years. The energy flow would cause me to hunch forward when the energy was beginning to pour into my back, then it would move me in different ways to help it flow throughout my limbs. It felt great, usually took about a minute to complete, and when it was over I went back to whatever I was doing. Usually it happened in the evenings.
One night, this routine happened again, but this time I suddenly and quite clearly sensed an intelligence looking out through my left eye! “He” looked at my fireplace hearth, which I had created with friends and loved very much, as if he knew how much I loved it, and I could feel his derisive judgement that it wasn’t much.
I was shocked to feel someone else’s opinion and eyesight inside my body and thought immediately of “possession,” but this didn’t feel like something to be afraid of; I thought it might be something like that, for which I should do some fast spiritual protection and ejection – if I knew for sure – but I didn’t want to freak out, so I decided just to assess the situation for a moment.
I asked, “Who are you?”
Immediately, he projected himself outside of me as a small reptilian guy, squatting down, which I thought was to emphasize his smallness and make me less afraid of him. He didn’t answer (which I thought a good spiritual being should), but instead simply said, “You need me.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you are so naive.”
My partner then asked me a question, and I said brusquely, “I need some private time.”
Instead of giving me that – which had been an issue in our relationship – he began to badger me about our relationship and how I needed too much alone time and didn’t give enough time to him. Rather than tell him what I was going through – especially since I wasn’t sure what it was – I tried to just demand quiet for a short while, but he wouldn’t give it.
While I felt this being inside me observing, and I observed it with half my attention, I argued with my partner about my need for alone time right now, and the need for relationship time, and whether or not I was neglecting our relationship or he was needing to much. We went around and around til it seemed we argued for over an hour – and I’m not generally a person who argues.
Eventually I was very interested to feel the being inside me beginning to laugh. He thought our argument was hilarious!
I was quite sure I had articulated my case very well, but my partner had been switching tactics, badgering, insulting, changing topics, and generally using ploys that are not fair game in a fair relationship.
Suddenly I realized the alien inside thought I was ridiculous for treating the argument with such respect that I answered every question and demand as carefully and thoughtfully as I could. He didn’t think it warranted my respect, and he wanted to laugh.
I had never laughed at a partner during an argument, but this being clearly felt the argument was going in circles and didn’t deserve the respect I was giving it. Suddenly, I saw it too and couldn’t resist the being’s desire to laugh, and I burst out laughing – right in the middle of something my partner was earnestly saying.
He stopped speaking, shocked that I had been so rude, for the first time in our relationship.
I told him I needed to sit down and get back to my spiritual work because a being had come into me during the last “Hulk routine” and I had to determine who in the world he was and whether this was something I should be worried about and maybe kick him out.
“You’ve been possessed!” he said with alarm, “I knew you’d never laugh at me like that.”
“I don’t know,” I responded, “but I want to find out, because nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and I agree it’s weird, but it doesn’t feel bad, and besides, the guy just helped me end our ridiculous argument.”
He didn’t take that so easily, so we discussed it a bit more, and finally he let me sit down and get back to my spiritual work of discerning who this guy was. I told the being that I was not giving him permission to stay inside me, though he encouraged me to, again asserting that I needed him because I was so naive.
I thought about that. I knew he’d come into me with a very good feeling, and I really had no idea how to eject him, other than some experimental exorcism maneuvers, which felt beyond me, so I just told him, rather weakly, that he would have to leave whenever I said so, and he agreed. I never sensed him leave, and I actually never sensed him again at all – though I did have some other anomalous experiences that made me wonder if it was him. More on that later.
Gone in a light?
My partner and I broke up soon after, and I decided that, as much as I loved my home and the foothills of Chiricahua Mountains, not to stay there alone, as I was feeling like a sitting duck for weird experiences. I moved temporarily in with a friend in the Cochise Stronghold for about seven months.
One night I woke up, totally alert, and realized it not only Full Moon, but it was then exactly midnight, so the moonlight was shining directly down through the round window in the center of the roof of the octagon house, down directly onto the center of the sofa in front of the fireplace. I decided to get out of bed, sit there and meditate – even though I never actually meditated as a practice, I had always wanted to be able to, and it felt very attractive in that moment.
I only remember sitting there, cross-legged in happy anticipation, for a few moments, and then realized that the spot of moonlight had moved far to the side, and it was 4 in the morning. I’d been there for four hours! I went outside and saw the full moon setting over the peaks.
Eventually my land sold, and I moved to Silver City, New Mexico. In the two weeks just before I moved into the house I purchased, I spent some of my windfall to go to my first UFO conference. I had wanted to find one that offered a “spiritual” approach to the subject, and I found it – within days of my expected cash – and in Hawaii! I was delighted.
The conference was – as should always be expected – a mixed bag as far as spirituality goes. After the conference, I stayed for two dolphin-swim events. At the second one, there was a guest artist who drew pictures of aliens that people have seen and told us what is generally thought about each type. As she was presenting her photos, I thought I’d go home and try to draw the reptilian who appeared to me after looking through my left eye. To my surprise, her next drawing was of a being so very similar to what I’d seen that I didn’t feel the need to try to draw it; I purchased hers. (When I find it, I’ll add it to this post.)
To my great relief, she acknowledged that reptilians are often associated with the worst of alien encounters, but that there are also reptilians – sometimes called reptoids who are considered “good reptilians,” and she said this was what they looked like. I have never been sure whether to take her word for it, but I’d taken some comfort in it, while continuing to be cautious.
Friends told me I’d find “lots of people” familiar with UFO’s and aliens in Silver City, but I haven’t actually come across that many folks with experiences like mine. That’s beem okay because my experiences have mostly stopped, and I’ve been unwilling to say exactly what I think about the subject anyway. I did begin to host Paradigm Salon movies and discussion groups, hoping to attract people to help me get clear, but I only found myself paranoid about some of my guests, so I stopped hosting events.
To try to get clear, I wrote my memoir, RattleSnake Fire, but couldn’t bring myself to state any conclusions with certainty. I attended a number of conferences for a few years on the subject, where I felt very critical at times at the number of people who stand at a podium and act like authorities, stating that the aliens are here to teach and guide us, or that the aliens are demonic, here to abuse and confuse us and send us hell. I think that both these (precise language, i.e., demons, needing definition) might be true – of different types of aliens. But which is which? (Michael Salla seems to have done the most research here, and I defer to him on this.)
I continued to have “Hulk experiences” for awhile, but began praying to have them stopped if they weren’t “good,” and they stopped. But, resistant to ritual, I didn’t develop a stronger spiritual practice until I had a few more frights.
Another highway event
In 2010, I had visited my old friend with whom I’d lived in the Cochise Stronghold and was driving home on the old Highway 666 (now 191, because so many people are afraid of that number) north toward Interstate 10 during a rainstorm, when I saw a bright light – despite the storm – zip ahead of me east to west through my rain-splattered windshield and flapping wipers. “UFO…” I thought soberly, dismissing the idea with a hope that this didn’t signal any new round of experiences.
