As the right and left media roils for ratings in this strange era’s, love him or hate him, craziest presidency ever, I just received some surprising insights from my ET spirit guide Ohom (Open Heart Open Mind) as to what our meditations in 2017 at the Trump inauguration looked like on spirit plane.
It’s January 20, 2017 again. Elizabeth and I nervously stand amongst the mostly MAGA hat wearing crowd, sporting instead our CME penguin hats. Each time Hillary appears on camera the crowd jeers, “Lock her up!”
Two grizzled beer drinkers jeer each time Obama or Michelle appear on the Jumbo-tron nearby. It’s an ugly scene. Neither Elizabeth or I really want to be here. This is not the America we grew up in. And it is especially not the one Elizabeth served 17 years in the military to defend.
But we have dutifully followed Ohom’s simple instructions to go to this “largest ever” inauguration, and hold space of love for Trump in this power intoxicated crowd. We do our best to bless Trump’s presidency; that it ultimately be good for the planet, or to at very least do as little harm as possible.
Oddly, I sense this crowd, one that should be elated on this first day of the Trump administration, is deeply defensive. They literally can’t seem to believe their man Trump really won, even though he’s up on the big stage getting sworn in; Melania frowning behind his back on the Jumbo-tron screen perched atop scaffolding.
But there something’s very different in this particular meditation replay of the inauguration. A mental replay I’ve run countless times for over 2 years now, trying to make sense of what our crazy mission accomplished in the light of destructive programs for the environment and humanism rolling out almost daily from Trump via Twitter.
THE INAGURARTION TRANSMUTATION MEDITATION
Today Ohom is finally showing me what really happened energetically that fateful day, sealed within the scared Masonic geometry layout of DC. Deep within the low vibrational inaugural crowd, cozy in our own bubble of bliss, sweet Elizabeth and I hold a space of love; just as Ohom guided.
Our loving meditation crystalizes moisture from the light rain that begins to fall. Our love meditation becomes a diamond-seed that burrows into the wet grass beneath our cold feet. Soon a translucent white energy tree rapidly grows beneath Elizabeth and me. The rapidly growing energy tree sweeps us high above the bristling Trump clan.
My view to the dais greatly improved, I gaze towards the red-faced Donald J. Trump giving a speech former president Bush later observed, “That was some weird shit.”
Agreed. To me this all feels like the birth of the apocalyptic era right out of FALLOUT THREE; a video game that takes place in a mutated and ruined Washington DC 200 years after World War III.
I flinch as Trump’s weird shit “America First” address deeply disrespects Obama’s legacy. Trump behaves as though he’s not inheriting a booming economy but a “smocking” wasteland.
Looking ahead to the dais, I see two other white energy trees carrying other pairs of meditators high above the oddly fidgety crowd. I wonder to myself, “Maybe the Trump fans are nervous they elected a thin-skinned guy with his trigger finger on the largest nuclear arsenal in history?”
Amazed by this new feeling compassion towards the desperate-for-change Trump’s base, I look back towards the Washington monument. Nine other white trees carrying meditation pairs grow rapidly. The procession of 12 inner lighted white trees leads all the way from the dais to the Lincoln Memorial.
The wise Ohom never let any of our teams know we are working as a meditation group of 12 tree riding pairs until now. I may never know their names, but Ohom tells me the dozen meditation teams represent all races, male and female, and sexual orientation.
Soon, all twelve energy trees are large enough to join their rapidly leafing branches above us the meditation teams. Loving energy pulses through the umbrella of white trees, downloading into the anxious crowd below.
Now all of our teams of meditators hold space for one thing: that the Trump presidency, messy as its likely to be, never result in a launch of World War III.
Ohom tells me telepathically as I write, “Take heart, Ken. All of Trump’s many disconcerting acts he has and is yet to commit during his presidency are in actuality a sacrifice to your planetary conscious. The Mars energy of war that has dominated your world since the fall of Atlantis is dying. Trump is but a servant to accelerate its end.”
Even knowing I’ll fail to recall all this and fall at times into anger at Trump’s efforts to get our collective goat, I feel blessed to finally have this gorgeous vision to wrap my head around as to Trump’s higher purpose and hope you do too. This has been a tough two years for we moderates, plus liberals and many conservatives alike.
But whether it’s 2 or 6 years until the Trump era finally ends, the blink of an eye in the cosmic grand scheme, look for an overnight flip to the next era. One that will make the loving 60s look passe!
And as the barrage of negative news and policies continues 24/7, I suggest you tune out to the ratings driven chatter and join with us in meditation for a better tomorrow. Vote when the time comes but don’t obsess over all this until November 3, 2020 is closer. Advice to myself as much as you, dear reader.
Meditate about it. Has there ever been a species that knew it was going extinct? Imagine the last two dodo birds arrogantly rejecting one another as mates and you now have a picture of the shit storm we are in for. Yep. We are on the fast track to be the first species on earth, perhaps the universe to gain the sad distinction of self-annihilation.
