Computers are useless, they can only give you answers. -Pablo Picasso
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Many times I hear, “2012 is is going to be just like Y2K. Much ado about nothing.” But 2012 is nothing like 2000. 2000 is an arbitrary date on the calendar. One that created some headaches for the computer world, and thereby a cottage industry for computer jocks.
2012 is the end of the 3,125 year old Mayan calendar. A calendar Hollywood has taken out of context to mean the end of the world. The Mayans are not happy about this, as you can see in this text video. Rather, the elder Maya believe this is not the end of the world, but the end of the world as we know it.
My world has certainly ended already as I knew it with DreamShield and its mission of quelling 2012 fear. For a change I am doing something that has no economic goal but a societal one to better the planet. Gone is the greed in my heart. I know a peace and serenity that has eluded me my entire 58 years on this world. I am not writing stories with my brain but rather living them with my heart.
And I am having fun! Meet a new animated mascot for DreamShield. Wind: Rainbow Warrior for a Gentle 2012
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“The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream.” – Jack Kerouac, On the Road
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Mt Shasta lay under heavy cloud cover and a blanket of fresh snow for our entire visit. The reason many UFO experts at Mt. Shasta had speculated, if speculated is the word as these light workers show no doubt when they speak of UFOs, was to hide the many spaceships that were convening for earth’s formal admittance as a protected species of galactic society.
So on the way home that December 23, 2010 it came as no surprise to all in our minivan of light workers that the Winter Solstice moon appeared soon as we were a few miles out of town. How happy were we? Looney happy. Take a look and listen.
Part of all this joy was we had not not slept in back to back meditations at Mt. Shasta that had an all night driving session in a blizzard as its prelude. The joy of it all kept me from feeling exhausted, that and lots of Red Bull. Yeah, we were looney for good reason.
As we got back on 1-5 and everyone fell asleep for the all night drive home, I had some time to reflect on one of my dreams while staying at the Dream Inn BLOG POST HERE. In the dream I am Ohom a 7 foot tall blue angel. I fly in for landing before the Galactic Council beneath Mt. Shasta. I plead the case to remove the MERLIN code on earth. Yes, Merlin was not a person but a brain scrambling program that I, the Ohom me, had designed.
M.E.R.L.I.N.: MIND -ERASING -RANDOMIZER – LINEAR – INFINITE – NULLIFIER
Yes, I was the laughing stock at the Galactic council because I in fact had created the Merlin code and then forgot that I forgot. All this before I created MERLIN and all the other earth blocking chakrah’s myself in another incarnation, an alien one.
MERLIN was the key, if that could be unlocked then the rest of earth’s chakrah’s would follow and humanity would progress to a gentle 2o12.
Random stations began to pop on and off and snapped me out of my dream memories. Sarah Larsen woken to the odd radio mix.
“Sorry, want me to turn off the radio so you can sleep?” I asked sleepy eyed Sarah.
“No. I think it’s a UFO message!” said Sarah, now wide awake with excitement.
“Message?”
“From the ETs?” said Sarah.
“More like a broken radio,” I grumped as I downed some Red Bull.
“No look at the radio control. They’re codes,” she said pointing at the radio.
“Hmm. I was just thinking about how we need to crack that Merlin Code dream I told you about when the radio went nuts. This is your family minivan. Has this ever happened before?”
“No! I need a pencil! Some paper!” said Sarah digging through her big purse.
Now, something like the Merlin Code is cool, but what I find even more amazing is how women can dig in their big purses and find things. Sure enough Sarah found something to write with and began copying down the codes on the radio.
“What was the first word of the Merlin code?” said Sarah as the radio played bits and pieces of various songs that were making sentences.
“Wow. I’ve had too much Red Bull. These songs seem to be making a pattern.”
“The first word?!” Sarah shouted in her excitement.
“Mind. ” I yawned.
“Are you sure you’re OK to drive?” Sarah worried.
“Red Bull’s kicking in. Wow, if I were alone I’d think this radio thing was a too much sugar and lack of sleep hallucination.”
