One of the most difficult lessons in acceptance lies in the fact that we encounter situations that may not have been our fault (like a car crash) but which have consequences that require us to do painful, difficult work (like physiotherapy for injuries) in order to get through the experience and ultimately overcome it.
Any lack of acceptance of this fact will leave one stranded and stuck in one’s own life journey, asking why me? and protesting that this isn’t fair. Of course, this attitude doesn’t accomplish anything except to prolong and potentially exacerbate the problem at hand.
The work we are required to do in life never ends; in fact, life has a funny way of finding something for us to do if we have too much stagnant time on our hands. But one can easily find ways to avoid doing the work, especially when it comes to healing one’s own soul from past hurts. This is the most important work we can do for ourselves and the potential for growth, renewal, and reward is exhilarating.
Yet all too often we resist. Because it doesn’t seem fair that we should have to do the work, and perhaps because we fear both how hard it will be, and also how much responsibility for our life we will be claiming as our own. After all, if we believe we can’t heal ourselves, then it’s not our own fault that we’re unhappy, right?
It is terrifying to accept full responsibility for our physical and spiritual lives, and many people are devotedly determined to avoid that responsibility. By claiming responsibility for our own lives, we have the potential to create our own present and future selves in ways that, when we were stuck in our pasts, we could not have imagined. Unfortunately, this thrilling truth is overshadowed by our fear of failure, because if we are solely responsible for our own healing and growth, any sense of failure leaves us with nothing to blame but ourselves.
What if I told you – what if I outright promised you – that you have the power to dream yourself into a new state of being simply through faith and doing the work? What if I told you that by surrendering to your own responsibilities you could actuallyguarantee a better, happier, healthier, more fulfilling and infinitely free life for yourself? And, you can’t fail. You’ll make mistakes and life will still throw things at you that you’ll have to figure out how to handle. But if you are doing the work, you can’t actually fail at all. It’s a win-win situation where what you’re really doing is claiming your soul’s purpose and living for it.
The only thing you have to do is surrender to the fact that you are responsible for your own life’s happiness and achievement. After that, you will be comforted to know that there is little else to surrender yourself to.
I am writing to you as a survivor of abuse of every sort, beginning as early as I can possibly remember. As a result of this, I suffered a multitude of symptoms of various mental disorders – PTSD, social anxiety, eating disorders, depression, self-harm, and extreme dissociation. I experienced constant body memories, a type of somatic pain that could be excruciating, as if the past abuse was happening in the present moment. I came to identify as a multiple, meaning that I knew my soul was fractured into countless pieces due to the trauma I experienced. The wounds and consequences of my past gripped me in an iron fist of pain and fear and a complete lack of personal power or hope.
I thought I was broken and couldn’t be fixed. I could not recall a time when I had ever felt whole and sane and strong. But by taking complete responsibility for working my own healing, by definition I also claimed all the power over it and am now achieving more than I could have ever dreamed possible.
In the last six months especially, I have been freed from almost every debilitating symptom that I used to experience daily. I’ve been doing hard, relentless work, every single day. It’s not an easy road, but it is my road and to give up healing would be to give up my own personal power.
The most instrumental concepts behind my work towards healing can be summed up in two statements: 1) I am not morally responsible for anything that happened during the years of my abuse, due to the young age at which it began and the way I was kept controlled. 2) I am completely responsible (both causally and morally) for my soul’s purpose now.
To me, it is a simple fact that nothing that happened to me throughout my childhood, and even into my adulthood, was my fault. I did not deserve the abuse I suffered. Further, I had no choice and no freedom during that period of my life, being as much a captive as anyone can be. You can’t blame a prisoner of war for things she was forced to do by her captors under threat of death. I did a lot of unpleasant things under force, and those things aren’t my fault either.
Is it fair that these things happened to me, or that the work I have done has been so difficult, even deeply unpleasant? I don’t think in those terms. I might as well ask if it is fair that my heart must continue beating on and on without rest.
The heart beats because it is the work and purpose of the heart’s existence. Likewise, I heal because it is my soul’s purpose to do so, at least in part.
I believe I can achieve a complete transformation of my body, mind and soul — simply because no one else can do it for me. This is my life’s work, and I accept it with grace and gratitude.
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Even though I’ve voiced my occasional discomfort with “shamanism,” it is not (or no longer) with the actual practice and life associated with the term. My discomfort is mostly with the casual way that some people approach and undertake methodologies (all the colorful tools, for instance) without understanding the intelligence and energies.
This blog seems to respect the reality better than most – by Story from Where Spirit Stops:
Life takes energy from us violently and traumatically at times. Why this happens is a human question that no human answer will really satisfy. Suffice it to say that suffering affects us all, and when it does, a piece of our personal energy – a piece of our soul – can be severed off from us. We experience this as a piece of ourselves going missing. Losing pieces of ourselves chips away at our power and truth, as well as keeping us from any real healing until the parts are recovered.
For this reason, I advocate a “search and rescue” approach. This means actively seeking our lost parts and working to heal them. I believe it is nearly impossible to get through life without some kind of soul loss, and that people can suffer from deep, crippling soul loss even if they haven’t experienced what they would define as a traumatic event. Trauma comes in all shapes and sizes, and our reactions to events vary from person to person. Also, since I believe a traumatic event can cause soul loss, it follows that until that soul part is found, healed, and re-integrated into the self, one’s memory of that part’s trauma may also be obscured or lost.
How can you know the extent of your soul loss? Consider how you relate to the following symptoms:
Constant feelings of sorrow, darkness, or fear
A driving need for distraction (addiction issues, materialism, avoiding alone time)
Feelings of having no purpose or reason to live
Lingering, haunting pain from old memories
Feeling that something is very wrong with you
Symptoms of PTSD (anxiety, depression, hyper vigilance, fear, avoidance of life’s activities), even if you don’t remember a past traumatic event
It is likely that the more you relate to these symptoms, the greater your soul loss is.
Shamanic practitioners who practice soul retrieval might offer instant relief from your suffering and require only faith from the sufferer. I believe that healing and other magic require both faith and action. A practitioner ought not to merely tell someone about the soul part(s) they retrieved, but help that person connect with them personally. As I mentioned, my way of healing advocates “search and rescue” first. I believe finding and building a healing relationship with your lost soul parts is more important than trying to integrate them into yourself immediately. Finding a missing part is the first step towards healing, and beyond that, it’s best not to push. You might end up pushing the lost part away without realizing it. Instead, build a relationship with this soul part just as you would with a spirit guide, and strive to be as honest with yourself as possible.
Story is a shamanic practitioner, offering her services. I have done and do the same occasionally. I encourage everyone, though, to never put yourself passively into anyone else’s care, even or especially doctors; you are responsible for your own healing – though getting help is often essential – and learning that self-responsibility is not just the most important thing in our lives, but essential to our soul’s development.
Today, I’m stronger than ever for having accepted the responsibility of healing myself from the shit that others did to me when I was an innocent child. I do believe that even that shit can be the trigger that leads to my soul’s eventual positive evolution. And much of my work is exactly what Story describes. She wrote about it better than I ever have. Thank you, Story.
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My life is exquisitely difficult to talk about. It’s woven with extreme themes – sexual abuse, mind control, aliens, mysticism – and with accomplishments that make me shy, and failures that embarrass me, and critical facts that embarrass other people.
And none of the themes, for simplification, can be hidden or glossed over, because each intertwines and sometimes explains the others.
I can’t begin at the beginning, because it is either boring, or if I tell certain details, it sounds too woo-woo.
Since I almost always get interrupted fairly early with the question, “Why you?”I think I’ll begin there.
It could be any number of things, but is probably all of them together. Plus the fact that I won “the lottery.”
(Remember that classic, creepy short story, “The Lottery”? We read it once in grade school and again in high school, about a community that killed one person every year by stoning, a person drawn by lottery.)
My lottery ticket to this crazy life may have been as simple as my birth date. I was born on a Full Moon, on a Monday (Moon Day), in the middle of Cancer, also known as Moon Child.
And it wasn’t just a Full Moon, somewhere inside that 24-hour window; no, I was born 8 minutes before the Full Moon, 8/(24×60) = 5/1,000ths of a degree of perfection. Moon energy was strong. (Astronomical charts, not astrological, show the coincidence.)
So were the numbers: I was born on July 7, 1952 − 5+2 adding up to 7. Three sevens. Then my mother gave me a name with 7 letters: Jean Ann.
My last name, at birth and now, is Eisenhower. My father was second cousin to Dwight, who was nominated to the Republic ticket for President of the United States later on the day of my birth. The next day, the local paper would give my birth a short column to remark on the coincidence.
Maybe all these coincidences explain my winning/losing lottery ticket. Or maybe mind control was already in the family.
Eisenhower family crest
[I’ll expand on these later: Eisenhowers = Iron hewers (secret society protecting metallurgy secrets for the king). Grandfather Hollywood veterinarian of Rin-Tin-Tin – Mason – money lender. Father Navy CASU 33 – unsolved mystery.
[Petersens – Mormons. Grandmother with her handler. Mother I saw switch alters, in trance. Unexplained terror re Mormons. Flashback of babyhood ritual.]
I seem to have won/lost the lottery and was treated to MK. Then, having developed a bad attitude toward our culture due to MK, I joined the counter-culture and offended my handlers – again and again, beginning with rejecting the invitation of another secret society, calling them “plastic,” accepting their invitation to “try them,” taking the vows, and then de-activating and breaking my vows. I assume my actions resulted in another layer of MK, as they warned us that breaking our vows would have severe consequences (which I didn’t believe, as it was contrary to “American values”).
In my 20s, I became an activist for peace, and later for social justice, and environmental sustainability. Along the way, I insulted the FBI with media releases exposing their most incriminating statements which I sent to 600 major media around the world, nearly every day of the 6-week “Judi Bari v FBI” federal trial – and the FBI was found guilty.
They stared me down in the hallways of the courthouse, damn scary dudes. They might have amped up my treatment then and following the trial, when I lived alone in the desert – things got extremely frightening after the trial, to the point I was ready to give up this life.
Perhaps they amped up my MK again when I published my book. And maybe they amped it up again each time I published a particularly hard-hitting blog or video. There seem to be correlations.
So now that I’ve given you an overview of my story, maybe answered the Why?, and I’ve gotten my paranoia out of the way – or demonstrated and acknowledged it at least – let me tell you my story….
To help me wrap my brain around it all – my fractured, fragmented mind full of experiences is often difficult to remember as a whole – I created a database to record all my anomalous experiences, from sublime to terrifying, everything out of the normal. My list is nearly 700 items long, and the last half of them have occurred in the last 5 years. Things are accelerating.
[to be continued]
Feedback? How’s this to open an update to my story?
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First published at GardenHealingChurch.org. (I keep thinking this is the last post on this site, but here’s one more.)
This petition, http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/synergy, and all the people commenting on it – inspired me to comment too, and I ended up writing a short essay that presents my story briefly, so I’ll share it here with a few photos added:
After doing media work for the historic “Judi Bari vs FBI” federal trial, in which the feds were found guilty of charges related to an assassination attempt on Judi Bari, my lifelong mind control torment has been seriously amped up.
I’ve woken with Taser burns, a burn on the back of my neck – both third-degree with skin burned off – scoop marks, injection bruises, “donut” bruises, lacerations and punctures in my vagina, healed scars including one my doctor thought was a thyroid surgery scar, total exhaustion, and occasionally dealings that seemed to be with aliens (which could be induced hallucinations or real).
After 13 years of freaking out and being suicidal about my mind control, I’m beginning to see that it’s not a simple horror – it’s actually everything and everywhere.And it may not be human.Everything in nature is under control of many things.Mind control begins with DNA and the elements like weather, then language and our calendar, then economics, laws, education, government, etc.And eventually science did to people what it’s done to the Earth – turned everything into a resource.We are human resources; they’ve been honest in calling us that!We’ve heard it and shrugged.Now we’re realizing it’s full implications, and it’s shocking.One more major trauma in the history of humanity.(Think back:much of history is trauma.)
Without hope in the other realms, we on Earth have been reduced to resources, regardless that we’ve been led along with lies about freedom, human rights, etc.If we only have this Earth life in which to hope, then we must toe Their line or be seriously punished.
[Can we tell them (since they’re spying and listening all the time), “Hey, I change my mind.I’ll quit whistle blowing [or whatever] and join you”? if we’re willing to sacrifice our beliefs for relief (as it seems others must be doing)?I don’t know.I’ve gone to that edge and wondered, but haven’t crossed it.]
Mostly, I believe I have Helpers in other realms who rescue or resuscitate me now and then, though I do have to suffer indignities and pain and loss of will to live and sheer energy to live – way more often than I sometimes think I have the spirit to sustain, but then my Helpers bring me back.(Or might it be the controllers, keeping me alive for another day? I don’t know. I think I’ll chose the more palatable option, my Helpers.)
It’s a weird life to live.Good thing I know we have other lifetimes, so I can feel less attached to this one.It helps to step into the role of Witness.We are witnesses of an incredible time in human history – from the deepest darkest inside, which few see and fully understand, but we do.There’s something important in our role, as witnesses regarding human evolution.It’s incredibly lonely because no one wants to hear, but it’s important.And one day, maybe on another realm, we’ll help others understand how this came about, so maybe we can help protect the future.Don’t know.Playing with ideas.Imagining from a higher height….
As far as this world right now, though, I’ve quit believing we can change anything through political action, like this petition – BUT, I know I could be wrong, so I hedge my bets and support causes like this one that encourage us – but I don’t see the possibility in America anymore.On the other hand, I KNOW we get help from Other Realms – rarely when we think it’s due, but enough.
And that’s another silver lining:having lost all hope in this Earth insanity, we are forced to cut our emotional connections to Earth life and look beyond.Atheists, I know, will hate this, but I do appreciate that this pain does send me into other realms where I believe it is important to connect, and I don’t otherwise, as least not as often as would probably be good for me, because Earth happenings and all the entertainment is way too entrancing.It’s almost like our mind control tortures us so badly that we are saved from the mainstream soul-deadening delusions of the masses, slowly boiling like frogs in a pot; whereas, we are the frogs that jumped out of our mesmerized complacency, thanks to the extra-high heat.
[I write and video blog about my life and struggles on Paradigm Salon.net, my other sites, and in my book, RattleSnake Fire, called “not only great literature, but an important historical document.”]
Blessings on us all.Peace, friends.Please don’t give up too easily.Remember this world is bigger and more complicated than we can know; and the bully in our life might be about to get whumped by someone bigger.We don’t know, but we shouldn’t discount it when the stakes are so high – our life.
Also, leaving this life (as many people entertain, including me) may not be an escape, if the other dimensions are extensions of this, as I believe they are.So it behooves us to develop our extra-dimensional minds, as the only way to see a bigger picture and have a chance.
At the moment, we are in trauma at the hands of the most Powerful people on Earth; therefore our only salvation is beyond this Earth, where we can’t go, or beyond this dimension, which we can.I conclude: it’s time to develop our extra-dimensional minds.
I hope this helps someone.Compassion for all.
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I’ve been withholding a lot in the last year or so anyway, feeling there are things I know that I’m just not willing to commit to print, and so I point out details or tell my experiences, and leave readers to connect the pieces. But I’ve been withholding more and more recently.
Besides withholding, I spend so many hours trying to communicate intense, multi-dimensional realities in the language of this 3D world, yet have no idea whether my readers are real and I’m helping them, or if I’m writing for mostly agents – or if my words are published as I actually write them. I’ve seen too many weird things happen on my computer to really want to invest too much more here.
Finally, maybe most important, writing keeps me locked in the past when I could be looking forward and grounding into my present with more attention.
So I’m saying good-bye on this site to spend more time in my garden and art studio, with friends, grounded in my actual world, and better connected to my Helpers.
I’m very tired of this virtual world.
And I recommend my readers also look for what they need inside themselves, in Nature, within their community, and from their Helpers.
I’ll leave this site up for the information it contains, but don’t expect any new blogs here.
No one who doesn’t already understand wants to hear this stuff. They claim their right to not listen because it’s too scary, and their own lives are already filled with more drama than they can handle, or if it’s not, they want to keep it that way, and it’s their right. It’s only natural. It’s survival.
Therefore, this task is futile, and I should find better things to do.
We might think we need others to hear and understand. But after that, there’s really not a lot anyone can do but sympathize. And that gets old and, in a sense, by putting the information in another person’s head, locks us into that picture in another person’s mind. So we communicators get nothing useful, and they get bummed out.
The only enlivening thing, after we’ve learned to develop better skills of perceiving and responding where we’ve been blinded, is to keep on with the cosmic dance of creating as much beauty and goodness as we can in our moment of life here.
I’m on to other things.
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I have to confess I’ve been downplaying part of my story.
I’ve been neglecting to share, or minimizing, the fact that my strange experiences – that often seem related to mind control and sometimes to “alien” weirdness – are sometimes accompanied by events that seem to be spiritual healings.
This is HUGE. And I want to explain – if only to myself – why I’ve minimized this fact.
I’ve been hesitant to claim them publicly because, in the context of mind control, it’s confusing to me and I assume to others, because mind control, as I understand it, is done by humans for dark and dark purposes, whereas healings seem spiritual and positive – and they often seem to be related.
Of course, sometimes I’ve wondered if those with dark purposes are only healing me to keep me alive for more of their dark purposes, but I won’t assume that’s the truth necessarily.
Outside the context of mind control, I’ve worried that the healings might be construed by others as “spiritual bragging,” i.e., I’m so special that spiritual beings granted me this miracle – even when I hadn’t asked!
Uncertain how to overcome these hurdles in my head, I waited, thinking I’d eventually understand, and now years have gone by while I wrestled with this quandary, and I apologize for minimizing this very positive aspect of my story.
Here are some of the experiences:
(more fully described with many more in my book RattleSnake Fire, 2008)
Usually in the evenings, and usually while alone, butnot always, I sometimes get a sudden and powerful sensation of energy that seems to pour into me from my head or neck and flow, over the course of maybe 10-30 seconds, down throughout my body. The sensations feel wonderful, and I’ve described them in various ways – sometimes as healing or clearing, sometimes filling me up and making me feel my cells are enlarging, to such an extent that it seems my vertebrae are spreading apart, lengthening my spine, so that I need to adjust my body to “allow room” for a bigger, taller me!
Sometimes I’ve called the energy “the Hulk routine,” because it’s so powerful. (Remember the Hulk got his power in order to whoop bad guys.) Indeed, the power has often been so great that I could not resist moving with it, bending forward to make room for the energy flow down my back, my arm and leg muscles also moving with the force. When someone else was around, if they already knew about this, I’d often attempt a weak muscle-man pose to indicate “this again” – since I couldn’t speak while this was happening.
Sometimes I’ve been frightened by this, as when a friend suggested it might be “a possession.” And, indeed, I’ve strongly resisted it at times, but it overpowers me.
Other times, these have been so clearly healing. Once, while visiting some friends and feeling weirdly distressed, I went alone into the dining room, sat down, and first felt a procession of teenager selves lift off me and up into another dimension. After looking down and seeing the energetic form of my legs which seemed to be hollow from the knees down, suddenly golden energy poured through me like a golden cascade flowing down into my feet and legs.
I was fascinated because a decade earlier a Rolfer had told me he could see no aura beneath my knees and had begun his work there and continued to work all year to bring energy into them and never told me he succeeded. I theorized that I must have lost that grounding during the trauma of my teen years, and now the trauma seemed dramatically released (odd place and time, but I accepted!) and the space within me filled with Goodness.
These inpourings of energy have been so frequent that I couldn’t begin to count them without going through at least twelve years of journals.
After my most recent, probably third, heart attack last month, I had two such healing events. One happened, incongruously – proving that this comes from an outside source, not my own doing or imagination – while watching a video with a friend. Of course, I was surprised at the timing, but grateful, and didn’t even mention it to my friend. That night, while lying in bed, drifting off to sleep, I was awakened by the healing energies again. They were “the usual”: wonderful, expansive, clearing, and healing. The next day, after 12 days of extreme weakness, I woke feeling very well, and my 12-day long crisis was passed.
The meaning of this? I think I know, but don’t want to say.
You, Readers, formulate your own theories. Don’t get stuck as I have been too long, thinking the horrors are only horrors. There could be something else at work.
I’ll talk about this more later.
Blessings on you and on us all.
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On the way home from a soak in the Gila (Wilderness) Hot Springs on Monday, we pulled off the highway and up to the top of Cienega Ridge, where we enjoyed a 360-degree view of the wilderness. The view, weather, and setting were as perfect as two people could ask for.
We were, as expected, wonderfully relaxed and sat there longer than we’d imagined we might.
The next day, the sometimes to-be-expected de-tox kicked in. I’d been suffering from an out-of-joint sacro-iliac for a few weeks, compounded by a bad chiropractic treatment (bad in more ways than one) which had made me hurt so badly that the next chiropractor didn’t want to do much until he’d seen x-rays – I was in that bad a shape after the first “doctor.” I’d followed through and had gotten the x-rays, which only showed what I’ve known for a few years – and had told the first doctor, which he scoffed at: bone spurs, flattened disks, and more – though no one has compared the two sets of x-rays yet – that no serious damage was done by the first jerk – er, doctor.
Thankfully, the second, good doctor (Dr. Rios, at HMS, for local readers) was cautious and careful, got me back into a stable place once again, and the hot springs brought me back almost to normal – but I still had to de-tox.
Detox is a natural bodily process to release toxins, which we can encourage by taking in certain foods, herbs, and fluids, maybe using clay internally or externally, exercise, and soaking in pure, warm, relaxing water, among other methods.
Generally, it’s thought of as a release of material toxins, but I seem to have also needed to release toxic emotions as well – from my encounter with that violent and egocentric doctor who dismissed my concerns about my spine – and violently, repeatedly crushed me, worse than any chiropractor I’ve ever had – and I’ve had a few since a minor automobile accident over 20 years ago. (More about the doctor in a moment.)
And I believe I did release those emotions. Yesterday, I felt like hell. I had no energy. I felt like crying. And I was angry, appropriately, I believe.
I’d already called the first chiropractor’s office and left him a message, which he ignored. And I’d called the New Mexico Attorney General’s Office, and was waiting for their help with whom to report this misguided man to. While waiting, I decided to also report him to the Sexual Assault Support Services (yes, that was part of the “more ways than one” bad-ness) and the Silver City Police, both of which I did.
The licensing board for NM chiropractors has received my initial call, and so my detox is nearly complete.
So keep doing your work! It might not always be easy. But there are also those days when we soak in the spring, see tiny new frogs making their first forays into life, and sit on the mountaintop, breathing pure air, watching clouds, and hawks and beautiful blue beetles.
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Approach: Imagine my True Self a still vessel watching all the thoughts.
(I’ve always known I was supposed to watch my thoughts, but I’d never thought of the part of me who is the still vessel watching – except once. I did a meditation by Stephen LaBerge that blew my mind in a delightful way: at the end of his 15-minute recorded meditation, he asked, Who is aware? – which surprised me so much, I printed a bunch of little slips of paper with the question on it, and posted them on all the mirrors. But, over the years, some other part of me has continued resisting sitting down to meditate.)
New experience! I see a child rolling around in place at an impossible rate, super-human speed, just round and round and round endlessly like a swarm of gnats. She could not be touched, and I knew she was the part of me that had been tortured and was still running from her fears.
My writer self would, of course, want to observe, feel, think, and carefully document. My part that’s been given instructions on how to meditate says, “Just observe and let it go.” My healer self says, We’ve never seen this before. It is a blessed opportunity. This child is in pain. Let’s step in. This is even the point of this meditation: this awareness.
The little girl could not be touched or calmed at first. Any approach, and she rolled away, always away. We wanted to calm and assure her, but she could not be touched.
A ray of calming energy was shot into her, allowing us to put our hands gently on her upper arms. She could feel us, and she relaxed.
Two other meditation techniques used at the same time: To relax each part of the body, one at a time, and to recognize the part of me that is the witness. While relaxing my face and beginning to relax my throat, that was when I saw the little girl rolling, and it led that quickly to its resolution. Thank Goodness.
Thank All You who read this blog.
Blessings on your meditations. May they be healing to you.
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Saturday afternoon, after a mild and satisfying week, I watched a video about Tom Kenyon – “Song of the New Earth” – then turned off the computer and sat back to try to “tone” for the first time in years.
I’ve had amazing experiences with sound before, most notably when I went to hear Tuvan “throat singers” (shamans from Tuva, Siberia). I was seated directly in front of one of the didgeridoos, it’s base angled slightly away from me, and throughout the performance I experienced energy knots in my aura explode and dissipate away with the shamans’ sounds. Subtly, I turned, twisted, and bent to present different aspects of my energy field to the healing vibrations.
At one point in the video, Tom said something like:
“All can learn to use sound to be healers for ourselves and others.”
This, I knew, but I also knew immediately it was for me to embrace now.
When the video ended, I sat, intending to make sounds that simply felt good to me – a welcome change from “simple” meditation, which sometimes is so difficult, trying to keep a half-dozen minds quiet.
Immediately, a tone emerging from me felt like “it,” and I intuitively worked to “send it around” to different places in my head. On my second toning, I was surprised but pleased, to hear an overtone – the thing that had seemed next to impossible for me, since I’d tried this once many years ago. But now, my dozens of tonings resulted in two or three overtones every time after the first, and sending sounds to different places in my skull and aura around my head and throat and heart.
A few times, I experienced serious pain in my head and around my eyes, but didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing. It lasted a short while, then seemed to “break through” something – an energy block from some old wound, I assumed – and I immediately began exploring new areas, always on the left side of my head. (The right side always felt open to sound; it’s the left side that’s always where “my stuff” is.)
Eventually, I found I’d not only made three tones at once, but I’d learned to move them around, make them break through blockages, and become more attractively harmonic!
This morning, I practiced toning again with Greg present, and maybe because I felt shy, I didn’t practice long and could only produce a single overtone – but he heard it! This thing I thought impossible I can do!
Something else in the video excited me immensely! In “Song for a New Earth,” Tom recounts a story from young adulthood in which he was mystically drawn into another dimension where he encountered strange beings who asked him if he will “sing the song of the new Earth.”
Being whisked into another dimension is a favorite theme of mine, of course – I love it when others share something that helps me understand my own similar “crazy” stuff. But I was totally unprepared to see an image – drawn by artists, presumably with Tom’s direction – that nearly perfectly depicts the environment of an extra-dimensional encounter I had in 1999.
I was still healing from the shock of remembering, five years earlier, childhood sexual abuse, but I’d not yet understood I’d also been a mind control subject. I prayed constantly for information that would help me understand my torment, and one day I was offered the opportunity to go into a terrifying place.
I was suddenly at the mouth of a cave that looked nearly identical to the one drawn for Tom Kenyon! He met an aboriginal man there twirling a fire stick. In a similar environment, I spoke with huge bats that seemed to be part of the cave’s dripstone, which in my vision were thicker so that they blocked more of the view inside than this depiction. One other difference is that the cave felt like the mouth of a living thing.
The bat people emerged from the living columns near the front where they encouraged me to enter and learn everything I wanted to know about what had happened to me – just what I’d been praying for for years. In wheedling, syrupy tones, they encouraged and terrified me.
Inside the cave I imagined – no, felt – a torture chamber or something equally repugnant, from which I might not find it easy or swift to return. One part of me tested the idea to “be brave” and enter the passage – but I decided to wait for knowledge and turned away.*
Tom, in his vision of the red cave with the aborigine, when asked whether he would sing the Song of the New Earth, answered he didn’t know. In this life, of course, his answer has been affirmative.
Watching the video, each time he answered that he didn’t know, I answered aloud, excitedly, “Yes!” and “I will!” Now, I’m curious to learn what it might mean.
It may – for me – mean simply more of what Greg and I already do – sing “good” songs – about love, friendship, home, community, nature, and cosmic mysteries, or the song-and-story sets we’re developing, especially my favorite “cosmic” set with songs of extra-dimensional travel and mystery by Bob Dylan, Jackson Brown, Neil Young, and so many others who write explicitly or hint about travel and beings in the multi-dimensional cosmos.
Of course, it’s more too.
I’ve long resonated with a vision I once read, of Earth’s humans, cooperative and aggressive, dividing into two dimensions of future Earth, divided according to their vibrations.
Not divided by doctrine, words, which have been used since the beginning of civilization to tell lies, but in vibrations. Each of us, human, mountain, and star, singing, harmonizing, creating the vibrating river of Song to the New Earth.
The rest of my week has been almost uneventful, except for one set of small suspicious wounds where the sun don’t shine and one unhappy personal encounter. We hosted friends for a small potluck-fire-music party one evening, which I love even though I usually get overwhelmed by the numbers of people and then unsure about myself in bouts, even among friends if there are a few, and more overwhelmed if there are a dozen. Worse, a stranger arrived with a friend I thought knew better and set off my alarms, distracting me off and on for the entirety of the party. Despite that, we’re feeling blessed and grateful for the gathering in our home!
I’ve decided to tell guests more clearly not to bring others. (Help?)
* I believe I’ve received enough of that information – in bits and pieces – over the years and, even so, it has often been nearly too much to handle. Everyone in healing: We really do need to be careful what we pray for, qualify our prayers [“Thy will be done”], and not push the river. Psychotic break-downs and suicide can result. Trust your Helping Spirit Family to guide and pace you in uncovering repressed information.
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For subscribers who haven’t visited in awhile, I’m posting the contents of my new Home page. The entire site has been recently reorganized, rewritten, and become, I hope, a more useful, and “friendly,” resource for those needing to learn about this subject. I invite you to visit.
To that end, I offer these pages of information – non-academic, easy-to-read – which touch on folklore, history, religion, spirituality, cosmos, and culture as they relate to mind control and multiple personality — along with my personal, on-going reports on the path to healing. Below is a 3-minute video, produced in 2010:
Is Multiple Personality Disorder “crazy”? Actually, it’s considered a creative solution, usually emerging accidentally in childhood, tokeep from going crazy when experiencing something like torture. The vast majority of us experienced torture as children in one way or another.