Humanity’s willful, what I’ll coin as our kind’s Ignorance-About-the Environment-Is-Bliss-Blindness, is rapidly turning earth into a dead world like Mars, where perhaps life once flourished.
For conservatives, we’ll even go so far as to elect fat cat leaders who whisper little sweet lies into our hear-no-evil ears there’s no such think as climate change. For liberals, we’ll believe unprovable far out theories that earth is simply going through a normal cycle of heating like all the other planets in the solar system. Heck, maybe even a new ice age is around the corner, one crackpot theory postulates, pandering to wooly thinkers who like the idea of wool as a saving grace.
In other words, political beliefs aside, we’ll all happily believe any bullshit tailored to our demographic except the sick truth that humans are poor caretakers of the our beautiful blue ball.
Never mind global temps have risen unceasingly for decades. It’s all good. Let’s scrape off the “overburden,” as the Canadians have dubbed Gaia’s top soil, and get the coal tar oil up and processed by destroying 35 millions square acres of irreplaceable land. To give you a picture of the scale of this Canuck insanity, only 26 of the individual states exceed 35 million acres.
To the south, the US is no better off with the Yanks drilling everywhere on the land and sea they can. Under Obama the USA became the largest oil producer on earth, surpassing Saudi Arabia. As a result the oil pouring into our water tables is going to make a lot more of our cities into Flints. Add to this nightmare one Mr. Paris Climate Accord be Damned Trump, seeking to break Obama’s oil record to please the oil and coal fat cats by giving away national park land for fracking like it’s going out of style and it’s enough to make one puke.
So how do we, those of us who are supposedly awake, stop this long walk off a short cliff we are collectively taking as one like a herd of slow-motion lemmings? If you’re a regular reader you know I am going to say meditate. In your meditations please visualize humanity wising the hell up before it’s too late for us and the rest of life on this planet.
But it’s also time to be an asshole with the clueless and their planetary killing rationalizations. Talk Mass Extinction 6, the one many scientists, say we are in right now, around the holiday dinner table like your life depends on it. Because it does. Start with not eating meat at Xmas dinner.
Explain to your Trump loving uncle that meat production is something the planet can no longer afford. Use this table from TreeHugger.com as proof of the 30 times greater energy consumption it takes to make one pound of hamburger than a pound of corn.
Get ready for the fact your Trump loving uncle won’t believe you as he asks you to pass the turkey. But you will have planted a seed. Sadly, it may take longer than we have left on this world for that seed to come to light in their consciousness. Nonetheless, you will have lit a candle in their dark minds. If enough of us do this and the 100th monkey effect WILL kick in. A guarantee straight from my ET spirit guide Ohom.
I’ve tried to go vegetarian before and failed. So I am no saint. But I’m hopping right over vegetarian and trying to straight to vegan. A month into this vegan adventure is working, even in the holiday feeding frenzy I am taking a meat break from. I have greater clarity and energy that has me kicking myself I never listened to a vegan angel named Sarah Kellett
Above all stay positive in the face of this insanity. I’ll close with this sarcastic as hell tool for trying to family to wake the F up.
THE ONION —Saying the extra income would be a major boon both for individual citizens and the country at large, a study released Monday by the Congressional Budget Office confirmed that a mass extinction of the world’s flora and fauna could free up billions of dollars in conservation funding over the next decade.
“According to our projections, if the ongoing global extinction of the world’s 8.7 million species continues at current rates, the U.S. stands to pocket some serious cash, likely enough to cover most infrastructure projects we’ve been putting off,” CBO deputy director Robert Sunshine said, adding that the elimination of entire ecosystems, such as rainforests, would usher in the elimination of Medicare and Social Security funding shortfalls as well. “Even if we just lost panthers, we’d be almost $1 billion ahead.
Take them and almost every other living creature out of the picture, and we could build a nationwide high-speed rail line and have some left over for a number of really amazing, top-of-the-line weapons systems.” Sunshine went on to confirm that the government has blueprints for fixing the nation’s education system “ready to go” the second humpback whales disappear.
Wishful thinking is dangerous. Keep it real. AHO.
See you in 2019 as we begin our push for meditations to halt global warming at the North Pole in 2020. Be cool and join the tribe at coolestmeditationever.com
During my stay at Malibu’s Great Spirits Ranch, hosting events and running social media for the bulk of 2012, I was blessed to meet many amazing stars of the LA spirit community. One of those LA stars is now my partner in love, biz and life, Elizabeth England. We’ve been living in bliss together now for three years, nestled in a lovely home in Sedona.
As we work round the clock to get the word out about an amazing line of EMF protection devices that literally save lives on our new CoolestTechEver.com e-commerce site, it can be easy to actually forget that magical time. A time when all of us in the yoga and meditation community across the planet were looking forward to the end of the Mayan calendar with hope for a new era in human awareness.
In that heady time, there was lovely woman named Annelise (Annalisa) Balfour who visited the Malibu ranch a few times for GSR events. Her mega-watt smile and contagious positive attitude made her a stand-out from the crowds who visited the 14 acres ranch, perched high above the city of Malibu in the Santa Monica mountains. Annelise was curious about my ET spirit guide Ohom and we had great conversation about the mission of the DreamShield to assist in gently elevating human consciousness through meditation.