Numeric and letter codes flashed across the radio dial. Songs from retro 50s to dance electronica popped up in random order with that made so much sense in the context of this work that I laughed. One string of songs sang in code,”Love/forgotten/hidden stars/human races/I am a butterfly.
“M-I-N-D… ” Said Sarah counting the numeric codes.
“What are you doing? Matching up the codes to the alphabet.”
Dr. Sarah worked on the codes for the next half hour, carefully matching and mixing words and letter.
“Got it, the first unlocking “spell” spells ‘MEMORY'”.
“Makes crazy sense.” I said shaking my head in disbelief. ERASING is next.”
Another hour of codes on the radio and frantic writing Sarah had the counter code and giggled, “E-N-E-R-G-Y!”
“Wish I had more, ” I said tugging back on more Red Bull. I was wishing we had some budget to stay an extra night at Shasta rather than this crazy all night drive.
The next one, the scary one that came up the Merlin Code sequence was RANDOMIZER. The time Randomizer was the tricky one that my dream Ohom self had used to make it humanly impossible to solve Merlin without help when the for gentle 2012 had arrived. Help like the code that was coming in on Sarah’s minivan radio.
I explained to Sara, “The RANDOMIZER keeps humanity from uniting as each day at sunrise before we wake when it scramble time and people like eggs. One day you go to sleep as Bob in 1952 and next day you wake up as Marsha in 1602. That’s messed up. Nice work, Ohom. My other self was one clever bastard. Billions upon billion of split time lines converging and emerging to scatter humanity.”
“Yes, ” Sarah said, “There have been countless time loops leading to this moment. But always when we would get close to solving the Merlin code the RANDOMIZER would scatter our light worker teams and we start over, go to before 2012 to try to get it right.”
I decided to swallow my disbelief in UFOs and help the doctor by sharing this crazy story of the Randomizer. “Sarah, if we don’t solve the Merlin code by sunrise we are going to forget everything and be Randomized again.”
“Let’s keep working!”
Two hours later of the UFO broadcast of symbols and songs Sarah had another the RANDOMIZER code breaker. “Reality!” Sarah shouted lous enough I shushed her for the sake of the sleeping Dream team in back.
“I’m getting we need to recite these words to break the code a sacred spot once we have them all. But where?”
It will come to us. Let’s keep working. What’s the next word of the Merlin Code?”
“Linear”
“Well, this one’s easy my heart says it’s LOVE.
“Too easy?” I worried she had used the same method to solve the code as the other words.
“Love is easy.” Sarah giggled,
“Never has been for me.”
“All the more reason I know LOVE is right.”
INFINITE was next and it took a couple of hours that seemed infinite as my Red Bull was wearing off and this was all starting to feel like a silly kids game to my inner cynic that believes none of this. My ego was taking over, as Laura De Leon of Mystic Muse keeps telling me. The ego fights for its story of a conventional world versus the world of the unseen. How I wished Laura was with us now to work this out. But she had passed on the trip as she was not feeling up to the outdoors of winter at Mt. Shasta.
“IMAGINE!” squealed Sarah like a kid holding up her scribblings from the radio codes. A psychic and 3rd generation palm reader Sarah was full of boundless energy for this sort of work.
“I’m amazed I’m not sleepy.” we crested the road down to the Simi Valley into LA and the lights of the city sparkled beneath a sky beginning to brighten for day. Time was running out to solve the code. “Last word is NULLIFIER.”
“Normalize, ” said the doctor as we made our way through the city to drop off our first passenger in Passendena.
“The Rose Bowl. I think that’s where we do the mediation to unlock the code.” I said.
“Why there? I thought the beach in Santa Monica would be nice.” Said Sarah, finally yawning now that the codes had been broken.
“Because that’s where the guy who hitched a ride back to LA is from Passadena and we’d never make it to Santa Monica before the suns comes up and we Randomize,” saying secretly to myself that if all this UFO radio stuff was in our heads at least Id be home sooner. Bonus.
