Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company. Mark Twain
By Ken Sheetz
The visions here at Great Spirits Ranch continue to astound me. Last night I awoke at 4:30 AM and knew I must do a DreamShield meditation for the next phase of the Shift, a phase we’ve all been waiting billions of years for, since the birth of this universe. And without any “thinking” I knew what I must do: Expand Heaven.
I traveled to the dimension of Heaven in a blink, how I knew the way I do not question, I simply knew. There were gathered a multitude sitting amongst the clouds. I’ve never been to Heaven before so my earthly mind said, “Hmm, people sitting on clouds. Guess the cliches were cliches because it’s true.”
I announced, in a surprising voice that carried to the infinite distances of the tiny point of Heaven, which is a dimension no bigger than a molecule, “On March 12, 2012, Hell was closed for once and for all. Reconstruction of a new inner Earth in it’s place is going perfectly. Now, the time has come to end Heaven as well.”
I could see sadness, but resolve, on the faces of the many beings from countess worlds, and so I added, “Rejoice, for Heaven is to be dissolved and spread. Expanded until its essence permeates all the universe and thereby brings a new Heaven to all.”
And a great cheer rose from the countless angels and spirits. Then, in utter silence we began the work of expanding Heaven from a tiny molecule to a vastness that will encompass the entire universe. The force and energy of the work of the multitude felt like a non-pressure. I was expanding too.
The start of Heaven’s expansion underway, I returned to my exhilarated human body in my RV bedroom at the amazing Great Spirits Ranch. Falling instantly back to peaceful slumber for the rest of the night, I had wondrous dreams of Heaven’s glorious expansion. I saw the divine feminine unfold in its full beauty and power. I saw the masculine become invulnerable to all disease and disorder.
So, if the world seems a bit more colorful and brighter today, your step a bit lighter, thank the higher powers who assure me that when 12.21.12 comes and Heaven is upon us all, “Everything will be fine.”
For more of my vision work please visit www.dreamshield.org where you’ll find PayPal links for donations and links to my blog.
The following vision art is the creation DreamShield.org founder Ken Sheetz. But Ken is only one of millions having visions of other realms of reality. We encourage you to contact us at imagitv@aol.com with any vision art of your own for posting here on our blog.
“Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.” – Anthony Brandt
By Ken Sheetz
I write this story, dear reader, as a meditation on where my troubles with women has its roots, in my childhood. Most of my work in 2011 and 2012 has focused on helping heal the divine masculine and the divine feminine by healing my own issues. I encourage you to dig deep into your own past too. We chose all these life lessons for a reason before we were ever born. 2012 is the time to apply those lessons in healing our world from family strife.
THE B & G DETOUR
It was October 1962. I was ten-years-old and sat squashed in a Chevy station wagon along with the whole family. My father was brooding at the wheel over a fight he had with Mom just before we left Milwaukee. Bad vibes wafted in the smoky air of the family wagon. This was to be a happy road trip to our new home in Waupaca Wisconsin. Way up North, Waupaca was to be the place for a fresh family start, but our family “baggage” was coming right along with the rest of the tightly packed 50s furniture and knickknacks Mom collected.
Wedged aboard were my Aunt Katie, Grandma, brother Fred, baby brother Bruce and Mom and Dad. Here’s the song DETOUR that we sung on the ride North many times, not heading the warning of the song on the huge family detour we were about to take in Waupaca.
The world had barely survived the Cuban Missile Crisis. This prompted my pretty Aunt Katie, between cigarette puffs, to say, “If the Russians blow up Milwaukee we’ll be safe way the hell up here.” Everyone laughed. Comedy was our family’s secret weapon for breaking building tension. Tension I lived with constantly that made the Cuban scenario seem as normal as Grandma’s great pies.
I blurted, “Wow, Aunt Katie, if the A-bomb drops tomorrow, we might be the last family left on earth. The you’d have to marry me!”
A nuclear war actually excited me. I had a hopeless crush on my beautiful black Irish Aunt Katie. But she laughed off my dream along with the rest of the family. I often found my unintentional humor got the best laughs as family comedian. Still does to this day. – Don’t laugh!
All the family adults were chain smokers. It was freezing outside the smoke-filled station wagon, winding its way along the old two lane highways of those days. Grandma, a sweet, but tough as nails, little cherub of an Irish woman, would not let me open the window more that a crack because she was afraid of getting sick. Eyes watering, I sucked at the window crack, desperate for oxygen.
Earlier, in the year, the family had come to Waupaca to vacation in the glorious summer. The family swam in the clear lakes and raced canoes on the Crystal River. It was our happiest family vacation because Dad had been sober for three blissful months.
The fun-packed vacation went by fast, filled with some of the best memories of my life. But soon we headed home to Milwaukee as fireflies danced in the summer twilight. We hadn’t driven more than 5 miles out of Waupaca when Dad spotted a for sale sign on a gas station/diner. Before we all knew it, my “get-rich-quick” Dad wanted us all to step out of cozy station wagon and see the run down place. He instantly was full of fresh-start dreams of a new life where he did not have to punch a clock in the welding world.
I hated the odd combo of a gas station and diner instantly. There was an air of malevolence about the cobweb filled place.
“I don’t like it here,” I whispered to Grandma, afraid Dad would hit me if he heard.
“Why?” said Grandma softly, knowing how dangerous our talk was against Dad’s passion for the place.