I traveled the Interstate through Wilcox and other small towns with no unusual happenings, but after I’d taken Highway 90 north from Lordsburg and then east toward the Burro Mountains, I sensed something unusual and the hair raised up all over my body with the sensation of “something coming.” I didn’t want whatever was coming, but I didn’t think I could stop it, so I determined, instead, to try to stay conscious and be aware of the time. I was noting the time and looking for a mile marker, when suddenly my senses didn’t seem to jive. The truck engine seemed to race – or lug – I forget which – but it didn’t match my speed. I checked to see if I’d slipped into a different gear, but that wasn’t it. I began to feel frantic, checking my gear, the speedometer, the tachometer, and the view out the window. The view out my window didn’t match the sounds I was hearing or the speedometer or tachometer.
Then a strange fog that didn’t seem normal surrounded my truck; the fog had no waves of lightness and heaviness; as I traveled through it, it appeared to be all the same amorphous whiteness. The engine noise continued to not match my speed or what I saw out the window. Everything felt strange. I was trying to think clearly and not go into panic, repeating over and over some mile marker number and the time, neither of which I ever remembered afterward. Because of the fog, I was going very slowly, gripping the wheel, looking at the narrow space in front of the truck inside the fog, hoping not to see something suddenly in front of me, for which I wouldn’t have time to stop, but I was loathe to pull over.
Suddenly the fog disappeared, and I saw a sign ahead, down the hill – but this was strange, because I was almost certain this was the Continental Divide sign, which is of course at the highest point of the ridge, not below me as it appeared. I watched it eagerly, wondering if it was really the Continental Divide sign, and when I passed it, I saw that it was.
As I started down the other side of the ridge, reality seemed to have returned me to my proper perceptions, for which I was grateful, but still disturbed. I couldn’t wait to get home and check the time! When I got home, I stared at the clock and vowed to remember what it said. But I didn’t at that moment even register whether it was the time I expected or not. And the next day, I realized that I had a clock in the truck and had not thought to look at it – right in front of me. I seemed to have been programmed to not notice the time and not remember the time.
And later I’d wonder if the Continental Divide sign had been below me because I was up in the air? In my truck?
Stronger protection from Yeshua
I developed a stronger spiritual practice and once again ended the weird experiences that didn’t seem to be “helping” me – except to let me know with absolute certainty that “we live in an ocean of spirit” – as a curandero acquaintance told me shortly afterward, looking into my eyes as though he knew what I’d been going through.
Today, I don’t see the world in a way that will please Christians strict with their doctrine, but I have begun to see/feel the teachings of Yeshua/Christ inside a larger, more interesting spiritual context – an ocean of spirit – in which Yeshua/Christ is my tribal leader, healer, chief, and teacher. Most of what he’s reputed to say “works for me,” though I diverge from Christian doctrine on pretty much the entire balance of the Bible.
I don’t think it’s worth trying to define my personal doctrine though, as Jesus was reputed to have disdained doctrinal arguments in favor of private prayer with God and a few instructions such as being compassionate. Everything else in the Bible is open to suspicion to me because it was put together by the same ruthless people who’d just spent 300 years trying to destroy the Christ-following by torture and murder, and then continued for hundreds of years to try to destroy every other writing about Christ that they hadn’t included in their book (which contain many references to extra-dimensional and extra-terrestrial beings), and to this day they use disinformation as a constant tool to repress ideas. So I trust my heart more than any book that powerful might put together.
Because of my personal experiences with enough extra-dimensional beings (see my “Part I: Overview of a Spiritual Life”), including Christ, I believe in his goodness and power and rightness for me to be in relationship with. It’s possible there are other equally good extra-dimensional, god-become-man ambassadors to teach other people on the planet, such as Kokopeli, Krishna and Mohammed, but I have no personal experience with them.
I accept that many beings are trying to help us humans being harassed on this planet, mind-controlled, chem-trailed, fed poisoned food, chip-implanted, and more. Christ is the being who has helped me. He’s the center of my world, which is best described, not in Christian doctrine, but in shamanic literature, which tells of a world filled with spiritual beings, which we need to learn to discern which are which, be aware of, protect ourselves from, negotiate with, communicate with, and thus understand better our multi-dimensional existence and expand our soul’s understanding and our spiritual skills.
I also consider it possible – though I’m not willing to advocate this at this time – that some aliens are here to help us. It’s certainly possible, and I’ve read many accounts by people who believe this. Michael Salla’s research indicates that, while grays and reptilians are regularly associated with mind control and relationships with our government, many other alien species seem to be all about awakening consciousness of our multi-dimensional existence.
Feeling as vulnerable as I was, with positive experiences with Christ, and only questionable experiences with the foggy blur of aliens, I chose Christ and have left the “good alien” theory alone for now, though I may address the subject again soon.
Recent attack in a “spiritual place”
This past summer, after years of spiritual equanimity, I seem to have been tested again. I left for a Permaculture [ecological] Design certification training at the Lama Foundation in Northern New Mexico. Lama has a reputation as “a very spiritual place,” but that doesn’t necessarily mean positively spiritual – which I should have known. As I try to make clear in my book, there are plenty of “spirits” that are tricksters, or of low evolution, and just being in spiritual form doesn’t make them necessarily wise or benevolent. Spirits also include those some call demons.
I was out of my routines, not praying regularly, not sleeping well in a tent, very tired at the high elevation where we had to walk a good distance between camp and training, and not eating as food as good as I eat at home – and some of it must have been poisoned, as more than half the class became very ill, the Health Department was called, and some were even hospitalized. I was extremely sick for over a week, and very weak for weeks after the training, and not remembering to protect myself spiritually while I was there. So much for my excuses. It was a powerful lesson to keep to one’s practice no matter what – even when you think you’re in a safe place.
One night as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a humming sound in the air above the forest treetops, but didn’t think much about it. Later that night, I woke up, realized I was seriously tangled in my sleeping bag, which seemed to be wrapped tightly around me, diagonally. When I reached to find my flashlight, I discovered that I was turned 180 degrees around inside my tent!
I felt that I had been abducted again – for the first time in years, and was extremely distressed by this. The next day, others brought up the humming above the trees, which I only then remembered.
In my next blog, I plan to describe how the spiritual, mind control, and alien experiences intersect – the larger context for it all and how they overlap.
Please share if you find this information important!
It’s been 7 1/2 years since I left my 7-year hermitage on the western slope of the Chiricahua Mountains in southeastern Arizona and moved to the town of Silver City, New Mexico, to recreate my life.