Children under torturous conditions who don’t “leave their bodies” and dissociate, and the torture is repeated, usually become schizophrenic. So dissociation, MPD, is a blessing in disguise, as it’s fairly easy to heal (unless complicated by mind control); whereas, schizophrenia is considered incurable.
How it comes about, in simple terms: Under extreme stress, a person, especially a child, might “leave their body” to escape unbearable pain; the mind, however, keeps recording – now on a blank slate – which then becomes another personality. This creates a pattern in the person called dissociation; with ongoing stress, the pattern is repeated. (Today MPD is called Dissociative Identity Disorder, but many of us prefer the old term.)
Being a multiple personality has not been easy, but it’s been far less difficult than typically depicted in books and movies, and in some ways, it seems to be an advantage: I have the capacity to manage a wide variety of mental tasks, as I seem to have a lot of “minds” holographically in my being. Managing them is the trick, and I have always done pretty well, most of the time. (At the bottom of this post are some of my accomplishments.)
The common perception of “multiples,” as being tragically out of their own control, is true for some, but many multiples are also very high-functioning, even testing at genius levels (as I have a few times), though they often have severe mental, psychological, emotional, and spiritual challenges — as readers of my book can appreciate.
Mind Control There’s also, obviously, a very serious downside to “multipleness,” which is that the people or groups who created my alters probably still have access to my programming and may continue to re-program me to use at will. When they do, I have bizarre perceptions, find wounds on my body, and afterward usually am severely depressed and sometimes emotionally incapacitated for extended periods of time.
Despite the foregoing, I must acknowledge the positive aspect of multiple-ness because it masks my disability. In other words, I look not only “sane” and “normal” nearly all the time, but sometimes exceptional; therefore, a person might ask, how could my crazy theory be true?
I also mention the positive aspect because it contains my hope for full recovery: Having the perspective of many minds, I have, since 1993, been working with my alters, untangling messes, and removing unwanted programs. It has taken time and emotional stamina, sometimes incapacitating me for mundane things, at which times, I have not appeared “exceptional” at all, but severely messed up. And I’m still not “one.” But, I’m working on it.
Friends and acquaintances who know my story often don’t know what to make of it, because they rarely see the symptoms or don’t recognize them, so I’m accepted well enough in my community to be employed (when I want and am able) and have a wide circle of friends. Besides, so many people are struggling with something.
My hidden disability, though, makes it very hard to make a living, and I’ve been bailed out by my parents many times. Good therapists seem to be rare and hard to find, or else I’ve been controlled to avoid them, or they’ve been threatened by my controllers into avoiding treating me (commonly reported by others).
The worst of my experiencesinvolving apparent mind control – that I recall – happened in 2010: I woke up extremely debilitated after a ten-hour sleep and found a third-degree Taser burn on my arm.
2014 This bruise showed up ten days after another very similar showed up on the back of my leg. No explanation except…
Much more is documented on this site, including weird bruises, apparent injection bruises (most common), a broken door lock, deep vaginal lacerations, biopsy “scoop marks,” and more.
Why am I not terrified? Well, I have been, and suicidal more times than I can count. But I’ve talked myself out of it. I’ve worked and prayed to try to understand our world, Good and Evil, the psyche and our power to navigate treacherous waters. And here I am.
Life has been moving on an upward course since I’ve been focusing my spiritual practice. I have a wonderful home and garden, lots of friends and friendly acquaintances, a supportive partner, enough work to pay the bills, and a satisfying artist’s life.
After 38 years of never singing in public (stage phobia related to mind control), in 2009 I began to sing publicly again – a most amazing breakthrough for my mind and psyche. And I’ve regained my ability to participate in life and see what Goodness I can add to our amazing human drama here.
And as a life-long activist for a variety of causes (saving mountains and downtown inner city schools, for instance), I now feel called to shine light on this criminal enterprise which steals people’s free will. I thank you very much for reading this far. I applaud your courage.
How do I really know I was a mind control subject? Check this page for a little bit more of my personal and family history.
I pray the content here and in my book helps others trying to understand their own stories and heal.
My best advice after gathering information: Remember fear and anger are natural, but a stage to go through and to move beyond. Remember that everything Good in this world is stronger, eventually, than the Dark, and focus on that Good. And check out my pages on Healing!
If you believe in a benevolent Higher Power, by whatever name, connect, hold fast, communicate, listen, and keep the best possible vision in mind in order to generate a vibration sympathetic with the energies of the Higher Power.
Today I believe these experiences have blessed me with one other thing: greater awareness than I would ever have had of the larger realities of this world. Therefore, they are extremely important to my life. We do believe we have the power to survive, understand, and help things improve for each other.
I have no idea exactly how. I feel that everyone on this planet, though, is facing a huge cataclysm very soon, and our world will change in ways we are probably not prepared for, and our minds are probably not prepared for.
So it will require an especially flexible mind to survive the ontological shock I believe is coming. And those of us who’ve already been shocked out of our shoes – who knows? – we might find it easier to adapt and see and respond to what’s going on.
Ontological shock is the disorientation a person endures when deep foundations of their mental framework become shaken. It will change our entire meaning of life – and who we think we are as humans. (Sort of like many lifelong Catholics have been experiencing for a decade or more, or a married person feels when they discover their spouse is cheating, or a parent feels when a baby is born with a problem, or anyone feels when someone near them suddenly dies – but much bigger.)
Our current structure of thought will not survive the changes. Words will truly fail us. So it’s imperative we get our energies, our vibrations clear, to be able to trust our perceptions.
Blessings on you ~
(p.s. All these photos were taken in the last couple of years, though I often look decades different in age.)
And please remember to “Join/Listen!” (Button’s up top in the right corner.)
Off this site, WantToKnow.info has an excellent site with mainstream documentation on many controversial topics, including mind control.
Author: RattleSnake Fire: a memoir of extra-dimensional experience; The 2013 or Year One Almanac, Datebook, and Journal;
the 2004 Almanac/Datebook/Journal for Southern Arizona;
the 2003 Almanac, Datebook and Journal for Tucson and Southern Arizona;
the international Permaculture Drylands Journal (associate editor, 1989-91);
and numerous articles and newsletters, including international publications. Praise: “great literature….tour de force!….important historical document,” and more.
Awards in journalism (UPI First Place, Arizona-Utah region), creative writing, art, theater, videography, real estate, Permaculture, and national recognition for non-profit fundraising. Others: served in Leaders Circle of Tucson Resources for Women. Invited to Leadership Tucson and Mensa. Served on numerous local boards, twice as president.
Thanks for visiting ~
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This Sunday Summary of Soul Healing I intend to make a weekly series, featuring the most significant of my week’s journal entries including spiritual experiences, disturbing anomalies, accomplishments, and progress on my Big Questions.
(My poll here last week said that “personal experiences” was a major interest of my readers.)
I plan to keep it short and to the point. So here goes….
Note: This first Sunday Summary will cover the previous two and a half weeks, rather than one week, laying a better foundation for the weekly series.
My last journal notebook ended with 2 Big Questions, one of which was: Is mind control “just what is” and we should all learn to accept it? (This is not as depressing a proposition as I’ve mused on it – but I’ll get to that soon.)
~ This journal began with a bang: October 9 I was so speedy (and I drink no caffeine), that I couldn’t believe how much I was getting done, though I was happy about it. Eventually I began to worry about myself. (Getting seriously manic? Will I become seriously depressed next? I’m usually a highly productive person, as I was trained to be, but this is over the top!) In the evening, I was embarrassed when my daughter came over with a friend and I was not just chatty but practically performing a humor routine while cooking and having a blast! Not me.
The next day I crashed and for the next 9 days, my sleep was extremely erratic – anywhere from 4 hours to 11 hours, but my days were approximately normal. Then…
Yet another. Always the same: small, in the flesh of my thigh.
~ Disturbing anomalies – three new hypodermic bruises (they seem to me, or they could be Taser marks, as they often seem double) appeared where they usually do – on one of my thighs. I discovered this on the 18th – though it might have been there earlier.
Circles indicate location. (One of them is actually a double bruise.
On the 19th, I discovered two more, and one was clearly double, and I had no energy, just drug around all day in a stupor. And both days, I ignored my notebook journal all day long.
~ A lifelong recorder of my dreams, I’m still experiencing long periods of not being able to remember any – and I worry the controllers are keeping me from remembering them, since I believe they’re important to my healing. I even told some dreams to my partner – instead of writing them down – and then promptly forgot them! And then he couldn’t remember either.
~ Energy infusion – October 20, sitting at my computer, I had what I call an “energy infusion,” in which energy pours into me with such power, I have to stop what I’m doing and just receive it. It feels great, not frightening at all, and usually I just get back to work, as I did this time. In the past, these experiences have sometimes resulted in fascinating conversations with spiritual beings offering me good counsel. Perhaps I had a conversation but don’t remember.
(Context: In the past, when I’ve tried to describe the sensation, the only thing I could compare it to in our spiritually-compromised culture was my old memory of Bill Bixby and Lou Ferrigno in the 1978-82 TV show, TheHulk, when energy would pour into Bill’s character, causing his back to hump up and his arms and legs to tighten, just before the Hulk went on a rampage to right some intolerable injustice.In my book, I flippantly called my energy infusion events “the Hulk routine” because the energy download flows powerfully into my muscles – and I can’t stop it. But, as I said, it feels great. Afterward, I feel energized and rejuvenated. When others have been around and have seen the energy contort my muscles, I’ve usually tried to disguise it and have occasionally moved as if spontaneously deciding to stretch, once danced with it, and at least once posed, trying to hide behind a little humor, a bit like Lou Ferrigno is here, sans roar, and without ripping my clothes or turning green. I’m shy about these events – have never heard anyone describe anything like this, so this is only the second time I’ve written about them. Sometimes, the experiences have come with profound healing events. Once, I suddenly felt the presence of teenage-aspects of me, a lot of them, all wounded and crippled, suddenly released and sorta milling about in me, then whoosh, they began to flow up and out into another dimension, freeing me of all their pain and confusion. I then called in Goodness and Healing to fill the space. Once after an infusion, I sensed a spirit who seemed very familiar, existing in other dimensions, and I asked her, “Who are you?” She didn’t answer (or I was programmed to forget), but she gave me one bit of advice: “You gotta buff up.” The jargon was so unexpected, it struck me as very funny. But, since I had gotten out of shape and overweight, I answered, Okay, and have been working to keep on a better health regimen now. I have no idea how many energy infusions I’ve experienced – I’d have to read a few dozen hand-written journals to make a count, and I’m not going to do that any time soon – and I probably don’t write them all down, they’re that common – but it’s been a few dozen anyway.)
A few minutes after the energy infusion, I experienced a fairy-like being dancing near me, even inside my aura, in another dimension. I love those experiences! I didn’t get or don’t remember any particular message, but I sure appreciate it when they drop in. Continuing to feel great, I worked again until 5:30 in the morning.
~ Two days later, I “crashed” and felt sick all day. Then I was back to normal. The day after, though, I felt okay until l tried to meditate or pray. My writing turned from sad to musing on being off this planet and out of this life as a mind control subject – I used the word suicidal (not uncommon) – but I recovered and got myself back to normal. In bed that night, I received another energy infusion that went on unusually long, and I directed it into a spontaneous yogic stretch exercise, for ten minutes or more, which felt extremely healing.
Unfortunately, as I began to communicate with my Spirit Family, I experienced something not uncommon that I interpret as communications-jamming from the controllers: black and white films (seemingly chosen randomly from old libraries) played on top of each other in my mind’s eye while I tried to connect with Family. (The films are varied and nothing from my own life: from dusty street scenes in third-world nations to boating trips involving people I’ve never seen.) As I wrestled to clear my energy field, I saw my aura being pulled out of my body while an idea teased that I could leave this life now if I wanted. I had to do spiritual warfare to keep my body and spirit together and drive the vision away. This weirdness is intense and also pretty routine – I seem to be developing skills to cope with it – so I accomplished the feat, went to sleep, and the next day was “normal.”
~ During this time, I mulled over – a lot – a blog I’ve been thinking of posting, titled, “Mind Control: Just What Is?” The idea continued to pester me, and grieved me at the same time. Just now, I discovered it was already posted (last April!) and read it again and think it’s well worth discussing.
~ Related to that, I’ve been mulling over a question I’ve actually been asking myself for at least a year or more: Is the way controllers treat their mind control subjects like me no worse than most of humanity treats other animals (either directly or complicitly through tax dollars and no objection)? I believe the answer is yes. And then I’ve asked my journal, Does that mean we’re not necessarily dealing with “Evil” from an external source as many claim (Satan’s demons spawning Satanists, Illuminati, and murderous psychopaths in secret government programs), but just dealing with a fractal-like manifestation of our own human selves, macrocosm reflecting our microcosm? And the corollary: If we, collectively, learn to treat animals and the planet better, might other humans stop creating and abusing mind control subjects?
I have partial answers to these questions, hinted at in “Mind Control: Just What Is?”, but there’s more complexity I need to introduce soon. For now, I’ll leave you with this “Summary” and welcome your observations and questions.
I also plan to write a Friday weekly series on folklore, history, religion, culture, cosmos, and spirit – as they relate to mind control, multiple personality, and healing – starting this Friday. Any ideas for the series title? Philosophical Friday? Fundamental Friday? Foundational Friday? Friday Folklore and More?
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For years I’ve wavered between appreciation and being highly pissed-off when I’ve heard people talk about “creating our own realities.”
(“Yeah, tell that to a baby who’s being …,” I used to say.)
So it is with a sense of irony, humility, and real appreciation that I repost part of an email from Jon Rappaport, along with a link to his site. This is the beginning of a sale pitch for a package he’s selling – out of my price range, so I won’t buy – BUT just the approach he presents to this very important question is quite powerful I believe.
I’ll use it to further empower some new ideas that have been stirring in me, and attitudes I’ve been practicing now for a little while that have helped me a great deal with healing.
In my Blogging 201 seminar, I’ve had requests for basic information on both Mind Control and Multiple Personality – so I’ve created two new pages. The second one is copied here, as well as in a new page at the top of the site under “Multiple. The first is also right up top of the site under “Mind Control.“
For all the multiples….
Is Multiple Personality Disorder (Dissociative Identity Disorder) “crazy”? Actually, it’s considered a creative solution, usually discovered in childhood, tokeep from going crazy when experiencing something beyond what the psyche can handle, like torture. The vast majority of multiples experienced torture as children in one way or another.
(Today MPD is called Dissociative Identity Disorder, but many of us prefer the old term as more descriptive of our experience.)
How multiple splitting comes about: Under extreme stress, a person, especially a child, might “leave their body” to psychically escape unbearable pain; the mind, however, keeps recording the body’s experience – now on a blank slate – which then becomes another, separate personality.
The initial separation sets a repeatable pattern in the person called dissociation (dissociating mind from body); with ongoing stress, the pattern is repeated again and again, creating more and more alternate personalities, called “alters.” Since some of the alters are too afraid to come back into the body and risk torture again, they remain children. Interestingly, their young psyches may actually help the body stay young-looking – until an older alter comes out.
While the fragmentation of the psyche is not “normal,” each of the fragments, alters, is sane. They each have a sane perspective on their piece of the world. If they escaped pain, they have a psychology that never experienced pain and is normal for that experience. If the alter was one that did experience pain, they may have a neurotic personality, but totally appropriate to and sane for their experience.
Most positive: with all those alters, multiples have potentially more perspective than most – like insects with multiply-faceted eyes. The trick is coordinating the alters, helping the suffering ones heal, giving disruptive alters appropriate new “jobs” and identities, and if communication is a problem, helping everyone communicate, etc.
In ancient societies, multiples were supported and often honored for their diverse perspectives and skills, usually broad, including a range of skills from the mundane to psychic – as the alters who spent the most time dissociated from the body often develop significant psychic skills. These individuals were often trained as shamans.
1976 film Sybil, starring Sally Field and Joanne Woodward
In modern society, on the other hand, there is little recognition, much less appreciation or caring support for multiples. Some find good therapists, but many do not, and the cause of their affliction, the torture, is typically ignored by society. If individuals cannot function well enough to pass as un-fragmented, they live as “disabled” – even though they may have a lot of wisdom with all their perspectives.
Relationships between the alters can be very different from multiple to multiple. Some alters are entirely unknown to the other alters, which causes tremendous problems for the person. Sometimes a person has “co-conscious” alters which work together quite successfully (like myself), though there may be disconnected alters as well that cause occasional problems.
Children under torturous conditions who don’t “leave their bodies” and dissociate often become schizophrenic. So dissociation, MPD, is a blessing in disguise, having saved the child from a far worse possibility. MPD/DID is fairly easy to heal (unless complicated by mind control); schizophrenia, on the other hand, is considered incurable.
1957 movie starring Joanne Woodward and Lee J Cobb
Being a multiple personality has not been easy, but it’s been far less difficult than typically depicted in books and movies, and in some ways, it seems to be an advantage: Many of us discover we have the capacity to manage a wide variety of mental tasks, having a lot of “minds” holographically in our beings. Managing them all is the trick.
The common perception of “multiples,” as being tragically out of control, is true for some, but many multiples are also very high-functioning, many even testing at genius levels (as I have a few times). Granted, we also often have severe mental, psychological, social emotional, and spiritual challenges as well – as readers of my book can appreciate.
As for the torture that causes multiple-ness: In the past, torture of children usually happened by accident, a child surviving a wild animal attack, for instance. Unfortunately, people lacking empathy and any moral code recognized that multiples have a propensity for amnesia and learned to take advantage of this, sometimes making literal slaves of the multiples.
In the 1940s, China and the United States each sought to protect their secrets from adversaries at war and began experimenting on soldiers, inducing split minds through intentional torture on their own citizens and others. In the United States, the CIA began intensive studies, now called MKULTRA, and experimented on an estimated 20,000 children and many more adults between the late 1940s and the mid 1970s – individuals who had no idea they were experimental subjects, did not give their consent, and have never been acknowledged or assisted in healing. (The CIA director testified that they destroyed all files. As a consequence, no subject can prove they were involved and disabled in this program.) More on American mind control history is in my page “Mind Control Defined.”
One of my personal favorite posts,
inspired by the Secret Life of Nature by Peter Tompkins
originally posted September 2011
Rebel Western scientists of antiquity have left important work behind which sheds light on the UFO/ET subject. The work of Paracelsus and Rudolph Steiner was included in a fascinating book published in 1997 by best-selling author Peter Tompkins, titled The Secret Life of Nature: Living in Harmony with the Hidden World of Nature Spirits from Fairies to Quarks.
Paracelsus was born in the Swiss canton of Schwyz in 1490, where he was given the impressive and maybe, to those with Western sensibilities, humorous birth name Phillipus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim. A contemporary of Martin Luther, he became an alchemist, which means he was born into a family with connections to power, as alchemy was taught only within a secret society, pledged to keep those secrets from common folk. Nevertheless, Paracelsus broke from those strictures.
According to Tompkins, Paracelsus may have been a greater reformer than Martin Luther, as he tackled not only religion but medicine and physics as well. In his society, academic writing was done exclusively in Latin, for one’s fellow academicians to approve or disapprove, with no involvement of common people. Paracelsus flaunted this tradition and wrote a treatise on nature spirits in the common German vernacular used by his local community, making his wisdom available to all. For centuries afterward, his work was used as a primary source for innumerable writings by others.
Paracelsus gathered his data by going straight to his source, Nature, in which he steeped himself deeply. He also asked herbalists, faith healers, gypsies, hermits, witches and anyone else who claimed knowledge of the healing arts – aside from doctors – what they knew. He discovered that their lore had a form and structure which matched his own experiences of intelligent, immaterial beings working within nature.
The rebel alchemist defined these spiritual intelligences as “elementals,” which he explained perform important tasks, that we in the first world today call “forces of nature.” These elementals are also identical with the beings that mystics and primitive societies call spirits of mountain, sea, storm, etc.
Paracelsus went so far as to publicly burn the books of Galen – ! – whose writings had held the course of medicine for over twelve-hundred years in a highly rational track limited to certain precepts, along with the books of Avicenna, the Persian physician whose textbook was a standard in Europe for the previous couple hundred years.
Paracelsus further scandalized his fellow doctors and academicians by telling them that “each person possesses within himself the powers and latent faculties necessary to become aware of a many-dimensioned universe.”
This radical idea, that humans have the potential to perceive a multi-dimensional universe, we still wrestle with today, at least in “first world” cultures. Many would also argue that authorities in this very culture are working hard to keep this awareness from us.
Four hundred years after Paracelsus, in the same Swiss canton of Schwyz, Rudolph Steiner expanded on Paracelsus’ work with lectures on the role of “nature intelligences” in the growth and development of the material world.
Steiner was born in 1847, in Croatia, in a village so remote that nature was a powerful force for him as a child. He became highly clairvoyant in his young years, perceiving a world far beyond that which his parents could conceive. To master both worlds and communicate about the one to the other, he trained himself thoroughly at the Technical University of Vienna in physics, mathematics, biology, chemistry, optics, botany, and anatomy and gained a doctoral degree in philosophy. His doctoral thesis was that clairvoyance – the practice of seeing into other realms – would have to be integrated into the scientific approach if “the half-truths of materialism were not to drag the world into a materialist and mechanistic disaster.”
Steiner wrote prolifically about the spiritual realms, defining “spiritual science,” which includes everything in creation, including humans and their psychic powers, all in a “symphony of life” created and maintained by natural intelligences who work according to patterns passed down by higher intelligent beings, everything ultimately a manifestation of the Source of Creation.
The upshot for humans, according to Steiner, is that if we ignore the nature beings, we cut ourselves off from understanding anything real, including our own health and how to heal. Alternatively, understanding our relationship to the “invisible” realms and participating in them will assure our individual and collective survival.
Intelligent information moves through everything, according to Steiner, including things Western science defines as “not alive,” such as rocks, rivers and sky. Communication from extra-terrestrial worlds, he said, is conveyed from the cosmos down to certain nature beings, whom he called sylphs, and by them into the leaves and petals of plants, through their trunks and roots, and thereby to beings who live underground, whom he called gnomes, who traverse that realm of earth and mineral as freely as we move through our atmosphere.
Any element of nature can convey this extra-terrestrial wisdom to humans, including gnomes, though those beings, in particular, don’t have much respect for us and often laugh at humans, stuck as we are in our rational concepts which frame and limit what we can perceive.
As our culture has been trained for millennia to perceive only the materialistic world authorized by Science and Academia and to deny all precepts of what’s dismissed as “animism,” we struggle today with concepts of alien beings and vehicles that don’t fit into the paradigms of what we’ve been taught.
According to Steiner, mankind’s “fall” came about with this denial of our ability to communicate with nature intelligences. This denial cut off communication to extra-terrestrial and other higher intelligences of Creation. Our destiny, however, is to expand our minds to include contact with these beings, including those nearest us in nature, and also beyond to extra-terrestrial and the intelligences above them, until we eventually accept responsibility for managing and designing material life on this Earth.
Of course, many in the halls of Science and Academia would say that this is exactly what they are about; and they would deny any role in cutting us off from basic wisdom. However, it was precisely their materialistic “half truths” that Paracelsus warned would lead us to disaster.
As someone who has experienced the profoundly destructive outer edges of Science (as a CIA mind control subject as a child) and who has also experienced the healing powers of Nature in a “shamanic initiation” (which included alien contact, typical of shamanic initiations), I can’t help but ask the hottest contemporary, if simplistic, questions: What about the stuff we call evil? Are some of the spiritual hierarchies not working for our best interests? Are some of the aliens “good guys” and others “bad guys” – maybe angels and demons?
My inclination for the last few years has been to assume that alien beings are trans-dimensional (spiritual) beings, some of them working in our best interests, and some of them seeming to work against us. Further, I’ve contended, it’s our very important work to learn to discern which is which – which I have famously failed to do at times. So I was keenly interested to see where Rudolph Steiner came down on the question of evil.
Paracelsus denied the existence of demons. Similarly, Steiner refused to categorize things we call evil as evil. Rather, he said, certain hierarchies of intelligence above us, called angels in the modern Western world, gods in the ancient, devas in the Hindu, and other names in every culture, chose to deviate from the program of perfection by which they’d always been patterned – and limited – and allowed themselves free will, thereby allowing humans this possibility too. It opened up profound transformative possibilities for Creation – and with it risk.
We’ve seen this risk played out nearly to completion in our world today, with nuclear bombs, multiple wars, ongoing slavery, global child sex industries, global economic thievery, mind control, and more. And it is into this world, coinciding quite precisely with the advent of atomic bombs and institutionalized mind control, that these apparently trans-dimensional vehicles and beings have suddenly come in great numbers into human awareness.
The question in my mind, in part prompted by other writers on this subject, has lately been: Are these beings responding to the horrors we’ve unleashed, hoping to mitigate or correct them, or are they orchestrating them? Writers on the subject of alien contact today come down on both sides of this question.
The shamans from every continent who came to visit Harvard psychiatrist John Mack, when he was working with alien contactees, answered this question of evil regarding the nature of ET beings in a less polarized fashion. The African shaman Credo Mutwa said the mantindane (African term for what we call the “gray aliens”) were seen as unwelcome but necessary “troublemakers,” often required to wake up an individual in a shamanic initiation. The shamans prompted Mack to interpret the entire alien phenomenon as a “wake-up call to humanity” or, more cynically, a “consciousness program for the spiritually impaired.”
Many primitive cultures have also softened the concept of evil, focusing instead on lessons taught through “trickery” – depicted by characters throughout time, from the Celtic Loki, Native American Heyoka, and Greek Cupid to the beings I’ve experienced, who gave me powerful “spiritual” signs, leading me to go exactly where I didn’t want to go and shouldn’t have gone – all apparently lessons to teach me discernment. So I’ve also begun to drop my knee-jerk reaction to think of them as evil, in favor of simply recognizing that they taught me invaluable lessons by trickery.
According to Dionysus, student of Plato, spiritual beings fill the entirety of space, in “realm upon realm,” and some followers assert that there is nothing in existence but these intelligences, which usually are invisible but sometimes take forms that we can see. A curandero acquaintance of mine put it this way: “We live in an ocean of spirit and must protect ourselves from most of it.” A student of Dionysus, as well as a follower of Christ, was Paul of Tarsus, whose writings survive in the New Testament, where he is quoted as asserting that we must learn to “discern the spirits.”
Today, as we watch the world unfold in dramas almost beyond belief, strange shapes appear in the sky, change colors and morph into different forms. People from every walk of life, from Peruvian tribespeople to American Presidents, pilots and police officers report things we’ve come to call UFOs and alien beings, and we forget that they’ve been reported, along with healings and other favors, throughout history in every culture.
Hippocrates induced people for thousands of years to call these phenomena and the healings and other favors that often attended them “mythology” and “superstition,” effectively putting a lid on any public discourse; but the lid has been jumping now for decades, and it won’t stay down. Gardeners in Findhorn have been talking to devas, churches spring up around teachings of Swedenborg and Blavatsky, books by Blake and Goethe enjoy a renaissance, and Christians reconsider Jesus’ response to his followers that we would “do all these things [healing miracles] and more.”
While many of us have freed ourselves from mainstream constrictions, we still wonder: Are some of the aliens in league with structures of power, such as our governments? Undoubtedly. Are others trying to wake us out of our educated and entertained entrancement? I’m sure of this also. And I also believe the evidence is strong that “aliens” exist in great diversity, and their story is far more nuanced than a simple good-versus-evil drama, though that may be an aspect of it.
Our personal and collective work, it seems, is to learn to discern these elements of the drama, these elemental beings, if you will, and work with them. According to Paracelsus and Steiner, the many mystics they consulted and those who’ve followed them through the centuries, the beings we perceive can take any form they want, usually choosing a pattern pre-existing in the mind of the person who perceives them. So, whether they be tricksters and liars or pure helpers, they spring in form from our own minds, but are not created in our imagination; and their purpose and intention lead us from higher dimensions, following the patterns of Creation, into our next phase of evolution, whatever it will be.
To help us create a better world from the mess that we find around us, the words of Paracelsus and Steiner – as well as Paul and Christ – have application to this issue: immaterial beings are everywhere and can take form at will (though not everyone sees them), and we are charged with learning to discern them and work with them to create a better future.
As the natural world is destroyed by misguided “half-truths of materialism,” we have less communion with nature and less potential access to those intelligences, so beings who want to help us must get our attention in new and novel ways. Perhaps this explains the increasing numbers of UFOs in the skies today and alien beings in people’s bedrooms; or maybe those are part of the “half-truths” misleading us.
Paracelsus and Steiner encourage us to drop our constrictions of rational thought and engage in this subject experientially. Rather than sticking to the nuts and bolts of the UFO phenomenon, as if it were the “safest” approach and might provide the “rational” proof most needed, I believe we should listen to the experiencers who’ve spoken to the beings and consider what their messages might be for us.
Paracelsus said, centuries ago, that we had the latent ability. It’s time to wake up to it.
It was, after all, because of America’s alien experiencers that shamans traveled from the jungles and forests of South America and Africa to visit Dr. John Mack and say to him, “We were wondering when you white people would begin to get it.”
Tompkins is also author of the #1 New York Times Bestseller The Secret Life of Plants.
Thompson, p 111.
Mack, Passport to the Cosmos, p. __
Tompkins, p 135.
Please share if you find this information important!
credit: MindControlCollege. I cannot vouch for this, but it gives a good idea of the orderly way this is done, with backups, failsafes, and back doors.
Still very well worth reading. Delivered at the Fourth Annual Eastern Regional Conference on Abuse and Multiple Personality, Thursday June 25, 1992, at the Radisson Plaza Hotel, Mark Center, Alexandria, Virginia. Sponsored by the Center for Abuse Recovery & Empowerment, The Psychiatric Institute of Washington, D.C.