“Ghosts. Ghost everywhere. And bad things,” I said trembling.
“That overactive imagination of yours is going to land you in the looney bin, honey. There’s no such thing as ghosts. Now shush,” said Grandma quickly and softly as Mom and Dad debated. I’d been told to keep my psychic reactions to myself by Grandma many times, who took on the job of suppressing my supernatural abilities, like a good Irish-Catholic lady, and so I kept my little mouth shut.
Mom was doing her best to argue Dad out of it with her usual blunt style, “Bill, you’re nuts. We haven’t even paid my father back for your Old Smokey’s gas station business in Milwaukee that flopped.”
“This place will make a damn fortune. That’s how I’ll pay Cappy back, Georgie.” Dad said, swallowing his anger by taking Mom into a hug.
“There’s nothing fresh about this dive.” griped Mom.
“Long way from my Milwaukee bar fly pals,” said Dad with his winning grin.
“How many times have tried to quit, Bill?” said Mom, a woman never afraid to say exactly what is on her mind.
“Three months so far. I’m in the clear. This time it’s going to be different,” Dad proclaimed making the sign of the cross over his heart.
“So why here?” Mom said, secretly beginning to dream of a new life with a sober husband.
“Gateway to Waupaca. No other stations for miles. The cheapo sales tag means this place a gift from God.” Dad said.
“I don’t know, son, ” Said Grandma, worried for her boy who always had a way of overreaching himself, and secretly what I had told her about the ghosts here.
“Let’s have a family vote. — Who says we live in Milwaukee where I have to sweat in a factory like a slave all day?” Dad had a way of framing these family votes that fixed the results. But Dad truly sealed the deal for the odd combo restaurant and gas station by naming it The B & G Detour, after his and Mom’s initials. Mom always dreamed of being a star and she loved the idea of her name on a sign, even one in the middle on nowhere Wisconsin.
I relished my time left in Milwaukee, while dad struggled to rent our home on Lake Michigan in Milwaukee. But finally, one sad day, when I came from school while JFK challenged Khrushchev on TV to a game nuclear chicken, I was told by Grandma that we were moving to distant Waupaca. I ran to my room to cry in private.
Mom grew angry as Dad packed up the wagon with Grandma and Katie.
“What’s wrong now?” said Dad to Mom.
“How’d I let you talk me into living 300 miles away from my mom and dad and sisters?”
“Christ. Now you bring this shit up? You only see your family at Christmas. We’ll fucking drive down! ” shouted Dad. Later in life with women my booming voice would echo his in my own fights. I’ve learned to walk away rather than subject anyone to my angry power-voice.
“Not the same as being able to drop by when I want.” said Mom, getting up in Dad’s red-face. Mom was never one to back down easily.
Often Mom’s big, equally dysfunctional in its own way family, were her refuge during the bad fights with Dad that became mutually bloody at times. Something I am proud to have never repeated. Sad thing is that I used to think not beating my woman was being loving. I learned the hard way from many wonderful mated that mental cruelty and abuse is not an actual form of love. Restraint is not love either. Funny thing. An amazing scientist visiting here at Great Spirits Ranch told me last week that I may not have the DNA for a loving relationship. But I know that the work I am doing with DreamShield is going to complete my DNA in this vital area as we enter the Golden Age. The mutant paradigm’s days are numbered. Love is coming to us all.
But I digress. The fact Mom had overlooked being away from her own family refuge until now showed how persuasive my dad could be when he wanted something bad enough to happen.
Mom sulked in the passenger seat as the station wagon drove off through a October snow flurry. We drove all alone in silence on the slippery highways. Pissed about Mom’s last-minute huff, Dad took a swig of beer between smokes.
“You’re drinking again?!” Mom shouted, terrified.
“Just beer.” Dad said as he took a defiant swing in Mom’s frightened face.
I felt Mom’s rising panic in this key moment. Trapped 300 miles from home with a drunken husband was a fate worse than death. Mom’s only response was a deep sigh as she looked out over the snow dusted Wisconsin hills.
“Snow before Halloween. Gonna be a rough winter.” said Grandma, blowing cigarette smoke with her prophetic words.
As I sucked for air out the cracked open window, I had a sinking feeling, watching the demons rise in my father’s soul with each tug of beer. I decided to go to sleep to get out of this family hell and lay my head upon the smoke steamed windows.
I dreamed of a demon Dad who raged at me when the station wagon with bad shocks bounced into the B & G Detour and woke me from one nightmare into another. On this dreary October night it all looked so different from the summer that the family were all in shock. The leaves were turning color on the trees. There was an eery silence as there was no traffic at all for miles on the road where wet snow was melting in orange puddles against the fading sun.
“We’re home!” Dad said, gamely pushing open the restaurant door. A musty stench set us all to coughing.
“Bastards. They left this place a god damn mess.” said Aunt Katie, kicking a Coke can clattering across the tile floor.
“There’s four of us plus the kids. We’ll clean this mess up in no time.” said Grandma bravely.
“Later, Ma. Let’s check out back if the house trailer showed up so we have someplace to sleep tonight.” said Dad.
A few weeks earlier I remember the joy my little brother Fred and I had exploring the double wide trailer home as Mom haggled for a good price. The slick salesman chuckled to my Mom as Fred and I played tag in the spacious trailer with Dad, who hated negotiating. “The trailer comes in two halves. Wide enough for family tag. Fine boys.”