Yesterday, amidst all the hype on FB surrounding the mid-term elections, which gratefully succeeded in the Dems taking the house to put some check on 45, I was shocked to learn that sweet Annelise had passed away from breast cancer. It instantly put all the nonsense surrounding Trump and our crazy-making politics into perspective.
Monday, at Ross Pittman’s of ConsciousLifeNews.com’s weekly power of eight meditation event, I asked the group to help Annelise on her journey. Everyone eagerly agreed. As soon as we all closed our eyes and dropped into our heart space I connected to my dear spirit guide Robin Williams; now enjoying an oceanic afterlife as a killer whale, after short reincarnations as a blue whale and a blue dolphin. Robin, who calls himself Nanu these days, volunteered to help in the group meditation.
Robin found Annelise’s spirit wandering the beach in Malibu. When she spotted Robin they connected telepathically and he playfully invited Annelise to swim out and climb aboard his back and hang onto his dorsal fin. Annelise happily accepted Robin’s invitation and soon they were off!
Annelise gleefully clung to Robin the killer whale like a mermaid born for this. Robin dove deep and soared up, flying from from wave to wave. Annelise laughed with carefree joy as the duo glided on the wind and waves.
Now Robin dove deep. Deeper and deeper, down to the bottom of the ocean he raced. At first Annelise worried about air but then chuckled she no longer had the need for mortal breathing. She gasped as up ahead a small portal of golden light opened, a glittering beacon on the dark ocean floor.
Robin told Annelise, “Sorry. Too small for me. This is as far as I can take you, babe. Enjoy your journey to the center for the earth!”
I watched the vision from the Sedona meditation circle with a giddy smile as Annelise’s spirit accepted Nanu’s whale of an invite and dove into the golden portal. Her spirit easily glided though the layers of the earth, gaining in power. Soon she arrived at the planetary core. But instead of hot magma she was amazed the earth’s core swirled in molten gold.
A large golden lever that stuck out from a golden column beckoned to Annelise. Free of mortal hesitation, she pulled the golden lever sharply down. To her joy a wave of golden energy sailed from the earth’s core rocketing out to the surface and kept right on going throughout the solar system and the whole universe.
The vision ended and I shared the story with our Sedona meditation group. Others shared visions too of her powerful presence. And I felt immense gratitude for the abundant health of my love Elizabeth and the mutual support we give each other as we continue to grow and develop as leaders of the conscious community.
Today, America awoke to a renewed Congress, blessed with 100 women of many races and creeds who, to record turnouts, were elected yesterday. Thanks for helping make that happen, Annelise and my coolest ever mediation Sedona pals! Safe journeys on whatever you are up to next on the other side, Annalisa. I have a feeling your part of your work will be helping heal the idiotic divides between the people.
Oh, and I’ll pass your thanks onto spirit guide and killer whale Nanu, AKA Robin Williams.
In one of Seinfeld’s most famous episodes: Kramer hires a hard-boiled New York lawyer to rep him in a lawsuit against a major coffee company. Unbeknownst to Kramer the Java coffee company is prepared to start out of court settlement talks at $50,000 and free coffee at any of their stores for life.
But before the coffee company can even say more than “free coffee” Kramer leaps to his feet and settles for a single cup of coffee.
From the few concessions we are learning of, Bernie appears to jumped to his feet for the DNC and Hillary campaign shouting, “I’ll Take it!” and pulled a Kramer. The Bern’s actions seem more motivated by fear of Trump than a true liking for Hillary’s corporatism. But the path of fear is never the way to the light.
Or is this shocking Hillary endorsement the master stroke of a 74-year-old political veteran who plans to fight on at the DNC as FDR did so long with a similar endorsement? One can only hope as Hillary is not a good fit with the principles of Bernie campaign backers and the path to brighter future we all are meditating for.
I really don’t know. None of us do because of the old school back-room politics Bernie’s Hillary endorsement represents. In any case, the sorry result is that large numbers Bernie’s supporters are feeling betrayed and abandoned like Kramer’s lawyer did to hilarious effect on Seinfeld, as you can watch below. Only in real-life abandonment is never funny.
And watch Bernie’s Kramer here from my favorite politico.
Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light. – Helen Keller
Happy Sunday morning. Enjoying my home like it’s a log cabin despite the defective HVAC duct I taped off. Many of my friends are saying “lawyer up” and sue the negligent landlord, because dear readers, I almost passed this week. A combination of my normally manageable sleep apnea combined with the fiberglass I breathed in, painful to expel from my body, to become a deadly mix that almost sent me to work on the other side. I became almost impossible to live with as my fear rose, as a few of my dear friends can attest.