At that moment, as if to give me faith, the radio stopped surfing and settled into one station.
The other passengers woke as they sensed we were nearly home. Sarah turned to explain about the crazy radio stuff and said, “We broke the code the unlock the mind chakrah. Is everyone OK with a side trip to the Rose Bowl for a DreamShield meditation?”
The young guy who had hitched a ride from Mt. Shasta, Da, wanted to be dropped off. Sarah smiled at me because I was right that with him as the first drop off we’d never make it to the ocean before sunrise and we be randomized.
As we dropped the bedazzled Da off I got out of the van to take a whiz in the alley. I picked an out of the way spot from the passengers and did my business. I looked up as I zipped up into the eyes of Jesus in a crown of thorns, drawn in pencil on the whitewashed fence.
As I hopped back behind the wheel I saw Mica had gone back to sleep.
We hit the main drag of Passadena looking for sign to the Rise Bowl. That should be easy right? Wrong. So borrowing someone’s Iphone Sarah pulled up a Google Map. We were heading in the complete wrong direction and the sky was brightening.
Fatima, who was now wide awake in the far backseat, said we might only have about 10 minutes left to sunrise as I spun the minivan around. I didn’t fully believe in all this stuff but like always I had a “Why take chances?” attitude. I was determined to break this code I’d dreamed I had created in another incarnation. Was I racing the clock to beat my own past incarnations RANDOMIZER program, or high on too many Red Bulls, I wondered.
Finally after getting lost one more time, which seemed like the work of a spell but could just as well have been exhaustion we arrived at the Rose Bowl. We walked onto the grounds, in preparation for the Rose Bowl parade and did our meditation. Sarah read the unraveling of the MERLIN code.
And as we left I could see angels inside the Rose Bowl cheering our success. Every bit of science fiction writing or reading I’ve ever done pales by comparison to this strange other worldly/real-life adventure in which I am a skeptical player.
Time has actually felt more linear to me since we did this work, the first time we as a race go to bed in one life and awake in the same time line. I am constantly amazed by this project’s beauty and the fact we are not the only people doing this work. There are hundreds if not thousands of light workers involved. Whether this is real or a product of our imaginations it sure is fun and exciting. And that’s going to raise our world’s vibration. Ripples of a new future for humanity are spreading one person at a time.
Mother earth is alive and getting healthier every day as we race for a gentle 2012.
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“Sometimes the road less traveled is less traveled for a reason.” – Jerry in SEINFELD “The Baby Shower”
DreamBlogger Ken Sheetz
Is Ken Sheertz the Larry David of Light Workers?
It was December 23, 2010. I had just finished my second trip to Mt. Shasta. Mica and Marta was sound asleep in the back of Sarah Larsen’s family minivan.
While Sarah napped too, I had the chance to listen to the radio and reflect on the amazing meditation Joy Phoenix had led in the pyramid at Mt. Shasta. With only 5 minutes notice Joy had given such a lovely ceremony that I realized my policy of letting the pros lead these meditations while I record them in film and text is one the smartest things I do in DreamShield. See the full story here.
As highway 5 rose up before me I thought about the gas station in the heart of Mt. Shasta that had been converted into a spiritual crystal spot for people to fill their souls rather than cars.
A few hours earlier we had all howled at the full moon in victory. A foot of snow in a driving blizzard had not stopped us. The mission was success to meditate on healing the ozone layer had been a success.
So how had this dream mission turned into a CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM episode with me as Larry David?
SOLSTICE SALAD
Fresh from success in the pyramid, a 24 foot by 24 foot replica made of plywood for the many spiritual projects of Mt. Shasta, I decided to grab a celebration dinner before we headed back to LA. My choice, because DreamShield had begun in Italy last year in May, was a little Italian restaurant on the quaint main street of Mt. Shasta.
An older woman, not part of our LA group, a Shasta local light worker, joined us. Let’s call her Marge so as to spare her any embarrassment and me any lawsuits.