Mom was not charmed as she “Jewed” the salesman down as mom and dad liked to say. It would be high school before I’d know Jewish was a race and not a negotiation term.
The laughter of the slick salesman echoed in my head as we all gazed at our new home in horror. Only half the double-wide trailer was here on the gravel parking lot behind the B & G Detour.
“What the goddamn hell is this? Where’s the other half of the house!” Dad shouted as he yanked on the plastic sheeting that flapped in the cold breeze.
“Don’t pull the plastic off, Billy.” said Aunt Katie. “We’ll need the plastic to keep warm tonight.”
“This is what I get for letting you Jew down that prick salesman. He screwed us!” shouted my father an inch from Mom’s nose.
Mom stood her ground bravely, “You didn’t complain when I saved us a fortune. You’ll see. The rest of the house is coming, Bill. I’ll call the jerks in the morning when they open. You’ll see.”
Looking back on all this I see why I am writing this story, a powerful form of meditation for me. I see the great power of the women in my life, holding my alcoholic father together by sheer will alone.
“Neato!” I said peering through the thick dusty plastic sheeting. “There’s half a kitchen!”
Somehow this broke the tension and everyone started laughing about the rough start to our new life in Waupaca.
After a chilly night’s sleep in the half a home, the family rolled up its sleeves and started cleaning and fixing up the B & G Detour. It was exciting for us all to be working for a common purpose as a family. Soon the old place was looking good.
As family artist I was given the job to paint letters for the new B & G Detour sign. I’m still proud of that damn sign I painted.
After a week of Mom screaming on the phone all day, the second half of the trailer finally showed up and we had a warm and cozy spanking new 3 bedroom house. Life was starting to feel normal. Fred and I started grade school in town. But Fred and I mostly played with each other at recess as the Waupaca kids called us “The kids from the big city.”
Fred and I did make friends with one kid whose dad who owned a carnival that was shuttered up for the winter. Fred and I ran through in the fun house like hooting Apaches. While Fred and our first Waupaca pal chased off through the dark corridors, I stood before a trick mirror and marveled at my alien looking stretched out image.
The Grand Opening of the B & G was coming. I tired to help Dad fix of the garage but I was never good enough for him in that department. So I helped the ladies in restaurant while Fred helped dad set up the garage.
One day, while I was sweeping up the restaurant and laughing with the ladies, Dad stomped in and for no reason started to yell at me. “Faggot, kid. Can’t you do anything right?”
I cringed waiting for Dad’s usual blow. But Mom dropped her mop to get in between us. “You drunk asshole. Stop picking on Ken.”
“Look how crummy mama’s boy’s sweeps!” Dad shouted as he kicked up some dust from a corner I’d missed.
“So damn what? He’s ten! Mom said while drawing me behind her for protection.
“Ken’s a faggot sweeper!” taunted Fred, who got worse beatings from Dad. So he’d take Dad’s side often for self-protection. But I did not know this back then, so my brother’s betrayals always stung and shocked me.
“What the hell’s really wrong, Bill?” my mother said, seeing through Dad’s macho smoke screen.
Dad’s bluster deflated instantly and he bellowed loud enough to rattle the dirty restaurant windows, “Sneaky bastards!”
“Something wrong with the trailer?” said Mom.
“No! I want my money back from the jerk who sold me this dump!” My father said to the greasy ceiling tiles, as though asking God for divine intervention.
“What the…?! We haven’t even opened this “dump” and you’re already quitting?” yelled Mom. Mom is loud when mad, even today, and back then it had a way of instantly triggering dad. But this time Dad was docile, like a beat up dog.
Grandma took my father into her chubby arms. “Don’t get on my boy. Bill couldn’t have known.”
“Know what?” I chimed in, secretly enjoying seeing Dad look so beat up instead of me or my brother Fred for a change.
Aunt Katie wiped her hands on her apron, and she shot me a terrified look to “Shut up!”
“There’s a reason we ain’t seen no customers, Georgie.” Katie said sadly.
“Because you’re all three drinking beer half the day instead of getting this place open?” Mom chided.
“The new freeway.” said Katie, glowering at Mom.
“What the hell’s a freeway?” said Mom.
“A super-fucking-highway. Now this dump really is a detour, ” said my father. His voice ashes.
A vortex of my father’s fear and panic opened right there in the diner. All of us were sucked in except Mom.
“Screw the freeway. Grandma’s pies are amazing. I cook the best burgers on earth. Heck, we’re only 5 miles from town. People will come here any-damn-ways!”
My father was shocked by Mom’s bravery. He whisked Mom off her feet and kissed her furiously. I’ve never been prouder of my brave Mom in that moment.
“Put me down, Bill. We got work to do!” said Mom, loving the respect she was getting from not only dad but his mother and sister.
But the little restaurant and gas station would fail after a futile 3 months. Mom bravely battled on while Katie disappeared with a lumberjack who took Katie off like a to-go item on the menu. I felt so abandoned. My hopeless crush on Katie became my nuclear winter of self-hate. I’d stare at myself in the fun house mirror with loathing that was beyond description and my father’s abusive words echoed in my abuse-addled brain.
Dad lost himself in booze, puttering on few wreck’s that limped into the gas station from town. A town where the two little Sheetz boys from the big city were as welcome as the plague.
Eventually, Grandma’s Irish temper got the best of her when she could not get my dad to buckle down and she left to work at the lumberjack’s camp with Katie.