Fear for my own life is not what made me so hard to get along with this week. I have lived a long amazing life at 61. I don’t really fear death. Fact is I practically welcome it as the dichotomy of tragedy like the Malaysian airline shot down this week with the positive changes happening in an awakening humanity are maddening. Rather, I lost faith and feared not being able to do my 50 year mission that began in 2010. What keeps me fixed to earth right now is my selection by ETs in 2010 as a connector to their wisdom and distinct instruction I must live until the year 2040 to help usher in an age of balance of the dark and light.
The air crash had me in tears this difficult week. I posted this to Facebook a few days ago:
How small this world is. One of my fellow SoulDrama trainees of client/friend Connie Miller‘s amazing global workshops, where DreamShield was born in a yoga hall in Italy, was traveling to Indonesia when her plane was shot down over the Ukraine and she perished with 295 others.
Hanny was an angel in training, awakening thousands of souls around the world to their full potential. RIP Hanny and all your fellow passengers. What the dark side cannot know is they have made you even more powerful angel in shifting this mixed up world into the light.
Though I never met you, my fellow Soul Dramatist, I will miss you, Hanny Huntjens.
Then this morning this came through loud and clear that all is not as it seems and I posted to Facebook.
I had a powerful vision of Hanny and all the passengers this morning. As the missile hit, and all was flame, I saw Hanny and each passenger transcend their human form. They became a fire of love and light, no fear as they rocketed for the soil of the war-torn Ukraine. As the passengers, crew and plane itself impacted the earth a shock wave of love and light raced outwards. A tidal wave of peaceful loving energy to heal a land taking this world to the brink of nuclear war. Satisfied their sacred mission was accomplished, all board willed the plane to reassemble into a jet of light and love and they, the new human angels of Malaysia flight MH17, lifted off to their home cities across the globe to comfort the hearts and souls of those they left behind.
About 20 minutes later, in that light sleep stage where the Orion ETs like to reach me before my busy day begins, I was shown the balancing act of my life mission in my existence in an amazingly fast life review. Darkness, even something as dark as Hanny and her fellow passengers and the crew who died transcended the darkness with their light. It’s all cosmic fuel for transforming the word, as was 9/11.
My outlook on all tragedy has changed so much. I bless my bizarre experience with my negligent landlord for showing me it can all be used, like a rope of white light weaving with a roped dark as space. Yes, we must honor our human feelings of outrage and grief that this energetic still needs to happen in this world. But is getting easier for me to accept the pain for its higher end and move on. Come the end of my lease on Halloween, how appropriate, assuming my health has returned that what I will do and bless my bad landlord for his lessons. Perhaps a good PI attorney can transmute it in a financial blessing. So even if I do “sue the bastard” as the saying goes, it will not be done from anger but love and laughter.
So there I am ready to start my day when I release the rage over a tough week and weave it, the rope of light and dark and I see the rope gather into ball of grey energy and from one end a shaft of bright light heads into space, and another dives for the new central core of the planet the ETs, teleported in this busy spirit week to help shift humanity faster, and I see the rope of darkness drop and anchor into the new core. The rope of dark and shaft of light based in Sedona join the 24 twins we constructed in Antarctica. Now I see all the Antarctica meditations are designed to shift humanity’s darkness to light. Like “Greed to Sharing”, coolest ever meditation number 12.
That’s when the angels started laughing at and with me in my bed. An ET angelic chorus of laughter that it took me 61 years to figure this out. I was not embarrassed at my clueless self, as 61 years is the blink an eye to the universe. Heck no! I laughed right along with the ET angels and began my Sunday feeling like a new man!
“Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.” – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
Today my 86-year-old mother sets off on a road trip from her condo in Vegas to try to right the ship of my brother’s wrecked life in Florida. She’s passing through Sedona about noon today and we’ll have lunch unless my stepfather, also 86, gets on his epic only stopping for restroom breaks binge he falls prey to. I hope not. I’d love to hug mom as thanks for her courage in traveling the 6,000 mile round trip.
Followers of my blog and Facebook page know that my brother fell off a 27 year recovery wagon in his retirement journey to Florida. He wasted his 13 day forced recovery when he almost died last fall of bleeding ulcers and went through two near deaths experiences blogged of here.
Fred’s epic fall from sobriety is all too common these days. Sadly, even only 10% of AA members stay sober and clean. And that modest 10% makes them #1 on the planet as the best for a sustained recovery after detox. Without an AA support group the chance of a relapse is almost 100%. I had studied all this trying to get my brother into recovery when we almost lost him in the fall. His ego would not permit this help. Ego really is like an elephant that likes to sit on your house.
I believe, but have no proof, Fred quickly fell into the drug culture that plagues Florida. All of us in the family that have leaned on Fred as a rock during his 27 year sobriety were shocked how fast my brother fell from grace. Over only a 90 day period he went from the proud owner of a new home and puppy to be arrested 3 times, one of those times supposedly for animal abuse of his new puppy.