Hypnosis in MPD: Ritual Abuse (The Greenbaum Speech) – transcript
By D.C. Hammond
I want to start off by talking a little about trance training and the use of hypnotic phenomena with an MPD/dissociative disorder population. I will also talk about exploration of the unconscious, the use of symbolic imagery techniques for managing physical symptoms, input overload, and things like that. Before the day’s out, I want to spend some time talking about something I think has been completely neglected in the field of dissociative disorder, and that’s methods of profound calming for automatic hyper-arousal that’s been conditioned in these patients.
I also want to talk about hypnotic relapse prevention strategies and post-integration therapy. Finally, I hope somewhere in our time together to spend an hour or so talking specifically about ritual abuse, mind control programming and brainwashing – how it’s done and how to get on the inside. This is a topic that in the past I haven’t been willing to speak about publicly. I have done that in small groups and in consultations, but recently decided that it was high time that somebody started doing it. So we’re going to talk about specifics today.
In Chicago [in 1984], at the first international congress where ritual abuse was talked about, I can remember thinking, “How strange and interesting.” I can recall many people listening to an example given that somebody thought was so idiosyncratic and rare, and then all the people coming up afterwards saying, “Gee, you’re treating one like that, too? You’re in Seattle? Well, I’m in Toronto.” “Well, I’m in Florida.” “Well, I’m in Cincinnati…” I didn’t know what to think at that point.
It wasn’t too long after that I found my first ritual abuse patient in somebody I was treating, and we hadn’t gotten that deep yet. Things in that case made me very curious about the use of mind control techniques, hypnosis, and other brainwashing techniques. So I started studying brainwashing and some of the literature in that area. I became acquainted with one of the people who’d written one of the better books in that area.
Those therapists said, “You’re asking questions I don’t know the answers to. You’re asking more specific questions than I’ve ever asked my patients.” Many of those same therapists said, “Let me ask those questions, and I’ll get back to you with the answer.” Many of them not only got back with answers, but said, “You’ve got to talk to this patient or these two patients.” As a result, I ended up doing hundreds of dollars worth of telephone interviewing.
I came out of that with a grasp of a variety of brainwashing methods being used all over the country. I started to hear some similarities. Whereas to begin with, I hadn’t known how widespread things were, I was now getting a feeling that there were a lot of people reporting some similar things, and that there must be some degree of communication to cause this.
Then approximately two and a half years ago, I had some material drop in my lap. My source was saying a lot of things that I knew were accurate about some of the brainwashing, but was telling me new material about which I had no idea. At this point I decided to check it out in three ritual abuse patients I was seeing at the time. After careful inquiry, without leading or contaminating, I discovered two of the three had what the source was describing.
The fascinating thing was that as I did a telephone consult with a therapist that I’d been consulting for quite a number of months on an MPD case in another state, I asked her to inquire about certain specific things. She said, “Well, what are those things?” I said, “I’m not going to tell you specifics, because I don’t want there to be any possibility of contamination. Just come back to me and tell me what the patient says.”
She called me back two hours later and said, “I just had a double session with this patient and there was a part of him that said, ‘Oh, we’re so excited. If you know about this stuff, you know how the cult programmers get on the inside, and our therapy is going to go so much faster.’” Now many other patients since have had a reaction of wanting to pee their pants out of anxiety and fear rather than thinking it was wonderful thing.
But the interesting thing was that she then asked her patient, “What are these things?” They were word perfect the same answers my source had given me. I’ve since repeated that experience in many parts of the country. I’ve consulted in eleven states and one foreign country, in some cases over the telephone, in some cases in person. In some cases I gave the therapist information ahead of time saying, “Be very careful how you phrase this. Phrase it in these ways so you don’t contaminate.” In other cases I didn’t give the therapist specific information ahead of time, so they couldn’t contaminate the results.
When you find the same highly esoteric information in different states from Florida to California and from different countries, you start to get an idea that there’s something going on that is very large and very well coordinated, something that is systematic and requires a great deal of communication. So I have gone from someone kind of neutral and not knowing what to think about it all to someone who clearly believes ritual abuse is real, and that the people who say it isn’t are either naive – like people who didn’t want to believe the Holocaust – or they’re dirty [involved in the programs].
Now for a long time I would give information to a select group of therapists that I knew and trusted, and say, “Spread it out. Don’t spread my name. Don’t say where it came from. But here’s some information. If you find it’s on target, share it with other therapists, and I’d appreciate your feedback.” People would question me in talks. They were hungry for information.
Later, I and a few others that I’d shared it with were hedging out of concern because of personal threats and death threats. I finally decided to hell with them. If they’re going to kill me, they’re going to kill me. It’s time to share more information with therapists. Part of why I’m willing to share this is because we proceeded so cautiously and slowly, checking things in many different locations and finding the same thing. So I’m going to describe for you ways of dealing with ritual abuse programming. I certainly can’t tell you everything that you want to know in forty-five or fifty minutes, but I’m going to give you the essentials to get inside and start working at a new level.
I don’t know what proportion of patients have this. I would guess maybe two-thirds of your ritual abuse patients may have this kind of programming. What do I think is the distinguishing characteristic? If they were raised from birth in a mainstream cult, or if they were a non-bloodline person, meaning neither parent was in the cult, but cult people had a lot of access to them in early childhood, they may also have it.
I have seen more than one ritual abuse patient who clearly had all the kind of ritual things you hear about. They seemed very genuine. They talked about all the typical things that you hear in this population, but based on prolonged extensive checking, they had none of this programming. So for instance I believe in one case I was personally treating that the patient was in a kind of schizmatic break-off that had kind of gone off and done their own thing and were no longer hooked into a mainstream group.
Along with them was a young boy, a teenager, who had been raised in a Hasidic Jewish tradition with a background of Cabalistic mysticism. That probably appealed to people in the cult, because by the turn of the century HYPERLINK “http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleister_Crowley”Aleister Crowley had been introducing Cabalism into Satanic stuff, if not earlier. I suspect it may have formed some bond between the boy and the Nazis. He saved his skin by collaborating and being an assistant to them in the death-camp experiments. They brought him with the Nazis to the US.
These escaped Nazis started doing mind control research for military intelligence in military hospitals in the United States. These Nazi doctors were Satanists. Subsequently, the boy changed his name, Americanized it some, obtained an M.D. degree, became a physician, and continued this work that appears to be at the center of cult programming today. His name is known to patients throughout the country.
What they basically do in these programs is they get a child and start programming in basic forms, it appears, by about age two and a half, after the child’s already been made dissociative. They’ll make him dissociative not only through abuse, like sexual abuse, but also things like putting a mousetrap on their fingers and teaching the parents, “You do not go in until the child stops crying. Only then do you go in and remove it.”
They start in rudimentary forms at about age two and a half and kick into high gear, it appears, around six or six and a half. They continue through adolescence with periodic reinforcements in adulthood.
During the programming, the child will be put typically on a gurney. They will have an IV in one hand or arm. They’ll be strapped down, typically naked. There will be wires attached to their head to monitor electroencephalograph patterns. They will see a pulsing light, most often described as red, occasionally white or blue. They’ll be given, most commonly I believe, Demerol. Sometimes it will be other drugs as well depending on the kind of programming. They have it, I think, down to a science where they’ve learned you give a set amount every twenty-five minutes until the programming is done.
The patients then will describe a pain on one ear, their right ear generally, where it appears a needle has been placed. They will hear weird, disorienting sounds in that ear while they see photic stimulation to drive the brain into a brainwave pattern with a pulsing light at a certain frequency not unlike the goggles that are now available through Sharper Image and some of those kinds of stores. Then, after a suitable period when they’re in a certain brainwave state, they will begin programming oriented to self-destruction and debasement of the person.
One patient about eight years old had gone through a great deal of early programming which took place on a military installation. That’s not uncommon. I’ve treated and been involved with cases who are part of this original mind control project, as well as having their programming on military installations in many cases. We find a lot of connections with the CIA. This particular child was in a private cult school where several of these sessions occurred a week.
She would be taken into a room to get all hooked up. They would do all of these sorts of things. When she was in the proper altered state, they no longer had to monitor with electroencephalographs. She also already had electrodes placed on her; one in the vagina, for example, four on the head. Sometimes they’ll be on other parts of the body. They would then begin and would say to her, “You are angry with someone in the group.” She’d say, “No, I’m not,” and they’d violently shock her. They would say the same thing until she complied and didn’t make any negative response.
Then they would continue. “When you are angry with someone in the group, you will hurt yourself. Do you understand?” She answered, “No,” and they shocked her. They repeated again, “Do you understand?” “Well, yes, but I don’t want to.” Shock her again until they get compliance.
Then they keep adding to it. “And you will hurt yourself by cutting yourself. Do you understand?” Maybe she’d say yes, but they might say, “We don’t believe you,” and shock her anyway. “Go back and go over it again.” They would continue in this sort of fashion. She said typically it seemed as though they’d go about thirty minutes, take a break for a smoke or something and come back. They might review what they’d done and then stop, or go on to new material. She said the sessions might go half an hour, or as much as three hours. She estimated three times a week.
Programming was done under the influence of drugs in a certain brainwave state, with these noises in one ear and the programmers speaking in the other ear, usually the left ear, which is associated with right hemisphere non-dominant brain functioning. All this while they were talking to her and therefore requiring her intense concentration, intense focusing. Often they would have to memorize and say certain things back, word perfect, to avoid punishment, shock, and other kinds of things that were occurring. This is basically how a lot of programming goes on.
Some of it will also use other typical brainwashing techniques. There will be very standardized types of hypnotic things done at times. There will be sensory deprivation which we know increases suggestibility in anyone. According to the research, suggestibility is significantly increased with total sensory deprivation. It’s not uncommon before they do certain of these things for them to use this a great deal, including formal sensory-deprivation chambers.
Now because we don’t have a lot of time, let me give you as much practical information as I can.
The way that I would inquire as to whether or not some of this programming might be there was to use ideomotor finger signals. After setting them up, I would say, “I want the central inner core of you to take control of the finger signals.” Don’t ask the unconscious mind. The case where you’re inquiring about ritual abuse, that’s for the central inner core. The core is a cult-created part. “And I want that central inner core of you to take control of this hand and of these finger signals. For yes, the finger will float up. I want to ask the inner core of you is there any part of you who knows anything about Alpha, Beta, Delta, or Theta.”
If you get a yes, it should raise a red flag that you might have someone with formal intensive brainwashing and programming in place. I would then say, “I want a part inside who knows something about Alpha, Beta, Delta, and Theta to come up to a level where you can speak to me. And when you’re here say, ‘I’m here.’” I would not ask if a part was willing to do this. No one is going to particularly want to talk about this. I would just say, “I want some part who can tell me about this to come out.” Without leading them, ask what these things are.
On consults where I’ve come in, sometimes I’ve gotten a yes to that, but as I’ve done exploration, it appeared to be some kind of compliance response or somebody wanting, in two or three cases, to appear maybe that they were ritual abuse – and maybe they were in some way – but with careful inquiry and questioning, it was obvious that they did not have this kind of cult programming.
Let me tell you what these programs are. Let’s suppose that this whole front row here are multiples, and that she has an alter named Helen, she [the next woman] has one named Mary, she has one named Gertrude, she has one named Elizabeth, and she has one named Monica. Every one of those HYPERLINK “http://www.didlegit.com/alters.html”alters in each of you may have a program installed, perhaps designated alpha-zero-zero-nine. A cult person could say, “Alpha-zero-zero-nine” or make some kind of hand gesture to indicate this and get the same part out in any one of them, even though they had different names by which they may be known to you.
Alphas appear to represent general programming; the first kind of things put in. Betas appear to be sexual programs, for example, how to perform oral sex in a certain way, how to perform sex in rituals, or programming related to prostitution and producing and directing child pornography. Deltas are killers trained in how to kill in ceremonies. There will also be some self-harm stuff mixed in with the assassination and killing programs. Thetas are called psychic killers.
You know, I had never in my life heard those two terms paired together. I’d never heard the words “psychic” and “killers” put together. But when you have people in different U.S. states where therapists inquired and asked, “What is Theta,” and patients say to them, “Psychic killers,” it tends to make one a believer that these things are very systematic and very widespread. This comes from the programmers’ belief in psychic sorts of abilities and powers, including their ability to psychically communicate with “mother,” and their ability to psychically cause somebody to develop a brain aneurysm and die.
Gamma appears to be system protection and deception programming which will provide misinformation to you the therapist, try to misdirect you, tell you half-truths, and protect different things inside. Then there’s Omega. I usually don’t include that word when I ask my first question about this to any part inside that knows about Alpha, Beta, Delta, Theta, because Omega will shake them even more. Omega has to do with self-destruct programming. Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. This can include self-mutilation as well as suicide programming.
There can also be other Greek letters. I’d recommend that you go and get your entire Greek alphabet. You can verify that some of this stuff is present, and that they have given you some of the right answers about what some of this material is. And I can’t emphasize enough: Do not lead them. Do not ask yes or no questions like, “Is this killers?” Get the answer in statements from them, please.
When you’ve done this and programming appears to be present, I would take your entire Greek alphabet and, with ideomotor signals, go through the alphabet and say, “Is there any programming inside associated with epsilon, omicron,” and go on through the letters. There may be a system to some of the other letters, but I’m not aware of it. I found, for example in one case, that Zeta had to do with the production of snuff films that this patient was involved with.
With another person, Omicron had to do with their linkage and associations with drug smuggling and with the Mafia, big business, and government leaders. So there’s going to be some individualism, I think, in some of those. Some are come-home programs, “come back to the cult” programs.
Here’s the flaw in the system. They have built in shut-down and erasure codes, so if they should get into trouble, they could shut something down. They could also erase a program. These codes will sometimes be idiosyncratic phrases, or ditties. Sometimes they will be numbers maybe followed by a word. There’s some real individuality to that. At first I had hoped if we could decode some of these, maybe they would work with different people. No such luck. It’s very unlikely, unless they were programmed at about the same point in time as part of the same little group.
Stuff that I’ve seen suggests that the programmers carry laptop computers which still include everything that they did twenty, thirty years ago in terms of the names of alters, the programs, the codes, and so on.
Now what you can do is go in and get these erasure codes. And I always ask, “If I say this code, what will happen?” Then double check. “Is there any part inside who has different information?” Watch your ideomotor signals. What I’ve found is that you can erase programs by giving the appropriate codes, but then you must abreact the feelings.
So if I erase Omega, which is often where I’ve started because it’s the most high risk, afterwards I will get all the Omega – or what were formerly Omega alters – together, so that we will abreact and give back to the host the memories associated with all the programming that was done with Omega, and anything any Omega part ever had to do in a fractionated abreaction.
They use the metaphor – and it is their metaphor – of robots. It’s like a robot shell comes down over the child alter to make them act in robotic fashion. Once in a while internally you’ll confront robots. What I found from earlier work, and I speed the process up now because I’ve confirmed it enough times, is that you can say to the core, “Core, I want you to look. There’s this robot blocking the way in some way, blocking the progress. Go around and look at the back of the head and tell me what you notice on the back of the head or the neck.” I just ask it in very non-leading way like that.
And what’s commonly said to me is that there are wires or a switch. So I’ll tell them, “Hold the wires or flip the switch, and it will immobilize the robot. Then give me a yes signal when you’ve done it.” Pretty soon you get a yes signal. “Great. Now that the robot is immobilized, I want you to look inside the robot and tell me what you see.” It’s generally one or several children. I have them remove the children. I do a little hypnotic magic and ask the core to use a laser to vaporize the robot so nothing is left. They’re usually quite amazed that this works, as it has for a number of therapists.
Now the problem is that there are many different layers of this stuff. Let me come over to the overhead and give some ideas about them. What we have up here are innumerable alters.
I’ll tell you one of the fascinating things I’ve seen. I remember a little over a year ago coming in to see some cases, some of the tough cases at a dissociative-disorders unit of a couple of the finest of the MPD therapists in this country. These therapists were always part of all the international meetings and have lectured internationally. We worked together and I looked at some of their patients. They were amazed at certain things, because they had not been aware of this before.
We worked with some of the patients and confirmed this kind of programming. I remember one woman who had been inpatient for three years and still was inpatient. Another had one intensive year of inpatient work with all the finest MPD therapy you can imagine – abreactions, integrations, facilitating cooperation, art therapy, on and on and on. She was journaling intensively for one inpatient year followed by an intensive year of outpatient therapy two to three hours a week.
In both patients we found out that all of this great work had done nothing but deal with the alters. It had not touched the deeper mind control programming. In fact it was not only intact, but we found that the one who was outpatient was having her therapy monitored every session by her mother (who was her programmer), out-of-state, over the telephone. She still had intact suggestions that had been given to her that at a certain future time she would kill her therapist.
There is one thing that I would very carefully check. I would suggest that you ask not just the unconscious mind, but ask the core, “Is there any part inside that continues to have contact with people associated with the cult? Is there any part inside who goes to cult rituals or meetings? Is there a recording device inside of Mary,” if that’s the host’s name. “Is there a recording device inside so that someone can find out the things that are said in sessions?” This doesn’t mean they’re monitored. Many of them just simply have a recording device.
Ask also, “Is there someone who debriefs some part inside for what happens in our therapy sessions?” I have the very uncomfortable feeling from some past experience that when you look at this you will find the large proportion of ritual abuse victims in this country are having their ongoing therapy monitored.
I remember a woman about twenty-four years old who came in and claimed her father was a Satanist. Her parents divorced when she was six. After that, her father had visitation, and he would take her to rituals sometimes up until age fifteen. She said, “I haven’t gone to anything since I was fifteen.” Her therapist believed this at face value. We sat in my office. We did a two-hour inquiry using hypnosis. We found the programming present. In addition to that we found that every therapy session was debriefed, and in fact they had told her to get sick and not come to the appointment with me.
Another one had been told that I was cult, and that if she came I would know that she’d been told not to come, and I would punish her. If anything meaningful comes out in a patient who’s being monitored like that, my belief is you can’t do meaningful therapy other than being supportive and caring and letting them know you care a lot, and you’ll be there to support them. But I wouldn’t try to work with any kind of deep material or deprogramming with those being monitored, because I think it can do nothing but get them tortured and hurt unless they can get into a safe, secure inpatient unit for an extended period of time to do some of the work required. From what I’ve learned thus far, they’re tortured with electric shocks.
I have a feeling that when you make inquiries, you’re going to find that probably greater than fifty percent of these patients, if they’re bloodline – meaning mother or dad or both involved – will be monitored on some ongoing basis.
Now when you go below the HYPERLINK “http://www.didlegit.com/alters.html”alters, you then have programming named Alpha, Beta, Delta, Theta, and so forth – the Greek-letter programming – and they will have backup programs. There will typically be an erasure code for the backups. There may be one code that combines all the backups into one and then an erasure code for them, in other words, one code that erases all the backups.
So I will get the code for, let’s say, Omega and for all the Omega backups at the same time. After I’ve asked “What will happen if I give this,” I will give the code and then say, “What are you experiencing?” They often describe computer whirring, things erasing, explosions inside, all sorts of interesting things. I’ve had some therapists come back and say, “My Lord, I had never said anything about robots and she said something about robots vaporizing.”
I remember one therapist who’d been with me in several hypnosis workshops and consulted with me about a crisis MPD situation. I told her to inquire about Alpha, Beta, Delta, Theta. She did. She got back to me saying, “Yeah, I got an indication it’s there. What is it?” I said, “I’m not going to tell you. Go back and inquire about some of this.” We set an appointment for a week or so hence. She got back with me and said, “I asked what Theta was, and she said, ‘psychic killers.’ I asked her what Delta was, and she said ‘killers.’” Okay. So I told her about some of this stuff for a two-hour consult.
This therapist called back and said, “This seemed too fantastic. I heard this and thought, ‘Has Cory been working too hard?’ I held you in high professional regard, but this just sounded so off in the twilight zone that I really thought, ‘Is he having a nervous breakdown or something?’” She continued, “But I respected you enough to ask about this.”
The therapist said, “I asked another MPD patient.” In this patient she started describing things like how she worked, for example, with an erasure. She was describing things like robots vaporizing and all kinds of things. She said, “But I hadn’t told her about any of these things.”
Well, here’s the problem. There are different layers, and I think some of them are designed to keep us going in circles forever. They figured we probably, in most cases, wouldn’t get below the alters which they purposefully created.
It appears that below this we’ve got some other layers. One appears to be called “Green Programming.” Isn’t it interesting that the doctor’s name is Dr. Green? Here is one of the questions I use in a way that does not contaminate after I’ve identified that some of this stuff is there and they’ve given me a few right answers about what some of it is. “If there were a doctor associated with this programming and his name were a color, you know, like Dr. Chartreuse or something, if his name were a color, what color would the color be?”
Now once in a while I’ve had some other colors mentioned in about three or four patients that I felt were trying to dissimulate in some way. In one case I got another color, which I found out later it was a doctor whose name was a color who was being trained by Dr. Green almost thirty years ago. He supervised part of the programming of this particular patient under this doctor. I remember one woman couldn’t come up with anything. No alter would speak up with anything. I said, “Okay,” and we went on to some other material. About two minutes later she said, “Green. Do you mean Dr. Green?” We found this all over.
There appears to be some green programming below that. I suspect that you get down to fewer and more central programs the deeper you go. Well, all green programming is ultra-green and the green tree. Cabalistic mysticism is mixed into all this. If you’re going to work with this you need to pick up a couple of books on the Cabala. One called “Qabala” with a “q” is by a man named Dion Fortune. Another by Ann Huffer-Heller is called “The Kabbalah.”
It was interesting. I knew nothing about the Cabala. Then over two years ago, a patient sat in my waiting area who got there considerably early and drew a detailed multicolored Cabalistic tree. It took me two months to figure out what it was. Finally, I showed it to somebody else who said, “You know? That looks an awful lot like the Cabala tree.” That rang a bell with something esoteric in an old book and I dug it out. That led to the background of Dr. Green.
Now the interesting thing about the green tree is his original name was Greenbaum. What does “greenbaum” mean in German? Green tree. I’ve also had patients who didn’t appear to know that his original name was Greenbaum volunteer that there were parts inside named Mr. Greenbaum. Now let me give you some information about parts inside that may be helpful to you if you’re going to inquire about these things, because my experience is that one part will often give you some information and either run dry or get defensive or scared and stop. So you punt and you make an end run. You come around the other direction, and you find another part.
I’ll tell you several parts to ask for. Ask if there’s a part by one of these names. And, by the way, when I’m screening patients and fiddling around with this, I throw in a bunch of spurious ones and ask, “Is there a part inside by this fake name or by that name” as a check on whether or not it appears genuine. Just to see what kind of answers we get. For example, “Is there a part inside named Zelda?” I’ve never encountered one yet! I try to do this carefully.
“In addition to the core,” I ask, “is there a part inside named Wisdom?” Wisdom is a part of the Cabalistic Tree. Wisdom, I’ve often found, will be helpful and give you a lot of information. “Is there a part inside named Diana?” Diana is part of the Cabalistic system that is associated with a part called the Foundation. You will be fascinated to know about that. Remember the Process Church? Roman Polanski’s wife, Sharon Tate, was killed by the Manson family who were associated with the Process Church?
A lot of prominent people in Hollywood were associated with the Process Church, but then they went underground, the books say, in about 1978 and vanished? Well, they’re alive and well in southern Utah. We have a thick file in the Utah Department of Public Safety documenting that they moved to southern Utah, north of Monument Valley, bought a movie ranch in the desert, renovated it, expanded it, and built a bunch of buildings there. The compound is carefully monitored so that very few people go out of there, and no one can get in. They changed their name.
A key word in their name is “Foundation.” There are some other words. The Foundation is part of the Tree. So you can ask, “Is there something inside known as The Foundation?” I might ask other things to throw people off. “Is there something known as the sub-basement?” Well, maybe they’ll conceive of something. Or “Is there something known as the walls?” There are a variety of questions you can come up with, to sort of screen some things out.
I’ve also found that there will often be a part called “Black Master,” a part called “Master Programmer.” And there will typically be computer operators: Computer Operator Black, Computer Operator Green, Computer Operator Purple. Sometimes they’ll have numbers instead, sometimes they’ll be called systems information directors. You can find out the head one of those. That will be a source of some good information for you.
I will ask, “Is there a part inside named Dr. Green?” You’ll find that there are, if they have this kind of programming, in my experience. Usually with a little work and reframing, you can turn them and help them to realize that they were really a child part who’s playing a role, and that they had no choice then. But they do now. You know, they played their role very, very well, but they don’t have to continue to play it with you, because they’re safe here. Ask them, “If the cult simply found out that you talked to me, that they you had shared information with me, tell me what would they do to you.” Emphasize that the only way out is through you, and that they need to cooperate and share information and help you so that you can help them.
Now they have tried to protect this very carefully. Let me give you an example with ultra-green. I used to think this programming was only in bloodline people. I’ve discovered it in non-bloodline people, but it’s a bit different. They don’t want it to be just the same. I don’t think you’ll find deep things like ultra-green and probably not even green programming with non-bloodline people. But let me tell you something that I discovered first in a non-bloodline, and then in a bloodline.
We were going along and a patient was close to getting well, approaching final integration in a non-bloodline. Suddenly she started hallucinating and her fingers were becoming hammers and other things like that. So I used an affect-bridge, and we went back, and we found that they had given suggestions that if she ever got well to a certain point she would go crazy.
The way they did this was they strapped her down and they gave her LSD when she was eight years old. When she began hallucinating they inquired about the nature of the hallucinations, so that they could utilize them in good Ericsonian fashion and build on them, and then combine the drug-effect with powerful suggestions. “If you ever get fully integrated and get well you will go crazy and will be locked up in an institution for the rest of your life.” They gave those suggestions vigorously and repetitively. Finally they introduced other suggestions that, “Rather than have this happen, it would be easier to just kill yourself.” In a bloodline patient then, as I began inquiring about deep material, the patient started to experience similar symptoms. We went back and we found that identical things were done to her.
This was called the “Green Bomb.” Lots of interesting internal consistencies like that play on words with Dr. Greenbaum, his original name. Now in this particular case it was done to her at age nine for the first time, yet hers was different. It was a suggestion for amnesia. “If you ever remember anything about ultra-green and the green tree you will go crazy. You will become a vegetable and be locked up forever.” Then finally the suggestions added, “And if you ever remember, it will be easier to just kill yourself than have that happen to you.”
Three years later at age twelve, they used what sounds like an amytal interview to try to find out if they could breach the amnesia. They couldn’t. So then they strapped her down again, took and gave her something to kind of paralyze her body, gave her an even bigger dose of LSD, and reinforced all the suggestions. They did a similar thing at the age of sixteen. So these are some of the kinds of booby traps you run into.
There are a number of cases where they combined powerful drug effects like this with suggestions to keep us from discovering some of this deeper level stuff.
What’s the bottom? Your guess is as good as mine but I can tell you that I’ve had a lot of therapists who were stymied with these cases who were going nowhere. In fact someone here to whom I told some basic information about this in Ohio a couple of months ago said it opened all sorts of things up in a patient who’d been going nowhere. That’s a common thing.
I think that we can move down to deeper levels, and if we deal with some of the deeper level stuff, it may destroy all the stuff above it. But we don’t even know that yet.
In some of the patients I’m working with we have pretty much dealt with a lot of the top-level stuff. I’ll tell you how we’ve done some of that. We’ll take and erase one system like Omega. Then we will have a huge abreaction of all the memories and feelings in a fractionated abreaction associated with those parts. I typically find I’ll say to them, “Now that we’ve done this are there any other memories and feelings that any parts that were Omega still have?” The answer is usually “No.”
I usually find at this point in time the majority, if not all, of those parts that used to be Omega no longer feel a desire or need to be different. So I will say, “You were split off originally by them and want to go home now to Mary and become one with her again.” I use the concept often now – which came from a patient – of going home and becoming one with her. “Going back from whence you came” is another phrase I’ll use with them. “Are there any Omega parts inside who do not feel comfortable with that or have reservations or concerns about that?” If there are we talk to them. We deal with them. A few may not integrate. My experience is most of the time they’ll integrate. We may integrate twenty-five parts at once in a polyfragmented complex MPD.
I think it is vitally important to abreact the feelings before you go on. Also for many patients it hasn’t seemed to matter the order we use, but I’ve found a couple where it has. If it doesn’t seem to matter, I’ll typically go Omega, then Delta because they have more violence potential, then Gamma to get rid of the self-deception stuff. I don’t want to assume anything. Once we’ve done Omega and showed them that success can occur and something can happen giving them relief, I will say to them, “I want to ask the core – through the fingers – is there a specific order in which programs must be erased?”
Maybe it doesn’t matter, but most of the time I found “No.” Yet there are cases where we found “Yes.” I recommend doing one or two or three of those because they’ll produce relief and a sense of optimism in the patient. But then I would recommend starting to probe for the deeper level things and getting their input and recommendations about the order in which we go.
Q: What has been the typical age and typical gender of this type of person?
Dr. Hammond: I know of this being found in men and women. Yet most of the patients I know with MPD ritual abuse that are being treated are women. A while back I was talking to a small group of therapists somewhere. I told them about some of this. In the middle of talking about some of this all the color drained out of one social worker’s face. She obviously had a reaction, so I asked her about it. She said, “I’m working with a five-year-old boy. Just in the last few weeks he was saying something about a Dr. Green.”
I went on a little further, and I mentioned some of these things, and she just shook her head again. I said, “What’s going on?” She said, “He’s been spontaneously telling me about robots and about Omega.” I think you will find variations of this, and changes they’ve made probably every few years, and maybe somewhat regionally to throw us off in various ways. But certain basics and fundamentals will probably be there. I have seen this in people up into their forties including people whose parents were very, very high in the CIA, and other agencies like that. I’ve had some that were originally part of the Monarch Project, which is the name of the government intelligence project.
Q: I’m still not grasping how one starts, how you find out how to erase. How do you get that information?