I’d been experiencing bizarre, confusing, and sublime events for years, some seeming like alien and UFO contact, some that felt shamanic and promising, and others that seemed to involve government agents who could immobilize me and leave marks on my body that terrified me with my helplessness.
I’d been drawn in different directions: to bravely face the Mystery, strengthen my spirit, and open myself to teachings from the Unknown, and alternately cower in fear and even consider killing myself rather than let some unknown agents use me against my will.
Ultimately, I’d become afraid I was “a sitting duck” out there in the country alone, so I left the home I’d lovingly crafted over all those years out of straw, mud, and stone in natural shapes, and returned to society in rectangles of space and time, seeking new experiences to help me understand.
One of the first things I did was look for a UFO/alien conference that might frame my questions in terms of spiritual awakening. I was thrilled to find this very conference was taking place within weeks of being paid for selling my home – and the conference was in Hawaii, with extra events available for those who wanted to swim with dolphins and discuss experiences – for ten days! – with others who believed in the spiritual potential of understanding the UFO/alien connection.
There is no unanimous theory among this subset of people experiencing what has been called “alien.” Some seem to me to be terribly naive, others I distrust as manipulators, and liars, masquerading as exactly opposite of who they profess to be.
Of course, I’ve also considered that I could be paranoid. And, alternately, that I could be naively hopeful myself, and my safety might lie in taking my fears more seriously. So many conflicting theories; so many possible contexts in which to reevaluate my scores of experiences over my lifetime; so difficult, at times, to know what to believe about my own mind.
But I’ve tried: I meditated. I was hypnotized. I prayed. I did ritual. I talked with others. I attended shamanic conferences and events. I refused to read books on the subject in order to keep my perceptions pure and untainted. Then one day I decided to read books to compare my experiences with others’. And I ignored the stuff, testing the theory that it was all in my head, and I could make it go away if I gave it less energy. I tried to live a normal life.
But animals and even plants kept communicating. I saw things. I participated in healings. I tested theories, and other people played out the results.
I kept records of my memories and anomalous events. I studied and collated those events; then I went for years without looking at them, to frame them against the “normal world.” I exercised my rational mind to assure myself that I had looked at these experiences from every vantage point possible. And I worked to plant myself humbly within the mundane world for “grounding” and waited patiently for the big picture to come into view.
Ultimately, I accepted that I’d been invited by multi-dimensional beings to expand my consciousness and see more than the limited dimensions of this mundane world.
Eventually I traveled distances to talk to others who’d experienced events similar to mine.
I became a certified Transpersonal Hypnotherapist™.
I prayed for a teacher to lead me, and none came. Or maybe many came.
For awhile I partnered with a Native American man who’d been invited by his grandfather, a Tewa medicine man, to learn the practices of a shaman. He had accepted the training, then chose the option to not go forward and left the training. It was a comfort to have affirmed the truism that the shaman’s is not an easy path, is indeed hazardous, and must be undertaken with clear sight, and is not for everyone.
It’s okay to say, This is not for me – so it’s said, but it seems that the spirits sometimes insist.
I wondered why I had found myself invited in the first place.
Was I like the man in the medieval woodcut peeking under the veil to see the many layers of reality? Or was I failing my destiny for having not taken up the challenge with my total heart and soul?
Or was it more mundane than that? Had I simply been taken as a child by government mind-controllers (evil demons or their human minions?) whose programming had exposed me to multi-dimensional reality, of which I was not developed spiritually enough to comprehend, so it was right for me to pull back from experiences I couldn’t yet negotiate safely?
I spent years in the mental tug of war, pulled between spiritual desire and utter terror of those who seemed able to enter my home at any time and leave me sick with mysterious wounds – or I found a tenuous balance between those ideas, which I tried to maintain, but never for long.
I certainly couldn’t focus too seriously on making a living, developing a new career, impressing clients that I really cared about their events I was hired to plan. There were days when I laid in bed and wondered what options did I have to protect myself beside suicide.
I knew others who hosted weekly or monthly groups for “experiencers,” and I tried the same, showing movies and hosting discussions that I hoped would help me find others with whom I could share more honestly the full range of my experiences, but too often my groups attracted people whom I didn’t fully trust. I spent thousands of dollars I couldn’t afford and gave myself the reputation in this new community as – I can only guess – another weird person with weird ideas.
I continued to experience strange intrusions in my life. More than once I woke up to discover perfect (surgically-created?) half-spherical “scoops” removed from my right finger, left scapula, and when I posted about that, a line of scoops across my anus. Another time, I suffered for more than a day with extreme fear and nausea after waking on a urine-soaked mattress with a Taser-burn on my right forearm. Once I drove into a strange fog on a remote section of highway, experienced a flood of strange sensations as my perceptions of time, space, sound, and visuals failed to correspond with each other, ending with the sight of the Continental Divide sign (at the top of the mountain ridge, of course) approaching me from below. And that is just one of three weird highway events.
Today, I do not have a conceptual framework I’m willing to share, except vaguely. I believe the larger framework, the larger Realty, is simply beyond what we humans have language for, or at least beyond what English-speaking Americans have language for. Like all wise ones have said. We see through a glass darkly. The Tao that can be spoken is not the Tao. Reality is far bigger and more complex than our words.
Since childhood, many of us have been told that spiritual realities are not real, and most of us have been forced into compulsory eduction, in which we’re forced to spend our days focused on the material world, and forced to see it the way our teachers tell us it is. Eventually, we forget how to perceive other realities, all the other dimensions and wavelengths of energy beyond the narrow bands of human-perceived light and human-perceived sound. And there’s so much more. And then we interpret those narrow bands of vibrational information according to the rules that the teachers relay to us, and only decades later we learn that those rules are in no way certain, but our minds have been trained to work within their limits.
I admit: so much of this game feels “evil” in every sense of the word: So much of it is contrary to Life. The rules of economics, for one example, murder countless people, decimate nations, and destroy the health of the very planet we depend on for all life.
Still, it seems wrong to call all this death “evil,” and it’s my garden that gives me pause in using that word. Underneath the most lovely rose – and everything else alive in the garden – is a mix of life and death at its darkest complexity.
I’m no longer sure the terms “Evil” and “Good” hold significant meaning. While Christians and other faiths find great importance in these concepts, I have begun to doubt them.
In my garden, for example, death is an essential component of life. At the roots of the rose are an infinite number of dead things. All the plants grow because they are fed with dead, dying, and rotting things. The volvox, reputedly the first sexually-reproducing life form on Earth, requires – and probably introduced the requirement for – death eventually of all sexually-reproducing life.
Children commonly misinterpret the well-intentioned actions of their parents as “mean” and only decades later understand the need for those actions.
Children and adults seem to need to hurt themselves in order to learn about the consequences of our actions. Simple things like learning to be conscious and pick up our feet are only learned by tripping and falling down.