The B & G Detour truly became a detour to hell on earth. The trailer, half of which did not show up for weeks, where we lived in behind the B &G, was not hooked to plumbing. My brother and I were given the job to dig holes for the sewage. Fred and I were attacked by flies and fire ants as we dug.
One day to our horror as Dad called Fred and me into supper, a supper of half-cooked soup and moldy bread, Dad said as Fred and I waved flies off us, “Eat your fucking food. It’s all we got. You’re damn mother left us. First Mom and Katie and now her. Women are all rotten, boys. Remember that. The bitches will leave you when you’re down. They’re all the fucking same. Useless cunts!” Dad said, pounding the table.
For much of my life I’d secretly feel about women like the words of my drunken father. How silly. Dad was a man-child. To take his words and make them the underlying principle of my life would be like my adult self running my life based on the sage advice of Charlie Sheen. I’m done with his bull. So done. Women are amazing beings who’ve been trodden upon for eons. So they shove back. That does not make them cunts. Sorry dear father, who passed away a year ago, you were wrong to program you boys to hate women for fighting back.
Ultimately, Dad would, by brute force, charm and sheer determination, get the three women back somehow and we all moved back to Milwaukee. But things were never the same after we reached such a low as a family in Waupaca.
But that’s another story. I wrote this blog to help me cleanse the divine masculine of its cycle of hatred of women. I’m printing this out and burning it under the full moon here at Great Spirits Ranch tonight. Who cares who started all this nonsense? It’s time to accept responsibility for we men driving the women insane on this world.
Wow. Will the Illuminati ever give up trying to block our work with their chem trails? No matter, like it or not, they are shifting to the light.
Since arriving on the ranch, where owner Debra Malmazada says no egos are allowed, on January 25th, there have been a never-ending series of meditations of a planetary scale. Most are focused on balancing and healing the divine male and female energies as well as major releasing the strangle hold on the flow of abundance to the light workers of earth.
At the core of so many of the meditations, all epic on the sacred vortex at Great Spirits Ranch. much like the one I have felt at Mt. Shasta, is a lessening of our planet’s duality.
More details to follow! See Galactic Enforcer Angus’s spiral meditation below! Super cool.
I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long dreary storm on its heavy wings.
William Cullen Bryant
By Ken Sheetz
Before we get started enjoy my last meditation video I made at BushWillows, where I was based for 11.11.11 planning. Thanks Deb of BushWillows.
Something big is happening. Are you feeling the winds of change?
Time has slowed to an amazing degree. We rocketed through the Shift of 2010 and 2011 and now time is unfolding like fine wine. In fact, I am living in a vineyard in Malibu called Great Spirits Ranch. I am above it all, top of the Santa Monica mountains and my meditations have been non-stop.
I met a real life Alaskan cowboy here on the ranch who is a 3-time world champion ice sculptor named Steve here and after hearing how he searches for the form within a block of ice I’ve challenged him to meditate on sculpting a new reality for 2012. Can’t wait to hear what he comes up with.
Sadly speaking of Steves, another Steve at BushWillows where I was based for 11.11.11 event creation work, passed away the day after I left of a heart attack. Steve was a tireless worker and I spent many happy months getting to know him through doing chores, which the Bush Willows couple preferred over social media work. And I happily agreed to some manual labor in the gardens. Thanks to them I am refreshed and ready to burn it up on the computers again.
But Steve of BushWillows is not done with his work in the Shift. As intense winds on my first night at Great Spirits buffeted the RV I saw the ET team that joins with me in the work of DreamShield had grown from 3 to 5 and now 6 with Steve, who dressed in white, and an RV owner himself, took the RV I am staying in on the ranch out for a spin in outer space. Steve showed up at the wheel a few nights later again on another windy night and took me on a ride to inner earth, a paradise waiting to expand outward to envelope us all here on the surface.
Intense winds have been a theme in January. In a DreamShield trip to the Anza Borrego desert Laura De Leon and I traveled down the 5,000 foot drop to the desert floor in winds that gusted to 80 mph. Once we reached the desert floor we went straight to the spot where I made a powerful anti-war film in 2005 you can watch below. We used the wind to cleanse old stuff from our troubled pasts. Laura’s request for the winds came so powerful we were almost blown off our feet!
80 mph winds trapped Laura and me in the desert town of Borrego Springs for the night. And what was supposed to be a little day trip became an overnight trip. We took advantage of the winds of changes pushing us by returning to the desert that night. As Laura and I approached the outdoor amphitheater beneath the countless stars where I sensed a gathering of ETs of many races awaiting us. Laura became frightened. But I assured her all the ETs were friendlies and on we walked in the pitch blackness, lit only by stars.
Laura asked me to take the stage and I channeled Ohom from the Orion star system from the podium. He spoke to Laura and the audience of ETs about the vital work restoring the divine feminine to its full grace. How the work was vital to earth’s salvation and admittance to the Galactic council. And then the channel was broken and the ETs gone. I’d never channeled Ohom through voice before, only via the keyboard. It left me exhilarated but exhausted.
Next came Laura’s turn. I asked her to channel her higher ET self. She stood in beauty beneath the stars and trembled with energy. She turned for the Big Dipper, her home star system, spoke only one word “Remember”.
Then we hugged, me facing Orion’s belt and Laura facing the Big Dipper. We prayed for each others healing.