Dr. Hammond: I would say, “I want the core, if necessary, using the telepathic communication ability you have to read minds.” They believe in that kind of stuff, so I’ll use it. I was trained in Ericsonian stuff, I’ll say, “Obtain for me the erasure code of all Omega programs. When you’ve done so, I want the yes-finger to float up.” Then I ask them to tell it to me. “Are there backups for Omega programs?” “Yes.” “Okay? How many backups are there?” “Six,” they say, let’s say. It can be different numbers. “Is there an erasure code for all the backup programs?” “No.” “Is there an erasure code that combines all the backups into one?” “Yes.” “Obtain that code for me, and when you’ve got it give me the yes signal again.” It can move almost that fast in some cases where there’s not massive resistance.
Q: Yes, can you tell me what you know about the risks to the therapist? [Laughter]
Dr. Hammond: You would have to ask.
Q: Yeah, I’d like to know that. What kind of data do you have given that you’ve had contact with large numbers of people. Not just threats but also any injury, or any family problems that have arisen. That’s one question. A second one is are you aware of anybody that you’ve treated – or others – with this level of dissociation and trauma that have recovered, that are integrated, whole and happy?
Dr. Hammond: Okay, I have one non-bloodline multiple, a complex multiple who had this kind of programming where they have a lot of access to the patient as neighbors and where the doctor was involved.
By the way, you’ll find physicians heavily involved. The cults have encouraged their own to go to medical school, to prescribe drugs to take care of their own, to get access to medical technology, and to be above suspicion. There is a couple in Utah, in fact, who have been nailed now. We now have in Utah two full time ritual abuse investigators with statewide jurisdiction under the Attorney General’s Office to do nothing but investigate this.
Okay? In a poll done in the State of Utah in January by the major newspaper and television station, they found that ninety percent of Utahans believe that ritual abuse is genuine and real. Not all of them believe it’s a frequent occurrence, but some of that was imparted from two years of work by the Governor’s Commission on Ritual Abuse interviewing, talking, meeting people, and gathering data.
So when people say, “There’s no evidence. They’ve never found a body,” that’s baloney. They found a body in Idaho of a child. They’ve had a case last summer that was convicted on first-degree murder charges. Two people the summer before were arrested in a case where the teenaged girl’s finger and head were in the refrigerator. They were convicted of first-degree murder in Detroit. There have been cases and bodies.
Back to risk. I know of no therapist who has been harmed. But patients inform us that there will come a time when we could be at risk of being assassinated by patients who’ve been programmed to kill at a certain time anyone that they’ve been instructed to do so. Whether that would come about is speculative. Who knows for sure? Maybe, but I don’t think it’s entirely without risk. A question in the back?
Q: There seems to be some similarity between these kinds of programming and those people who claim that they’ve been abducted by spaceships and have had themselves physically probed and reprogrammed and all of that sort of thing. Since Cape Canaveral is across the Florida peninsula from me, and I don’t think that they’ve reported any spaceships lately, I was just wondering is there any sort of relationship between this and that?
Dr. Hammond: I’ll share my speculation that comes from others. I’ve not dealt with any of those people. However, I know a therapist that I trust and respect who I’ve informed about all this a couple of years ago and has found it in a lot of patients. He is firmly of the belief that those people are in fact ritual abuse victims who have been programmed with that sort of thing to destroy all their credibility. If somebody’s coming in and reporting abduction by a flying saucer, who’s going to believe them on anything else in the future? Also as a kind of thing that can be pointed to and said, “This is as ridiculous as that.”
I recently had a telephone consult with a therapist where I had been instructing her about some of this kind of stuff. When we were consulting at one point in the fifth or sixth interview she said, “By the way, do you know anything about this [UFO] topic?” I said, “Well, not really” and shared with her what I just shared with you. I said, “If it were me being with this guy…” that she’d been seeing for a couple of months, I said, “I would ask inside for the core to take control of finger-signals and inquire about Alpha, Beta, Delta, Theta.” She proceeded to do all that, got back to me a week later and said, “Boy, were you on target. There is a part inside named Dr. Green. There’s this kind of programming.”
Q: What’s the difference between this kind of program and cult-type abuse or Satanic abuse – the kind of cults with the candles and the…
Dr. Hammond: This type of programming will be done in the cults with the candles and all the rest. My impression is that this is simply done in people where they have great access to them, or where they’re bloodline and so their parents are in it. Or they can be raised in it from an early age. If they are bloodline, they are the chosen generation. If not, they’re expendable. They are expected to die and not get well. There will be booby traps set in your way such that if they aren’t non-bloodline people, when they get well, they will kill themselves. My belief is that some people that have ritual abuse and don’t have this programming have been ritually abused, but they may be part of a non-mainstream group. Satanism shows up as the philosophy overriding all of this.
People ask, “What’s the purpose of it?” My best guess is that they want an army of Manchurian Candidates, tens of thousands of mental robots who will do prostitution, child pornography, smuggle drugs, engage in international arms smuggling, do snuff films, and all sorts of other very lucrative things. These Manchurian Candidates will do the bidding of their masters, so that eventually the megalomaniacs at the top believe they can create a Satanic Order that will rule the world. One last question. Then I’ll give you couple of details and we need to shift gears.
Q: You have suggested and implied that at some point there was support of this kind of thingat a high level of the U.S. Government. I know we’re short of time, but could you just say a few words about the documentation that may exist for that suggestion?
Dr. Hammond: There isn’t great documentation on this. The evidence comes from victims who are imperiled witnesses. The interesting thing is how many people have described the same scenario and how many people that we have worked with who have had relatives in NASA, in the CIA, and in the military, including very high-ups in the military.
A friend and colleague of mine has probably the equivalent of half the table space on that far side of the room filled with boxes of declassified documents from mind control research done in the past which has been declassified over a period of a couple decades. This friend has read more government documents about mind control than anyone else. He has a brief that has literally been sent in the past week and a half asking for all information to be declassified about the Monarch Project for us to try to find out more.
Now let me mention something about some of the stuff based on my experience with several patients that you may run into late in the process. I know I’m throwing a lot at you in a hurry. Some of it is completely foreign and some of you may think, “Gosh, could any of this be true?” Just ask. Find out in your patients, and you may be lucky if there isn’t any of this. Somewhere at a deep level you may run into some things like this. Let me describe to you the system in one patient I had treated for quite a while, a non-bloodline person.
We had done what appeared to be successful work and reached final integration. She came back to me early last year and said she was symptomatic with some things. I started inquiring. I found a part there we had integrated. The part basically said, “There was other stuff that I couldn’t tell you about, and you integrated me and so I had to split off.” I had done some inquiring about things like Alpha and Beta as a routine part of it and found they were there. I then said to this part, “Why didn’t you tell me about this stuff?” She said, “Well, we gave you some hints but they went right over your head.” She further commented, “I’m sorry, but we know that you didn’t know enough to help us, but now we know you can.” So the stuff started coming out. It was interesting.
She described the overall system – if I can remember it now – as being like this. The circle represented harm to the body, a system of alters whose primary purpose was to hurt her including symptoms like Munchhausen’s, self-mutilation, other kinds of things. Each of the triangles represented still another different system. She said, “With the exception of me,” this one part speaking, “you dealt with the whole circle with the work that we did before, but you didn’t touch the rest of the stuff.”
In the middle of all this was still another system consisting of the Cabalistic tree, of which some of you are aware. It looks approximately like this with lines in between and so on and so forth. There’s a rough approximation. That represented another system. Then once we got past that, she implied that this entire thing was somehow encompassed by an hourglass.
I kept thinking we were at final integration, but then I’d find still other parts. This person had an eagle-eye husband that was watching for certain things that we found to be reliable indicators. So often I would get evidence of dissociation within a few days. It would suddenly be picked up. I continued to find evidence of dissociation, and I’d find other parts. Finally this part, as I got angry with him and said, “Why when I give these ideomotor inquiries am I getting lied to?” This part said, “Because you don’t understand. You’re going to get us all killed.”
We started talking, and then she basically said, “It’s been programmed so that if you succeed and think you’ve succeeded, you will fail. They build it in as a way to laugh at you, that if you ever get us integrated, we will die.”
Here’s what she said, or rather this male part of her said, “I’m one of twelve disciples.” I’ve seen this in others, twelve disciples within this hourglass, each of whom had to memorize a disciple-lesson which were basic Satanic kind of premises, philosophies of life like “be good to those who hurt you, hate those who are nice to you,” on and on. There may be two or three sentences like that associated with each part, and they had to memorize them.
They said, “We are like grains of sand falling, and when the last grain of sand falls, there’s Death.” I said, “Is Death a part?” “Yes. When the last grain of sand falls, the Sleeping Giant awakens.” The Sleeping Giant was Death, who was then to kill them on day one or day six after awakening unless certain things were followed, and we did some of those.
Well we also found Death had a sister as a backup, used with mirrors to create the sister part. We had to get past that too. Death had certain things that they said had to be done to integrate. I started to say, “Oh, come on, they lied to you before.” She said, “Wait a minute. This is what they said you’d say. They said that no doctor would ever believe that they had to go these extremes to get us well, and that’s part of the reason they’d fail.” I said, “Well, tell me, tell me again.”
She said, “I have to be dressed all in red. I have to have taken Demerol. A code has to be given, and it has to be in a room that’s totally dark. It has to happen on day one or day six after this part has been awakened.”
I said what I’d have to lose? I had a psychiatrist give her a little Demerol. We used the code. My office didn’t have any windows anyway. It was pretty easy. Oh, and there had to be four, I think, candles lit. Well, fine. So we did it, and everything went well. Maybe it would have gone well if we hadn’t done it, but I decided not to take the chance and to maybe trust the patient.
So we go on and then we find another part. There’s Death And Destruction, another backup also with a sister that we had to get through. In fact, I think there were two backups there. Interestingly, the very last part was an extremely nice part, made especially that way so that they wouldn’t want to lose them, because they would be so adorable and so loving and so sweet that they wouldn’t want to get rid of them. Then we found that she continued to have these feelings with this last part left now of darkness and blackness inside. And what did we then find? A curtain.
By the way, we had encountered information about the LSD stuff, the green bomb programming. She then said, “There is a curtain behind which are the remaining feelings and memories, but it can’t be opened from the middle. It’s like a stage curtain. It has to opened this way,” implying that it can’t be opened. They assumed that you would try to deal with all the feelings. That can’t be opened until you’ve dealt with that last part and they’ve integrated. So far it looks like we’ve got integration that’s holding in this patient. So I found Death And Destruction and the Hourglass in non-bloodline patients.
“The Tree and the Hourglass,” this patient informed me, “were made of sand because we were meant to die. We’re expendable. We’re the unchosen generation.”
I’ve heard variously that it’s crystals or blood that fills the hourglass in bloodline people. By the way, it’s important to know that you can do real simple things like turn the hourglass on its side so nothing can fall out, so that time stands still to be able to do certain kinds of work. You can spread the grains of sand on the seashore, so that they can’t be numbered and the time will not be counted. Got that idea from a ritual abuse victim who had seen some of this kind of programming done by another therapist.
So those are just a few other hints about things that may be helpful or meaningful. We’re talking about very intensive therapy and at deep levels. I’ve found this give us two things. One is hope, because it gets to the deepest material, and it makes progress like nothing we’ve ever seen with these people who have it. The second thing it does for me is it demoralizes me, too, because although three years ago I had a pretty good idea about the extent and breadth of what they had done to these victims, I had no real appreciation for the depth, breadth and intensity of what they had done.
I want to come back to the other question over here now of how many of them can get well?
We don’t know. In most things in the mental health profession we accept that two-thirds of the patients are going to improve, or maybe seventy percent. There’s very little hope we can get everybody well. I think one of the sad things we have to face is that many of these patients will probably never be well. My personal belief is that if they are being messed with, their only hope of getting well is if they can somehow get out of contact.
Now I know patients who have gone to other states, but then deep-level alters pick up the phone and called their programmers saying, “This is our new address and phone number.” So now they can be picked up by other local programmers. I mean picked up in an inpatient unit for an extended period of time. If they are in a cult from their area and they are still being monitored and messed with, my own personal opinion is we can’t get them well, and we can’t offer anything more than humanitarian caring and supportiveness.
Lots of therapists do not like to hear this, but that’s my opinion. I believe that if somehow they’re lucky enough and wealthy enough to have protection, to have somehow gotten from their programmers, and if we can work with them without being messed with, then they have a chance to reach some semblance of normality and livability with enough intensive work. My own personal belief is I don’t think anybody with this kind of programming is well in this country yet, though there are some who are well on the way. I’ve got a couple who are well along in their work and have done a tremendous amount, but they’re clearly not well yet.
Q: Could you speculate on the relationship between this stuff and the fantasy games that have been proliferating, Dungeons and Dragons and that sort of thing?
Dr. Hammond: Well, there are a lot of things out there to cue people. You want to see a great, interesting movie, to cue people? Go see “Trancers II.” You can rent it in your video shop. Came out last fall. Fascinating. They’re talking about Green World Order. Yes, “Trancers II.” And who is the production company? Full Moon Productions. I couldn’t see much cueing in “Trancers I,” but who’s the production company in “Trancers I”? Alter Productions. There are lots of things around that are cueing.
There’s an interesting person in the late sixties who talked about the Illuminati. Have any of you ever heard of the Illuminati with regard to the cult? Had a patient bring that up to me just about exactly two years ago. We’ve now had other stuff come out from other patients. Appears to be the name of the international world leadership. There appear to be Illuminatic councils in several parts of the world, and one internationally. The Illuminati is the name of the international leadership of the cult supposedly. Is this true? Well, I don’t know. It’s interesting we’re getting some people who are trying to work without cueing who are saying some very similar things. There was an old guy in Hollywood in the late sixties who talked about the infiltration of Hollywood by the Illuminati.
Certainly what some patients have said is that all of this spook stuff, horror stuff, possession and everything else that’s been popularized in the last twenty years in Hollywood is done in order to soften up the public so that when a Satanic world order takes over, everyone will have been desensitized to so many of these things, plus to continually cue lots of people out there.
Now is this true? Well, I can’t definitely tell you that it is. What I can say is I now believe that ritual abuse programming is widespread, is systematic, and is very well organized based on highly esoteric information which is published nowhere. It has not been on any book or talk show. We have found it all around this country and in at least one foreign country.
Let’s take a couple of quick questions and we need to get on to other material. Yes?
Q: Do you have any techniques for decreasing your level of uncertainty that a patient is or is not still being tampered with, “messed with,” as you said?
Dr. Hammond: Just that I would ask several of the parts I’ve inquired about, Core, Diana, Wisdom, Master Programmer. I would ask several parts inside about these sorts of things and keep asking it. As you do additional work and get a bit further, I would ask again to find out.
Q: I wonder if you’ve heard or you know of the Martin Luther Bloodline?
Dr. Hammond: I know nothing about Martin Luther Bloodline but I’ll give you one quick tip. Ask him about an identification code. There’s an identification code that people have. It will involve their birth date. It may involve places where they were programmed, and it will usually involve a number that will be their birth order, like zero-two if they were second born. It will usually also involve a number that represents the number of generations in the cult, if they are bloodlines. I’ve seen up to twelve now, twelve generations.
Q: I have seen a lot of the things you’ve been describing today in several patients. You mentioned something about systems here. Are there seven systems?
Dr. Hammond: There has been that described in some patients, yes, the seven systems.
Q: Could you say what that is or draw a little diagram?
Dr. Hammond: I don’t think we know enough to know what it is, honestly. I think it may have to do with seven Cabalistic trees.
Q: It’s not a question. But I wanted to say for myself, personally, and perhaps for others here as well, thank you very sincerely for taking this time to come forward.
Dr. Hammond: Well…
Q: Does anyone want to join us for a standing ovation for this material? It’s wonderful.
Dr. Hammond: I have a dear friend who’s one of the top people in the field, who I know has had death threats. I know he struggled for professional credibility because of his belief in MPD. He was harshly criticized for just believing in that ten or fifteen years ago. He struggled to the point of straining professional credibility. I think in his heart of hearts, he knows it’s true, but he will still say things like, “I wouldn’t be surprised to find tomorrow it was an international conspiracy, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find tomorrow that it is an urban myth and rumor.”
He tries to stay right on the fence. And the reason is because it’s controversial, because there is a campaign underway saying that these are all false memories induced by “Oprah” and by books like “The Courage to Heal” and by naive therapists using hypnosis. It’s controversial.
My personal opinion has come to be if they’re going to kill me, they’re going to kill me. There’s going to be an awful lot of information that’s been put away that will go to investigative reporters and multiple investigative agencies. If I ever have an accident, an awful lot of people like you, I hope, will be pushing for a very large-scale investigation. I think we have to stand up at some point as some kind of moral conscience.
I tried to wait until we had gotten enough verification from independent places to have some real confidence that this was widespread.
I know we’ve gone like a house on fire to try to pack as much as I could in for you. I hope it’s given you some things to think about and some new ideas, and I appreciate being with you.
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In 1990, I sat in the center of communications for the radical activist group Tucson Earth First! and networked with many other non-profit organizations in town, including People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, domestic violence organizations, homeless advocates, the parent-teacher association, and had been written up in the daily paper along with a couple other women as a “Supermom.” I think I told the reporter, “I don’t recommend it.”
But I had so many ideas, so many solutions to things, could see the coordinated steps it would take to bring a complicated project, like a publication or a conference, to successful completion, usually had most of the skills, and others encouraged me, so I took them all on, and most of them went well, with a few exceptional bombers, a few embarrassing lapses of judgement, but mostly projects that brought very positive responses, and sometimes awards, and then that news article. I was even asked to run for political office and hounded about it for month before my rejection was accepted.
Before I’d gotten so radical, I’d been accepted into the largest PR firm in Arizona, Gladys Sarlat PR, where I’d been let go after I’d told them I thought a new client was a fraud. Soon after, that man would be on the front page of the business section of the daily paper nearly every day for the next 18 months – on trial for fraud.
I co-wrote a couple of editorials for the dailies, one on the Green Party and another on the FBI repression of Earth First! colleagues Judi Bari and Darryl Cherney which resulted in an assassination attempt on Judi, whose trial against the FBI with Darryl, Darryl was traveling the country for, coming through Tucson, singing songs, telling the horrifying story, showing slides of the bombed car, and soliciting help. Of course. I organized his show, did the media work, wrote an editorial for the papers, and helped him find a place to crash that didn’t have kids. I added it to my notebook of tasks and got it done.
Everything in my life was in my notebook. I worked with pages I custom-designed to help me do everything. I had daily sheets, 4-week planning charts in a 2-page spread, and monthly calendars, along with project flowcharts. I had files January through December and “Next Year,” and files numbered 1 through 31, which helped me organize everything. I carried my notebook everywhere.
One Monday a friend asked how was my weekend. I flipped the page back to Saturday and answered that I’d had a houseful of boys because it had been my son’s birthday. Until I’d read it, though, I’d had no memory of the day. My business persona and mom persona didn’t have a lot of memory connection.
I was burning out from doing too much, and realizing it. My husband always encouraged me to take on more, and he’d even volunteer for tasks that he didn’t have the skills to do – like bookkeeping – and then let me do it because he didn’t want to admit he couldn’t do it. So I’d do it. And when he insisted he’d make up the financial difference in the family because some cause was important to him that he wanted me to keep doing, he’d still keep account of the major times he paid more than his share for something, and occasionally would tell me I owed him that much. So we had arguments. A visiting friend one time said, “Do you realize that I every year I come visit you, you’re telling me the same dreadful things? When are you going to change the situation?”
I was afraid to be alone with two teenagers, so I stayed in the situation and advocated for better treatment. We did learn to have a certain amount of fun together, and we always presented a contented face to the world.
When Judi and Darryl were bombed, it was as if a psychic bomb went off in my mind. I was aware of things like FBI harassment of activists, but I’d pretended that an office person, PR person, occasional spokesperson wouldn’t be a target – they’d want the tree-spiker, not me. But Judi was bombed. She was a visionary, PR person, phenomenal spokesperson, but did nothing illegal; in fact, she’s single-handedly gotten the vast majority of California Earth First!ers to renounce tree-spiking. So why was she attacked? No – almost killed.
For the last four years, our dining room had been the hub of action for the Coalition to protect Mount Graham, combining efforts of a number of organizations, Earth First!, San Carlos Apache Tribal Council, individual tribal members, and some international environmental ecology organization, and we’d been part of demonstrations shaming the Smithsonian Institution into backing out of the astrophysical project (though they’d rejoin years later), and we mercilessly hammered on those who forged ahead: the University of Arizona, the Max Planck Institute in Germany, Arcetri in Italy, and the Vatican. Yes, the Vatican. More on that later.
I knew we were like chihuahuas nipping at the heels of a monstrous mastiff, but we did it. We emboldened each other with tales of valor, creative monkey-wrenching, street theater, affinity groups, legal strategy workshops, and all the joy of camaraderie in the face of an enemy worth confronting. I’d gone to jail twice. Both times I’d gone into altered states of consciousness. The second time, I believe I was Tasered, as I have no memory of the rest of the day or much of the next day after two plainclothes men showed up in jail and walked near me, after which I only remember rising from the ground in rage, swinging my arms, my hair in my face. Then only sketchy disturbing memories of being harassed for hours with disturbed sleep, then let go at 4 in the morning with no phone number, though people had left numerous messages for me. I remember someone finding me in the waiting room, curled, freezing on the hard floor, and following, and am told we went out to breakfast, but I can’t remember it. That was Durango, Colorado, 1992. I hadn’t meant to get arrested; I just hadn’t left the scene of a group’s civil disobedience fast enough.
Back home, to lessen my stress, I backed out of a few volunteer commitments, including most of my work to protect Mount Graham, quit my business, and got a job. I wanted a few well-defined tasks to do each day, not the ever-expanding situation I had with a PR consulting business to environmental, arts, and social justice non-profits – that attracted unending pro bono work, and when they paid I could never charge what people said I was worth, because I didn’t want to take the money out of their accounts.
The job I got was the Customer Relations person for the 3rd largest birdwatching tour company in the world, WINGS. After a few months on the job, the owner told me he’d been looking for years for someone who could take over the business, and he thought I could do it. It grossed millions each year, and he’d let me buy in over time, with an immediate doubling of my pay and opportunities for the rest of my life to travel to exotic natural place all over the world, from Alaska to Antarctica and a hundred or more other places. I would soon have to quit my job.
April 1993, my son was diagnosed with cancer. My husband and I had the final fight of our relationship, and I ended it. The kids and I were going to move out because my husband refused to. My health insurance company went bankrupt. I went down into the basement to cry, and began instead to make an involuntary sound, between a scream and a growl and roar, over and over again, able to stop for just a few seconds before the urge was upon me again, and I could not turn it off. For awhile I thought I’d just let it wear itself out, and continued until I realized that I felt a blood vessel in my throat that felt like it could burst. I felt the real possibility that if I didn’t drown in my own blood, I wasn’t sure how anyone would staunch the blood flow from a vocal cord, and realized I could either drown or bleed to death, and I really tried to stop.
I stopped for ten seconds, then had to emit a small growl-roar, and then another, and another. I headed up the stairs thinking, Oh my God, I’m going to call Helpline. I’m supposed to be someone who would consult to them, not need their services. I’m a Supermom. I’m the business consultant. I’m not someone who needs help. Shakily, I turned to the inside cover of the phonebook and tried a few times with trembling hands – between not-very-well-repressed growls – and finally got the number dialed correctly. Someone talked me down.
The next Monday morning, I walked into a counselor’s office and before I even sat down, I spilled out my litany: My son has cancer, my health insurance company just went bankrupt, my husband and I are divorcing and we have to move and I don’t know where or how, my daughter hates me for making them move…and I could have added that I was in shock to realize that I can’t trust that my children will live, or that they will love me – two monumentally new ideas, two huge shifts in my world…and then another phrase came out of my mouth that had never crossed my conscious mind: and I think I was sexually abused as a child.
It was so bizarre to hear words come of my mouth that never crossed the threshold of my consciousness. For a moment, all reality was suspended, and I tipped my head to the right as if I could peek around a dimensional corner and maybe see my words spelled out there in the air. Anything seemed possible in that moment.
And in that moment I began a struggle that had me falling apart all year long, crying everywhere I went, crying at home, walls breathing, flashbacks of sex from young childhood to teen years, wolf energy entering me, Tarot cards that came up again and again confirming this, and a couple of attempts to commit myself to a mental hospital because I wanted a place to cry and throw myself around and not attract police. For awhile I thought I could go there for the rest of my life so that I didn’t have to make a decision about what was real.
The decision was this: to believe that I was sexually abused and have my whole self change, or believe that was a weird and meaningless string of experiences and all is fine. I wanted to believe the latter, but whenever I told myself that, I felt foggy, hazy, fuzzy, and like I was falling back asleep. Whenever I entertained the former, my brain felt like it was coming out of a fog, like I saw more light – before the psychic pain crept in.
Realizing the difference that clearly, you’d think, would make me to accept the theory that made me feel clearest, but I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t want my whole world to change. I didn’t want to think about who did it. I didn’t want to be one of those women scorned in the papers for jumping on the current bandwagon of diagnoses, particularly one which is so disgusting and embarrassing, that certainly means I must have some secret perversion to have picked that bandwagon. No, I was not going there.
But I’d turn back to the other choice, and feel the haze fall over. I felt I was falling back into an oblivion I hadn’t know I’d been in.
And a whole lot of things began to make sense, things I could never think about before, though they did cross my mind like bats in the night, barely seen, only these things had no name, no context, they didn’t make sense. Into the Anomaly file they went – things that made no sense.
One was the sexual nightmares I had as a child. One was the way I went mute and catatonic the first time a boy attempted intercourse. Another was the altered state I went into the first time I was coerced into leaving my baby in the church nursery and literally forgot I had a child, even when another mother asked me where he was and even answered my question “Baby??” with his name – when I snapped out of it, remembered, and went running for him in sheer terror that I’d left him there.
And the sex play my best friend said I participated in in 5th grade, for which I had no memory. So many things began popping back in my mind. I tried to say I was inventing meaningful connections where there were none, but they kept coming and seemed reasonably connected. More and more, never quitting, scraps of memories, images, ideas, sickening.
I did what I think of as silent crying, diverting the tears down inside my sinuses, giving me a constant drip that I knew was all tears. After my nose got all chapped from wiping it for a week, I resorted to scooping the mucous-y tears out with a thumbnail, and wiping it on a hankie always with me, then after a week ditching the handkerchief and slurping the salty pain off my thumbnail, hoping people wouldn’t notice, but unable to care if they did, wearily accepting that I was more a mess than I’d ever thought possible.
I could no longer work, so I accepted entry into the Master’s Program in Creative Writing after winning an award for a story written and submitted before my life fell apart. My kids and I began living on student loans and, for the first time in my life, credit cards, which were skyrocketing with medical bills.
The only bright side: I’d begun praying, and though my son had been identified as being at very high risk, he was suddenly pronounced in remission.
The last night of the school year, I was facing a free summer – the first three months in my adult life, I realized, that I’d ever had. I’d never had nothing to do for that long a period of time.
The evening after my last class, I was feeling very happy, feeling confident that I’d survive this somehow, accept the reality of my past and begin to do the healing others told me I’d be able to do, making me a better person than I could otherwise have ever been if I’d not remembered and integrated it. I imagined a summer of reading, writing, sleeping late, staying in bed, going to support groups, doing the healing exercises in the books, with lots of time to abreact and recover and whatever else would follow. I’d treat myself well.
As it turned out, I’d build a tiny hermitage in the desert that summer and do very little healing work of the sort I’d imagined.
The emptiness I saw ahead was delicious, and I sat down that evening with my current book in a comfortable reading chair, thinking that the world was seeming beautiful again for the first time in over a year. The Holographic Universe by Michael Talbot is about reality, perception, multiple dimensions, and much more. I found my place in the book and began to read, but soon was experiencing something very odd.
I finished a sentence, had a reaction of great interest to it, but couldn’t remember anything it was about as soon as I reached the end of it. I re-read the sentence repeatedly with the same physical reaction of great interest and then amnesia for it.
I tried it again, and was face to face with something weird happening in my brain. I balanced between fascination and fear. Then an idea popped up: Read the sentence aloud. And I did.
The sentence was about people with multiple personality disorder looking often decades younger than their biological age – which is still true for me today, sometimes (depending on which alter is out), and was even more true then. At forty-one, I was often mistaken for my teenage children’s sister.
Again, the world shifted, but this time it wasn’t as traumatic. In fact, after the acceptance of the child abuse, it felt real comfortable, as though a confirming piece of a puzzle had dropped into place and made things clear.
Still the rational part of me was horrified. I was already carrying this secret stigma of being a child sexual abuse survivor, which was bad enough. But mental illness!? No way. I did not want this.
A response came from inside: Understanding this is the beginning of everything getting better. I can heal. And I decided I’d go first thing in the morning to the medical library at the university and read all I could about multiple personality.
The next day I was greatly affirmed. Despite multiple personality’s reputation, it’s not always as crippling as some stories they’ve made into movies. And once diagnosed, it’s relatively easy to heal. Created by trauma, it’s actually the most “sane” response, as opposed to going schizophrenic, the other alternative when the mind cannot assimilate what’s dealt to the body. And many “multiples” are actually very high-functioning, even geniuses – not coincidental, but because of their multiple-ness. They have more “minds” to learn things, and many learn to partially integrate their various alters to network and use all those minds to superior levels.
I’d tested at genius levels a few times in my life, so this news helped me not feel like a freak two or three times over, but like I’d just had bad luck, and others have gone before me. We have highly complicated minds, sorta supercharge potential, not working quite right, but healable.
Now I just had to figure out how to do it. By going to the desert, though, while also enrolled in school, I’d make life too complicated to follow through with counseling. Besides, whenever I did visit a counselor over the years, they kept telling me I was “doing great” and I could just continue on my own.
I moved to the desert, fell in love with my solitude, and thought I’d stay there all my life – until my old high school crush and I had a conversation at our 25th high school reunion.
Soon I had abandoned my hermitage, moved to Colorado Springs, and was engaged to be married to my rescuer I believed was my soul mate. (If we can have a few, he is one.) I snapped back into functioning mode and tried not to think about having anything that needed to heal.