Our group had grown to about eight people as we took our table in the Italian place. It looked more like a family fast-food joint than the fine Italian spot I’d hoped it would be. Marge the local light worker took up a seat at the head of the table and began to look over the menu.
“I’m vegan. Haven’t been to a restaurant in 20 years. I bet they don’t have anything I can eat.” Marge said as though it were somehow my fault.
I nodded with a smile, wondering why Marge came along with us in the first place if she hated restaurant food. As I looked over the menu I noticed in the light now that Marge had on unusual makeup. “Is that silver dust on Marge’s face?” I wondered to myself.
Sarah Larsen got a phone call. She headed for the door, asking me to order pasta for her.
“Wait! I see what I want! Minestrone soup! I think I can eat that!” Marge cheered, as no one at the table seemed to care.
“Great. Here comes the waitress.” I said.
The waitress was about 25 but she had a world weariness of a woman of 40. “Can I get you guys some water?”
“I brought my own!” said Marge pulling an alien looking bottle from her metallic large purse.
I caught the waitress roll her eyes to the hostess as if to say, “Spiritual nut jobs. Thanks for giving me this table.”
Trying to get this moving before Marge started pulling out a vegan meal from her cave of a purse I ordered, “I’ll have the All You Can Eat salad.”
“I have to warn you, sir, you can’t share the All You Can Eat Salad with your friends,” the waitress proclaimed loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear.
“Got it. I’d like Italian dressing on the salad, please.”
“I mean it, sir. The All You Can Eat Salad is for one person only.”
“Roger that. Italian dressing,” I said, wondering why the waitress was still not writing down my order.
Mica Monet, one of my LA group, chimed in before I could ask why my order was not getting taken. “Does egg plant pasta does that come with a salad?”
“Yes,” the waitress shuffled and looked down at her feet, “But again, you can’t share salad with the table.”
“Why not?” I said. “It’s not a All You Can Eat Salad. She buys it and shares it, your restaurant losing nothing.”
“Makes it hard for us to make sure you guys are not sharing salad if she does that,” the waitress said as though that made sense.
“You know, miss, I think we get the “no sharing the salad idea here. We’re all grown-ups and you have our word: No salad sharing.”
“Does the minestrone come with a salad?” said Marge, derailing my chance to get my salad order in.
“It’s soup not a salad, ma’am.” said the waitress like she was talking to a crazy person.
“Probably not organic anyways.” giggled Marge coyly.
“Who’s next?” said the waitress, oblivious Marge’s light worker joke or effort to be salad pals.
“Did you get my All You Eat Salad order, miss?” I asked
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because the manager will fire me if you share the All You Can Eat Salad!” the waitress said, pleading as though her kid’s future might depend on hang in the balance.
“Sounds like a swell guy you work for. But you’ve clearly explained the rules and we’ve agreed to them. Please take my order.” I said, not believing this dinner had erupted into a Larry David comedy.
While I felt sorry for this poor confused waitress I was deeply insulted at the shabby treatment me and my bunch was getting. So I closed my menu and said, “OK, we’re going to make the salad thing easy for you. We’re leaving.”
“Thank you!” the waitress said without a hint of sarcasm. She was thrilled we were leaving.
“But I was really looking forward to the minestrone.” said Marge, almost in tears.
“Marge, you’re free, along with anyone else, to stay here. Me, I’m going across the street to the Thai place where I’ve been treated with some decent respect.”
I got up and everyone from the group followed me out the door except Marge. Marge gave the minestrone on the menu one last longing look and, with a deep sigh, followed us out the door into the snow. When she looked across the street Marge’s sad face lit up like a Xmas tree.
“Ha ha! You fucked yourself!” Marge shouted jumping up and down and pointing at the dark Thai restaurant across the street. “It’s closed! Ha! You fucked yourself!”
Now I’d only been doing this spiritual stuff about 6 months at this time. That was going from a cold stop as a corporate businessman who built skyscrapers, world headquarters for giants like Target Stores and Hyatt Hotels, to running ozone healing meditations in a pyramid at the base of Mt. Shasta. And in that short time I’d come to love the peaceful light workers I’d met so far. Hearing I’d “Fucked myself” from a light worker was giving me indigestion and I’d not even eaten yet.