Though she’s making mistakes enabling my brother, I’ve been amazed at the depth my mother’s love in trying to rescue my brother from himself. I’ve tried to tell her unless he gets into recovery he’ll end up right back in jail again. Mom does have a financial stake in my brother’s mess he’s made of his life as she co-signed on the mortgage that got him the house of his dreams. My brother has consented from jail to have the house sold. There are limits to what mom will do to help Fred. She’s refused to let him lein the house to bond his freedom. A wise thing as my brother was arrested fleeing a warrant for his arrest in his dark awakening you can read more about on the blog. I plan to record this whole chain of events as a cautionary tale to people drinking and drugging too much, and falling prey to today’s overzealous legal system. Sick people like Fred need treatment not prison.
Mom comes from a generation unfamiliar with the dangers of drugs like crystal meth and crack cocaine and how they can transform a person into a criminal, make them lie and cheat and steal for the drugs of choice. I’ve been doing my best to educate my mother and explaining why enabling can make things worse in the end for an addict. The mortgage she co-signed compels her to take action. Age 86 is not the time to lose your nest egg to a son who fell so low as to be negligent of his duties to care for a house Mom helped him get.
Before I broke off all conversation with my kid brother, he was relishing in a childhood memory of a nasty prank he pulled of disconnecting the transmission on mom’s car. It totaled her silver blue T-bird and could have killed her. I was furious that for all these years my brother had gotten away with pinning this evil prank on our drunken father. Fred got mad at me for placing the blame where it belonged.
I am blessed to have never drank and drugged, aside from some college experiments and the famed 3 martini lunches of the 80s business world. Addiction has never had a grip on me. Seeing what my mother must do makes me ever more grateful that I am an addiction fighter. See my blog about a meditation to end addiction in the world in Nashville in 2011 for more on this.
Someone asked me recently, “Aren’t you worried about sharing such personal stories about your brother’s problems?”
I answered, “Sadly he’s way out there in the public eye.” My brother has even made the local Florida TV news and is featured for his supposed puppy abuse on a national website. Fred’s gaunt face in mug shots looks drug induced to my sharp eye serving an addiction radio show as their media adviser. One day if he wants to be in my life again he is going to have to prove he’s not been on drugs or admit and ask forgiveness for putting the family through his hell.
A powerful Sedona psychic says if Fred gets into recovery his life ahead is especially positive. Recovery treatment, even if this all just alcohol related, is mandatory in Fred’s possible reentry to my life. After all I said he would be cut off from me to give him incentive to stay clean and sober not to truly give up on him.
My mother said, “Kenneth, aren’t you afraid of making Fred not sending him money in jail? What if he shows up at your place in Sedona? He knows where you live.”
“Mom, if I was not afraid of my abusive father why would I be afraid of a brother who has turned abusive.? If he shows up on my doorstep without recovery plan that’s been in effect a year he’s in for a visit to the Sedona police and the AZ police are even tougher than Florida cops,” I said with a calm that surprised me.
Fear fighting is one of the primary mission of DreamShield. I won’t live in fear of governments, corporations and certainly not messed up brothers. I told mom, “I could die crossing the street if it’s my time to go. If I die at the hands of drug addled brother I surrender to that. I do not live in fear of anyone or anything and I suggest mom you do the same.”
Addiction is at the heart of much of the world’s issues. And as a society we are addicted to war, oil, meat consumption and more. I am proud of Mom and send her a DreamShield ET escort to watch over her for a safe return to Las Vegas, a place she retired to for her love of Keno. Keno is her pet addiction. One that’s well under control. Mom plays with nickels. Now, she plays in the biggest gamble of her life, saving her son’s life savings and freeing herself from his mortgage.
Update: Yay! Happy to have connected to mom and wish her well on the journey. My stepfather Nick is like an open book. He’s not happy about the trip and all the driving ahead.
Mom held my hand as I walked her to the car after treating her and Nick to lunch and said, “I know we met up on this trip to Florida with you for reason, Kenneth.”
I smiled. Squeezed her hand and said, “Maybe it was for me to lend you my luck. Stay focused. Get yourself off Fred’s mortgage. Use the police if any of druggy friends show up to cause trouble. Fred’s the one in jail. Not you. The law is on your side and you have a right to clean up this mess.” And I then gave her a big kiss on the cheek for luck and I led them back to the freeway and off to Florida.
When I was almost 5-years-old my parents sent me off for a Labor Day weekend with my favorite aunt Katie, who was only twenty-two. A striking brunette full of mirth, Katie had been in her teens when she had kids. So, in many ways, Katie felt as much like a big sister as an aunt.
Katie had a new boyfriend with kids too and we all piled into an old Chevy station wagon and drove from St. Francis, a quaint blue-collar neighborhood in Milwaukee, for Devil’s Lake. The way Katie lovingly dealt with her boisterous kids in the crowded station wagon, rather than beatings or harsh words my dad used to create order, was as new and wonderful to me as the alien worlds I would one day as an adult visit on the astral plane in meditation.
Some in the family thought less of the child-mother Katie than me. Grandma Agnes, in her thick Irish brogue, would often criticize Aunt Katie,”You’re raising these kids like a damn bunch of wild Hooligans!”