Needing a new career, I got my real estate license and was soon top-selling agent in my office, and was offered management of my franchise’s cornerstone office, overseeing 60 agents, for which I would likely earn “six figures.”
In the previous four and a half years, my fiancé and I had realized we couldn’t blend our lives, and I was yearning to return to my hermitage, to sit in front of the windows and watch hawks. The real estate biz had helped me pay down a good bit of my credit cards, and business was burning me out again, needing to be at every client’s beck and call 24-7 for their most important financial action of the decade. The excitement was over, I’d proven myself, so I declined and moved back home to the desert.
In my hermitage, I’d never had curtains because I lived far off the road and my nearest neighbor, a woman friend, was a quarter-mile away with barbed wire fence between us. One night, though, I knew someone malevolent was outside my large solar windows in the dark, looking in on my one-room house, me sitting in the middle of it, next to the fireplace, facing out. I set down my book, raised my hands in prayer position and prayed fervently that I’d be protected and maybe the man would be moved by my gesture to remember God and pull himself together and do right.
After awhile, I put down my hands and began to read again, and the feeling of horror came over me again. I retook my prayer pose, prayed a while, then turned out the light, and went to bed.
The next morning I found outside a styrofoam coffee cup in pristine condition sitting on my porch, a cigarette butt thrown a short distance away, and a place on the dirt where he’d relieved himself. I called the sheriff and was told it was all insignificant and, no, he wouldn’t even make a note about my call. In the next four years, I experienced a lot of fear, interspersed by events indicating I was being helped through it all with supernatural assistance.
In April 2002, I sat on my roof, watching a rare phenomenon in the sky: a crescent moon and four planets lined up after sunset. I’d been having lots of experiences I understood were called “shamanic,” which excited me. I’d had a year of snakes making dramatic entries into my life, ravens, owls, hawks, phoebes, lizards, a wild cat, and I’d bought a book of animal spirit meanings.
As I sat on the western edge of the roof of my bathhouse and gazed westward, suddenly a cluster of bats rolled in front of my face like a four-foot high, one-foot wide tire-shape in the air, and I knew it was a sign, but I didn’t know of what.
Next thing I knew, I was in a state of absolute ecstasy, seeing the planets and moon from a different perspective, colorful, and could perceive the rotation of the Earth, the Moon’s orbit around us, and the Earth’s and all the planets’ orbits around the Sun as a sensation in my body. I was totally enraptured, felt myself suspended in space, rising, ecstatic.
Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the middle of the roof, the sky was perfectly dark except for brilliant stars, the moon and planets were long gone, no light at all in the west. And I was babbling words of gratitude, unable to stop. I did though when two owls began to fly around me, and flew around me again and again until I began to wish I’d counted so I could one day tell the story with precise truth, and soon after my mind went into that rational track, they flew away.
Back in the house, I looked up bats and owls. They are each complex, but the phrases I remembered were: Shamanic initiation and astral travel. Years later, I realized or remembered that a great deal of time had passed for which I have no memory.
Days or weeks later, walking from my reading chair to get a drink of water, I suddenly had the experience of a spirit crashing into me – specifically, the spirit of Judi Bari! She had died five years earlier of breast cancer while trying to sue the FBI for various civil rights abuses related to the bombing. In an instant, with no words passed between us, I realized a whole lot: She knew from the other realm that I felt myself a very tepid activist. She, on the other hand, to my mind, had been a Superwoman activist, a Supermom activist even, someone to go down in history, except that the mainstream media seemed to be cooperating with the FBI to keep the history-worthy event out of awareness and memory. Still, she was a hero to a lot of us for her amazing work to try to save the last of the Redwood forests. I was nobody in comparison.
She scolded me for my attitude and told me (all wordlessly, instantaneously) that her style (bold and sometimes insulting and sarcastic to the Powers that Be) was not the only way to do things, and in fact it had even gotten her killed, and my gentler style could go further, and I should lay off thinking there was nothing more I could do. And then she was gone.
Standing there in front of the counter with an empty glass in my hand, having been thinking of other things before I got up for water, I was completely dumbfounded. Why would I get this message? Why now? I was so far from activism, and had no intentions of getting back into it.
A few weeks after the night on the roof, and not long after Judi’s message, I received a phone call from Darryl – ten years since I’d talked to him last – asking me if I’d come to Oakland to manage media relations for the trial. I said I would, and two days later I took the Amtrak to Oakland, California, to participate in a six-week trial resulting in various agents of the FBI being found guilty of all the charges, for which they’d pay a historic sum of $4.4 million.
During the trial, I felt made subject to more experimentation. I felt as though I’d been hit by immobilizing beams on at least two occasions. Then, I’d also felt twice taken into another dimension, and upon return it took a minute or more to remember who I was in this Earth life, as if my consciousness was of a higher self who was just dropping in with the Earth-life me to make sure I re-entered and remembered properly before removing herself.
She worried about nothing, found my slow memory mildly humorous, but was fond in her judgement, and left me with a sense that all was well. It sure didn’t seem like all was well, with our FBI overseeing the bombing of activists trying to save the last 3 percent of the native forest of California, but the soul part who seemed to be there with me for a minute felt confident and calm, as though everything was as it should be. It comforted me for a while. Then I worried it might have been a technological mind trick, maybe messing with my mind, but leaving a false memory that all was okay.
I told no one because we all had enough on our hands, working with lawyers every day to craft messages out to the world’s media; no one needed my drama, so I kept my worries to myself, and focused on the job.
My first day home from the trial, catching up on email, I was directed to some websites by one of my most important confidants. She said, “I think these will explain a lot that we have in common.” I began to read, for the first time in my life, about something that causes multiple personality: mind control.
It was horrifying. Mesmerizing. Disgusting. Repellent. And familiar in a way that made me feel that old ghosts were stirring, old memories, little children’s voices whispering, It’s true. And: We’re scared. And: Maybe you’ll recognize us now?
Making this connection between mind control and multiple-ness would explain even more of my life and be both as promising and terrifying as it was to accept that I’d been sexually abused. Promising, because it explained things that had never made sense before. Terrifying, because it implied that I might be being watched and maybe controlled even now. And maybe all my activism had been playing into the hands of my controllers, and maybe I’d done things to betray activists without knowing. I felt like a living time bomb. I thought I should kill myself.
At the same time, I felt I had a chance again to know myself better than ever, and could free myself from it, maybe. That bit of hope, though, was greatly overshadowed by fear so great, that I did not get better any time soon, but went into another deep dark hole for a good length of time, during which I became paranoid that my home was not only bugged, but someone was video recording my every move. I was afraid to speak of critical topics aloud except whispered in a noisy outdoor space.
My efforts to use shamanism to protect myself went awry, and I felt ganged up on from the other side, as if aliens had joined the CIA (the department that has always overseen mind control – according to their own documents and director testimony to the Senate) in harassing me, or the CIA was giving me “screen memories” of aliens.
For five years, I had bizarre experiences, for example, being immobilized in my vehicle stopped on the highway and losing hours of time, and more often, weirdness at home, seeing at least a dozen UFO’s over the years, feeling myself pulled up through the canvas of my bedroom teepee into another dimension, perceptions of people who’d just unexpectedly passed over (before many knew they’d died), and more – a mix of things shamanic and things that could have been technological harassment, including being hit by beams of laser energy, once right between the eyes.
And I never did I do much healing work on my multiple-ness.
My multiple-ness is easy to ignore, and some people might think I’m over-exaggerating or slapping on a diagnosis that’s unnecessary. But Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD) – now called Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) – manifests in a variety of ways, some of which occur after natural trauma or the trauma of random abuse, and others which are the result of intentional trauma inflicted to make the person dissociate so that the perpetrator can embed behaviors triggered by secret commands, called “programming,” into the victim who will then be the subject, controlled, without the subject’s awareness, by the person who knows the secret passwords.
The “work on my healing” I’d hope to do had suddenly become something much more complicated, and something for which I knew I was going to be attacked by those who didn’t want me to heal. Would I even have a chance?
I read books on the subject, from medical library material to popular and therapeutic literature. Therapists claimed healing could be done, but it took money. And it seemed every time I tried to get a job, someone had been there before me, saying something about me – perhaps a federal agent would simply walk in and ask to be notified if I should come in – and then the secretary would stare at me, stricken, as if I were a ghost and she didn’t know what to do. After a few times, I quit looking and decided eventually to leave my home when my computer was suspiciously destroyed, my vehicle quit running, and I began to borrow money again with no idea how I was going to repay it. I sold my land, sad to go, and moved to Silver City, New Mexico. I wondered if they forced me to town to make my programming easier and my potential for use much greater.
As I said, my condition is easy to hide. My alters seem to coordinate fairly well enough, but remembering things like events and people’s names is slow. Expressing opinions is an interesting exercise. I see things, usually, from at least a few different perspectives, see the validity in all of them, compare them, revisit the person’s question to determine which of these viewpoints I want to share to best respond to their question, and usually by then, someone else has moved the conversation along, my opportunity passed, and I appear slow. I, though, feel like I’ve done ten times the work on the idea as anyone else and really only took a few seconds longer, but opening my mouth was too slow for social custom – unless I am in an ultra-high-functioning mode, and then I might be too speedy for some people.
Let me be alone in my office, though, working on a project, and I do better than fine. I win awards. Just don’t bother me.
So I work alone, and limit my social life. And people treat me like I’m normal – I think. Hard to know from this vantage. I’m usually wrapped up in my own mind: observing, comparing perceptions, keeping steady, and lately I’ve been doing better than ever in my social skills. I even hosted my first party ever in my adult life in my current home shortly after I moved here, and have hosted parties regularly since then. And I’ve made a lot of friendly acquaintances. And held jobs successfully, for as long as I’ve wanted them, which often isn’t long. I get tired of the strain of managing my personalities and moods, and all the extra compensation time I need to take to keep up, and usually need to take breaks every few months, which made teaching in the local college a good gig for a while.
The government-military style of mind control (there are others, Satanic, for instance) was probably responsible for my being high-functioning. I’m not sure how many programs they have, but I know they create super-soldiers, super-spies, and sexual entertainers for rewards and blackmail. I know I was trained in the latter. I suspect I might have also been trained as a spy, though I have no hard evidence, only a lifetime aversion to the color blue and an article on mind control (MK) programming linking blue to spies – and the fact that I got myself right in the heart of all the activists in Tucson, which would have been useful to the government which has been spying on and repressing groups like these for decades.
What irony. I suspected others of being spies (and maybe they were), but I never considered myself. My world reeled again.
It’s twenty years now since I first realized I was multiple and was inspired to be on a healing path, grounded with information from the medical library, supported by other women dealing with the same sort of shock and challenge, but in all these years, I haven’t done much. I’ve had lots of memories and alters (alternate personalities) present themselves, but I haven’t worked with that information, regardless of my strongest intentions. I’ve begun to realize there’s probably truth in the literature about programming installed for the express purpose of sabotaging all efforts to heal.
The first thing I might have worked with was the Integrating Woman (I spontaneously felt that was who she was). In the moment I first connected the idea of a multiple personality with myself, I saw/felt, as if seeing in another dimensional space that shares reality with us here, a woman slip herself over me like a glove, holding all my parts together. She didn’t feel anything like an angel, and she didn’t feel like me. Rather, she felt like a calm being, who could help me integrate. I was bothered though that she seemed to avert her face from me, and I never saw it. My vantage point seemed to be from behind her and to the left, although I seemed to be included in her. I felt safe, though I was bothered that she didn’t feel nicer. She seemed functional, mild, and perhaps kind, but not in any heart-felt way, just as if she was a good person doing a job, and she knew better than to expend a lot of energy, or maybe she was just beyond emotions, and way beyond my trembling volcano full. So she kept her distance, blue-green light she seemed to be made of, and left me to deal with my emotions alone, or actually with other help, Wolf to begin with.
Wolf came into me one night and rose up in all her power, ready to rip up the apartment. Quickly I negotiated for her to restrain herself and I’d get emotional help for us the very next day if she could hang tight. The next day, I kept my promise – I didn’t want her tearing up the apartment as I’d felt she was fully ready to use my body to do – and first called two mental hospitals who determined over the phone that I was too sane to admit myself. Then I called an astrologer-psychic I respected and asked for an appointment private enough that if I began raging, no one would hear it and call police. We met in a friend’s vacant office building, and I didn’t make any noise but weeping.
I never experienced Wolf again, but she was good for me, got me back into therapy, let me know there was big stuff that needed to get out. Thank you, Wolf. But somehow I never did any “work” with the Integrating Woman.
I accept that I have programming against healing work, but why have none of my therapists led me to work with any of my many alters or the Integrating Woman? Some, I’ve realized, later were part of the system of managing my programming. But all of them? Why no proper help?
Since 2002, I’ve probably read close to a dozen books on mind control, not a lot (it’s exhausting) from personal accounts to therapy manuals to history. In general what I understand is that I was enrolled into a program, perhaps MKULTRA, but likely one of the others, MKDELTA, MKNAOMI, or some other, now all lumped together under MKULTRA as a generic term for government-sponsored mind control.
There are many different programs for different purposes, and children come into the programs in different manners. Some, more dispensable, come from kidnappers and similar sources. Some children come from the upper-class or upper-middle-class hoping to climb in status by participating in this new program that will make their daughter very smart and disciplined, plus it would support the country.
There is also reported to be families that have been subjected to mind control for centuries, maybe millennia. I sense all the secret societies are involved. Eisenhower is a lineage associated with a very old secret society, that of iron hewers – sworn to keep the secrets of metallurgy for the king alone.
Other children get recruited when their parents are discovered to be sexually abusing them. The CIA knows that the traumatized child is already dissociative, or multiple, so they threaten the family with someone gone to prison and the shame of that – and give the option to put the child into a mind control program instead. Of course, the parents cave.
They also pay cash to the parents for their kids’ recruitment – in the form of employment checks for certain services rendered, such as denying that the child had been asleep for two years and other reinforcement of the program – all in the name of science and the betterment of mankind. If the parents ever think of breaking their contract, the fact that they took money would silence most of them. If that didn’t, then threats to kill the child would.
Many of us recall our families moving into much larger homes about the time we began or ended our two years of amnesia.
Other adult subjects report things that I have no visceral reaction to, but some reports make me feel as though I can remember – and I jump in my chair at the first reading and cringe or cry.
Once my daughter and boyfriend came to visit me on my birthday and one brought along a movie, in their minds, “a classic” of its genre – but a genre I had chosen to never watch any more and had told both of them that for years. They both thought I should watch it anyway, because it was “a classic.” They seemed so certain that we should all watch this movie that I relented. In an early scene, a Mafia underling is being upbraided and threatened by his superior in a brightly lit room, defending himself with poor attempts at lies and bluster. He wears a knit shirt that I associated with the late 1950s/early 60s. The man’s bluster and his shirt felt familiar, as though I knew that sort of man too well, and he scared the shit out of me.
In a panic, I asked them to turn it off, and when they ignored me, felt myself rise like a zombie and walk for the door, trying to keep one foot going in front of another and my mind in my body and not screaming. Outside, I sat down and burst into sobbing, feeling real terror about that ignorant, fearful, blustering man, as if he could do things to me, and my body shook and jumped and jolted for hours afterward, and I continued crying and criticizing them for not listening to me and believing that I do not want to watch movies portraying Mafiosa – it terrifies me, and they should have respected it.
Instead, I’ve had to respect that others simply do not want to believe this is true. They want to believe I’m being dramatic, and they are being tolerant and doing the right thing, encouraging me off your sick fantasy.
The government doesn’t work alone on this. They subcontract out jobs to the Mafia, various churches, law enforcement, medical groups, and any others that are needed. They get their connections through secret societies, which demand loyalty of their members and may entrap or blackmail their recruits into compliance under threat of having some misdeed exposed. A favorite, powerful entrapment is sexual, for which they need to train lots of children in sexual behaviors. The children, though, are usually given more than one type of programming.
The mind control was done “scientifically,” noting what sorts of drugs or hypnosis, or torture evoked what response. Some were experimental, others had passed that phase and become protocol.
Torture was not done strictly because the perpetrators were insane psychopaths, though they probably are; it was done because it is effective. Torture a young child, and their mind leaves their body at some point, a point they were becoming adept at finding quickly by using extreme measures. Therefore, we were drugged, hypnotized, caged, tortured with cold, hunger, dislocated joints, lose-lose psychological games, electroshock, physical and sexual torture, and being forced to witness other disobedient children being murdered.
We went out of our minds. And that was the point. As soon as “we” were gone, the brain, still recording life experience, had a fresh, blank slate, and the researcher told it its name and its function, terrified it into obedience, and sent it away with its only existence being to respond properly so as not to be tortured or murdered as we know very well they will do.
My g-spot (descending bulge) was sliced from back to front and twice more (not visible here) from side to side.
For comparison, here’s a normal g-spot. The photograph was supplied by a friend in sex education. You can see it is ribbed and round.
I’ve been punished for disobedience, I assume, fairly recently. One day in 2004, I realized I’d been cut inside my vagina fairly deeply, my g-spot sliced neatly through, right down to the main trunk of the nerve, so that now I can’t stand to be touched there, making sex a rather hazardous enterprise ever since.
Throughout it all, meticulous records are kept on every alter created and what programming command is programmed to evoke which response. Some programming was foundational and dealt with amnesia, pass codes, and obedience to particular individuals, while other programming built on that and involved specific tasks. At the end of two years, we’d been made obedient and disciplined, with amnesic alters who were glad to be in the real world and not be tortured, who would follow the program of acting like everything was normal.
Many of us have bad hearts from all the electroshock, or extreme reactions to pharmaceuticals, not to mention neurotic, disabling reactions to things like a movie with a blustering man in an old-style T-shirt, and alters that come and go and leave us with missing time and the fear that we’ve been used again and we don’t know what for.
Since there’s no honor among thieves, sometimes the pass codes get shared with people who aren’t supposed to have them – someone giving someone a gift of a mind control fuck, for instance – and someone calls us on the phone and says, Open your door tonight at 10 – and the subject does and provides sex and wonders why she’s sore and tired after what she thinks was an 8-hour night’s sleep.
Since they have such high technology, it seems there would be no reason for anyone to use a Taser on me, but I woke up one morning with severe weakness and a third-degree burn on my arm with two bright red dots in the middle. Maybe these were interlopers who didn’t quite manage my pass codes correctly and they had to Taser me to erase my memory. I don’t know. And I was Tasered a second time, I assume, though I wasn’t burned as badly, because the two dots were there again.
Last night, I drafted a post for Paradigm Salon in which I wrote that since removing all my shamanic paraphernalia and putting my focus on Yeshua alone that I hadn’t had any more hypodermic bruises on my thighs. But the next day, I found another one. What does it mean? Someone in my house again? [The day after that, I had two more!]
Back to my alters I haven’t worked with –and why has no psychologist or other counselor supported me in working with them?
A few days after I experienced the Integrating Woman, I lay down in the afternoon and suddenly experienced myself as three, fanned out like a small hand of cards. I was intrigued and thought I’d talk to them and see if they had clues for helping me understand things, and they read my mind and said, “No. It’s too complicated to explain how we came about, would take to long, and you wouldn’t understand it anyway, but we aren’t needed any more, so we’re outa here,” and they “folded” – that fast. I felt them melt into me and disappear.
Later that year, I sensed that some children wanted to come out and be known, but they were afraid. They wanted to know that I was nice. So I bought two stuffed animals and put them inside a shawl, wrapped it around me with them in the sling and carried them with me everywhere I went all day every day for two weeks, taking them off only to sleep, and then I cared for them as though they were real babies in bed with me, talking to them, loving them, really feeling like they were my children and I cared so very much to encourage them that I was strong and competent, could keep them safe, could listen, wouldn’t be afraid of their stories, and would love them.
After two weeks, I set the stuffed animals on the window seat and talked to them throughout my day, demonstrating that I thought they were capable and I was going to respect them and trust them to be strong too, to sit there and not need to be carried constantly. One day, sitting on my bed, a little girl appeared in another dimension a few feet away and a few feet up, sitting in a tree with a leg hanging down. I was so surprised to see her there, and so very happy that she’d presented herself to me, that I reached up my hand to touch her leg. This scared her and she kicked her leg in panic, but laughed a little too, as she indicated she wasn’t yet ready to be touched. I accepted that and told her that whenever she was ready, I’d be ready.
One night, reading a book, she slipped into me. When our hearts connected, I felt her, remembered her, knew that little girl was me, a part of me lost a long time ago. It was amazing to feel her again, so sudden, a surprise, but so familiar too. She was very sweet, and said about my hands, as if surprised by their wrinkled appearance but finding them comforting: Just like Grandma’s. And then she expressed a second judgement about having come into an old body when she was only 6: It’s not so bad.
Her innocence and sweetness, and my sense of the courage it required to come back into this body after what had driven her out, touched my heart and made it hurt so that my hands came up and my face dropped down and I sobbed and sobbed a mix of happiness, sorrow, grief for the child, and grief for me, all of it warmed though by love for the child’s openness and courage.
Over these twenty years, I’ve had lots of alters merge or emerge, and each has been an experience that wrenched my heart and caused me to spend days at home, crying, writing, combing the experience for meaning, making myself strong enough again to go out of the house.
I haven’t kept track of them though. I don’t know if I’ve learned what I should have. Most times I think I have, but sometime I worry that I’ve been letting things slip away. And I hear others report that whenever we heal an alter and erase some programming, they have alternate pass codes or entryways to replace whatever was lost, so our programming never gets broken. And we remain their subjects.
Sometimes it’s a challenge to remember why I think I can heal, or why I should stay if I can’t. But I play philosophical games with myself and invent possible reasons for an unexpected reality to unfold soon that’ll make everything worth it. And sometimes angels pick me up. And I keep on, trying to do some good here.
Amazingly, I have more days that I feel grateful to be alive than days that I want out. But I have to write about this. I am pretty sure they don’t want me to. But I have to.
This bruise showed up ten days after another very similar showed up on the back of my leg. No explanation except…
I often am amazed to think about the “Apocalypse” – which means “unveiling,” “revealing” – a time for us to see! Are we seeing yet?
It’ll be very healing for a lot of us when others choose to look.
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~ Twelve years flirting ~ Amazing changes since I quit
Twelve years of flirting with “shamanic practice.” I wouldn’t recommend it.
Opening doors to the other dimensions, or recognizing that they were opened somehow, as was my case, and then not acting decisively about it is dangerous. I’ve documented how dangerous it is all over this site, on pages and posts.
It has nearly killed me more times than I can tell, and nearly made me crazy. And that’s how shamanic initiations are described in all the literature. But that doesn’t mean it’s “wrong.” Perhaps our path is to explore this danger.
Sometimes we just stand there like a deer in the headlights, asking, “What is this? Is this real? Should I go right or left? Do I believe what I’ve been told about these things? Are there other ways to interpret what I’ve heard about things like this? What does my heart say? Is it dangerous just because it’s mind blowing? Might it be good? Can I just watch and think and not act quickly?”
Meanwhile, the thing is storming down on you or has already taken you – where?
So after twelve years, feeling somewhat fortunate to be “chosen” or to have attained this awareness of the multiple dimensions, I’ve decided to not just “keep an open mind” to whatever comes through those portals, but to choose. And I believe that’s the point.
Yeshiva – (I meant to write, and thought I wrote “Yeshua,” but I wrote this interesting derivation! Wonder where that came from….
I’ve chosen to connect and align with the only spiritual being whom I have ever felt kinship with, who hasn’t mystified me: Yeshua.
When I was a teen, I heard a youth minister recount some stories in which Christ came down squarely on the side of non-violence, non-sexism, non-racism, non-materialism, and anti-doctrine.
(Posts about my struggle with “Jesus” are under the category Yeshua/Jesus, to the right.)
Since making this decision (finally, or again?), and following it up by removing all the cluttering shamanic paraphernalia from the house (and allowing certain items back later, though to different, less prominent places), some wonderful changes have come about:
First, I’ve had no more horrendous experiences of waking bruised, burned, or biopsied with mysterious, debilitating exhaustion. Done. Gone!
Second, I’ve felt and followed the need to “clear energy” (clutter of various sorts) everywhere throughout the house, from the storage room, to my bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, sunroom, and closets.
Not obsessively; just every few days I feel inspired, and it’s been easy and fun! And the energy change is palpable, for both myself and my partner. And interesting spiritual understandings have come about in the process. Life is becoming productive again.
This is not to denounce shamanism (at least I don’t claim to know enough to say for sure).
But I feel fairly confident about this: just because the portals open and a friend suggests it might be one’s initiation doesn’t mean one is actually called or that it is a good call to answer.
Shamanic practice is an interesting phrase, used by those who want to explore the multiple dimensions – which I believe is a righteous desire but, after twelve years of going it alone, I’ll say its dangerous without a guide, and even with a guide it can be dangerous. Just read Carlos Castaneda or any of this team of initiates.
I don’t believe I need any “practice,” which is probably why I resisted it so consistently. Everything in my life tells me that I came into this world with “my lights on,” understanding the portals and extra-dimensional beings very well even in childhood – though I had to pretend not to know, to please my family.
Mind control tried further to convince me that I didn’t know, so I set aside what I knew and tried to be “open” in this realm we call shamanic. Not good.
While I was “practicing” (or trying and failing to be diligent to the practice), I failed to learn the lessons that should have been easy because I was trying to see something others said they saw. I’d been encouraged to make myself blind!
Finally, a few weeks ago, frustrated and seriously afraid (see this page if you wonder why), I realized Yeshua is the only spiritual being I have ever had a deep feeling for, so – regardless that he and his teachings have been perverted in church doctrine (little of which I believe) and made a mockery of on TV – he, the real Being, is my Chief, my Guide, my Counselor.
He’s the first one I speak to each morning, and the last one I speak to each evening, and I stay in touch throughout the day. That’s the extent of my “shamanic” (multi-dimensional) practice today.
And life is no longer crazy.
I assume there are many, different Guides, one (or more) for each of us. Find your spiritual connection/s. Trust yourself. Don’t let cultural lies get in the way. Develop the relationship. We need help here. Can’t go it alone.
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Mostly I’ve written about mind control from a very personal vantage – the struggle to get free of the worst sort of it – while recognizing that the most general sort of it may be so intrinsic to the nature of who we are that it will always be a part of society, the only question being to what degree.
In any case, I assert we must do aikido with mind control programming, dancing out of its way – rather than ignore it as we’re so encouraged to do.
Most people think about mind control as hypnotic programming or voice-to-skull technology – both of which I’m certain I’ve experienced, along with a great variety of other technological, pharmacological, and other experimentation – but it is so much more.
Mind control begins with birth trauma (all sorts are induced by modern medicine), and continues with day care, education, news, history, economic manipulation, law, law enforcement, entertainment, war, etc.
But mind control predates even these basic elements of society; when humans were separated from their Earth-based calendars and forced to accept an arbitrary industrial work week, our minds were fractured. We were weakened, given inducements and threats, and we agreed to calibrate our minds to the needs of industry.
In 2002 I’d been feeling a gut horror at this idea growing in me for twenty years. I was still pulling myself together after a nervous breakdown, or spiritual crisis, in 1993, and was obsessed with the idea that we needed to learn to pay attention to the sky, stars, moon, wildlife, and planting and foraging cycles. The idea of a calendar to help me do that had been growing in me since the 1980s, and I finally did something about it.
One October day, I told a friend I’d delayed the project too long again, and it would be impossible to throw it together now, and he (a printer) encouraged me to reconsider. Because my life was fairly simple, living out in the country, I decided I could do it, and began.
I solicited writing and art, designed the weeks, and wrote pages on the Equinoxes and Solstices and others entitled, “Pre-Industrial Time,” “About Moon Names,” “Thanksgiving” (on Native American customs), “Kwanzaa,” “TV Turn-Off Week,” and more.
Each “moon week” began on a Full Moon, New Moon, or Half Moon (any day of the week), rather than a Gregorian Sunday or Monday, and each week was either 7 or 8 days. Gregorian months and days were incorporated into the calendar, of course, but the moon weeks shoved them around instead of the reverse.
People responded well to the Almanac. Three-hundred copies of the 2003 Almanac/Datebook/Journal for Southern Arizona were ready for sale in early December (not much time for a single person to sell them all), and all were sold by February. Next near I sold out my printing of 500.
Because I’d been a hermit ignoring the news, I was surprised to learn almost a decade later that Jose Arguelles had published (also in 2002) a substantial book – Time and the Technosphere – on this subject of the Gregorian calendar being the most fundamental aspect of human mind control. (A web search for the title will bring up many videos and articles by others resonating with this idea that the calendar is basic to our control.)
Some of the metaphysics of Arguelle’s book was beyond me, but I’d certainly felt the subtle impact of the mind control the Gregorian calendar is.
From the time we sit in kindergarten, learning to read the calendar and reciting, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…, we understand we are part of a system which cycles 5-2-5-2-5-2-5-2…work long, play short, work long, play short, work long, play short. And everything from that moment on which has anything to do with a calendar reminds us that we are part of a world of 5-2-5-2-5-2, work long, play short.
The natural world teaches us something nicer: slower cycles of 14-14-14-14…, balance. As I wrote in all the Almanacs,
Ancient people invented – or discerned – patterns that seemed to facilitate harmonious living, that encouraged an energetic cycling of activity and rest, like inhaling and exhaling, waking and sleeping, summer energy and winter hibernation….
Today’s lifestyle requires many people to work intently for five consecutive days, resting for only two, relying on caffeine and/or other drugs to keep themselves going. Perhaps the equal cycles of waning and waxing moons might inspire us to create more balance in our lives.
My partner then, Leo, claimed that if we all lived with this sort of balance, allowed ourselves to be less productive, slept more, took more time off, travelled less, and shopped less, we could solve a lot of our environmental and health problems.
Inspired, I would later write a poem entitled, “Pssst! Quit Your Job!” in which I suggested a couple/few dozen other things a person might do that would be of service – real service – to their communities, that would be artful and satisfying to do – whatever days we chose to work. (To read more easily, click to enlarge.)