Rather than sink to Marge’s level I walked across the street, hoping to give myself time to cool off. “Be right back. Maybe the owner is still there.” I said over the howling SOLO taunting laughter of Marge.
I slipped a bit in the snow as I crossed the street, gaining a cackle from Marge that sounded more witch-like than light worker. I peered in the window hopping for the owners who I’d me the night before to still be stacking chairs. But no dice. The Thai place was abandoned.
“Ha! See? Fucked!” shouted Marge from across the street. The other people from my group distanced themselves from Marge, who it seemed had taken it personally that I had spoiled her first minestrone in 20 years and was bent on a mission to get me riled up.
Happy the group was uncomfortable with the silver faced Marge’s outburst gave me confidence I could keep my cool and I made my way back to my gang.
“OK. I’m going to the Black Bear diner. Anyone is welcome to join me… long as they don’t have a salad.”
The group all cracked up, except for Marge who said, “Do they have minestrone on the menu at the Black Bear?”
“I don’t know, Marge. But you are welcome to join us and see” I added without any sarcasm.
“I think I’d rather you took me back to my car. Don’t want to risk them not having minestrone,” said Marge.
And so before we went to the Black Bear, a place that’s treated me well, we drove Marge back to her car and she said not another word except “Bye”.
Sarah Larsen, who we picked up along the way, still on her cell phone asked, “What was Marge upset about?”
“Minestrone.” I said and everyone burst into laughter at Sarah’s confused look.
Later in Nashville at Spirit Recovery ranch for the big global addiction mediation, when I’d spend more time with another Sarah — a lot of Sarahs show up in the light work — from Mt. Shasta, I’d learn that “Marge”, a local, had been critical of me walking out of the Solstice Salad restaurant. It was a good lesson for me that even light workers from Mt. Shasta are still only human.
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“the universe is under the control of a loving purpose, and that in the struggle for righteousness man has cosmic companionship (angels). Behind the harsh appearance of the world there is a benign power.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
I was in a great mood. Our sponsor Lee McCormick of SpiritRecovery.com had some work for me to fuel the work of DreamShield. In this happy state a strong vision came to me in meditation this afternoon.
It seems the angels are weary of our wars and ready to do battle with the power of love. Here it is hot off the DreamShield press.
FIRST MISSION
Battle rages in an obscure village. Homes burn. Tanks roll to crush a civilian revolution. The odds are hopeless.
A mother clutches her crying baby to her arms as the tank muzzle swings for her position beside her fallen husband’s body.
Suddenly, bright light forms into a dazzling angel before the tank. She is Japanese. A new earth angel from the recent disaster, ready for her first mission of dreaming a gentle 2012.
A stunned soldier fires the tank canon. The beautiful angel waves an arm and the canon fires not ammo but flowers.
Other soldiers open fire on the civilians. The angel holds forth her delicate hands and forms a DreamShield, a gray triangle. The hail of machine gunfire deflects off the angel’s triangular shield and falls harmlessly to the dust. Where the deflected bullets fall a rainbow assortment of flowers erupts from the scorched soil.
The civilians cheer. But the tank driver hits the gas and the tank runs over the angel.
“Oh my God. The angel! They’ve killed her!” the woman with the baby sobs as she prepares to die beneath the tank’s impact on the white house
But the tank has lost traction. The tank driver guns the tank but it inches no further, treads spinning.
The angel rises from the dust, lifting the tank into the air effortlessly. The new earth angel giggles at her new awesome powers and transforms the tank into an ice cream truck.
The angel turns to the terrified soldiers and with a wave of her hand turns them into joyous carnival performers.
Shocked rebels stagger from their positions and toss away their weapons. The angel touches each rebel’s heart and their stern faces transform to joy.
The angel offers a golden rattle to the woman with the crying baby. The baby coos for joy. But the woman cries, “My husband… Is it too late?”