Laura whispered to me that she had composed a new song on her 21 day meditation in Costa Rica and I asked her if she’d sing it. She began. It’s a powerful and haunting melody. Laura is a singer who downloads healing code as she sings. I hoped her amazing voice and great heart might call in a space ship. Sure enough a golden orb began to approach us from the distance. It bobbed up and down. Laura saw it too and kept singing, nervously now as the UFO loomed.
Suddenly the UFO veered right and became and ordinary jet aircraft. Had we seen our first UFO together or was it a jet all the time? Does it matter? We felt the thrill. We felt bliss and that ETs would be welcome for us.
By the way, we are working to reset the UFO sky watch with famed ET expert Renato Longato. His 11.11.11 Sky Watch got rained out and he kindly agreed to try again for us soon as we can all get together. What was easy and came together effortlessly on 11.11.11 has proven difficult. But I have faith it will all come together when and where it should.
The next morning I was up early taking pics of the desert and soon we were on our way back home. I don’t have much money, working mostly for room and board in the recession, and so I told Laura I’d just have water while she had her pancakes. She wanted to treat me but my ego would have none of it. And all our beautiful DreamShield work of the night before seemed so far away as I left the table to stew in the car alone.
What I’ve learned since my rocky 11.11.11 day is that issues arise for healing. Laura never gives up and brought me some food to go in the car. Yeah, we twin flames got through it. There’s more light and less ego in me all the time. I’m ready to accept the gifts people want to give me. That’s the divine feminine balance making progress. We heal ourselves and it ripples out healing the world. Not always fun but vital work,.
Many new people and new visions to report about as I cruise into February in the magical RV I am living in high above the Pacific at Great Spirits Ranch. I’ve seen giant spirits here and Steve’s ghost and a Hawaiian spirits and aliens in flame. Stay tuned!
What kind of world is this that can send machines to Mars and does nothing to stop the killing of a human being? Jose Saramago
By Ken Sheetz
Photo by Stephen Collector
Like the trip to Italy that began DreamShield in May of 2010, I was bartering a spiritual workshop, this one in Mexico, for social media services. And like Italy, with that barter there were still expenses for travel. Earning money for a spur of the moment trip during the holidays was tough, especially in a disintegrating economy. But through sheer will power to attend this once in a lifetime class on the one year countdown to 12.21.12 I got the dough together and was on my way to the ancient ruins of Teotihuacan Mexico.
Soon I was learning Toltec wisdom from a world-renowned master. It was pure joy. My consciousness rapidly expanding. Old patterns being discovered in the ruins of Teo and erased.
The goal of the 4 day workshop was to set our group dreaming of a better 2012 was a perfect fit to my DreamShield mission. I felt divine guidance to be in Teo for the one year countdown to the end of the Mayan age.
But, I must admit, I also felt out of my league to be attending such a gathering of eagles as the teacher called us one day in Teotihuacan Mexico when we were atop the Pyramid of the sun. Even though a natural eagle pattern has emerged in my hair as it’s whitened since seeing angels in Italy the first time. Yeah, an eagle in my hair and I still have doubts.
It’s an odd stage for me. I am no longer a newbie to spirit work and but there’s still a lot I do not have a clue about. I feel like a spiritual teenager. Well, a good thing to feel as I turn 60 in the fall of this amazing year of 2012!
In any case, I certainly felt honored to be in Teo. Fellow advanced students, I’ve learned at these gatherings, are as much a part of the learning as from the master. One classmate, a charming man from Turkey, shared meditation technique for quieting the mind at the pool I had not heard about.
Later, I walked deep into the big garden behind the hotel, which sits itself upon ruins of Teo, that have never been excavated, and gave his technique a whirl. It involves dividing your attention in two, giving half your awareness to a sound and the other to something visual.
I lay on my back on the manicured resort lawn and focused on the clouds and the feel of the grass in my hands. Soon I went deeper than I ever have in meditation. I saw dazzling energy erupt from all the Teotihuacan pyramids at once and was visited by the three angels from Italy that built the DreamShield in May of 2010.
MISSION TO MARS, 12.20.11
I looked up at the three 7 foot tall angels I had first met in Italy. The spiked feathers of their blue wings glittered in the late Mexican afternoon sun.
“The solstice is not until tomorrow. You’re a day early.” I said as my higher Ohom ET angel self, annoyed my vacation was getting interrupted.
Archangel Michael said, “Element of surprise.”
“Yes,” I sighed, already far wiser than my Ken-self when I become Ohom.
Michael pulled me to my feet. I looked down from my 7 foot height saw my human Ken-body resting on the lawn in warm Teo sun.
“Well, at least my human self is having a rest.”
“Let’s go!” said Gabrielle, a beautiful female blue angel.
A year ago, I didn’t know the names of these angels, let alone that I was part of their clan of galactic enforcers from the Orion star system. Now 18 months later we had been on many missions together, closed the Bermuda Triangle, a failed Martian artificial merkaba experiment that had destroyed Atlantis and the remnants of which cause our wars and divorces, healed the San Andreas fault, melted a portal in space time for the earth to travel to the 5th dimension, unscrambled time with the MERLIN code, cut the tap to Gaia’s energy for the world’s banks and the Fed and much more recorded in this blog.
We rocketed into the sky from the gardens of the hotel. I could see the vast Teotihuacan pyramid complex shrinking beneath us as we broke though the clouds.