Not everyone all at once, now! (Or maybe….)
But it’s good to know that we can create a different world if we want to. We could ignore the stupid ideas of industry – genetically-modified foods, fracking, and a million unnecessary consumer gadgets that will soon be in the landfill – and do something meaningful instead.
And we could work on our own schedule. “Take it easy when someone’s ill, or the weather is especially nice.”
A few years ago, many years after the first two Almanacs had been published and I thought forgotten, in a single week three different individuals asked me when I’d publish another. I waited for a couple of years and finally produced a third one, The 2013 or Year One Almanac, Datebook, and Journal – taking advice of many people to make it less local, so I could sell to a wider audience. I didn’t like it, but it rekindled my love for the thing – though I didn’t have the energy to create one for 2014.
This is what I think should happen next:Every bioregion should have it’s own Almanac.
To that end, I offer the pages in the back of last year’s version, the section entitled, “Make your own Perpetual Moon Calendar!” It contains instructions, templates for four “moon weeks” (first quarter/waxing crescent, and so on), and “phases of the Moon” through 2017.
Collectives in each bioregion can put out a call for information, art, and ideas, and do like I did: sit at the kitchen table to draw, cut, paste, edit, peruse, and chat with friends (for me in the desert, they were few) while putting the book together.
I chose to eschew the computer for as much of the work as possible:
to remind us all, myself included, that sometimes we can break the rules, relax, and enjoy the imperfections.
Even though this is a day planner, I hope it won’t drive your days, but lead you through them with a little more kindness and ease than our efficiency-minded society usually wants us to grant ourselves.
As Ghandi said, “The purpose of life is not to do everything faster.”
In my next post (since this is after midnight), I’ll upload those “Make Your Own Perpetual Moon Calendar” pages, and pray we unleash a thousand or more bioregional Almanacs around the “civilized”/controlled world, birthed by women and men gathering the wisdom of their elders, reclaiming our relationship with Nature, breaking our mind control, and helping ourselves and our children find harmony again.
Let’s do it ~
And please share your work here if you’d like. I’d love to see it.
* “Pssst! Quit Your Job” mini-poster art by Jean Eisenhower. Different versions of this I began to create around 2004-ish. Even though I said “copyright” on this one, I’ve changed my mind; it and the Almanac are both now Creative Commons. Copy, swipe, redesign, evolve. Distribute freely.
** “Declare the Jubilee” in that poem is a Biblical reference. If you don’t know about it, look it up. It’s good.
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“Too many inspirations” has long been my excuse, as well as my pride, but a couple of months ago, I said, “I quit!” and I really, truly did quit quite a few things:
~ I quit my home and yard design business.
~ I quit singing.
~ I hardly planted anything in the garden.
~ And more I’ll spare you.
What I decided to do wastwo things: 1) Pay primary attention to healing – figuring out how to monitor my wandering, easily-distractable mind, meditate, pay attention to the communications of my alters and their healing status, stay focused on my “big questions,” track my progress, etc. – and 2) write about it. That’s all I would do, besides the necessary mundane work.
I was due to get my first Social Security check, and Greg was willing to take up the slack while I practiced this discipline for some unknown length of time – Thank you, Greg!
So I’ve been monitoring, listening, focusing and tracking since early August – applying effective business skills to my head – and writing about it in my various blogs. (Details here.)
And exciting things are happening! I’m noticing phenomenal changes in my ability to track my own ideas more coherently, also feeling more calm, alert, and present – a powerful experience for me.
And just what I’d hoped for.
But there was a surprise too: Singing, which I’d always felt was the least of my talents is the one thing that has come back to me.
After six weeks of leaving the house when Greg and other musicians would get together, he drew me back for a single song, and then “just a few,” and then one night he led the band in a whole series of my favorite songs, and I just couldn’t leave. And here’s the surprise: I liked my voice. It had changed.
That, plus the fact that so many people challenged my decision and told me they wanted to keep hearing our harmonies gave me permission to accept singing back into my life.
As they say, “If you let it go and if it returns, it’s yours.”
So: I accept. Gratefully. And I enjoy it so much more now that I’ve discovered my voice is new.
A few days ago (Oct 3), Greg and I were singing and I spontaneously suggested we go into the office and record one of our co-written originals, “Lying Here with You,” with the minimalist PhotoBooth software on the Mac. Not fancy recording equipment by a long shot – but, wouldn’t you know, it was heart-felt, and got heart-warming responses on Greg’s website and Facebook page.
So I invite you to take a listen. It’s sensuous and sweet.
Maybe we should all just quit things now and then. And see what comes back.
One more thing I was hoping for, but not too hopefully: teaching Greg to do more of his marketing! But that came back to me too! I spent all day Sunday – 15 hours! – happily updating it – and it wasn’t work – it was artwork, and very satisfying. (Greg kept me fed, and responded to my every need while I worked.) Here’s the new design.
I pray all our activities are exactly what we should be doing, and if we have any doubts that we have the Courage to Quit – at least for a while, to see what returns.
Many happy returns!
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Rob Brezny’s horoscope for Cancers this week is as entertaining as ever, and it provoked me to revisit a subject I’ve been trying to ignore for twelve years: the nature of humans as (among other things) mind-controlled and genetically manipulated for the purposes of Others whom we’re mind controlled not to notice or talk about.
My first reading of Rob’s horoscope was so provocative that I forwarded it to my partner to read with me later, so I could delete it from my inbox and get on to other tasks.
End of day, Greg read me his horoscope – wonderful, inspiring, over-the-top with promise for what we can make of our lives and the adventure it is.
Then Greg read me my horoscope “for the week beginning October 1”:
CANCER (June 21-July 22): In the wild, very few oysters produce pearls — about one in every 10,000.
Most commercial pearls come from farmed oysters whose pearls have been induced by human intervention.
As you might expect, the natural jewel is regarded as far more precious.
Let’s use these facts as metaphors while we speculate about your fate in the next eight months.
I believe you will acquire or generate a beautiful new source of value for yourself.
There’s a small chance you will stumble upon a treasure equivalent to the wild pearl.
But I suggest you take the more secure route: working hard to create a treasure that’s like a cultivated pearl.
Why did I about swoon with that?
And why did I suddenly remember a woman I only knew by name – nine years ago – until the night she spoke to me at a gas station on a lonely dark road in Cochise County, south of Elfrida, Arizona. She was nearly hysterical as I stood listening, truly having compassion, but unable to offer her any consolation, and knowing that no one could.
She’d heard – I don’t know how because I kept it a secret – that I’d had “alien” experiences; she had too, and she began to relate how she finally understood reality: we are like cattle to Them, nothing but cattle, and They will do anything to us that They want.
She saw no point in living – and said this not with despair, but as much impassioned hysteria as a person could show while trying to convey a secret to the only person in the world who might get it – standing next to gas pumps with the clerk looking out through the window.
I don’t remember anything I said in response. I had no hopeful words. I’d been suffering all sorts of weird things in my hermitage – going up into the sky with no other memories, highway stops while immobilized with missing time and no other memories, waking unable to move while people seemed to be moving furniture in my house, being hit between the eyes with a beam and immobilized, waking with a healed thyroid scar on my neck, and a hundred other weirdnesses. I was trying to be brave and figure it out, learn whatever spiritual skills might make me a warrior able to keep Them at bay, and maybe offer help to others. I had no energy for hysteria, but I understood hers very well. Perhaps some inner parts of me were agreeing, “Yeah, that’s how we feel,” while my outer alter just stared.
She was going to flee her land. She was outa there. She’d invested the last decade and all her money there, and now she didn’t know where to go, but she couldn’t stay. She might just run, live in her truck forever, and make it hard for Them by never staying in one place. It might be horrible, and maybe They’d chase her, but she couldn’t stay. Could not stay.
The last I saw of her, this woman whose name I can’t remember was driving away in her old truck with a hand-built wooden house on the back, tearful and hysterical. I worried for her and was frightened that her theory of being like cattle wasn’t one to simply dismiss. It fit all our symptoms, and had obvious metaphors in nature and in human nature. Thank Goodness there were other theories to entertain, less scary, but not all symptoms made sense with each of the theories.
For nine years, until very recently, I’ve mostly evaded the question: What is the nature of these experiences, and is the cattle metaphor in any way instructive? What other metaphors should we entertain? Stepford Wives? Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Or which, if any, of the many other theories espoused by ET enthusiasts and ET fear-mongerers? I’ve come back to these questions now and then, but never stayed on the subject long until recently, when I began tracking my fractured (but “high-functioning”) mind with my new Journal/Notebook.
I’d been playing with this idea that the Controllers are not evil, just inconsiderate – which has this going for it: The theory is compatible with the rest of nature. In fact, it’s suggesting that our experiences are caused by beings just like us (not strange at all!), treating us just like the way we farmers, ranchers, scientists, and consumers treat other beings or endorse with our dollars. We’re not evil, we’re just doing what nature – Nature with a capital “N”? or human nature? whatever – has evolved us to do.
It’s been a week or so I’ve been facing this idea more squarely: of mind control not as an “evil” thing, but simply what we do to other animals and plants being done to us. Then Rob Brezsny’s horoscope arrived in my inbox – though I’m not sure he wrote it the way I interpreted it.
Greg read Rob’s horoscope again to me, and I commented after each line.
“In the wild, very few oysters produce pearls— about one in every 10,000.”
I did not know wild pearls were so rare. I did know that commercial pearls are made by irritating the oyster with a piece of grit inserted artificially between its shell parts, which it otherwise keeps from happening quite well without this intrusion. Insulted, it secretes juices that coat the grit and harden into a pearl, which doesn’t bother the oyster as much, I presume.
I wasn’t sure Rob wanted me to identify so strongly with the oyster, as opposed to, say, a connoisseur of pearls, but I couldn’t help it. Oysters are yet another species on this planet treated to weird manipulations to make them do what someone else wants, in this case, secrete juices that have value to the human in the form of pearls. As a mind control subject, made amnesic and multiple for someone else’s purposes, I relate to the oyster.
Cattle are similar, but who wants to think of themselves as cattle? (Maybe it was that metaphor driving my neighbor acquaintance most hysterical.) What if we thought of ourselves instead as oysters with a pearl of beauty inside – sure it was someone else’s plan, but oh well, that seems to be our fate. Would it be better to rant about evil government or aliens or both? I think it best to try to understand from as wide a perspective as we can (using metaphors to try to understand reality in other dimensions), and if the reality is that we’re like cattle or tomatoes or oysters, then we might as well know that and make the best of it.
I like the idea of being an oyster, even if forced to deal with irritating grit to make a pearl – at least it feels better than being a cow, or – here’s another theory – an energy source for Archons – that’s reality as espoused by no less than the writers of the Gnostic (pre-Christian and Christian) gospels – but it’s just as disturbing to me as being cattle. So I’ll work for a while here with the oyster metaphor.
Back to Rob’s horoscope:
“Most commercial pearls come from farmed oysters whose pearls have been induced by human intervention.”
As I was saying. And today they don’t just put little pieces of grit inside oysters; they’re putting big disks of metal inside to create big disk-shaped pearls, and other irritating objects, just for something different in human jewelry and fetishes. I wonder how the mute oyster feels about that.
And what an appropriate extension of our metaphor! – Earth as a big oyster farm (we humans as the oysters), in which they’re inserting programs and technologies into us, not caring a whit whether we’re uncomfortable, unless we cost them.
(That’s why I’ve considered suicide so often: I want to cost Them! In my gloomiest days I have figured, with numbers, it’ll be the only feedback their organism/organization will heed to decide to run their operations with better care and concern for their producers. Of course, I have my reasons for not offing myself, but it seems to make sense, from a “scientific farming” and business feedback standpoint. The plant, oysters, or cattle must sicken or die and cost Them money before They change their practices. But I digress. And: apologies for being “dark.” Just being practical, “problem-solving,” as I was trained so well to do.)
“As you might expect, the natural jewel is regarded as far more precious.”
Another interesting analogy: A human being with some accidental grit (some traumatic accident) that made them, say, a multiple-personality mystic/shaman – they would be rare and more valuable – as they are. And because they’re rare, they’re able to be cared for properly and supported in their tribe, “precious,” like a wild pearl.
But there’s very little precious about it when everyone is given grit (the irritating mind control of this culture), and no one is left with the energy to value or care for another.
“Let’s use these facts as metaphors while we speculate about your fate in the next eight months.”
Eight months? Are you just having fun, Rob, or do you know something that entails 1/12th of the world’s or America’s population experiencing something life-changing the beginning of next June? Ah – we’ll call it poetic license – and I’ll let that question go.
So what about these metaphors, Rob? Enlighten us, please.
“I believe you will acquire or generate a beautiful new source of value for yourself.”
I like that. I’ve been working at finding some value in what has been done to me. (Sorry I can’t just think about “value for myself,” but I can hardly conceive of myself anymore as anyone other than someone who was mind-controlled and is struggling to be free. But, having said that, I promise to keep an open mind that I might actually discover “new value for myself.”) But I have to admit I’m geared to discover a new value for what has beendone to me – this thing I think is depicted so well in the farmed oyster image.
I already do understand some value in my childhood programming: When I want, and when I’m not interfered with, I can focus on a task and accomplish a great deal, successfully synthesizing skills and understandings from various vantages, even testing as genius levels sometimes; I can sense things in other dimensions and sometimes work successfully in those realms; and … uhmmm, I think there’s more, and I hope to become clearer about them in the next eight months.
(They better be worth all the ways in which I’m sometimes a mess, with amnesia, alter switches, lost time, bad memory, social isolation, difficulty keeping or wanting to keep a job, and all the Taser burns, biopsies, surgery scars, and other physical wounds I wake with over the course of a year.)
“There’s a small chance you will stumble upon a treasure equivalent to the wild pearl. But I suggest you take the more secure route: working hard to create a treasure that’s like a cultivated pearl.”
I can work with that. I can see we’re all working with some sort of grit injected into us, and our task is to secrete some juice (I like that metaphor too) around it and turn it into something beautiful.
I’ve certainly been trying. I feel on pretty solid ground, now that I’ve been tracking my mind with my Notebook/Journal, and now that I know (or fairly-certainly suspect) I’m a farmed oyster, I can let go all the fantasies of living in a natural world and society I supposedly helped create and just settle down to live within realistic parameters.
(Of course, They tell us all the time how we evolved here on Earth naturally, and we created this culture ourselves, even though we can see we haven’t been living naturally in a natural ecosystem for a long, long time. And now we’re waking up to discover we’re in a factory farm!. But of course: “As above, so below.” Or is it, “As below, so above”? To secure the metaphor, and the irony, some of us eat factory-farmed shrimp, salmon, and other GMO foods, completing the circle. Damn, maybe some of us even become a food source for some factory-owner/Archon. Fractal harmony. And our progeny will survive if we make a pretty pearl.)
(Uh oh. Do we want our progeny to survive? If not, perhaps that’s why They keep the whole farm a secret and tell us we live in a natural world and culture of our own making, assuring us that mind control and “aliens” aren’t real, so we won’t know enough to consider such a question as whether this is a world for which we want our children to live. But I have digressed again. And into a dark area, for which I apologize, but isn’t this the task of life? To explore ideas that seem to make sense of things?)
In any case, I want to know our reality, even if it turns out we’re living in an oyster – or human – farm. (And I’m not the only one, of course. Others have espoused plenty of variations on this theory: hell planet, prison planet, Archon food source (the righteous Gnostics, after all!), etc., so this isn’t a unique idea that should be shocking to good people.)
Believing the oyster farm is as good a metaphor as any, I still think I’ll stay here on Earth and keep working on my pearl. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’ve been here 62 years, and I’m starting to like life now (with the help of good people like Rob Brezsny and, nearby, my friends). Of course, maybe I’ve been programmed to stay as long as I’m useful to them. I don’t know. Mostly I think I want to be around to give advice to my kids when they ask me about this crazy stuff some decade in the future.
Certainly, life is sometimes more harrowing than I think I can take, and sometimes it’s absolutely inspired – like when we sing, tend the garden, and make our place suit us aesthetically and functionally.
And sometimes I believe we really can create something brilliant, of value, like a pearl.
Sometimes I even understand how irritation, like death, is necessary in that creation. And having been through a lot of it in this lifetime, I think I’ve begun to see its value – even if I resent the hell out of it sometimes. Thanks, Rob.
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A month or so ago, we were helping a friend “consciously” die. It was a wonderful experience that released him from his pain and immobility (which he said was “no way to live,” regularly asking for a shotgun when we inquired what he might need), and brought together a community of friends to support his decision to quit eating and drinking.
We had nurses and chaplains and shamans in our group, as well as plain-old caring people – to talk and read and sometimes watch TV with him – and singers – us! After he had passed, we all realized what a blessing we had not only provided but had received.
(Some of us plan to write a guidebook soon.)
A few days before his passing, we were working at home when we found a strange-looking insect emerging from a hard shell. I thought it looked rather monstrous.
Within minutes, the monster had turned into a fairy-like thing with ruffled wings!
And within the hour, the wings were dry and extended, ready to fly.
And it did fly into the elderberry tree above the pond where it had – we understand now – climbed out.
I knew the dragonfly as a totem guardian of the portals to other realms, so I’d thought this was a good harbinger of our friend’s passing soon. It would be two more days before he passed – but it’s common for dying people to commune for days with loved ones on the other side before they complete their passing, and we thought the dragonfly represented the opening of those portals for those important communications.
When we sent the photos to the man’s wife, she was doubly moved, because the dragonfly had aways been their totem.
Around minute 17 or 18, the teacher describes (in just two minutes) the dragonfly nymph living for years in a pond (we have one beneath the location where we took these photographs) until one day, it does what it has never done in its life: it climbs up a stalk of grass and begins to dry out. The shell dries first, and then the pressure of the watery self inside bursts the shell open! (And doesn’t the dragonfly look vulnerable in the first photo, hanging up-side-down? With little sign of the wings about to be.)
We were very moved by the idea of a life form suddenly following an impulse to do what it had never done before, climb into the light and allow itself to dry and even burst! Wouldn’t most of us want to fall back into the familiar water?
The teacher uses the term “vaporize” for what we need to allow to be done to certain aspects of ourselves. In this case, the dragonfly’s excess moisture did need to literally vaporize in order for it to fulfill its destiny. I love it.
Wishing us all faith in a process we may not yet understand. It might look ugly. But let’s not despair. I do believe there’s new life ahead.
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“I’ve been like a balloon in a storm for twenty-one years, and finally I’ve set down!”
– How it works: Journal pages and Daily Check Sheets
– Additional pages: Alter descriptions, DAAA, to-do’s, scribbles, art pages, meditation help.
– Finishing a “Chapter”
I really love my Journal/Notebook – the one I wrote about here, and will write more about now….
This notebook/journal has been amazingly empowering! It helps me compensate for my fractured mind, and helps me track thoughts that I otherwise lose track of, so I can actually develop ideas and follow through on them. It is such a relief!
To review: I use a timer every 30 minutes (Yes, I know it seems crazy, but it works for me and sometimes I absolutely love it) every day to make me stop, remember what I’ve done for the last 30 minutes, write it down so I can remember later (otherwise, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t), breathe deeply, remember not to move too fast, say any necessary prayers, acknowledge things I have to be grateful for, and make sure I’m on track for what I want to do.
The Journal Pages I write on require me to write the date (many times a day), day of the week, phase of the moon, time, page number, and a code just before the writing lines to indicate journaling, activities, dreams, meditation/prayers, summaries (more about this later), and planning (J, A, D, M, S, or P) – so I can find things later more easily.
I drew these pages by hand (I like the look and feel, and it reminds me it’s my idea) and every so often I make thirty copies, hole-punch them, and put them in my notebook. Today, after almost 2 months, I’m on page 173. A moveable paperclip marks the current page and is easy to read through.
Daily Check List As soon as I began using this Notebook/Journal, I realized I needed a Daily Check List to help me do a number of things that I have intended for years to do more consistently, but just haven’t been able to, as all my alters aren’t equally on board, I guess. My checklist I did design on the computer, maybe because it was the sort of task enjoyed by my business woman alter – and I suspected I’d be updating it, and it was long. On the top of each page, I fill in the date, day of the week, phase of the moon, and maybe a note at top to identify any specialness that day, such as a big community event or waking to a big rain.
The first line of the Daily Check List is for noting the hours I slept and how I feel. The second line is to note whether I remembered any dreams (which would be detailed in my journal pages) and first thoughts of the day. If I forget to remember my dreams, I have to acknowledge that, which helps me be more conscious the next morning. And if I’m wondering how I’ve done on that count for the past while, I can see it at a glance by flipping through these pages.
Third, I note the time I meditated, prayed, or sat listening that day, and add a page number for reading details.
Fourth, I note the time I first set the timer for the day. Sometimes I don’t set it at all, but usually I’m happiest when I set it for the whole day, and let it bring me back to record the route of my wandering consciousness, and remember that I’m taking control of my own mind – which makes me feel proud a couple dozen times a day!
Fifth, I note whether I took my supplements that day. Sixth, I note what vegetables and fruit I ate, and any junk.
Seventh, I note what exercise I got that day. Eighth, I note whether I was out in the sun, which is always good for me, especially for Vitamin D.
Finally, ninth and tenth, I write down my accomplishments of the day and next goals.
Some days, there are blanks, but I don’t kick myself for it. More and more, I’m feeling very pleased by myself.
Not only have I pinpointed problems, tested and brainstormed my own solutions, and documented progress on practical goals, but I’ve made progress on important philosophical questions that help me put a framework on my situation that helps me understand and break down some psychological hurdles that have kept me in some trenches for decades.
I can’t say I’m out of the trenches, but one evening, with the help of my journal and all the record-keeping that has flowed out of it (yes, there’s a bit more to share), I was able to state some important truths for the very first time and after Greg and I had discussed them, I cried, “I’ve been like a balloon in a storm for twenty-one years, and finally I’ve set down!”
While the current page of the Daily Check Sheets is the first page when opening the notebook (where it’s easiest to read and write on all day long), and the Journal Pages are next, after those sections are a few others: “Alters,” for recording information on various alters (which I’ve previously forgotten or ignored! – now each having their own pages or a few, hopefully to keep growing as I understand better and integrate or heal them more completely), a To-Do list (to be integrated into my calendar or written about at the computer as Spirit moves), art pages, Meditation Help/ideas, and a chart I designed and call “DAAA,” for recording Dreams/sleep, Anomalies, Activities/accomplishments, Alters/helpers, and other important notes for each day.
I created the DAAA template (which I copy every week or so) with columns (hand-drawn) across two pages. Horizontal rows are drawn in after recording each day, so I can conserve paper when little happened, and I can use all the space I need when a lot happens. I usually can get a week or ten days summarized on a two-page spread.
This lets me look more easily for any patterns between sleep/dreams, moon phases, energy levels, anomalies, my activities, alters who’ve emerged, etc. In the past, there has often seemed little correlation, except that anomalies have often been accompanied by exhaustion – but not always; sometimes it seems the controllers give me the equivalent of a “vitamin shot,” and after a weird night, I race around with energy to spare. This chart serves my curiosity about this, and will hopefully help me understand what all goes on.
I’ll probably redesign my pages in order to track things in a different manner now and then. And anyone who likes this idea should think about how their mind works (or doesn’t) and what sort of compensation they need, and design accordingly.
Finishing a Chapter
When I was on journal page number 109, my notebook was beginning to be difficult to open and close the rings, and coincidentally I realized I was feeling at a point of completion in one area of my life – time to close a chapter! I pulled all the pages out that had been written on (except for alter pages which probably will stay for a long time in my main notebook, until there’s some completion with them), and I put the “first chapter” of this healing phase in a notebook on the shelf. In the mostly empty original notebook, I still had the templates, Alter pages, Meditation Help, and unused Journal Pages and Daily Check Lists. I numbered the next Journal Page “110,” and kept right on going, with a sense of something important completed and very well documented – and a new chapter being written, by me, directed by me, my mind and life – documentably – under my control.
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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.
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I’ll explain the practice in a moment. But first let me share my journal entry – written just now – about it:
I love this timer and this practice!! I LOVE knowing what I’ve done all day. I used to have to ask Greg, or struggle to remember, and feel guilty because I was never sure if I was being lazy or not taking care of myself.
This is GREAT!!
I feel like living, like it’s worth it, and like I’m NOT running to catch up because I’m not sure if I’m working hard enough or getting anything accomplished. I’m working with more energy, but not pushing myself. I feel self-possessed, and strong.
What a feeling to know.
I’ve needed this book for SO LONG!!
What did I do? I went back to doing what I used to do as a business person – what helped me handle things with quite a bit of skill: I kept a somewhat complicated datebook of my own design, made to manage exactly what I needed to manage in a manner that took into consideration my particular brain and its quirks.
To develop it, I thought a lot about how my mind works. (I didn’t know I was multiple then, but I knew I absolutely needed my unique calendar or was lost.)
Since 1993, though, I haven’t wanted to use a datebook of any design unless I had to. It represented rigidity and someone who might not be open to possibly-blessing serendipities. So, for the last 21 years, I’ve only used calendars as often as I’ve needed them.
I tried to keep them away from me, as if they’d end the intense spiritual phase of my life which had amplified amazingly when I’d moved to the desert, gotten rid of my calendar, and opened my mind to immediate experiences of sunrises, sunsets, birds, insects, wild animals, weather, light, dark, hunger, food, thirst, water, walking, resting, waking.
While that triggered the most powerful time of my life, very healing, it also triggered some understanding of things very frightening, but important – for understanding simple reality. It helped me begin a long hard struggle toward healing.
So I didn’t want to return to the calendar-mind. No way. I was proud to be oblivious of time.
But I also lost of sense of knowing where I was, what I’d experienced, and what needs to be done. I’d acted as though vision and inspiration were enough.
(What irony, as the work I’ve always done has been teaming up with visionaries to “put legs on the vision and make it walk.”)
But no one was my manager to put the legs on. I tried, but without help with self-discipline, I have too many selves to keep things moving in a productive direction. I’ve been staggering around directionless for a pathetically long time.
A few days ago, after I read about this Full Moon today, I became motivated to prepare myself to catch the wave of this powerful energy. I thought more about my mind and what help I need. I decided to design a notebook for a new sort of business: the business of healing myself.
I – a manager at heart – finally, after 21 years trying and failing to do too much in my head, have designed a system for myself.
First, I made daily check sheets that remind me of all the things that are important for me to do each day, that I want to do, that support this most important thing in my life – my healing – but that I often forget to do, maybe because I’m mind controlled to forget, but in any case, I forget way too often.
They’re simple things:
– Write dreams or first thoughts
– Note the time
– Take supplements
– Eat lots of vegetables
– Eat lots of fruit
– Drink herbal medicine tea
– Track use and reaction to herbal medicine to assure correct dose
– Be aware of physical and emotional energy
– Walk, exercise, or do yoga
– Time in garden
– Summarize highlights of the day before
(and the week on Sunday, the month on the New Moon, and the year on the Winter Solstice)
The check sheets also include places to remember things thought of that day:
– Things to do
– New goals and reiteration of goals – Day’s accomplishments
At the top of each page is the date, day of the week, and phase of the moon, which I like to attend to (part of my research).
And one more, most important, item: Under “Write dreams or first thoughts”: “Set timer.”
Yes. It’s not crazy-making. It’s the opposite.
First I chose a lovely chime on my phone. Every morning now, I set it for 30 minutes, and reset it constantly throughout the day. (I even did it yesterday when visiting friends. I kept it in the next room, so I could do my record-keeping discretely when it went off, let others think I was checking on an important call, made my notes, and returned to the group.)
Here’s why it’s important: The most important thing I need to do, as a multiple, is track my thoughts, remember them, and notice if I have lost time.
Every time I hear the chime, I reset it immediately, notice that I’m aware (or not) of the last half-hour, and write a word (or more) about what has happened in the last 30 minutes. Takes less than a minute, but it makes me feel in charge.
It doesn’t feel burdensome because it was my decision. I was expecting it to be helpful, but it has also given me a major boost in my confidence – and I feel happy every time it chimes because it reminds me that I created this way to cope, and I’m proud.
I even caught a bit of “missing time” on my very first day, and said to the alter who must have been out during the chime, “Wanna talk? I’m strong enough to listen. I would love to help and will do anything you need.” I’m still waiting, but I haven’t had any missing time since then.
And at the end of the first day, I could see all I’d accomplished – exercise, supplements, energy work, good food, everything I wanted – and I felt great.
I’ve also been noting when I use my herbal medicine, so I can keep perfectly disciplined about how much I use, how often, and notice any corresponding reactions. Any course correction I want to make is informed by clear memory.
(Why did no therapist ever suggest this??)
So, that’s the routine. Every thirty minutes, the chime reminds me to breathe, relax, remember what I’ve been doing for 30 minutes, and record it. I re-set the time, write what I’ve done for the last 30 minutes (sometimes a single word), how I feel, and anything else I want.
How the notebook is organized with a journal:
The current daily check sheet is right on top – best place – when I open the notebook, with previous daily check sheets behind. Each day, a new one goes on top.
Behind those pages is a divider followed by my journal pages. Since I write many pages a day, I refill it frequently with thirty or more blanks at a time. To easily find the current page, I have a sticky-note attached to the back of the page before it, hanging out like a tab, so I can easily grab it and turn all the used pages at once.
Since I needed a way to record my thoughts, but also want to be able to look separately at dreams, accomplishments, and meditation/prayer, apart from my stream-of-consciousness journaling, I created a template that lets me record everything chronologically, but lets me see easily which category things fall into.
I hand-drew the template page (hand-drawing feels better, less rigid). The pages, copied from the template, are filled mostly with lines for writing, with a space at the top for the page number – to keep this record of my life in careful order, hopefully with fewer and fewer missing gaps.
On the left are columns for noting date, day of week, phase of moon, and category of writing (A = Accomplishments, D = Dreams, J = Journal, M = Meditation/Self-Inquiry/Prayer.)