The angel smiles and points to the woman’s husband, healed and running to her arms. They kiss.
Proud of her first mission, the Japanese angel leaps into the sky and soars from the war turned carnival.
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“Unity to be real must stand the severest strain without breaking.” – Mahatma Gandhi
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Bob and Laura
I was back a week in Hollywood from Nashville, Wisconsin, Florida, Nassau and the Bermuda Triangle from 7 back to back planetary meditations from such amazing stuff as closing the damaged Merkabah in the Bermuda Triangle, reducing hurricanes, curing earth of addictions, making a backup copy for all the love of the earth and more.
Exciting and uplifting as it all was, promoting, filming, conductimng the meditations and distributing it all on the web in the various outlets I’d created for the work to achieve DreamShield’s heavenly task to help 1 billion people to meditate as one to shift us in to a new golden age, I was exhausted.
Despite my exhaustion I was getting “angel” messages that a 3.11.11 meditation was a critical mediation date and that we should dance.
Laura De Leon, who blessedly for me and the planet gives the DreamShield project so much of her great spiritual experience and talent, was busy helping her husband take her mother-in-law through hospice. So I was minus her usual contributions.
Bella
On top of that I was then busy helping Laura get back and forth to Bob at the nursing home and doing some simple chores at their lovely home near Universal Studios. So I was minus me. It was the first time in my life I’ve humbled myself to simply be of service to friends in need. I especially enjoyed caring for the Jenkis family’s little dog Bella. Laura had done so much helping me with the complex grief of losing my father it was the least I could do.
When I walked into the nursing home, dropping Laura off to Bob and his sweet mother, who was a little nearer to death each tender day, I passed old folks. I’m in my 50s but as the old eyes raised to look at me from their wheel chairs I felt like a kid. The angels had gifted me by taking away my old fear I had of dying in one of these places one day myself. You see, I’d been an orderly in a nursing home in college and feared the homes ever since.
But stiill all this helping of the Jenkis family and 25 back to back meditations since 10.10.10 was burning the candle on both ends and 12.12.12 was still a long way off.
After taking the wonderful light worker, holistic doctor and palmist Sarah Larsen away from her family for a week in Nashville at Lee McCormick’s Spirit Recovery Ranch and Mt. Shasta I did not feel I could ask her to step up. Mica Monet had also just hosted a Valentine’s mediation.
ONENESS CANNOT BE STOPPED
Kara Mooney and Ramon Govea
On 2.25.11 I was was still getting those pesky angel signals, just two weeks before 3.11.11, so I sent out a request for help to the amazing and growing DreamShield Facebook group, along with emails to a few key team members who I thought might be fresh.
Ramon Govea, a young multi-talented Hollywood friend who has been at my side since DreamShield began was in touch immediately and volunteered to host 3.11.11. His co-host would be Kara Mooney who I had recently learned was interested in DreamShield from on Facebook.
The angels had told me they wanted us to dance on 3.1.11. As usual they loved to surprise me and we only had a little over two weeks to pull major event together.
As 3.11.11 neared I felt I was working in my sleep. So imagine how pleased that Kalix Sky our DJ that Kara and Ramon had hired for the event was helping us draw a crowd. Kalix was just what we needed. Laura and Sarah each let me blast out invites to their facebook friends on their behalf and soon we had about 100 people coming.
Laura and Bob’s mom passed 3 days before the event. I’d prepared Ramon and Kara for the fact Laura might miss the event. But Laura cares so much for the work that she still performed that night and performed beautifully.
Ramon gave a great and personable presentation on 2012 along with Kara who in turn performed a lovely meditati0n on forgiveness.
Here’s how it all turned out. And as you see at the end of the video the angels did give me a vision, the stinkers. I stood upon the dance floor at 11:11 a recited what I was seeing to some awesome music Kalix had whipped up for us. I saw the angels fly from the dance hall, their feathers brushing the guest as they took off flying right through the skyscrapers of downtown LA. And I channeled a message from the archangel Michael who surprised me when he ended my vision with a personal message to the crowd:
“Dance your asses off!” – Archangel Michael
AFTER VISIONS WHILE DOG WALKING
Angelic DJ Kalix Sky
Next day as I walked Bella one last time an eyes open after vision began. I sometimes get my best visions when my mind is distracted by the mundane like shaving. Now dog walking can be added to the list of vision points. I stopped in my tracks in wonder, Bella tugging at the leash.