Shamans and healers commonly recount terrifying ordeals in alternate realities that they must experience in order to learn their skills.
Many adults credit very tough life experiences for their maturity and even their greatest qualities.
Social movements gain momentum by sacrifices, sometimes human ones.
Et cetera. So I conclude that just because I have physical scars and mental ones does not mean that I have been treated cruelly by evil beings. It may simply be Life. Or even my Creator. I don’t know.
But I do know this: I have become less afraid and less resentful. And less certain that our Creator or “God” or “the gods” are necessarily “kind” or “evil” according to our way of judging.
I perceive a lot of truth in all the religions of the world, and most philosophies. I also perceive a lot of lies and manipulation in religion and politics, education/academia, media/entertainment/news, society, etc. But I feel less judgement toward it, less concerned with condemning it, more ready to compare our society to that of ants: just getting their job done, maybe enslaving smaller ants if they themselves are large.
Even my sweet cat, Peaches, is a killer and tormentor of helpless lizards, birds, and mice.
Finally, the condemnation directed so commonly toward aliens, or human mind controllers, or alien mind-controllers, for the ways they treat their human subjects is no different from the ways we humans treat the other living beings around us. I can imagine my indignation if I was treated the way I treat my cat – which I think is excellent: fed high-end “pet” food, with little variety (a lot for a cat, I think, but far less than I give myself), perhaps missing vital nutrients (how can I know for sure?), confinement, and more. And the way other humans treat animals in their homes, labs, and ranches – the aliens probably compare quite well to many human scientists. And so I feel silly getting too upset about the things that I have experienced.
(And I wonder if we humans might be treated better if we treated our animals better? As above, so below? As below, so above?)
I conclude that I have really suffered little. I’ve been afraid mostly, and most of my fear was around strange perceptions and the loneliness of having so little social support. And memories of events that might still terrorize me but are long past.
Ultimately, those discomforts have done something good for me. Simply, I now know (by experience, not by theory) that we live in a multi-dimensional universe, and I am a multi-dimensional being with an existence far beyond this one. I know that I have assistance on other realms. And more, but this is enough to share now.
In short: Don’t get stuck in fear. Don’t get stuck in black and white. Be true to yourself. Look inside. And look beyond this world. Don’t get stuck in the limiting mindset of this culture. Dream. Connect to your soul family. Be your best self. Have faith.
Please share if you find this information important!
Background: This continues to be a wonderful year, probably the most wonderful of my life. Greg and I have eaten the most delicious, nutritious food of either of our lives, home-made together with joy. We have gardened, enjoyed the night sky, sung and performed successfully, and recently harvested cherries off a small tree in the yard and the first tomatoes of the season – a wonderful, simple life. I’ve often said – referring to a theory that the Earth is moving into an energy field that will separate people into various futures “by vibration” – that he and I have entered “the heaven stream.” Sure, I would love it if my neck and back hadn’t been “out of whack” off and on since mid-April, but I’m hoping my physical therapy will take care of that. So that’s the very positive context for this very weird event and – to me – shocking message I was given.
(I also want to remind readers that the multi-dimensional world is very well confirmed by science; and the vast populations of other-dimensional beings is well documented by ancient texts, religion, “mythology,” and folklore of every culture. It is only our modern American culture which makes perceiving these realities difficult. I know I’d have my inner and outer worlds better integrated if I lived in a less “civilized” tribe.)
In a way, this message shouldn’t be shocking to me, as I’ve entertained versions of this for years, and others have told similar stories. Still, I’m blown away to have heard it so clearly and powerfully, written it down, and recently felt called to post it. So, it is with a degree of discomfort that I follow through, trusting that it’s either true and useful to my readers, or will be useful to help us all understand eventually the nature of lies being fed to us by someone. You decide what this is:
June 22, 2012: Bad sleep the previous night, appearance of an odd bruise (photographed – and another photographed a few days earlier), and note in my journal, “Seems like stuff is happening” – my jargon for apparently other-dimensional intrusions in my life.
That evening, I was extremely tired, so I told Greg when we began to practice some of our music that as soon as the urge hit, I was going straight to bed. He promised to help by being as quiet as he could. When I retired to sleep at 8:30, he went outside to play his guitar and sing quietly in the dusk, fading light, and dark – til 10 pm.
Unable to sleep
I found myself adjusting and readjusting the covers, my pillow, and my body’s position for a minute or two, wondering why I was now so filled with energy. (Strange, but not uncommon when “things” happen.)
THE VISION: Event 1 – A Shadow
Suddenly I realized that I wasn’t feeling centered on my pillow – because my energy body seemed not to be centered in my physical body – it seemed offset to the left by about four inches!
As I tried to psychically pull myself together, I realized that the energy on my side was shadowy. Later, I’d wonder if the shadowy thing had been an intruder entering or a wounded part of me ready to leave, but at the time, I only perceived that it didn’t have much will to stay, so I wordlessly, psychically lifted it off, quite easily, gathered it up, and handed it off to angelic helpers. This seemed to take less than one minute, perhaps only seconds.
Event 2 – A Small, Robotic-like Being
Returning my perceptions to my body, intending to focus on relaxation, I next perceived an energetic little robot-like being the size of a pencil eraser, like a tin can in appearance with wiry arms and legs, bouncing around inside me chaotically.
Surprised, but able to turn to “shamanic” training to keep my cool, I swept him up rather easily and handed him off too. What did he represent?? I hadn’t the faintest idea. This, too, lasted less than one minute, perhaps only seconds.
Event 3 – A LIttle, Orange, Alien-headed Stick Figure
Hoping that my energy would then be clear and I could go to sleep, I suddenly “saw” inside my head another tiny being perched in the center, midway between my ears, leaning over an orange bar that spanned the space between my inner ears!
My description of his appearance should not be taken literally, as a human brain acculturated to the “normalcies” of this Earth, cannot easily or clearly perceive things in other realms without “translating” them into more familiar terms matching this reality. This is why Native American prophets could only describe huge, silver flying “birds” (we now know as planes) and “giant spiderwebs” crossing the continent (phone and electrical wires).
Beyond the perceptual and linguist problem of translating visions of technology across hundreds of years, the problem of perceiving and describing experiences translated across different dimensions, of course, results in even greater distortions.
So please take my description with a few generous shakes of salt; I sense that my brain was overwhelmed, simply not hardwired to translate this sort of thing to contemporary American concepts, and needed to simplify – or else the being/s I spoke with created a very simple (and to my rational mind an embarrassingly simple) visual image to hold my attention.
In any case, I “saw” a tiny, half-inch high, stereotypically large-eyed, pointy-chinned “alien”-headed being with a stick-figure, primary orange in color – inside my head. My attention was fixed for what seemed like a couple of minutes, but was apparently engaged for much longer.