On the right is a column for the time I begin and end any passage, and I also record the time at the beginning and end of each page. Right of that is a column for “notes” to point out things I don’t want missed.
If I am so into my writing when I begin or end a new page that I forget to note the time and don’t realize it until I am not sure of it, I write “oops” – to not reinforce the word forget – but to cheerfully encourage myself to do it next time.
So that’s the full Practice: Daily check sheet of everything I want to do. Daily summary of accomplishments and goals for the next day. I’m reminded to breathe and relax every 30 minutes. I feel in control of my life, in a very positive endeavor, which is showing results already. The minutes it takes is not a hassle, but a joy.
I’ll soon sew a cloth cover for this notebook, with pockets for pens, phone, and paper things that make me happy, right now a collection of birthday cards given me a couple of months ago. It’s good to be reminded every day that there are people who love us. No reason not to carry those things around!
It’s my compensation package – what I need to compensate for my fractured mind – designed perfectly for me. It makes me feel like I’ve given myself back to myself.
Extras: A section for “scribbles” – I use when my mind is going too fast (or too many alters want to talk at once), where I can quickly jot brief notes to write about when the current subject is complete. Art pages (and maybe a pocket for potential collage items for those art pages). And even a page for my current best “talk to myself” for when I don’t feel like meditating!
Whenever I might take on a big project with multiple steps, I’ll add a section for planning pages that can be consulted or added to, perhaps in public, without searching through personal stuff.
And as soon as I figure out some other quirk of my mind, for which I need compensatory help, I’ll design a solution.
When the notebook is filled, I’ll remove all the pages at once, drop them in a file, and begin again.
I will post on how this continues.
Hope it’s helpful to someone out there.
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Back in the late 90s, I read a memoir, FBI Secrets: An Agent’s Exposé, by retired agent, M. Wesley Swearingen, who after 26 years in the agency was involved in several successful lawsuits againstthe FBI related to wrongful imprisonment and civil rights violations. (He was also involved in several successful lawsuits against his former employer, including “The US v. John Lennon,” and also wrote a book attempting to shed light on the murder of John F. Kennedy.)
He described carloads of up to 12 agents with a routine that gave each person a specific job, so that there could be no errors: one person watched in one direction, others watched other directions, more watched from other points nearby, someone opened the house, others watched from various posts inside the house, photographers, observers trained to return everything to their precise places, record keepers, drivers, etc.
They entered the homes of anyone, even elderly peace activists, and photographed all sorts of information they hoped would lead to any sort of understanding of these war resisters and all their connections. Swearingen was concerned because he knew the people were of no real threat to the United States, only practicing their right of free speech and trying to participate in our “democracy.” Nevertheless, they were targeted and their homes broken into on a regular basis.
So I’m not as oblivious as I wish I was. Sometimes, I come home, and my cat is so upset, I ask, “Were the feds here?”
A few years ago, a friend suggested I buy portable door locks, which she was astounded I hadn’t already done, given my experiences. So I ordered two online and installed them as soon as they arrived.
On the second morning after I began to use them, February 8, 2011, I discovered one of them obviously broken, not as it appeared when I installed it the night before – and two very disturbing wounds on my body. The first I noticed as soon as I awoke: an irritation as though something had been inserted up alongside my clitoral shaft more than one inch deep inside! (An implant? What will they do with that?) The second was two scoop marks on my finger, which I’ve already posted about. So much for the door locks for protection.
In 2012, I made a list of 98 various events that had happened between November 28, 2010, when I woke with the Taser burn, and April 12, 2012, when I began a long series of doctors’ appointments for unexplainable and debilitating neck pain – and afterward recalled a dozen more events, including scoop marks that I’d photographed a few days ago and forgotten. In between, I’d experienced lots of debilitating and unaccountable exhaustion, bruises, neck pain, and more, so much that I was having a very difficult time keeping my job.
But there’s one subject I’ve never written about, and that is the communications harassment. I haven’t written about it because it’s hard to prove, but I’ll put it out there in case others have noticed the same.
When I tried Facebook for awhile, a few years ago, I started getting suspicions that my posts were being messed with.
One close friend I shared my concern with asked, “Why would they bother with you? You aren’t doing anything serious, are you?” Only exposing mind control. She replied that lots of people do that or similar, and they aren’t messed with. Actually, I told her, many are, and probably those who aren’t are only revealing what’s already been exposed by others, then peppering it with disinformation – as Swearingen and others exposing COINTELPRO have described.
(Noam Chomsky was quoted on BBC: “COINTELPRO was a program of subversion carried out not by a couple of petty crooks but by the national political police, the FBI, under four administrations… By the time it got through, … it was aimed at the entire new left, at the women’s movement, at the whole black movement, it was extremely broad. Its actions went as far as political assassination.” Watch.)
As Swearingen’s memoir proves, the intelligence agencies don’t need “serious” targets. They want to quell anyone who’s threatening the corporate economy, war, and their mind control systems. I also theorize they need “lesser threats,” like me, to practice their skills on, at least. But since mind control subjects are kept controlled by fear, the Internet provides a very simple, low-cost way to inject worry, fear, isolation, and more into my life. I may choose not to worry or fear, but I, and others, can still be easily and effectively isolated.
They have a long history of doing exactly what I’ve described back when it was a whole lot more trouble: they’d have to do custom work on typewriters to create imperfections similar to the typewriter of the targeted person! Many people would be required (your tax dollars at work), even for peace activists. They studied people’s styles of speech and writing to make their fake communications most believable, and compiled psychological databases so they could refer occasionally to personal things in a most believable way.
Now it’s so much easier, all the data needed delivered to their desktops. Responses easy-sneezy: no more matching, ink, paper, and handwriting or typeface.
Their goals were and are: to discredit activists, cause fights and rifts in groups, mislead, and more.
For whatever reason, it seemed they were interferring in my Facebook communications. It would always involve someone not close enough to me that I’d feel comfortable calling them to ask exactly what was the wording they read, supposedly from me, that caused them to respond to me the way they did. But usually the response was just subtle enough, not worth a call – or too much trouble to explain.
Regularly, I had friendly acquaintances, just “distant” enough, suddenly become pointedly less friendly and avoid me on the street. And not just a few. I started dreading walking down the street, for fear I’d be shunned for I didn’t know what. It was very depressing.
One day, I posted something then logged out of Facebook, and logged back in under my partner’s name, and checked my page. My post did not exist! I logged out and went back to my page and saw it again. Logged out and back in as my partner, and again it didn’t exist. Fifteen minutes later, it was there on his page, exactly as I’d written it – of course, they wouldn’t be so stupid as to change my post for my partner. But my partner’s posts always show up immediately and get responses from friends in the first few seconds. Mine always took 15-20 minutes before people began responding. Weird.
I theorized that they had created tiers of my friends and acquaintances, changing my posts for whomever I was not likely to talk to and who wouldn’t broach the subject of a weird post with me. It was really upsetting to think that the feds were creating a negative portrait of me that I’d supposedly never know about. And suddenly, even though I did not post about mind control on Facebook, I was losing friends for no other reason I could figure.
Some friends have said that this is just too much trouble, but it’s not. The software to do what I’ve described – diverting communications – already exists. Software for creating “action plans” for various people – serious criminals, mind control subjects, those warranting medium or serious harassment, and those warranting mild harassment, maybe just to practice on. I used to have business software over 15 years ago that would have facilitated most of this.
You can bet there are rooms full of agents with data available at the click of a key to guide them regarding frequency, level of action, key phrases, etc. A single person could easily intervene in 100 communications in a workday. Even if I was a low-level concern, I’d be used for practice, with just enough weirdness to keep me isolated and fearful, just what they want for mind control subjects.
I have similar concerns with email. Recently, I contacted an old acquaintance I was hoping to visit, but he became hostile for some reason I cannot fathom (except for this), and I wondered if the feds made him think I was causing problems, or if the feds made me think he was. He’s just distant enough that I don’t dare call him, especially since he seemed so angry (though he might not really have been). I have no idea what they might have portrayed me as.
It’s extremely sad. And isolating. Making me tough, I like to think, but I don’t know.
With our world so accustomed to instant communication – without being interrupted by phone calls – we’re dependent on the Internet, yet I can’t trust the Internet anymore, and I can’t explain to most people why I don’t. So I keep on, but it feels very vulnerable.
The only option would be to stop my activism, which I won’t.
I also used to get regular Internet reminders to update software for remote control of my computer! Apparently I have the software on it – otherwise, it wouldn’t recommend updating – but I cannot find it; it’s invisible to me. Finally I chose to have it “not remind me” anymore. But I assume it’s still there.
I’ve thought of getting a Linux computer, but then they’d have to break into my house to do what they do, and I’d rather they not. Big Brother is certainly here. If he just weren’t a murderer and torturer, I might accept the “transparency.”
I’ve also had my computer turn itself on in the middle of the night when I was up and unable to sleep. Sitting next to it, it suddenly sprang to life and started humming as if it was downloading or uploading data.
When I produced my first video, “I Was One”, it received over 2,000 hits in less than two weeks, and then one day the numbers dropped to half that! The same thing happens all the time on my channel: I’ve seen the numbers drop from 12,000 to 10,000 in a day, and who knows how many other times it has done that.
Anyone else experience similar?
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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.
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I’m recovering, yet again, from another “hard day,” Monday, when I woke up at 10 am (I’d been unable to sleep until 3 am) and had to force myself to do anything, which turned out to be very little.
Eight days earlier, on August 17, I’d discovered a strange injury on my left shoulder blade, where two other things have mysteriously appeared in the last couple of years, which still bother me:
In April 2012, I woke one morning with an itch on my left shoulder blade that didn’t go away for 4-8 weeks. (Greg was bothered by an itch on his left shoulder blade too at the same time, but I’m more highly sensitive and so was bothered longer.)
Later, a fan-shaped bruise appeared, with its point right where the itch had been for so long. I theorized that an implant was radiating some sort of energy that was bruising the tissue.
Over two years has passed, and the bruise has become a more-amorphous shape, but is still there, and doctors have no explanation. (Well, one had an idea, but the diagnosis didn’t fit the condition’s description, and the next doctor thought the first was wrong, but had no idea. She’s seen all my photographs, read about MK, and just shakes her head.)
When I woke with this strange injury on August 17, very near where the original itch had been, I wondered if perhaps “they” had scooped it out, or replaced it, and whether the bruise will soon fade. We’ll see.
The photo above shows the new injury and the two-year-old bruise. (Double click on it to see it larger, and you can even zoom in for decent detail.) I took this photo last night, August 26, a full nine days after it appeared, and it has hardly healed at all.
This is interesting, because most of my weird injuries heal mysteriously fast – like the “thyroid surgery” scar, which showed up on my throat one morning entirely healed). Can’t explain it, other than that it seems like someone with higher technology than ours might have done it.
Learning: I Need to Focus
Now that I’m feeling stronger, I went back through a journal only a week old and read things I’ve totally forgotten – things important to remember, about my healing. And reading my posts from two years ago, I realize they also contain great advice I wish I’d remembered and continued to practice!
Therefore, I’ve decided I need to quit doing so much and just focus on my healing.
So I’m quitting!
I’m quitting a lot of things. I’m quitting my garden design workshop and consulting business. I’m quitting singing. And I’m forgetting any idea to get part-time work. (I’ll get my first Social Security check next month, and I have a partner who brings in a little income, so I have this luxury.)
The only things I’ll keep doing are my own personal healing work and writing related to it. I also plan to keep better track of past writing, so I can remember past lessons and make some progress.
I’m – maybe for the first time in my life – going to make taking care of myself my number one priority every day. Yeah!
In 2006, at the end of two weeks of swimming with dolphins from boats, two friends and I went to Kealakekua Bay where people can wade out and swim with dolphins who come in to swim with people. We waded out and, just as promised, the dolphins came in and engaged us in play that lasted for an hour and a half!
I was exhilarated, of course, and even immediately afterward, I was unable to tell what all went on, though I could remember a few different circlings by the dolphins and games played with picking up and dropping leaves, but that’s all. An hour and a half had gone by, and we had treaded water, waiting, for a very short time. So, what else went on? I don’t know. But I was quite exhilarated afterward.
Dropped off at our hotel, I went into the gift shop for a look-around. In a jewelry case, I saw a necklace that immediately jumped out at me as the necklace I’d been looking for for years – though I don’t usually go shop for things like this, just usually wait for things important to come to me serendipitously. And this felt like the serendipity I was waiting for. So, it was a huge shock when I put the necklace on and felt my heart clench in pain. I took it off, and the pain went away. I drew it close to me again, to test it, and my heart hurt again.
I’d seen a book on Crystal Healing on another shelf in the store, so I checked the necklace tag and read that the pendant stone was a green tourmaline. Borrowing the book from the shelf, I read that the tourmaline “heals the heart”! My friend responded to my confusion by suggesting that the healing would take some time, and perhaps I should not put the necklace on until I’d slept with it near my bed for a while, then only wear it for short periods and eventually work up to wearing it all the time.
This was beyond my understanding – I’d never been “into” crystals or stones – but it sounded intriguing, and I trusted my attraction to this necklace, particularly because I was feeling so high from the dolphin experience and was trusting that I was still in some state of heightened awareness. I also bought the book on Crystal Healing, and bought a deck of Angel Cards, and gifts for family.
Back in my hotel room, I found myself too exhausted to even look at the Angel Cards, which I’d opened, so I lay them along with the necklace beside the bed and lay down to sleep. Immediately, I felt a being with me and saw/felt a bright fluttering like glistening angel wings in my aura. The sense of another being so near me, and so benevolent and loving, was a surprise, but very welcome. One of the things I learned with the other participants in the dolphin swim weeks was that everyone else had more confidence than I did in dealing with spiritual beings, for instance, they would ask the being’s name.
For the first time, I asked, “Who are you?” and got an immediate answer: Ariel.
I’m so embarrassed to say that I was disappointed. It sounded like a name I’d heard before, and my rational mind thought that perhaps I’d pulled it from my deep unconscious, and because of this I should probably always doubt that it was not conjured from subconscious realms. I fell asleep quickly.
When I awoke, I looked through the cards and found Ariel: She is the angel associated with all living things, but particularly with the ocean and animals of the ocean. She works with those who protect the Earth – which I’d been doing as an environmental activist since 1986 – and now I’d just swum in an altered state of conscious in her primary realm that morning. I was astounded and grateful.
That evening, after dinner, I was wandering by myself when the leader of the dolphin swim seminar, Joan Ocean, came up to me and asked me how was my day. I’d been wondering whether to tell anyone, and decided then to tell her, “I saw Ariel today.”
“Oh, isn’t she bright and sparkly!” Joan exclaimed – astounding me again, as I’d had some idea that all of our spiritual experiences were unique and individual. I realized that was a silly idea that spiritual reality wouldn’t have consistency. No, it’s reality, and it will have consistency. And my experience of Ariel having identical traits to Ariel as experienced by Joan corrected my silly assumption. (So much rational-mind interference!)
Over the next few weeks, I slowly worked up to wearing the tourmaline necklace and felt that I was truly healing my heart.
A few years later, another necklace came into my life, and I quit wearing the tourmaline as much, then didn’t wear it at all for a few years.
I remembered it recently because my heart problems have returned, so got it out and wore it a bit one day. The second day, I put it on again and left it on, even when I found myself feeling extremely tired, and my heart hurting a bit; I didn’t make the connection to the necklace!
I had re-joined the gym where I work out (Curves – with hydraulic equipment, so we don’t have to worry about setting weights, and just have computerized lights indicating our strength compared to previous days), but couldn’t do anything with my usual energy. I walked very slowly between the machines. At home, I put on a video in the afternoon (which I never do) and lay on the sofa with my eyes closed, unable to even respond to my partner when he asked if he should cancel our music practice that evening.
Suddenly I remembered the necklace and took it off. Immediately, I had my energy back! I got up, stretched, and got productive again and even sang a bit that evening – in between writing, which I was more inclined to do.
If I hadn’t had my first experience with the necklace, I might think it was cursed or something! As it is, I think the tourmaline stirs things up in the heart, which can be part of healing; and maybe it opens the heart chakra, which can be dangerous if conditions aren’t right. I’ll be meditating on this, hoping to learn.
For now, I’ve set the necklace on my altar for cleansing, and I’ll test it again later.
My learning: there are many, many energies interacting in this world. We have lots to learn.
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My partner and I are supporting a friend in the process of dying.
I’ve been feeling myself drawn toward this sort of work for a decade, and now the time has arrived.
I’m amazed at how calm I feel and comfortable with the process. (Ten years ago, I was invited to attend the dying of another friend, and I had to decline.)
My partner and I spent a couple of hours each day the last few days and watched our friend decline to sunken cheeks, faint gestures, and occasional phrases turned to whispers of single words or phrases not understood.
We scheduled our volunteer time for late afternoon, and have spent our last few mornings cleaning out our shop which had become a nonfunctional store room. (Perhaps his dying made us want to put our things in order, bring new life into our lives, get energy unstuck, and keep things functioning optimally at home.)
This morning shortly after we’d gotten back to work, Greg noticed something strange hanging on the wall of the house right next to where we were working and called me to come with the camera.
Almost the first thing that came to my mind was Alien, as in the thing that sprung from Sigourney Weaver’s chest.
copyright Jean Ann Eisenhower 2014. (Click and zoom for detail.)
– though first I’d thought it was one insect eating another. It took a few moments to realize, it was not death, but birth. One being was not being consumed by another; one was emerging from its own former shell.
Death and rebirth. We thought of our friend, and how frightening death is to so many people – as frightening as this monster-looking creature. But that was just a bad first impression. This monster would become absolutely beautiful.
Greg noticed what he called “umbilical cords,” white threads that connected the new dragonfly to its shell – even after she removed her tail, righted herself, and let her wings emerge. Now she looks like a faerie in pink and lime green lace and ruffles! (Please click and zoom to see amazing detail!)
Faery-like dragonfly emerged, copyright Jean Eisenhower 2014
copyright Jean Ann Eisenhower 2014
Eighteen minutes later, her ruffles are smoothed out, and her cords are disconnected.
I came in close for this “smile”:
Smile, copyright Jean Ann Eisenhower, 2014
Here she’s looking mostly like the dragonfly we know:
copyright Jean Ann Eisenhower 2014
And then she spreads her wings, an hour and a half after her birth:
Open Wings, copyright Jean Ann Eisenhower 2014
I’ve always loved dragonflies, and once called on Dragonfly for a healing ceremony. They are said to be guardians of the portals to the dream world, allowing in healing, or allowing the soul to pass to the next world.
Since we’d talked with our friend about death as a passing into the next world, a rebirth, we couldn’t help but think of this dragonfly birth as a herald of our friend’s passing.
In a moment, the old shell was left behind…
copyright Jean Ann Eisenhower 2014
and she began her life, anew, in the garden.
copyright Jean Ann Eisenhower 2014
Can you see her?
copyright Jean Ann Eisenhower 2014
This afternoon, our friend was far less responsive. Faint smiles, apparent sleep, fewer gestures.
When we told his wife about the dragonfly, she said it had always been an important totem for them.
Our world is so powerfully magical! (If we invite it in.) It answers, “Yes!” in case we forget, that we have friends in spirit all around us. (Yes, there is powerful grief in our world also, but the Magic is here still, just waiting for us to recognize it.)
The portal is opened. Happy travels, Friend.
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[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
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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.
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This feels like my most important life work to finish up, my best contribution to the world for understanding mind control, so I appreciate you taking the time to view it.
Besides, the first video is very artfully done and got over 2,000 views it’s first week.* And it’s only 3 minutes long.
And if you want to watch the whole series, you can click to “watch all,” and sit back and relax for just a little over an hour.
After three days of serious heart pain with jabs of arm pain and jaw pain (classic heart attack symptoms), they faded away for a day. They came back when my father called and chastised me about not getting allopathic are. Along the way, he told me, “You owe me!” (to stay alive), then explained that I was finally beginning to be nice to him after decades of not, and I owed him more nice years.
Now, I’m managing my heart as well as I can. And reading Rudolpho Anaya’s book, Shaman Winter, an excellent story about fighting evil on the spiritual planes. Right now, it’s as close as I can get to what feels like real help.
Love you all ~
Really appreciate you.
* YouTube keeps reducing my numbers! The numbers decrease now and then on my site by thousands at a time, from 15,000 to 12,000, then down to 10,000, trying to discourage me, I guess.
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It’s revolutionary because it’s so simple: Recognize truth, and challenge lies.
But first we have to realize that we’re all liars and have practiced lying since we were babies! And so we needn’t condemn liars, but simply talk, and help each other find the truth.
Why is this revolutionary? Because we’ve been taught to be silent in the face of lies all our lives. Things like the Inquisition taught us that. And now we live and breathe in a social environment of lies.
Pamela tells us that we need to stop collaborating with those lies and learn some new skills: how to carefully talk about them. (If she’s made a second video to help us with that, I don’t yet know, but I’ll let you know.) Meantime, she suggests we speak carefully but truthfully about what we see.
It’ll demand new skills for a lot of people.
But that simple thing could help us save our world.
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I felt so much yesterday, I could barely see. It hurt to walk. I wanted to die.
Today, I feel better and understand quite a few things.
I had just extracted numbers from my journal of the last 6 months and was not surprised to see the huge number of days indicating I was truly exhausted, around half the time, talking about ending my life five times, with bruises
small bruises on my thighs are the most common – making me think of hypodermic bruises (though I usually don’t bruise from shots. What are they? Taser marks?
and marks left on my body, and even more details I’d forgotten about (many of which I wrote about in my last blog). It was a lot like the time I summarized 18 months and had a melt-down realizing what all had happened.
So I wasn’t surprised to feel terrible. It seemed a natural response to my life.
But the pain had a good result: I see some important things.
First, I realize I need to not let 6 months go by without helping myself be aware and dealing with stuff!
What was I thinking? I think I know: Trying to stay positive, focused on the Light (ignoring the Dark), in order to stay more easily “functional” in this crazy, numbing world.
Yeah, but that’s not very smart, as I’ve coached others before: Survival requires we be aware of our environment!
(We teach what we need to learn, right? So here I am.)
Second thing learned: To accomplish the goal of being aware, I plan to take one day each week to summarize my journal of the previous seven days (I can handle that), to recognize what are the energies swirling around in my life.
Have I ignored some lie (as Pamela Meyer challenges us not to do in the wonderful video I linked to in this blog)? And in ignoring a lie, has it caused me to lose my strength?
Where are creative juices flowing, or where might they flow? What do I need? I’ll make Sunday my day for reviewing my week, since the culture makes that day more available.
Of course, there’s a daily aspect too and I will always do that, but it’s also important to go retrospective now and then for week’s view, or longer view.
I hope and pray Power and Love are flowing in you also today ~
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This presentation (a transcript here) by Carol Rutz in 2003 gives a good overview of mind control and her hopeful story about her own healing:
This transcript is from a presentation by Carol Rutz at The Sixth Annual Ritual Abuse, Secretive Organizations and Mind Control Conference, August 8 – 10, 2003 at the DoubleTree Hotel in Windsor Locks, CT. Some of the topics discussed may be heavy for survivors. Survivors may want to read this with a support person or therapist. The conference is educational and not intended as therapy or treatment. All accusations are alleged. Our providing the information below does not necessarily constitute our endorsement of it.
This page has been put on the web by S.M.A.R.T., P O Box 1295, Easthampton, MA 01027 E-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org
Carol Rutz, a survivor of SRA and Government Mind Control experimentation is the author of A Nation Betrayed (http://www2.dmci.net/users/casey) which tells the true story of secret Cold War experiments performed on children. With extensive research and testimony from survivors, she documents experiments by the CIA to create a Manchurian Candidate. Her topic is “Healing from Ritual Abuse and Mind Control.”
I’m so happy to be here today and I would like to thank Neil and the other sponsors of this conference for this opportunity. Please do what you need to protect yourself, if you become overwhelmed during my talk. It you get up and leave, I won’t be offended. A certain amount of triggering information will be presented, not to hurt, but to help.
Two years ago my presentation focused on presenting the proof that cruel mind control experiments were performed on innocent children during the Cold War by the same government who had sworn to protect them. Based on my own personal experience, testimony of other survivors and documentation obtained from declassified material, I was able to validate many survivors’ memories.
When I originally set out to write A Nation Betrayed I had hoped to reach two audiences–the survivor community and professionals who help these survivors such as doctors, therapists, social workers and ministers. I soon found it was very difficult to write to more than one audience but over the last 2 years I found that my dreams have been fulfilled and surpassed.
Hundreds of survivors and professionals have written to me to express their gratitude for this body of work. I usually receive between one and five emails a week. With every letter I received, I continue to be filled with so many emotions.
1. Sadness when I hear another survivor’s story.
2. Empathy in understanding their continuing struggle to free themselves from the bonds their handlers placed around their minds.
3. Joy that I have helped them to feel “Not Alone–Not Crazy.”
1. Gratitude that God has allowed me to reach so many health professionals who in turn are better able to understand their patients and what they have been through.
This brings me to my topic today.The most frequently asked questions I receive from survivors”
1. How did you heal?
2. How did you break thru the programming?
3. Can I ever have a life again?
To answer these questions I am going to give some of the methods and procedures I used to: Show First Slide
1. Survive the memories
2. Revive found alters
3. Break through the programming
5. Live Normally
I have not talked publicly about my ritual abuse, nor did I devote much of my book to it even though it played an integral part in my becoming dissociative. How does one understand and talk about the horrors of growing up in an intergenerational cult who has joined hands with Illuminati families for their own deviant purposes?
Before my memories returned–before the amnesiac barrier was broken down, I developed a strong spiritual foundation, which contributed greatly to my ability to walk through the darkest memories known to mankind. In addition to being baptized Catholic as a child, I have to admit to two full immersion baptisms as an adult. I seemed to have been always seeking a spiritual belief system that would wash away a horrible blackness I felt inside. As I began remembering the Satanic Rituals I was forced to participate in as a child, I felt for a time that no God could exist and allow these things to happen.
Which brings me to Surviving the Memories.
Most survivors would agree that they had been deprived of normal human relationships during their childhood. It tends to make us isolate, withdraw, and seek only the company of those we know, not those who will help us see what “Normal” really is. It was not until after my father died that some parts of me were set free to begin the healing process. It seemed it was finally safe for me to break away from not only an abusive marriage, but to actually choose a healthy new relationship and begin to feel safe for the first time in my life. I know for certain, that I was so programmed with fear that until I saw my dads’ body in his casket, I couldn’t ever have hoped to have a normal life, let alone recover from the Dissociative Identity that was created by Satanic Ritual Abuse, incest and government experiments.
My memories of SRA began shortly after I found I had “People living inside me.” Anyone who is DID understands what I’m saying. In 1991 after finally feeling safe and cared for for the first time in my life, I began to have flashbacks. They started when I was sitting on my husbands lap and he was kissing my neck. His face suddenly turned into my fathers. I almost threw up every time this occurred and I didn’t understand nor believe what I was experiencing–after all–I was a virgin till I was 18 years old.
AGH!! The first horrible discovery every multiple finds–their whole life was a lie. At least what they thought their life was. How do you accept the lies–the betrayal–the total breakdown in your reality? I knew I was crazy–I had to be.
Intimacy between my husband and I was almost nonexistent from that time on for almost 2 years. I couldn’t stand to be touched once the memories of what was done to me as a child started surfacing. As if incest memories weren’t enough to cope with a new development occurred. I’ll never forget the first time an alter surfaced. I began by having what I thought was a horrible panic attack. A sudden fear came over me and I felt as if my chest was going to explode. As I rode this wave of fear I literally felt my chest explode and my life changed forever. I’m sure the movie Alien with Sigourney Weaver was probably written by someone who was DID because the scene where the ugly alien erupts from that poor persons stomach is exactly how I felt at that moment.
I became a two-year-old little girl. That was the first moment an alter ever felt safe enough to appear and begin to tell what her life was like. Later, I stood next to my son and felt dwarfed by him even though he was only a couple inches taller. When I spoke my voice was not my own, but that of a small child. My God what was happening to me?
From that point on the SRA memories began to surface. I didn’t understand them at all as I didn’t know such things existed. The people I saw in hooded white robes reminded me of the KKK but what they did was beyond anything I ever heard the KKK was responsible for. My grandfather was the “Big Kahuna” of our intergenerational cult. I have traced the word “Big Kahuna,” back to a Polynesian belief system. Oral history tells of a race of beings from another solar system who came to earth and brought with them psychic abilities and huna beliefs. Members of kahuna orders have kept this knowledge alive since that time. The Illuminati family that I was given over to operated with Luciferian beliefs. Balance the good deeds with the bad and it all evened out in the end. Their ceremonies, celebrations, and rituals performed had definite purpose. I’ll explain in a little more detail later on.
I sought professional help. There wasn’t really a choice. It was that or go crazy and drown in a bottomless pit of memories I couldn’t understand. My father had always told me if I ever told I would be locked away in a mental institution, and I believed him. It was horrid to walk into the doctors’ office even though I had been in counseling off and on for several years. None of them had ever gotten close to what was really wrong with me, but then they were never faced with alters who took over the visit and cried out for help.
You know, I think it is hilarious when a doctor asks you if you’ve ever lost time, when that is the purpose of dissociation. You don’t know you’ve lost time, till you begin to become coconscious and that doesn’t happen till you are safe enough to deal with why you became dissociative in the beginning. I was referred to a psychologist who had worked with MPD patients for quite some time. Even so, he didn’t know effective grounding techniques, so I was abreacting almost everything. God we all know how awful abreaction is, even though it is effective at allowing the alters to tell and getting a really accurate picture of what took place. It wasn’t till later that we found a better way.
From the beginning my therapist encouraged me to journal. Throughout the week I allowed my alters to write and draw the details of their abuse. I simply sat down and allowed control to whoever needed to talk. This was the beginning of one of the major things I feel is necessary to heal–Finding a Voice. The other thing it allowed me to do was later Validate my experiences. Many of the cult ceremonies took place at our local zoo.