Yeah, I was happy to be in this fearless new tribe from the car ride on. It was the first time I was away from home. Aunt Katie gave me more hugs and kisses on that 5 hour car ride as I’d had in my whole 5 year life, aside from Grandma’s. As the Wisconsin countryside flew by the station wagon windows I even daydreamed about Aunt Katie adopting me and freeing me from my abusive father and ice-cold depressed mother.
Labor Day was passing as fast as the pine trees out the car windows, like the whole weekend had been that had seemed to pass like a single day in my stressful home. I was doing my best to hide how deeply sad I was that this was my last day with Aunt Katie and the happy kids and cousins before returning to my raging father and the frightened mother who let my father hurt me each and every day lest she share my fate.
Every painful day for the 21 years of my home life, it seemed my father’s only joy was hurting me. Lots of therapy would be needed to overcome this tortured life my soul had chosen to strengthen me for the planetary healing work I would do 40 years later. Yes, I accept my father was doing what my soul had chosen him for. Even if he seemed to a bit too good at his job of trying to break me. Indeed, if you are ever in a jam at the end of the world, a zombie apocalypse, financial collapse, I am the calm cool character you want in your corner. I fear nothing as an adult. So as you read take heart for the brave little Ken’s suffering in this story, He’s far more than he appears. He’s an angel that lit up a dark family and no victim at all.
Sometimes, when Dad was away and I kept my mom company, her little accomplice in a conspiracy to hate my father without his catching on, Mom would see my hands trembling like a Parkinson’s victim and she then always say, “Why are your hands shaking, Kenneth? You look sick and pale.” I really did not know then. Now I know the crushing stress of a crazy father was getting expressed by my body, though my mind was in total denial, both consciously and subconsciously. To my parents, sibs, and friends, except for my tremors, I acted and appeared a happy kid.
It’s part of the reason I am a recovering hypochondriac as an adult. One who now errors on the other side, ignoring health issues until they become life-threatening. Right now I am undergoing a nebulizer Abuterol lung therapy for a HVAC poisoning I let get the better of my health. I got in this 2014 health pickle by ignoring symptoms too long, hating being that sickly young kid staring out the station wagon windows.
Snuggling up to the easy-going Aunt Katie, my hands were steady, my stomach not in a knot. It was bliss for the five-year-old me. Finally Katie’s boyfriend, Rusty for his red hair, pulled the station wagon the Devil’s Lake parking lot and the kids all piled out and ran for the water. But I clung to Katie and helped carry what little things I could. Finally, after this clinging went on for sometime, Katie said, “Kenny, go swim your cousins. Um, Rusty and I have some grown-up things to talk about.”
I didn’t want to leave Aunt Katie but something in Rusty’s eye told me to go. The cousins welcomed me into the lake with splashes and giggles. As I played in the shallow waters of Devil’s Lake, named for steaming springs at certain times of the year, with my now forgotten cousins, I stole some looks at Katie. She was laughing and drinking a Pabst beer on the beach with her boyfriend Rusty. A boyfriend who tried to be friends with me, but because of my dad’s abuse I feared adult males at that time and Rusty gave up on me eventually.
Katie made out with the breast-groping Rusty with a sexy abandon I never saw between my mom and dad, who always seemed more like enemies in a truce between battles rather than lovers. I was, I admit, more than a little jealous of her red-headed boyfriend Rusty, who sported a handlebar mustache.
Some of my cousins and the other kids who were old enough to swim wanted me to go out in the deeper water with them. I watched in amazement how they windmilled their arms and kicked the water and swam like fish.
DARK SWIM LESSONS
My only swimming lessons up to then had been from Dad in our little backyard pool. He’d dunk me underwater and the only way he’d let me up to breathe was a deadly game of breath holding; I had to then see how many fingers Daddy dearest was holding out beneath the water’s surface and stick my arm out of the pool, while my little head was held tight under by his massive welder’s hand that wrapped around my skull like an octopus. Then I’d anxiously wave my arm to Dad, showing how many fingers he was showing me underwater. Only then was I allowed up from the pool to gasp for breath. Then he’d jam me back under for more “swim lessons”.
Once my mom finally said tentatively, “Bill, you’re not teaching anything but to see underwater. What the hell good is this without teaching him to swim? All you are teaching Kenneth is to hate you.” That got mom a beating. She was less helpful after that in questioning my dad’s parenting skills.
To win Katie’s attention back, I imitated what her kids did to swim with the kicking and arm strokes and lo and behold I was swimming! Of course, with only my father’s mean swim lessons, the first wave took me under before Aunt Katie could see how cool I was. Swimming went from joy to terror. I’d only swam far enough to reach the deep water and I sank like a rock. However, my father’s dark swim lesson did allow me a great underwater view of the bottom of the lake I was sinking for. In some crazy way my father’s lessons on holding my breath were my only hope. I kept holding my breath on the bottom of the lake. I could see the splashing feet and arms of my cousins above, oblivious to my sinking disappearance. I tried an underwater shout and swallowed some water.