My rational mind immediately took stock: This was not my imagination. I’d been wide awake and still felt very much awake. My body and bed still felt very much there and related to each other tangibly. And everything was far too clear and events were moving way too fast and in directions I could never have anticipated or imagined. It did not feel like a dream, so I concluded I was having another extra-dimensional experience, which I sometimes called shamanic.
I was very surprised, even dismayed, by the cliche image, but it felt very compelling, not fearsome, so I let go this socially-driven assessment (of cliches and embarrassment) and turned my attention to it. (This rationally checking in took about two seconds, I’d guess.)
(Total perceived time since I lay down [I made notes about the experience, including my perceptions of time, immediately after the full experience]: about 4 minutes.)
The being looked directly at me and began communicating intently, at least partly in words (or else my brain translated his thoughts placed directly in my head).
At major junctures, he seemed to refer briefly to ideas I’d already entertained and then built on them.
The gist of his message was this: Those ideas you’ve been entertaining are right: Humans are a flawed design, but don’t feel bad about it, because so is everything.
Everything evolves and gets better. Nearly everything on your plane of life “goes extinct” in its various forms eventually.
It’s not a tragedy because everything also continues to live. It’s all how you look at it.
The genetics still exists. For instance, we can recreate the mammoth if we want. And some humans will survive, just not all of you as individuals.
The ending of an era is not a cause for grief. It’s just a fact of evolution. We’ll keep the best of you and recycle the rest.
There are a few reasons for this. One, the Earth needs to heal from the damage you’ve caused, just like a garden needs to have its spent plants turned under to replenish the soil. It’s not so much a time for grief, but for rest and renewal.
But it’s a little more urgent than that. The second reason for the transition is that your race is endangering not just life on Earth, but the stability of many adjacent dimensions with many other beings in them. We’ve done damage control around your war-making since the 1940s, but for the most part your race continues to get more destructive and dangerous. So, it’s a matter of self-protection on our part.
Third, genetic selection is our work.
Your race, as a whole, is clearly too violent and greedy, driven by excessive emotions. We’ve sent prophets to try to teach you to control your flaws, and we’ve even made genetic changes over the eons, but the emotional factors keep re-emerging and do a lot of damage.
The result of this violence of one human against another is that the majority of individuals are starving, poisoned, or psychologically damaged and are not healthy.
Many of you think the destruction can and should be prevented by “god” or “aliens,” but cycles of destruction and new creation are a fact of life on Earth. They have been described and foretold in every culture and time, so it should be understood. It only comes as a surprise to some because your culture relegated these stories to barely-tolerated “mythologies” which few have taken seriously.
No one will “burn in hell.” All will be recycled, just as all life on Earth has always been.
Some souls will return to the Creator-Mother-Father-Source to emerge in new forms, while others with enough soul integrity will evolve as some manifestation of their current selves – according to the integrity of their souls. This is not quite a Judgement Day as depicted by many religions, but simply a sorting out of what things are – the wheat separated from the tares, to use Christian imagery.
Some of your genetics will evolve. Those whose genetics have allowed them to live without excess greed or violence may continue to evolve in human-like bodies, some adapted to realms beyond Earth.
In addition, many of you have already been having your genetic material harvested (in activities you’ve called “abductions”) throughout your lives, which means that you have been chosen as genetic forebears of entire new races – though most of you have been unaware of it.
While we admire and have selected you for your genetics, many of you have objected to being treated like “breeding stock,” as if that’s a lowly thing, to be compared to cattle. This betrays your arrogance that has been part of the human problem. “All is God,” as many have said, including cattle, and you. It has been unfortunate that most of your leaders and teachers haven’t respected the whole of Creation and so you’ve looked down on and mistreated cattle.
Some of you also haven’t liked being kept amnesic when we took you to harvest sperm and eggs, but ours was a large operation, and many of those who have written critically about their treatment have not understood that when we did try to explain our program to a few humans, they were often very upset by the information, as it didn’t fit into their existing reality. Occasionally, when some human seemed able to handle the information, we dropped the amnesia bit by bit and shared as much as the person could handle. Often, it wasn’t much. And then when the information was accepted, if the person tried to share it, he or she was usually socially ostracized and suffered for that. So it never seemed worth indulging human curiosity. We’re sorry you took offense.
So while some of your progeny will survive as humans, a vaster number will be hybrid human-aliens, as you say, though this word alien is a major misconception.
The human has been a hybrid alien for a very long time. And we are all hybrids, from almost the beginning of time. So this hybrid program is not an affront to your sovereignty, as some would say. This is simply a continuing process of evolution. Life continues on as it always has. And all life is “sacred”: the worm, the cattle, the human, we overseers (your creators in a sense), and your hybrid progeny.
Apocalypse, you know, means revealing or unveiling – which is coming soon for everyone. Apocalypse does not mean catastrophe, but catastrophe will cause the apocalypse or time of seeing. People will require the “catastrophe” to wake to the larger reality of their existence. Chaos has always evolved those with more potential. This is because people can’t see or act when they are too comfortable or uncomfortable.
On your planet, the greed-inducing and fear-inducing rulers kept their populations in one of these states at all times, through economic pressures and rewards, but also by using other tools of control: entertainment, laws, prisons, education, chemicals, etc. For instance, most of the population, stressed economically into a state of bad health, is unable to respond when they sense a larger reality, and they generally chose to hypnotize themselves into quiet passivity. Others chose not to respond, distracted by the luxury of so many entertainments. Occasionally, when the balance of control mechanisms shifts enough to allow a population to rebel, rulers respond with prison and various tortures which drive the people back into silence.
Obviously, it’s not a pretty picture. It’s been directed by beings – not humans, but using human rulers as functionaries – who use human tendency to violence and are corrupting the potential of the human race, and thereby endangering dimensions beyond this Earth plane. It’s time for us to intervene.
For this reason, as we have explained to your “experiencers” or “abductees” many times, we have every right to protect ourselves and to remove our selected genetic stock and other planetary resources from the Earth before the catalyzing event. And it’s “for your own good,” though we know many will indignantly reject this. The alternative of protecting or rescuing the current regime, given that so few humans are given the opportunity to live meaningful lives and the whole planet and other dimensions are threatened, is simply not feasible. It’s time to clear the slate – the time of “harvest,” as Yeshua called it.
This message, not word-for-word, but delivered concept-by-concept, seemed to last just a few minutes at most.
Then I saw between my inner ears the orange bar the alien stood behind had four tabs rising up along its uppermost surface, evenly spaced across it. They were not fixed, as the tiny being pressed one tab forward, then another and another, till all four lay horizontally, top edges aimed toward my view.
When the fourth tab lay down, the ringing in my ears, which I’ve endured almost non-stop since November 2010, rose quickly to a volume just below my threshold of tolerance. With no small amount of anxiety, I immediately sought to stop it, first by “interior” action. But before I could act, I saw a spot in the tissue of my brain seeming to melt into a small crater.