When I began to draw and talk about them, my doctor turned a little ashen. It was one of three times in 11 years that he said, “I’ve heard that before from someone else about that place.” Wow, talk about validation. When I went to the archives of the public library to find material on the zoo for two particular years, it was missing. Everything was there but those two years. I was disappointed but not surprised. In April of 1993 after two years of SRA memories, I was able to go back to the zoo accompanied by my husband and walk through the places where these rituals had occurred. When I left, it was a victory. We had walked through the fear, “We came, we saw and we conquered.”
I have several more drawings surrounding cult activity, but they are highly triggering. If you are interested you’re welcome to look thru this book later. It has numerous pieces of art work and validation, along with pics of alleged perps.
Finding the Voice that was taken away from you as a child can come in other ways too. Each survivor must find a way to break through the barriers within and reach out to those parts that hold the truth of their lifelong experiences. Some choose to scrapbook, some choose to playact and art therapy is yet another tool that I know some survivors use. Clay, colors, crayons, paint etc, whatever tool can be used to break through the enforced silence that has continued for so many years is effective. In our house children had nothing of interest to say. We had enforced silence at the table during meals, and were only permitted to ask a sibling to pass the food. Beyond silence being enforced, emotions were not encouraged either. Putting on a happy face was the only permissible demeanor in our house. Listen and obey were two of the Ten Commandments. Children were to speak only when spoken to.
In those early days as the bits and pieces of my life were expressed on the pages of my journal I was afraid all of the time–24-7. I was flooded with memories, flashbacks, and nightmares. Fear was my number one major obstacle to overcome before any real work could be done. I found the fear of what I might find was always worse than what I actually did find. I was afraid of remembering and I was afraid not to remember. I was afraid the cult would somehow know I was talking and send someone to exterminate me. I was afraid the memories were really true. I was afraid I was a liar and for some reason making it all up. I eventually came to accept and know that no matter what; I had already lived through the worst. Remembering, understanding, feeling and incorporating those experiences was the pathway I walked to slowly integrate my alters.
Early on multiples are not willing to accept it happened to them–we know it happened to others living inside, but not to us. People would say–“Carol, don’t you understand that if it happened to those people inside you that it happened to you since there a part of you?”
No we don’t and can’t accept that reality until we have emotionally accepted everything that statement entails. I use to collect dolls to represent my alters. It was a way of keeping them separate and apart from me. I didn’t understand that at the time, but it served a purpose to allow the pain to be tolerable until we were ready to really accept it all in totality and what that meant to the life we thought we lived. I also painted and drew pictures of my alters, because they always presented with names and faces.
Show 2 slides
Fear consumed me until I finally let go and allowed the details of my life to flow from my mind to the paper and then in therapy through my mouth. I found that letting my alters finally have a voice and speak the truth was the only way through the fear. My doctor kept reminding me, that telling and making a record of it made me safer. He would remind me if I let people know that I kept this record in a safe place, it was like having insurance. Unlike the lies all my abusers had imbedded in my mind, I found it was safer to have names, dates, and events transcribed. Who would want to take the chance of hurting me when they didn’t know if all their dirty little secrets were tucked safely away in my safety deposit box? This proved to be a huge safety net to me and as time went on, I really knew and believed that they were all liars. Every threat they had told me, every lie they uttered proved to be just that. Of course along with remembering comes all the pain, which is a necessary part of healing. Really understanding, feeling, absorbing and sharing the whole picture of betrayal and horror leads to integration and freedom.
My alters found painting and drawing to be a perfect expression for getting scenes recorded– peoples faces, places, buildings, ceremonies. I never knew what was going to be painted or drawn, I just gave my alters free reign. Years later when I actually was able to match real people and places with these, the validation was overwhelmingly powerful and helped me to understand what truly happened to me. That is what we all search for isn’t it? Validation? How can I know this is real? How can I prove this really happened?
More examples with 8 slides
Slide one- I was to undergo sensory deprivation in a box after being given a shot of curare before these procedures you see depicted took place. I believe the mountain drawing is of Mount Royal in Montreal, behind the Montreal Neurological Institute on McGill campus. The reason I show this drawing and actual picture is to show how a mind retains information even through extreme trauma.
Next slide- this is stereotaxic surgery being performed by I allege Dr. Wilder Penfield in Montreal Canada. He inserted electrodes into sleeve guides and probed my brain while someone in the room recorded what was being said. He said my brain was like a tape recorder and he just needed to take me back in time. He did this by touching different spots in my brain. They kept recording the memories induced from images in my past and later Sid Gottlieb of the CIA used them for future programming sessions.
Recently I discovered that the Soviets during the 60’s and the 70’s found that by passing a low voltage current from the front of the brain to the back, they could drop their remote viewers into the Delta State. Using this artificial means they found Delta to be the doorway to telepathic influencing, telekinesis and remote killing.
That may account for the remark I recall Dr. Penfield make, “Given Enough time and enough bodies, I can find the Doorway to the Soul.”
It was important in the early stages of recovery, before there was validation to set up a contract with my therapist against self-harm. I had to “Survive the Memories” before I could revive and integrate the alters I was finding. Because of the profound sense of Betrayal I felt and the programs that had been installed to suicide if I began to tell, I agreed to have some part call our therapist or tell a trusted individual when these urges emerged. I only ever called my therp at home twice in 12 years of therapy, but I could call the office and schedule an emergency session ahead of time to deal with these urges.
I found in order to heal, I had to own the Betrayal and every time I attempted to do it, I just wanted to give up–it was just too painful. I lived in spite of myself. Sometimes the only thing that kept me alive was the fact that everyone else kept reminding me that “They would win.” I was just stubborn enough to never allow that to happen.
My alters found their voice and began trusting my therapist to guide us through the grief of a lost childhood. What started as a mind that looked like a bunch of puzzle pieces in the early stage of recovery, began to form a border with the first three child alters. At times the incest and ritual abuse memories felt like sharp shards of glass that couldn’t be contained. Over time we learned to take that glass and allow the fiery pain to forge a beautiful canvass of our own making–one that would contain the reality of a whole person.
Assimilating and owning those experiences in order to integrate was the hardest battle we had ever fought, but we found we weren’t alone anymore. As parts were believed and self nurtured a new world opened before us. My husband and sister nurtured and held child parts and allowed them to come out and talk. They listened!! They believed!! They loved us in a healthy way. We got special presents; children’s books were read to us. I know we were very, very blessed to have people in our life that knew how to love in a healthy way. Allowing playtime for young alters such as riding the tractor, playing with a dollhouse or cuddling with stuffed animals helped too. Eating ice cream, listening to wind chimes–all those firsts were a glorious adventure once we told.
So to recap, once you find a way to survive the memories you can set about reviving the alters and set up communication so that you become coconscious. Coconsciousness is essential for safety issues as well as assimilating the material you are remembering. If you can eliminate lost time, you eliminate the power that others still may have to manipulate you and your alters. Identifying triggers is also important for safety. Many handlers set up hand signals, knocks on walls in a certain rhythm, phone ringing in certain rhythm, and words for triggering an alter to the front. For instance and easy way to get me to be a vacant mindless person was to say, “Knock, Knock.” That was installed to bring and alter to the front by the name of “Nobody’s Home.” So often in my life when I experienced trauma that was not Gov’t related, my alter Nobody’s Home would come out. You can see how easy it was for them to access and use their targets. After an operation, when they wanted to send an alter under, they would say “Rest In Peace.” This was whoever was out’s signal to go under. They would call each of our alters out by using the word “Blue” teamed with another word, such as Blue Velvet, Blue Danube, Bluebird, Blue Bayou, etc. Such simple powerful words, but until you realize how they used these to control you, they reek havoc on your system.
As I said earlier, in the beginning I was doing nothing but abreacting. I would find myself in my mind in a room looking at a closed door. After opening the door for the first time I always knew I would find a traumatic scene from my past, generally where a new alter had been created.
When I left the therapists office I would have to put what I had been working on away, so that I could effectively live during the week without being bombarded by the new material. I created an internal safe place to put the memories that we worked on in each session so that I would not be flooded in between. It was a toy box and I would set a stuffed animal on top before I left the office. During the week we would journal or not, which ever felt safe, and then let the memories back out of the toy box again in therapy the following week. This was different from the safe place my alters eventually built to go to for healing.
Later after my therapist had attended a seminar we began using grounding techniques so that while I was remembering I could also remain in the present. This was much less painful and traumatic to the system and every bit as effective as pure abreaction. My grounding technique was really simple. I taught myself that when I would begin to abreact and lose total control, I would grab the arm of the chair and bring myself back to the awareness of where I was. That insured that I was still in the present, and this happened in the past and did not have the power to hurt me anymore.
Some survivors use EMDR successfully for memory retrieval. My doctor noticed I was doing EMDR naturally during our therapy appointments. Instead of following a finger from side to side or hearing music alternately in each ear, my eyes moved from right to left, back and forth very quickly whenever I would start to remember. I think this happened because when I was experimented on I had a set of headphones on where I would hear different messages at the same time thru each ear.
Top Left Picture is a Positron Emitter Detector, circa 1962. It is an early version of the PET scan now in use. The PET scan produces images of how living brain cells work collectively to retrieve memories and form words–in short the physics of thinking. Bottom left picture is a Positron Emitter Detector from Brookhaven, 1965.
My drawing shows how each alter was being programmed. Detectable energy flashes were being picked up and a recording was made assuring the doctors that they indeed were working with different parts of my personality, separate and apart from the me that they would eventually reawaken.
During the 1980’s, Stargate a remote viewing project was done at Ft. Meade, using binoral beat tones that changed the brain waves through earphones. A hemi-sync device that played two different frequencies into each ear was found to produce altered states of consciousness. Perhaps the technology they used was derived from these experiments done in the 60’s on people like me and others in this room.
Lower right is a portable ect unit which many of us became intimately acquainted with.
I also did a double appointment. 45 minutes was never enough for me to accomplish what was needed. I would just be getting rolling when it was time to reground and wrap up. I hated those early sessions where I would walk out of the office and a child part would get behind the wheel, or we couldn’t even find our way to the car or we would cry all the way home. 1-½ hours turned out to be perfect. Towards the end of therapy I was commuting almost four hours, so going every other week for a double session helped tremendously.
The same visualization that was used by perps for programming enabled us to undo that programming. We created a healing place inside where anyone who chose to could go and rest and get help from other alters in healing. I found parts that couldn’t speak because of programming or being preverbal and a helper alter would agree to be used for the memory retrieval work. That part would remain grounded so that the emotional impact was not so overwhelming. I believe this is really important and could cause system wide shut down if we attempt to handle too much at one time. Betrayal, shame, and fear were powerful tools used against us.
Slowly I began to reclaim the power that was taken from me as a child. I learned that the humiliation, guilt, and degradation they heaped on my shoulders was theirs–not mine. I was able to separate the lies from the truth.
My father had tried to systematically destroy my free will by controlling my mind from infancy through adulthood. He was totally narcissistic–self absorbed and tried to possess everything and everyone, never feeling guilt. He was only interested in his personal wants, desires and needs being met, never acknowledging the harm he was inflicting on others. Even as an adult he would use triggers on me so that I would switch into whatever alter he desired whether it be for a cult ritual or for his sexual pleasure. For instance, he would put his hand into his pocket and pull out a diaphragm and say, “Remember what this is for?” I would immediately switch. BTW, it was my mother’s diaphragm.
Owning the truth of all this was devastating in the beginning, and freeing in the end. We saw ourself as a beautiful vase with a flower before the trauma. As we relived each trauma that made us split it was as if a giant hammer came down splintering the vase into a thousand pieces. As we put the vase back together through integration, we found the flower in the vase–“Our Soul” was never truly damaged. They never got to the soul of our being.
Integration means owning. I remember the first time I ever owned the incest. I was standing in the grocery store and I ran into a lady I knew casually whose father had just passed away. I told her how sorry I was, and then she asked me if my dad was still living. I told her “No he’s been dead since 1979.” She said how sorry she was and in reply I said, “No I’m glad he’s dead, I’m sure he’s rotting in hell. He was a baby raper!! He molested me from the time I was a baby.” Well, if the poor woman would have had dentures, I’m sure they would have fallen out. She quickly made her exit, and I can’t tell you how good that felt. That was the first time other than to family and my therapist, that I had admitted publicly what had happened to me. I didn’t feel shame or guilt. I put it on the person who deserved it. Wow, I knew I was healing. Over time I even lost the hatred I felt for him. I never set out to stop hating. It just happened as I healed and put the entire picture together. I could see what type of life he had lived as a child, and I never stopped hating what he had done, but his hold on my mind was loosened when the hating stopped.
Another truly wonderful validation occurred when I shared with my aunt about the incest. She was mortified to say the least, but she shared what I told her with my cousins. One of them called me and we got together and found out each had been carrying their own secrets around in our hearts thinking we were alone. By my opening up, it allowed all this to come out in the open–out of the shadows of darkness and into the light. I found that one male cousin in particular incested at least five of my female and male cousins. God, it was awful to see what legacy my family of birth had passed on. A huge healing has taken place for a lot of them too in their personal relationships and the validation for all of us was priceless. One cousin wrote to me and said, “Carol, it is because of you sharing the burden that you carried for so long that our family is starting to heal. It puts in perspective so many things for our family. It has helped me to continue in my growth process. Because of what you told my mom we are now learning what a healthy family is.”
I personally did not start breaking through the government programming until I had brought a lot of stability into my life, where I was moving from focusing on the trauma all the time to focusing on the healing and living in the here and now. I learned to stay grounded and centered and leave the old coping techniques of dissociation behind.
When I began to find the alters who had been programmed and experimented on by Sid Gottlieb, Allen Dulles, Ewen Cameron, Wilder Penfield and others I began a brand new journey. My book details that journey. Personal validation of my memories of this journey again came from my drawings and paintings and of course a lot of declassified documents. All the programming that was done to me by the CIA and Illuminati was Trauma based using things like electroshock, sensory deprivation, and drugs. Later the trauma wasn’t necessary, only hypnosis accomplished with implanted triggers and occasional tune-ups that took place at Wright Patterson Air Force Base not far from my home.
One of the first programs I dealt with was “No Talk” programming. I had a flashback of this while sitting in the dentist chair. The light they pull down and use to look in your mouth triggered it. Sid Gottlieb was standing behind a light several feet from us and grinning. It is the type of light they use for Morse code. It looked like metal Venetian blinds and it was being opened and closed, allowing a blinding light to flash alternately off and on in our eyes. When the light was on someone said, “Talk,” then as the light switched off, they said “Don’t Talk.” This was repeated over and over. When they used this in practical situations, all they had to do was switch a flashlight on and off in front of my face.
A lot of my programming revolved around the Wizard of Oz. The hourglass was used in the event I would begin to remember and talk. They would tell us that if we talked the hourglasses sand would begin to run and when it was all run out we must do ourself in. We turned the hourglass on its side so it could no longer be used to threaten us. I was also told my head would explode. When I ran into this the first time, I was driving home from therapy. My head not only felt like it was going to explode; I saw a gigantic bomb with a lit fuse. I decided that I had used visualization for helping to heal other alters and since the programming they did was done with creative visualization, I should be able to undo it in the same way. I took my fingers and snuffed the wick out–it was that simple. Knowing their lies made it so much easier to dismantle the programming. These are just a few examples of creative visualization.
Another affective visualization that the system used to short circuit programming was when I found there were hidden parts. We took a giant eraser and internally started erasing all the lines to the boxes and triangles inside of us. We saw people coming out on stretchers, with bandages and others internally were carrying them on cots to the healing place.
When I was having trouble even getting close to memories we found booby traps and land mines surrounding them, so that every time we got close we couldn’t get past these. We visualized a giant pacman in our blood stream. He was sent on a search and destroy mission for any programs that were implanted and dangerous. When pacman was through destroying these he yelled, “Mission Accomplished.” Our progress after this was remarkable.
When I found the infinity sign or number eight on its side had been used to separate two lands in my body where alters were held, I set about to free them. One side of my body contained Neverland and the other side contained Shadow land. My baby alter, who was preverbal was stuck in Neverland where she never grew up. Sid Gottlieb used
to bottle feed and hold this part and bonded this part to him this way setting up an internal dichotomy where we thought we depended on him for nourishment–food, drink, love etc. Baby and the alter that was sent to Shadowland were told they would have eternal life if the alter in Shadowland carried out the missions he was given. This part had psychic abilities and was trained to use the “Red Fire” to cause strokes & aneurysms in “targets.” Anyways as you can see one land held the baby and another the alter with the “violence.” The programmers had codes to access the baby part, and you had to go through in that order, Baby first than the codes to access the alter who used the red fire. It was a brilliant system to be sure as the Baby was totally hooked using “Maslows Theory” to these programmers and if the body was caught their was no way they would ever get to the part that was used for missions. The infinity symbol was drawn on a black board and reinforced repeatedly through hypnosis until all the systems were locked down tight. I hope this makes sense. It took a longtime and a good deal of work, to find this and break free, since even after the alters found out the truth they did not want to leave their lands right away where they felt safe and come to the safe place in my system. After some internal communication the baby was rescued from Neverland. Alters simply created a bridge and crossed from there to Shadowland. Our baby part was nurtured by our alter who was trained for killing, so it was very beneficial to both those alters. The door to Neverland was burned and holes were shot in the ceiling of Shadowland to let light through. It was patterned after a tunnel I was in at 16 where I did a psychic demo. Anyways, eventually everyone felt safe enough so that an elevator was built to the healing place and Shadowland was destroyed too.
This drawing completely mystified me until I read a news article about an implant that amplifies brain signals, which are then transmitted to a laptop computer through an antenna-like electronic coil on the head. Researchers at Emory University implanted a tiny implant, the size of the tip of a ballpoint pen into a patients brain which allowed the patient to express his thoughts with words, through the uses of a voice synthesizer.
Many of the experiments performed on me were done to heighten and use ESP, Remote Viewing, and the energy of the mind.
If you think this psychic killing sounds far fetched you may be interested to know that back in the Sixties, the Soviet Union began to pour money and resources into the study of ESP and psycho kinesis, phenomena collectively termed “psi” by researchers in the field. Much of this psi research came under the control of the Soviet military and KGB. They also screened Red Army recruits for psychic abilities, and pumped talented subjects full of dangerous drugs to promote psi-conducive altered states. Subjects in psycho kinesis or “remote-influencing” experiments tried to stop the hearts of small
animals, or concentrated on foreign political leaders, beaming at them “negative psi
Soviet and Czech scientists were said to be working on electromagnetic devices that would cause strokes or heart attacks, and it was even rumored that they had perfected a “psychotronic generator”, which could scramble people’s minds at great distances.
An unclassified 1972 Defense Intelligence Agency report expressed concerns that “Soviet efforts in the field of psi research, sooner or later, might enable them to do some of the following,”
1. Know the contents of top secret US documents, the movements of our troops and ships and the location and nature of our military installations
2. Mould the thoughts of key US military and civilian leaders at a distance
3. Cause the instant death of any US official at a distance
4. Disable, at a distance, US military equipment of all types, including spacecraft.”
All I can say is that we may not have all the declassified documents on what the U.S was working on, but we can be sure they were doing tit for tat what their Russian counterparts were, only a lot of it was being done on small children.
Creating a timeline was extremely helpful in my healing after I had been at therapy for a number of years. I took a storyboard that was folded in three parts. I used one color sticky notes for SRA alters, a different color for government alters and the last was myself at different ages for instance grade school and what age I was in each grade. By combining the years of rituals and experiments with where I was in school and what was going on in my life, I finally got a true picture of what happened and when. Was it hard–most assuredly. Was it one of the biggest steps in my ability to own and integrate many parts–absolutely!
I don’t believe there is only one way to deprogram. There is no right or wrong way. What is effective for one may be totally unworkable for someone else. I believe the key to deprogramming is Internal dialogue. Integration is desirable by some people and not others. That is a choice each individual makes. My integration of parts has always come naturally. No big ceremonies, just when the work was done, and the system knew we weren’t losing anything it came naturally. Am I totally integrated? No. Will I be? I don’t know. I’m high functioning without losing time. Today I can make choices for myself based on knowledge. I have boundaries and balance. I try to not let my past overwhelm me. Some days I choose advocacy and work at exposing the evil. Others I choose to just live and love and try to bring some sunshine to my corner of the universe. They took our choices away. I like having mine back.
I encourage each of you to find your voice. I believe it is your road to freedom. In closing I want to share with you something from my journal.
If you feel comfortable, I encourage you to close your eyes while you listen.
Today we allow ourselves to be led to the edge of the brook. We step into the water to wash away some of the pain of the past. We relish in the way the water nips at our chin and caresses our mind. Melodies of times past forge across our brain, and the music becomes softer and smoother as we listen. The torrent of horror is moving gently to the place in our mind where it can be woven back into notes that will make up a grand symphony. The individual orchestra players will soon no longer be heard performing their duets. Instead they will blend together–and the sounds that arise will be gentler, warmer, stronger, and more fluid. The conductor of the new piece will at times remember the individual notes played by each instrument, but only by combining them all together will this grand symphony of strength and courage fill the corridors of our mind and give us peace.
This was taken from the site, RitualAbuse.us. “Ritual Abuse” is an earlier name for Mind Control. The original link:
Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, there is a widespread belief that all parents love their children. This is not so. Many parents are so badly emotionally damaged as a result of their own childhood experience that they are not capable of loving their children. Moreover, the fear, self-hatred and powerlessness that characterize most humans means that parental violence against children is chronic even if one or both parents are capable of love.
Evolution’s great trick was to connect reproduction with intense but transitory sexual pleasure, not love. Couples may engage in sex as a result of love for each other and possibly the desire to create and care for a child. But many children are conceived outside the loving long-term relationship necessary to nurture a child and even those children who are conceived within this framework will routinely suffer parental violence. And without genuine communities, as occurs in tribal situations, modern nuclear families leave children isolated from the readily available emotional support options that a more closeknit community would offer.
Twelve years ago, while living rurally as a hermit in Cochise County, Arizona, I realized I was a mind control subject – and I mean in a manner more intense than the ubiquitous birth trauma-television-education-news-political propaganda type of generalized mind control; I mean the MKULTRA-type of trauma-based mind programming done to unwitting adults and children to make them controllable, amnesic super soldiers, spies, couriers, and/or sexual objects for primarily political purposes, but also for personal sexual gratification, perverse entertainment, and blackmail.
It’s possible this practice has ancient roots, resulting in tales of zombies for instance, but it began to be documented in Europe with the advent of popular hypnosis performances, conducted by men like Franz Mesmer, after whom the word mesmerize was coined.
Court records from the 19th century document hypnotic subjects made to empty their bank accounts for their controllers, deny their beloved families, commit crimes for their controllers, and confess to those crimes even when evidence abounded that they were innocent and acting at the command of others.
This criminal enterprise probably began in America when our nation brought Nazi scientists into this country under Operation Paperclip after the Second World War, presumably because our leaders were afraid to fall behind the Chinese in developing the art of the “Manchurian Candidate.” It was funded and directed through the CIA, with numerous private contractors, as testified to by the CIA Director to the Senate twice in the 1970s. Today there is evidence it continues to be funded through our government’s black budget.
Subjects are acquired in various ways through military enlistment, secret societies, prisons, orphanages, mental hospitals, churches, summer camps, and more.
The operation requires great secrecy and cooperation between law enforcement, courts, hospitals, and more, including organized crime.
It is a shock to have one’s amnesia barrier spring tiny leaks and begin delivering to my consciousness seemingly random scenes – but more than scenes – whole body flashes – of a single place, time, situation, emotion, and meaningful framework and focus of the moment. Sometimes I experience complex memories of disturbing sexual situations – in childhood and teen years. Unfortunately, they make a coherent sense of other strange things in my life that I’ve never forgotten.
After decades of believing your life is somewhat confusing (in ways you can’t describe) but fairly “normal,” it is a powerful psychic shock to realize you might not have always had control of your body, and your mind might at any time be overridden and your body used for who knows what.
This shock, unquestionably the most traumatic shock of my life, is what Dr. John Mack calls “ontological shock.” (Ontology: the study of the nature of being.) Mack wrote:
“A worldview… is a source of security and a compass to guide us. For an individual it holds the psyche together. To destroy someone’s worldview is virtually to destroy that person…. People who present ideas that seriously challenge a worldview are punished—by death for heresy in the past and now by ridicule, debunking, and efforts to destroy their reputation.” (Passport to the Cosmos, p. 34)
A worldview is like the ocean to the fish, taken for granted – until it disappears, and then it’s mind blowing, psyche destroying. Individuals protect their worldviews and themselves as strenuously as cultures do. But sometimes sanity and cultural healing require that a worldview be replaced.
Growing up in European America, I learned at age 50 that I was not really free, as I’d always believed, but was a slave of some unknown other. This worldview change was so traumatic, I attest to Dr. Mack’s statement: my psyche blew apart, was virtually destroyed. And it was – actually – okay.
Others have called these events “spiritual crises” and in earlier decades “nervous break-downs” – for which I would later quip, “I highly recommend them.” Other cultures call them shamanic initiations.
Why would I recommend an event so traumatic to the human psyche?
Because this “crazy” idea, this idea that destroyed my worldview felt horrifyingly right, and made sense of numerous strange amnesic events of my life, as well as physical, otherwise-unexplainable sexual mutilations.
Years later, my parents appeared to confirm this theory when they became irate at a few of my memories and responded as though they’d rather I accept them as sexual predators (suggested by a sibling) than entertain the possibility that I might have been abused by some unknown military men (two of my memories) – which they immediately presumed meant (though I never said it) that I was holding them responsible (which they would have been if they’d cooperated with the government program, as many parents apparently did in the wonderful 1950s).
Mack’s “ontological shock” is so painful, he explains, that most people avoid it at all costs, choosing instead to maintain congruence with the socially-accepted “reality,” for which they bury their own experience – unless the evidence is overwhelming.
My evidence was overwhelming, but my emotions convinced me to consider the theory anyway. After all, I had chosen this life as a hermit in the desert, with very little social distraction, in order to learn about myself; to get away from the workaholism that had been earning me awards, getting me news recognition and Board invitations, but also stressing me out severely; and to heal whatever it was that was making life so weird and confusing. That was the context for my life, the meaning of every first breath I drew when I awoke each morning, grateful to be surrounded by the desert.
Mind control was clearly not a welcome theory, but it was a theory, and it seemed only honest to consider it.
Besides, from the first moment I felt it ripple in gruesome slow-motion across my brain, little child voices arose from great depths, speaking, sighing, crying relief to be out of the deep, dark closet, finally, pleading, Don’t ignore us anymore.
Right behind them were fear, guardedness, neediness, devastating grief, and cynical teen coldness like I’d never felt – consciously, but ooh, it feels sickeningly, terrifyingly familiar, connected to something too sick to remember. It shook me to my bones from the first moment.
Every day, I questioned myself, hoping to see some other way to interpret these feelings roiling inside me. I couldn’t push down the hopeful-sounding children, yearning to be cared for, the grieving children who wanted to be heard, and fearful ones needing comfort. Like Pandora’s box opened, my own swarming voices also included light, congruence, explanation for long-confusing anomalies, and hope for healing and leading a more satisfying future than the previous decades of confusion.
My psyche shifted, and my whole world changed, and I couldn’t change it back, though, believe me, I tried. Every day, I tried to perceive another way.
But week by week, my sense of clarity, and of somehow having my feet on the ground like they’d never been before, were improving rapidly in ways that seemed obviously related to accepting this horrible reality that also made me cry and want to kill myself.
I made lists of the evidence, and put stars by those that had been or could be witnessed by others, and it all seemed way too much for any sort of coincidence. I did this exercise or others like it again and again and again, trying desperately to see my world through another lens. But I couldn’t, and my mental coherence kept improving.
Senses and reason in agreement (though not emotion), it seemed essential to step inside this new reality, but the storyline was absolutely terrifying… disgusting… painful… reviving painful physical memories, making my body jump with sensations I won’t describe, and my mind reel with shame, disgust, and wither with helplessness.
And so I wrestled with the first two major challenges in healing from mind control: ontological shock and the disabling emotions.
Emotions would be hardest to face in the first year, causing me to want to leave this life nearly every day for six months, though after a spiritually-inclined partner moved in with me, those urges became less and less in the decade that followed.
Isolation was the third main challenge. No one wants to hear this. It’s pretty much taboo in our culture – which serves well those who perpetrate it. We victims are on our own, except for whatever circles of support we’re able to create ourselves.
Not knowing the next time you’ll be used is the fourth big challenge. Trauma therapists know that if you can control the circumstances that led to a distressing event, such as not riding a horse after a fall off of one, a person can at least rest knowing it won’t happen again anytime soon. But mind control subjects have no such assurance; they can walk out their therapist’s door and be met immediately by a stranger who might have a passcode to a hidden door in their psyche.
Every phone call, every person who visits could be the controller. Suddenly the phone rings a lot, and I hear nothing – at least nothing that I recall. If it only happened once, I would get over it, but phone callers delivering “silence” continued for about a year.
Once a man I absolutely didn’t trust came to my home and put me in a trance while I stood there absolutely conscious and aware of what was happening, but obedient, and let him download malware which immediately destroyed my computer. I felt myself come out of the trance as soon as the door shut behind him.
Two and a half weeks after a beam hit me while talking on the telephone. I seem to have been controlled to not look at it and later not photograph it until it was almost healed.
More than once, I’ve been hit by beams in my home, sometimes shocking and immobilizing, sometimes gentle and searching followed by a powerful amnesia-producing hit, and once I was even bruised in a solid black 2 ¼” perfect circle on my leg. Another time I was made to do a small but embarassing thing in public that I could, literally, not do under my own control. And I never had any way to know these things were coming.
Rarely did more than two weeks go by between events – not nearly enough to relax and pretend it wasn’t a major part of my life and maybe if I looked again I could decide it was all a bad, misinterpreted dream, and life could go back to being all about good food, the garden, and being an activist for some good cause again.