I felt a strange tingle in my fingers and toes. I knew from my water torture from dad that lying still meant being able to stay under longer and live. Soon, despite and my aqua-man tricks learned under great pain, my consciousness was fading. I pushed off the lake bottom, but it was a sandy muck and I sank again, more out of air. Fear started to leave me as I began to see amazing shapes and colors, like tiny angels and animals in rainbow hues dancing in the sunlight on the lake’s surface above me.
I was fully aware I was dying but no longer afraid. I even calmly thought, “Well, at least I won’t have to suffer Dad’s beatings anymore.”
I had already run away from home a few months earlier. Only a kindergartener, I made it just a few blocks away before Dad recaptured me along with my little bit of food wrapped in a handkerchief on a stick like I had seen done in a 50s TV show about hobos. Dad broke that hobo stick of mine over his knee, like he tried to break my spirit, like the South Koreans he trained for combat as a US Army drill sargeant. “You little fag gook!” he would call me when enraged, forgetting I was a white kid, his kid. Somehow, even his training by the US army could never break my spirit like his recruits. And it frustrated him to no end to his dying day of bladder cancer in 2011.
Death lost all it’s sting. Dad zero to my many victories. I was ready to die, happy in that knowledge that I’d won as life left me deep beneath Devil’s Lake .
The light of the watery world grew dimmer and dimmer when a beautiful woman appeared over me, lighting up the water. Her bronze hair shimmered with an inner golden glow as she floated majestically above me, smiling. As I smiled back she said telepathically, “Ken, do not give up. Help is coming. Hold on, young one.”
I was filled with more love than I can describe at this beautiful face smiling down on me. More love than I had for aunt Katie or Grandma,”Who are you,?” I said in my 5 year-old mind back to her, as though taking telepathically was a normal as Grandma’s amazing apple pies.
The beauty smiled. Her glowing gown of green seaweed swirled as a wave passed overhead. I felt cozy now on the sandy bottom of the lake as a shocked fish darted past. I peacefully began to close my eyes.
The lady of the lake shouted in my mind, “Gaia! I am Gaia! And you must live, little one.”
“Gaia? That’s a pretty name, pretty lady. Thanks but my father is so mean I don’t mind dying.” I said in shame at betraying my father’s dark secret. He beat us all in the family, from mom to me. Beatings were the cost of living in his home where he controlled all through fear and abuse.
“Your poor sick father William knows no better. He truly does love you and the rest of the family,” Gaia said gently taking my little oxygen deprived blue hand and kissing it. Warmth spread from Gaia’s lips through my little water chilled body when a man’s hand reached right through Gaia and pulled me through her body. All went black…
Gaia became the earth. I saw her from space long before the astronauts. I saw galaxies and many of Gaia’s sister worlds. “Come home, little Kenny.” Gaia’s distant voice called to me.
I flew for Gaia’s sweet call back from the galaxies, down to earth and through the clouds. My spirit hovering above, in the dimming Labor Day sky, I saw my little 5-year-old body slung over a tan man’s shoulder. He ran like a Greek god for the shore through the shallow water. The young lifeguard tossed me on the sandy beach where my shocked aunt was yelling at my oldest cousin, “Kenny’s only five! You were supposed to watch over him in the water!”
The gathered crowd to watch, locked in fear of losing one so young as me. I was telepathic to all their sweet concern and it brought me further down from the sky. This was 1957 and they didn’t do mouth to mouth CPR back then. The lifeguard pushed down on my abdomen so hard I felt I would explode the way my father tortured me by sitting on my chest until I screamed and often passed out.
“No. I will not go back to that life!” I said and my spirit turned and flew for the sun.
Gaia appeared in a cloud, blocking my flight and said this time not telepathically but out loud, “Live, little one. Please, live.” Her words and voice were so sweet that I flew straight for the beach without a word and dove back into my body. Water gushed from my mouth and as I choked my first breath. I was back in my 5-year-old body.
I sat up on the beach and the gathering clapped and hugged each other. My cousins danced for joy. I was picked up in the loving embrace of my beautiful aunt Katie. Black haired and blue-eyed like my dad, Katie showered me with kisses instead of punches like her sick brother. “Oh my god you scared us, Ken!” Then Katie added in shame, “Please don’t tell you father and mother about this. They’ll have my hide for almost letting you drown.”
Not knowing what a “hide” meant, I nodded agreement just the same, happy not to arouse my father’s wrath at this kind woman I loved. This I see now was my first enabling of an addict’s negligence. Poor beautiful Aunt Katie would die just after her 40th birthday, her good looks robbed by alcohol and drug addiction. The fate of many in my family lineage. Katie’s loss so young, she should still be here, is one I’ve never fully recovered from. Fighting family addictions that kill people I love is why in 2011 I donated 150 videos, a $50,000 value, in barter for a $500 a month room for a small room in a grungy North Hollywood home, office to Bradley Quick’s beloved Cool Change Foundation. Bradley would be the gateway to my opening to my spirit gifts. It was the best barter I ever made despite the bad deal money-wise it was for me.
Katie was only a 20-something when I nearly drowned that fateful Labor Day and my first meeting with Gaia. Katie and Gaia seemed the same being as Katie wrapped me in beach towels and warmed me with the best hugs of my life. My relieved cousins went back to swim in Devil’s Lake as Katie warmed me fully back to life.