My reaction to this is interesting to me now. On a rational level, I was shocked: a hole in the brain is not considered a good thing. On the other hand, I also know that the brain can heal, and when an old psychic wound dissolves, it can be healing, releasing lifelong phobias, hatreds, or other dysfunctionalities. I’ve also experienced my own “splits” heal as I’ve aged and then read theories that this comes (counter-intuitively) with natural aging deterioration. I also have a friend whose cruel father became gentle and sweet after a stoke. So part of me withheld judgement and simply watched in interest – after all, I was experiencing this entire vision non-judgmentally as, maybe, simply a metaphor, maybe a lie, best to take calmly, not fearfully. Finally, I’ve also known that my mind has been the receptacle for my programming, and thought that perhaps that melting away might be of some of that. And I’ve been having my “mind blown” for years, often resulting in broader visions of reality.
Besides, I couldn’t think rationally about anything because the ringing in my ears demanded attention. I began to pray and quickly felt myself “outgunned.” Other actions crossed my mind in an instant: energy work, shamanic ritual, sitting up to meditate and pray. But only one idea seemed hopeful in that moment: a hypnotherapy recording I had for relaxation and sleep.
I had just that week attempted to synchronize the recordings (mostly music) on my computer with my iPhone, and I hoped that a specific recording for sleep was on my phone. In the past year, I’d used an iPod – now not functioning – many nights for getting to sleep, plugging it into small speakers that reached to both ends of my pillow, so that part of the set-up was still in place; I just didn’t know if this piece of sleep help had made it to the iPhone. I retrieved it, turned it on, discovered my desired recording was not there, but there were four other hypnotherapy recordings to choose from. Three were for waking states which I didn’t want. Only one was a relaxation recording – but it was part of a Monroe Institute sales presentation I’d never listened to fully, afraid that it might contain mind control programming!
Having avoided recordings like these for years, despite intense interest in all they promised, I was now faced with a dilemma: to trust or not to trust. The ringing in my ears continued at such a pitch that I was very close to panic. Was I being driven to chose this recording in order to program me? Or would this calm me? I hardly felt I had a choice. I plugged it in (as I heard Greg enter and begin rummaging in the kitchen) and lay back on my pillow, melting into a submissive desire for anything to give me relief from the high-pitch noise.
I thought I’d skip past the sales part as soon as I’d gotten comfortable, but as soon as I’d done that, I found the recording so relaxing that I didn’t want to lift my head and search for the transition point in the recording. Besides, the sales talk was done respectfully and seemed interesting. I lay there, thinking it mildly humorous that I was listening to a sales pitch at a time like this, smelling popcorn wafting in from the next room, especially when, for at least a decade, I’ve avoided, for fear of subliminal programming from exactly such recordings as this. I was fully aware, that I might now be being healed, comforted, and relaxed for sleep, or programmed – but felt unable to chose otherwise.
As much as I wanted to be a strong warrior, it seemed impossible not to submit. Ralph Blum, in his Book of Runes, described “timely retreat” and submission as a skill of the spiritual warrior, and I accepted that this must be a time for it now. I also knew that while Geronimo chose to fight to the death, and Cochise chose to surrender, both leaders had been outgunned. Cochise had just accepted it sooner. I felt like Cochise, sad, but accepting.
My body relaxed and I noticed the sales pitch had come to an end. I had no idea when the high pitch had ended. Interesting, soothing sounds from the recording rolled into and out of my awareness in waves, until I lost consciousness or slept – it seemed, within twenty seconds (the recording, though, actually played for about ten minutes). I was out for the night.
The next morning I woke up refreshed and feeling wonderful.
I told Greg all I could remember before writing it down, and he listened, unruffled. Occasionally I tested him, asking his opinion of various aspects, hoping he didn’t think I was crazy. He assured me that, even though he doesn’t perceive these things, he fully believes in this sort of cosmic complexity and trusts my perceptions and my intellectual self-questioning and conclusions.
Then he mentioned having been outside, playing his guitar and singing, for an hour and a halfbefore he came inside to make popcorn. My perception, though, was that all that had transpired until his entrance had seemed like ten minutes.
Thoughts about my failures to respect my own shamanic perceptions
I also returned to a major concern I’ve had about myself for a few years – making me wonder and worry how many times I might be re-taught certain “shamanic” lessons, the first ones (“kindergarten” I call it) being awareness, discernment, and protection. I’ve had the awareness for a long time but have worried (stupidly) that if I don’t have social credibility, then my efforts to write will be for naught. I explained more about kindergarten to Greg:
“It’s dangerous to be unaware, especially if one has a propensity for slipping over the edge into other dimensions – and I do that, or get dragged there.
“The second lesson is that some beings are allies, and some must be protected against, and we have to know the difference – that is discernment.
“The third component is protection from the problem beings.
“After that, one can focus on communication with the allies, but I am not sure I’ve even begun there. If I have, then I guess I’m amnesic for it – but that’s could just be hopeful thinking – unless my allies are keeping me amnesic for a positive purpose, which I think sometimes I understand, but again, this might just be hopeful.
“Mostly I think I’ve been a bad shamanic initiate. Again, I’ve excused myself with the idea that being a writer and communicator means I have to make sure that no one thinks that I’m crazy, or my communicating will be all for naught. So I’ve denied my own impulses many times, for the benefit of credibility, thinking it’ll all be worthwhile one day when I’m able to communicate across the gulfs of differing paradigms – which causes me to take these risks of forgetting my own spiritual perceptions sometimes.
“I feel as though I have always known I was taking this calculated spiritual risk, forgetting or ignoring my larger reality in the hopes I’d remember later and be better able to communicate about about it then to people who would believe me. But maybe this has just been an excuse I told myself to feel better about neglecting the perceptions that set me apart. And all the while I’ve been writing about not being in denial! And the result is that I’ve risked my soul lessons in protection and discernment. And now I don’t know the meaning of my ringing ears, implants, and night-time events of amnesia. Did all this happen because I didn’t learn my lessons to protect myself, or would it have happened anyway?
“The bottom line is that I’ve been a reluctant “shamanic initiate” and now – I assume because of this – I don’t know what the hell’s going on.
“When the volume was turned up in my ears, I couldn’t pray it away and just ran for a recording with who-knows-what on it!”
Experiencers often talk about “alien” technology used to induce cooperation. Perhaps no “warrior” response is possible under those conditions, except to submit. Enough of my spiritual regrets.
Assessment of the Message
First, I suspect: Was the message I received lies? Told by predators to prey? (Philosophically, I have to ask all questions.)
Or is a true description of Life and evolution? It feels true, and I’ve thought it before. Sometimes living beings really do have no choice but to submit and/or die. And every hero throughout time has been described in events when they were captured or put under a spell, immobilized until rescued, and eventually they did leave this Earth plane.