As we reached the edge of space, without asking, I knew our angelic mission. Rescue the heart of Gia. A heart I knew was no longer on the earth that was quickly shrinking beneath me. No, Gaia’s heart was being held by hostile Martians on a fortified canyon called Valles Marineris on Mars.
The rescue of Gaia’s heart would be dangerous, even for us with our Galactic enforcer powers, as this Martian canyon was filled with traps and weapons bent on our destruction. A tough search as the canyon is many times deeper than earth’s Grand Canyon and long as the entire US continent.
“We have come because we love you and want to help you accelerate your growth and change for yourself and for Planet Earth.” – Jackie Salvitti and her ET Healing Team
By Ken Sheetz
11.11.11 was a huge global phenomenon DreamShield is proud to have been part of with our playfully named “The Ascension Convention”. The gateway to 2012, an ascension of the heart of humanity. I will be posting videos and blogs about the big day for months!
One of our biggest missions in DreamShield is fear reduction, hence the playful event title about ascension. There are many dark conspiracy claims out there of an alien invasion, that ETs are in fact demons. ET phone home to hell? All nonsense meant keep humanity locked in fear. Think about it. Any ET species advanced enough to get here that wanted to conquer this world they could have it in an instant.
So imagine my excitement when, through my stay at spirit retreat BushWillows, I made a connection with Jackie Salvitti, an amazing woman who channels ETs for healing and has a website called aptly EThealing.com. ETs healing not invading us! It made so much more sense to me than the version of the fear mongers. Through this synchronicity Laura De Leon, my partner in DreamShield became client with amazing results for her. Of course, always check with your physician before any therapy. And through the relationship Laura developed with Jackie, the great Et healer agreed to appear and do a healing with her “ET Team”, as she playfully calls them, for all the earthlings who attended our 11.11.11 event sponsored by EarthShift Products.
So enough talk. Watch and may the healing powers Jackie channels reach you, wherever they come from, be it her own amazing heart and inner universe or our ET family that lives in the stars.
Sing like no one’s listening, love like you’ve never been hurt, dance like nobody’s watching, and live like its heaven on earth.– Mark Twain
By Ken Sheetz
I’ve been resting up for days for this posting. Channeling is still new for me and I feel a bit afraid opening myself up for this one big. 2012! Have we done our job I wonder manifesting a gentle 2012?
I am nervous to open the channel. I don’t want to have let Ohom and his people down. Ohom, for any new readers is my higher ET self, a blue angel-like ET from the Orion’s belt star system.
To heck with fear! Here goes. This is like closing your eyes with them still open. I have no idea what Ohom has in store for us…
“Ohom, I am ready. Take over the keyboard and tell us what we can expect in 2012!”
“Thank you, Ken Sheetz, for this opportunity to share my predictions for 2012 with your readers. I want to emphasize that my predictions are an energetic not to be taken literally, but spiritually.
The work of gentle 2012 has been magnificent, keep it up, all of you people of the light, no matter how different from my 2012 predictions it may seem. All sorrow is an illusion. Stay joyous!
January 1, 2012 – As the last of earth’s time zones shift into 2012 a ripple in the space-time continuum flutters through the hearts of every human being on your world.
January 11, 2012 – The heart ripple, now 10 days old, breaks away the crust of the old programming around the hearts of humanity. Freedom after eons of enslavement sends billions to dance in the streets.
February 10, 2012 – The heart ripple grows to a tsunami. People for first time are able think as one. Governments, banks and corporations collapse when people see such ill serving institutions are obsolete.
March 21, 2012 – The dark ones threaten nuclear destruction if the people will not obey to the old. New humanity calls the bluff, but it was no bluff and a launch of h-bombs is made. But the human mind that now operates as one neutralizes the bombs midway and they fall to earth as rose petals. Triumph. Humanity is truly free.
May 11, 2012 – Freed of its slavery to the old for nearly two months, humanity creates the first thought powered forms of teleportation. The first living being to teleport is kitten named Whiskers. Whiskers travel around the earth in just 24 minutes, making one stop in each teleportation station in each of earth’s time zones.
June 21, 2012 – Earth celebrates the summer solstice with freedom from oil addiction by manifesting of a fleet of clean solar energy cars for all. Oil wells are capped. Gaia rejoices.
July 11. 2012 – Hunger and homelessness upon the earth is officially a thing of the fading past. All eat healthy, and fast food restaurants are converted to living museums.
August 10, 2012 – The 2012 Presidential elections are officially called off as humanity no longer needs politics. Whiskers replaces Obama as America’s figure-head of state.
September 21, 2012 – Love is recognized as earth’s official new currency. All the animals in every zoo are freed. The oceans and air are purified in a wave of purifying positive human thought.
October 11, 2012 – Cancer officially becomes the last disease to fall under the power of earth’s shared positive consciousness.
November 11, 2012 – Shared dreams replace TV and movie as the greatest form of entertainment on the planet.
December 21, 2012 – Parties that have been going on for 10 days erupt into global shout of joy at the end of the Mayan calendar.
December 22, 2012 – The spaceships of Orion hear the joyous shout of humanity and we arrive on the first day of your golden age.
December 31, 2012 – One billion people teleport to my home world in the Orion belt for a cultural exchange. To humanity’s shock it is You who we are learning from. The people of earth are greatest manifestors in all the universe! All galactic society rejoices that you finally have stepped into your own power to co-create heaven on earth.