“Here, Kenny boy, get some food in you,” Aunt Katie offered me fresh peanut and jelly sandwich. I gladly took a bite. Food never tasted better before or since, despite a little bit of beach sand that had gotten into it in all the commotion.
“I saw angels,” I said innocently to Katie as I enjoyed the sandwich. The world was more alive than I’d ever tasted or saw before or since. I can still close my eyes and see the sparkle of the sun Devil’s Lake reflected in Katie’s wide blue eyes.
“Angels?” said Katie looking very frightened in a way that frightened me.
“Yeah, Aunt Katie. Little rainbow-colored ones and a big one named…. Uh, named, um I forget her name. But the lady in the lake was pretty like you, but with golden hair and a seaweed dress,” I said like this was a normal as the sandwich I was loving.
This made Katie look even more afraid. “All this stays our secret. You can never, ever talk to your mom or dad about angels or you’ll get aunt Katie get in big, big trouble. Your daddy might even hit me.”
“No…,” I whispered in terror. It was bad enough that I and my brother Fred, who got, I suspect, even worse than my beating by getting sexual abuse, at the greasy mechanics hands of my sick father, were being hurt along with Mom and Grandma. “Not Katie. I never wanted to bring daddy’s hitting Aunt Katie.” I thought. What I was too young to know was this fear was already too late. As my grandfather had died with my dad was only eleven, he had been the “man” of the family for a long time and was giving out beatings since long before I was born to Katie. God knows what else.
“So cross you heart and hope to die the angels and the lady in the lake is our secret, Kenneth?” said Katie, tears of shame in her eyes.
I knew when she said Kenneth, something Katie never called me like my mother did when she was mad, this was serious and so I said, “Promise, aunt Katie, a secret, I promise.”
PROMISE TOO BIG TO KEEP
Sadly, this was a promise I was not able to keep. Not because I was broke my word and told. The near death experience had changed me. I was seeing spirits of dead people and pets and the rainbow of angels everywhere now and talking to them all the time. My parents knew something was very wrong ever since Katie had brought me home. I was a very different kid now.
Eventually Katie confessed her neglect herself to the family in our little living room in our modest St. Francis home. Tears still burn in my heart recalling my father towering over Katie, “You drunken, bitch! You almost killed my boy with your boozing! Now, he’s seeing freaking angels and ghosts? Ken’s a retard now! ” My father slapped Katie so hard across the cheek her head spun.
“Stop, Daddy! It was all my fault! I seen my cousins swim and thought I could too. I, and I promise to get better. Not to see stuff.” I said getting myself between Katie and my dad.
Mom spoke up, something she seldom did when my father was hurling me around like a broken toy. Dad would break my arm a few years later tossing me across my bedroom into bed as punishment.” Leave Katie alone, Bill. She’s sorry.”
My father’s rage swung like a spotlight of evil doom upon my mother now. He raised a hand to strike her for speaking up against him. These family dramas went off like a spark in to firecracker warehouse and went to places no one dreamed. My father’s rage burned in his eyes, a forest fire ready to kill us all, himself included.
A Korean War drill Sargent my father was far stronger than he knew. My worst memory is him kicking my mother in the stomach while my mother was pregnant with my brother Fred. Fred was age two now. Fred cried loudly as my father kicked over a heavy coffee table like a toothpick hat was separating him from my mother.
“Please, Daddy! I promise never to talk to the angels again!” I shouted and jumped in between Dad to shield Mom from his menacing fists.
“Protecting the ladies, huh?” said my father as he backhanded me so hard I saw angels again dancing before my eyes. Blood from my cut lip mingled with the heavy carved maroon carpet up against my nose.
“Bill!” shouted my wise Irish grandma Agnes as she nervously puffed on a cigarette. “Enough is enough, son. I swear to make sure and teach Ken all I learned about the evils of the fairy folk. This sometimes happens when a soul crosses over. But Kenny is back with us now. He’s not retarded, Bill. Your son just needs a wee bit of time and my help to forget the fairies and pixies he’s met.”
Somehow, at Grandma’s profound pledge to break me of seeing visions my father’s rage cooled like an active volcano between eruptions. The women calmed and even my kid brother Fred stopped bawling.
And due to family repression worked upon me of an epic nature, all done from Grandma Agnes’ misguided love, so I have no regrets as it allowed me to enjoy an amazing normy life before my awakening, it would take until this very day, a vision on 6.12.14, eve of a full moon in June of 2014 to remember it was Gaia under Devil’s Lake I fell in love with at first sight deep beneath Devil’s Lake. I keep seeing more and more of mama Gaia since Antarctica 12.12.12 where I share now for the first time she knighted me. I dedicated my life to helping her save the human species, her proudest creation, that day on the stoney shores of Antarctica.
When he’s not meditating and doing planetary healing work Ken is a Hollywood filmmaker with PBS credits on IMDB and the owner of a socially conscious social media company.