So I don’t feel too bad about submitting to the event and even believing the message.
My next day was extremely productive. My pain since mid-April, and especially the last few days, was mostly abated. And I accomplished everything I had hoped to accomplish – and more.
Many times I’ve wondered about Machaelle Small-Wright’s account (in Dancing in the Shadow of the Moon) of going back and forth, daily, to other realms, requiring lots of “body work” to handle the physical/spiritual shifts, including work to align her body, which resulted in neck and back pain. Could that be why my back and neck hurt so badly and explain the origin of my spine problem (otherwise unknown)?
I also have to repeat how grieved I am that I keep this major aspect of my life a secret and pretend socially that it’s insignificant. This pretense has a personal effect, and I fail to take the time to communicate with my Relations in the other dimensions with any discipline, almost as if saying: My Help knows where I am if they want to talk to me. Way too casual and dismissive. If I were one of my Relations, I’d be disappointed in me.
Maybe I’m somewhat afraid still, because my meditation attempts have for years been intruded upon by beings who don’t look like angels, but instead like aliens whom I want very much to avoid. I guess that’s my excuse: Having been invited into these trans-dimensional realities, I’ve been turned off by the beings I found there (was I only turned off because of entertainment disinformation?), and so I’ve remained just a little too ignorant to know how to assess this experience – at least with much confidence. I do have a personal opinion, but am not willing to say for certain what it means.
Overall, this last year has been wonderful – the best year I could have designed for myself on Earth. Nevertheless, I feel very ready to leave this planet. I accept that the Earth is threatened by the human condition, and other-dimensional beings are threatened by it too. And the some of those others are like gardeners, ready to plow things under, as is appropriate at the end of the season.
The amazing things that we’ve created will continue in another dimension or place: our music and art. And the technology was never really “ours,” but was given to us, so of course it will continue elsewhere too.
I don’t know if human futures will include going only into other dimensions, or if some possibilities might include continuing on a peaceful Earth. I’ve imagined this latter, hoping for it and preparing myself and others for it, but maybe it won’t be. I have no way of saying for certain, of course. I just keep having this feeling (not always, but sometimes) of going away soon – and feeling fine about it. It reminds me of the flashback I had in 1999 of leaving the Pleiades: there was a touch of melancholy, but mostly a positive anticipation of new things to come. For most of my life I’ve imagined and wished for a different society in which sharing is the norm, and creation of good for all is the primary activity, and fear is only a moment’s reaction, disappearing as all focus on a creative resolution. “There are more things in heaven and earth…than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” I do believe this.
Now it’s time for us to look and see – the meaning of apocalypse.
Here we go….
Please share if you find this information important!
Ah, meditation today began with the vision of a blue and white energetic stream, the color of crystalline mountain water and bands of white clouds, flowing upward from my heart like a twisting waft of smoke, curling next downward, and looping like a playful thing – such a surprise after my intense effort yesterday to repair my aura.
Last night, I wrote “my story” in super-short form, telling who I believe I am, based on experiences I’ve had which did not at all fit my construct of reality, but which I could never, over the course of decades, convince myself were not real.
So I think it’s time to publicly admit my beliefs, regardless that they embarrass me somewhat – embarrass me because I’ve sneered at others who’ve written or spoken things like these. But I must tell this story, as information for others trying to assess the nature of reality and as a step in my process of becoming a more-coherent human being.
I’ve had at least six lives on Earth that I can recall and a long life, or series of lives, somewhere in the Pleiades, which when I left was the only life I knew or at least had been familiar with for a long time. It quieted me to see the star cluster withdraw and know it would be another “long time” (if ever) before I would see the place again. (And now, my heart feels as though it is absolutely not in my chest when I remember this.)
On Earth I remember lives only as women: a sensuous tree-dwelling pygmy, a frightened three-year-old in some feudal state, a European country girl in love, a gypsy with a friend in traditional bangles and scarves, a recently deceased Anglo pioneer hovering on the Earth plane near her Native husband as he was drug to his death behind a wagon so that our daughter would not be raised by him or his tribe, a member of Cochise’s tribe when we lost our land and freedom, and a Native American college student arriving home to spend time with her loving family.
I am also connected to beings in a nearby dimension who feel like family – far more than my parents or siblings do. A few of these beings seem like people I’ve read about or heard of in our history, and I’ve had a very strange aversion to reading certain books, as though I already know the history and reading this version might upset me. Some of the figures I’ve met in other dimensions I realize later seem like mythological characters often depicted as cartoons in our culture or in some other limiting way, so I hesitate to identify them as such.
There are also beings on the other realms whom I work to avoid, though it most often feels that my life’s current destiny is to be engaged with them for some reason I assume is either good for me or good for all. Those other unpleasant entities seem the result of my having been a mind control subject as a child. (Documentation is elsewhere.)
I was born into a family on the edge (I assume) of the Elites: Eisenhower means iron hewer, a metal worker. These people were masters of a craft kept secret in a guild society controlled by royalty. Members of this lineage are tested for loyalty, given many advantages, and groomed for service in secret societies still. I was seduced to the door, walked in, was initiated, then changed my mind a month later and bailed. Mysteriously, my memory of the initiation ceremony has disappeared except for a one-second peek. Then I ran away from home (at age nineteen), broke some of my programming (how much I don’t know), and have been struggling ever after to fully free my mind. Sometimes I seem to do very well in life, often when I’m engaged in mainstream business. Most often, I struggle.
Ever since my nervous breakdown (essential for healing, and in my case probably part of my programming break-down) in 1993, I’ve been increasingly aware of things going on behind the mediated scenes. I’ve twice consciously experienced my own body’s in-the-moment manipulation for a few minutes while my consciousness screamed No.
I also sometimes experience healing events and other Carlos Castaneda-type events which I can’t yet judge as good or bad. Sometimes I feel as though I just returned from somewhere else, sometimes I feel like I’m encased in a healing vibrational cocoon, and sometimes I feel hit by an energetic something with which I struggle mightily. Sometimes, mysterious things leave bruises or scars on me, which I sometimes photograph and post.
Did I choose this life? (It used to piss me off royally when people told me that we all chose our lives or, worse, that I have created this through my own thinking it, and I could make it disappear if I would quit.) We could say it was just the luck of the draw – someone had to be born into the heart of darkness – and maybe that was it. Perhaps it’s karma; I hate to think I earned this….
My choice of explanation is that I was strong enough to do this, and someone had to go in, like a cosmic spy, and relay back to the rest of my warrior tribe reports on the psyches of the Elites who have created our war-making, children-torturing, money-driven System, so that it could be disabled. My birth into the darkest heart gave my tribe an inside view to help it more fully understand the System and help devise a plan to transform it.