“If you are not happy in this world you are stupid.” – Don Miguel Ruiz, Author of THE FOUR AGREEMENTS
By Ken Sheetz
Asking for Help with a Gentle 2012 from Quetzalcoatl at The Pyramid of the Sun
I sensed in meditation, that at its zenith, the multiracial culture of Teotihuacan did not know poverty or shame. It was a culture of pure positivity and love. Looking deeper, I saw in my meditations at the pyramid of the Sun, that the Teotihuacan culture became great through the tender guidance of ancient astronauts. Or ETs as we call them, even though they have been here on earth long before our species emerged.
How then did Teo fall, I further meditated? Ohom, my higher ET self sadly answered, “When our space ships left on a mission to another of the young worlds we care for, the people of Teo fell into fear of our return. Deeper and deeper the people sank in darkness without the light of the “Gods” as they called us. Finally, one of your elders suggested human sacrifice would speed our return. In desperation some of the people agreed, while other people who did not agree left Teotihuacan forever and took to the jungles in secret.”
Ohom continued, “One day, when the “Gods” returned of our own accord, we were appalled at the taking of human life in our name and so we took back our gifts of technology you were not ready for. Humanity was left time to evolve on its own before the ETs would ever return again. Our return is delayed by human sacrifice in the form of war, greed, starvation and consumerism that has never been greater than it is in 2011.”
As Ohom’s words echoed I saw Teo’s ancient people weep as the ships left for the stars in the middle of the night. Such sorrow went out from the people that I sat up from my meditation in deep racking sobs.
Ohom’s voice comforted me, “Please know, Kenneth, that though you may not be able to see us that we have never truly left you and do watch over you and all the people of your blue world in secret.”
A year from now Earth enters a golden age. The ET council still debates how fast our transformation will be, anything from a night-time to a million years for humanity to become the protectors, not consumers, of this world.
Both a night-time and a million years are the blink of an eye in universal time. My higher self, Ohom, has asked the ET council that full transformation to a positive society be 50 years, of which we are now 18 months deep into.
I urge you to get in touch with you higher self in the coming year in meditation and put in your vote with the ET council for the speed of our evolution. Much as I love him, I hope Ohom is out voted and the shift is faster rather than slower, for all our sakes and the world’s. Please post your vote for the length of the Shift and your reasoning below!
I recognize all of the above could be my own overactive imagination in my DreamShield meditations, simply beautiful symbols for my subconscious to express in words the deep impact Teotihuacan had upon me. An impact merged with my own history of abandonment as a child. Or perhaps that my sad history is why I have been gifted to see into the fall of the Teo. Who can say?
All that matters is that whatever it is that moves you, be it religion, science or visions of your own amazing minds, that we strive to change our society from the negative to the positive.
Angels do not condone violence as a solution, nor do I. Not to say I won’t pop a guy one, with fair warming, if he pushes me too far. I may see angels but I sure ain’t one. Angels simply work in ways that are 5th dimensional and so they show me things in symbolic 3 dimensional ways I can understand and report to you. Or for all I know they’ve added something to the water in LA. I have no idea why I am seeing all this as an ongoing vision for 18 months solid now. And what you see on my blogs is only about 20% of what I see. I could literally write about all this 24/7 and never catch up.
A few nights ago I meditated and asked the DreamShield to show me what the angels were up to in the quest for gentle 2012. I was whisked from LA to Chicago, where hundreds of earth angels, dressed like 1930’s mobsters, were shooting up my kinda town!
Earth angels zipped through the skies and skyscrapers of the loop, blasting away mercilessly at evil spirits corrupting our legal system and government. Legions of lawyer and judge demon spirits were blown away with the angel Tommy guns blasting bullets of lethal light. I laughed for joy at this unexpected angel work in my adopted home town!
On LaSalle Street I watched in wonder as none other that the great Humphery Bogart led a raid on the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago.
I shouted to Bogey, “The Fed was a client of mine. The people I worked with seemed like regular Joes.”
“Who the heck are you?” Bogey said spinning on me.
“Ken Sheetz, a spirit reporter for the work of a gentle 2012.” I said as I held up my humble Flip camera.
“I’m huntin’ demons sucking the life outta Gaia, not regular Joes or dames! Got it?!” said Bogey shouting in my face, not a smart thing to do with my childhood of having a Drill Sargent dad, but I liked what Bogey was up to and let it slide.
“How about a gun for me then?”
“Swell. Jimmy give the junior reporter a heater!” Bogey said with relieved chuckle.
None other than the great James Cagey slapped a Tommy gun in my hands. “Welcome to the gang, kiddo. Be sure you get my good side, my left, in any photos or I’ll brain you.”
“Ok boys, time to cut the Fed’s credit line!” Bogey shouted.
“Kill any demon that moves and the ones that don’t.” added Cagney as the angel gangsters all cheered.
Guns blazing, Bogey led our charge into the Federal Reserve lobby. Demon guards drew ray gun pistols that were no match for the angels hail of light bullets. Even your faithful reporter lost all journalistic objectivity and got in demon kills. And before you know it the battle was done, the lobby clear.
“Nothing here but a stinking money museum!” Bogey fumed.
“How’s about this? ” said Cagney pointing to an armored elevator door locked tight with an electronic keypad.
“Try 11 -11-11 as the combo,” I offered.
Cagney rolled his eyes. “No pathway to Gaia’s gonna be some lame combo any sap could stumble on.”
“Do like he says!” Bogey snapped.
Cagney complied punching in all the numbers, “See? No dice.”
“Add four more 11s for 11:11 PM. No, wait, four more 11s for AM too.”
Cagney punched in the numbers. “Crap. So many ones I lost track! Your honor Mr.Elevens.”
I counted on my fingers saying, ” 11.11.11 and 11:11 AM and PM. That’s 7 -11s, fourteen ones.” and punched in the numbers. Not an easy task as I thought as the pattern on the keypad kept shifting and the #1 hopped to another spot every couple of seconds. But as I punched in the 14th one, the heavy armored elevator door opened.
What we saw was not good however. No elevator, just darkness and showers of sparks where the elevator cab should have been.
“Wise guys cut the cords. Gotta make a jump for it.” Bogey said looking down the miles deep shaft filled with dangerous sparking wires.
“Well, boys, in for a dime… ” shouted Cagey as he jumped past Bogey into the shaft.
The rest of the angel gang followed.
“Sheetz, stay behind and watch our backside.” said Bogey jumping into the fray and not giving me time to argue.
I peered down the scary elevator shaft, filming the brave angels battle slithering snakes of dark energy. Something stunk. I was aware of an evil presence. I spun and looked smack into the face with a giant golden snake. Its pitiless eyes looked right through me with the heartless effectiveness of a credit report.
“Stand aside, mortal. Thisss is not your fight.” the golden snake spoke!
I raised my Tommy gun. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
The snake leaped for me, fangs dripping with venom. My Tommy gun blazing, the snake and I fell together down the elevator shaft. ‘
I found myself in my boardroom at my Chicago real estate company. My partner and I were laughing as my construction manager sweated bullets. It was 1990, one year before my fall from the easy credit I had ridden to the top of Chicago’s commercial real estate world. We all laughed as the prospective “tenant” and took off her clothes in the middle of our employee’s presentation.
Bats flew at me as the snake hissed, “How can a man with so little respect for women that he’d bring a stripper to come into his company’s offices be a champion of Gaia?”
The snake was right. I had no comeback and it infuriated me. I drew my sword and switched on my red ethereal armor for battle as we fell for the center of the earth.
“Rage is your answer and your undoing!” said the snake as it bit right through my armor. Armor had never failed me and now in over a year of these visions. Poison raced through my veins. The speeding tumble of wires and the laughing gold snake faded.
It was 1991, I was in my family room hollering like a crazy man at my wife. Still, she bravely refused to sign the second mortgage papers I shoved in her face, papers that would have given me $250,000 to keep my failing real estate company alive.
The golden snake and I hit beam as it bit into my leg, fangs piercing me the bone. As we plumeted for the depths, locked in mortal combat, I saw a fevered parade of all the women I’d somehow hurt in my life, a fiance’, lovers, friends, co-workers, my daughter, my mother, even my Irish grandmother.
The snake was right! How could a chauvanist-jerk like me help the angels free Gaia’s heart from the vampire energy of the Fed tapping her dry?
“I’ve pumped enough poison into you to kill ten men! Why do you still persissst?” the golden snake hissed, shaking me in its jaws like a limp rag doll.
By the freshness that flowed in the dank elevator shaft I knew angels were near. Bogey flew past as he took aim at the great serpent. “Because Sheetz is already dead and now, snake, so are you!” The angels opened fire and the snake vaporized in a hail of angelic fire.
Cagney caught me in his arms, “Gotcha, kid!”
“What did, Bogart, mean I am already dead?” I asked, feeling better already.
“Get some sleep now. We got miles left to go. Christ you’re heavy!” Cageny complained as I drifted off.
I sat alone on Oak Street beach of Lake Michigan. It was winter 1992. Snowflakes swirled as I stared at the waves. I’d lost everything, my skyscraper, my cars, my company, my wife and kids. I walked into the icy water and kept walking until I was deep beneath the lake and I drowned.
I blinked awake in a great cavern, Bogart, Cagney and the angels all about me. “But if I died in 1992 how am I still alive in 2011?,” I said raising my throbbing head.
“Are you alive?” chuckled Bogart.
“Seems like I am,” I said checking my pulse.
“Look, kid, this ain’t no time for a lecture on mutli-verses. Alls that’s important you showin’ up to record what the angels do and give the people hope. Now shoot your camera over there.”
Note Cagney’s wings of flame in the film WHITE HEAT? I saw him blow up the tap to Gaia before finding this amazing still.
Bogey pointed to Cagney who was placing dynamite atop the energy tap the fed had to the core Gaia. The tap flowed with her precious blue-white energy to Federal Reserve and World Bank siphons all across the earth.
Now an army of snakes rose from the ashes of the old and surrounded Cagney.
“Get outta there, Jimmy. We can try this another day!” shouted Bogey.
“Got my left side, Sheetzy?”
I flashed Cagney the thumbs up as I had him my Flip camera’s view finder.
“Made it, Ma! Top of the world!” Cagney shoved down the plunger.
The cavern filled with explosions and fire that made hell seem like a picnic. I couldn’t see him, in the smoke and fire, but I heard Bogey shout,”Gaia is free!
I rose to full consciousness from my meditation, knowing in some crazy way that what I see the angels doing on another plane of reality helps our world, but wondering if I am in fact a ghost.
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Vision art “Welcome back” by Ken Sheetz 
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