While I’ve gone through my spasms of pain and paranoia, fear, grief, terror, despair and suicidal urges, my tribe on the other dimensions has been regularly healing me, energizing me, blocking my awareness when I was too young to understand, and basically helping me get through, while also using what they learned to help turn the tide or execute some other plan for Earth.
And if that’s not the case, and if this is all just a story (an amazingly grandiose story, it might be called), then at least it offers me hope for my soul and hope for our transformation.
Both the light and the dark have been very active in my life – and up to fairly recently. Every day I hope to never confront the dark ones again, but it’s clear that the polarity on Earth is still active, and someone has to be in the interface – the space between the white and black paisleys of the yin-yang symbol. And even though I often feel that the energy pouring down on me is so positive and strong that I think we’ve already turned the corner and entered Heaven, I assume nothing. Activists are those on the interface; I’m an activist, so here I am.
I’m here to testify that we Earth humans are not alone, either in the cosmos or here on Earth. There are many, many technologies employed by the Elites to keep us passive and, yes, mind controlled. A few people see it; far fewer, I fear, act in ways that will serve their survival when mind control is increased.
I struggle regularly with this apparent destiny, which seems to be to live in awareness of the darkness and to shine light on it. Few live through the experience of it and maintain the ability to speak. How am able? I assume it’s my help on the other dimensions, as I’m not that personally strong. (Ask anyone who knows me.)
Also, I think they don’t crush me because I do such a lousy job. I sabotage my work frequently.
Sometimes I wonder if the existence of this soul-enslaving system is a figment of my imagination, but I believe this enslavement has been the number-one fact of human history, from ancient Sumer until this day, and it’s time we woke up to the fact that our luxury comes at the enslavement of others, many others. Some, like Ayn Rand, will justify that; others might want to decide, but we can’t if we don’t acknowledge it.
And now our destiny hangs in the balance while the prophesies talk about the end of an age. I’m putting my stock there, in change, in which I believe we must participate consciously. Toward that end, I remind myself of these things:
* Change has always happened, and big change is prophesied.
* Powerful systems are often brought down from within.
* Earth’s powerful system today depends on the cooperation of minions who have little loyalty to it.
* The minions know that at some point they’ll be expendable, and at some point they can change the game.
* It is in their ultimate best interest to help change it.
Besides changing things on Earth, I also have hope in other realms as an escape. Perhaps some of us will disappear like the Anasazi. Or the others will disappear as in the Hopi prediction (told to their children, so I’ve heard) that “one day, the bad people will all just be gone” – opposite the Christian story, in which the righteous will be the ones “raptured.” This apparent contradiction might be reconciled by another prediction with which I’ve resonated, that there’ll be a dimensional/vibrational rift, in which the Earth will move into two or more different future time-lines, where leaving and staying have no meaning.
Every year, the river of my life brings me amazing experiences of bliss, challenge, and everything in between. As a child, tortured, I was pushed through the veil, where I saw that this realm was not the only one. Today, I am sometimes granted healing and visions, and sometimes I dance with the devil. I’ve written a lot about the latter, so it’s only proper now that I tell more of my story.
One of my demons has been the fact that my mind has been fractured by trauma-based mind control. There are actually, sometimes, advantages to being multiple (psychological survival, for one, and a “diversified portfolio” of skills), and I hope to learn more ways to consciously make my condition more useful, but so far it’s often been a disability.
For instance, I go to the store, and an alter (alternate personality) comes out who’s great at making small talk, but she has little to do with the rest of me. Some other part of me might have shared a personal story with someone the day before, who’s now at the store, but the alter yesterday is not out now, and the one who’s shopping doesn’t remember much about this friend when she says hi. I struggle to cycle though a few “files” of personalities before I can retrieve the memory, but often the critical moment is lost and I might never have the chance to explain my struggle to the friend – very disappointing and often almost convinces me that I should remain a hermit.
But my destiny doesn’t seem to be in hermitage, and my extra-dimensional help keeps coming to my rescue – sometimes not soon enough, I think – but I keep on going anyway.
When my extra-dimensional help does take care of me, it’s beyond anything I could have imagined. It clears me to my very soul and convinces me that I will not die and I don’t want to.
Because I’ve written a lot about the dark events, and people remember those best, I am probably known to a lot of people as the woman who’s all about “that stuff.” When I occasionally write about the Light, I imagine it is difficult for many to reconcile in our culturally encouraged, black-and-white thinking.
So something moved me to summarize my whole complex story and remind folks that things are rarely static black or white: I was born into a very dark situation, my mind became fractured, I’ve healed with extra-dimensional help, and I’m in a sometimes-daily battle to keep steady and nurture my dreams for myself and the whole of us.
I’ve seen the enemy, and it is not only us. It’s partly us, but it’s also way beyond us. It’s our ancestor’s patterns of abuse, which have been hidden from us, and which we’re called to transform. The task is huge, but we’re not alone. Everyone with a concept of Self as a sentient being connected to the powers of Creation needs to be sure to tap into those Other Powers and see what they need to be doing right now. I’m here to testify that this is not a picnic.
If my life and my teetering on the edge of it, suffering sometimes beyond what I thought I could bear, has had any purpose, I think it’s to say this: Our place in history is not meant to be a picnic, an indulgence in whatever we might enjoy. Enjoyment is lovely, and I want more of it also, but we have work to do.
For over a year (am I right?) Bradley Manning suffered in solitary confinement for trying to get you the information you now get over Facebook and in your email; Congress is right now trying to take that freedom from you. Many activists, like Leonard Peltier, Mumia Abu Jamal, and Judi Bari, are in prison for life, or dead, for telling truths that someone desperately needed for them to expose but the Elites wanted to repress. Some like me are waking up with their bodies Taser-burned and no memory of what happened to them, but a dreadful feeling.
This battle is not a civilized one; it is brutal and involves far worse than what I’ve written here today. If you have the liberty to visit your Congress person to talk about American human rights, please do. If you can feed someone who is hungry, please do. If you can give energy to any project that serves your community, please do, and thank you. And if you can offer compassion to someone like me who seems sometimes to be crazy, please do. We’ve all got stories, and I do believe we’re, most of us, trying our best to make sense of a world that is for the most part hidden from nice people like you.
If the Earth does go through any cataclysms, from environmental poisoning to pole shift, I know that we, as souls, will eventually continue on somewhere, learning, evolving, transforming. But I believe the next life will be easier if we do this work now to transform what we can of this situation here on Earth, particularly to work for justice.
Some say the coming Earth changes will trigger our transformation to the next new evolutionary state. I don’t know. But I’m open to the possibility of expanding my soul into something less trapped on this plane. My experiences in the other dimensions have been so much nicer than most of what I experience here.
In any case, I’m inspired by the possibilities – which are infinite. We have help on other realms, but we also need to do the work today.
Please share if you find this information important!