I was back on 3.11.11. I saw archangel Michael fly off from our our dance hall with impossible speed and grace that would make Superman envious. The angels followed Michael to various junction points on the crystaline grid, a grid for 2012’s work the ascended masters had built eons ago to assure our successful transition. Using the energy from our fantastic human dancers at the Oneness event Michael and his legion of angels strengthened the grid 11 times 11 over.
Next, flying in formation, Micheal led the angels to spin the energy bands that power the DreamShield, refreshing the shield and hopefully me and the rest of our global dream team of cutting edge light workers!
The work for a gentle 2012 was flying along and getting cooler and more fun all the time.
Dance with the angels of DreamShield!
Enjoying these amazing spiritual adventures? We need your support. Please make a PayPal donation today at DreamShield.org.
‘The most pitiful among men is he who turns his dreams into silver and gold.” – Kahlil Gibran
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Dr. Sarah Larsen in Nashville on Valentine's Day
The day before Valentine’s Day Dr. Sarah Larsen was homesick for her kids and husband back in LA. And who could blame her? Since her amazing 10.10.10 LA event she had been on the road for DreamShield almost more than she had been home.
The angels had demanded much of her and she’d gladly answered the call. Her love and wisdom have benefited this grouchy reluctant light worker greatly, and though her patience with me for all the times of wanted to quit had dimmed a bit, it still shone brightly in her imploring eyes.
So I checked with the airline to see if we could cut our trip a few days short and get Sarah home in time for Valentine’s Day. Alas for the homesick doctor, airfares were to costly to make the change. In better times I would have rewarded such a tireless worker with tickets but spirit work does not pay much in earthly terms and so the doctor would have to spend Valentine’s in Nashville. Sarah made the best of it getting in touch with old friends while I caught up on my blogging about the trip.
On the eve before Valentine’s Day as I lay down on Rachel and Robert’s day bed I thought about an article I’d read on the plane from LA about the pole shift in Mayan predictions about 2012. Some of these so-called experts on the human mind and 2012 speculate humanity will lose its entire memory due to this fact our thoughts are stored as electromagnetic energy.
I thought about Sarah losing memory of the love of her husband Greg and her kids Tye-Tye and Jamsine and of me and my family and friends in such a drastic pole shift. Yep. It was another one of those negative visualization fear things, the ungentle 2012 stuff we undo in DreamShield.
So despite my total exhaustion from the Medicine Wheel planetary addiction meditation that had brought us here, I asked the angels what we could do to protect the memory of everyone’s love for one another on our little blue world.
In a flash of divine inspiration I knew all the empty space left inside me that I was feeling from Lee McCormick’s Spirit Recovery ranch addiction meditation had made me a storage receiver, a vessel, to hold a back up copy all of earth’s love. “Me? Holder of earth’s love?” I grouched to myself or whatever angels might be listening.
I wrapped myself in blankets like a robe and sat myself up on the edge of the day bed. I looked up at the eye shaped transom over Robert and Rachel’s front door. The transom became a bright computer screen filled with data. A beam of data shot from the transom as the memories of love of all earth’s billions flooded into my mind. I’d had “downloads” – a light worker term that I think sounds too sc-fi –before, but nothing on this scale. This was the mother of all downloads.
Now the next wave of love data for all living creatures, big and small, flooded into me. I’d not expected to be this Noah’s Ark of love. But I accepted it’s beauty with an amazed smile. Next came the love of the trees for the sky. Last even our bacteria’s love flooded me. “Bacteria feel love? Come on.” I griped to the angels who simply giggled at the sight of this exhausted middle-aged businessman turned reluctant light worker wrapped in a blanket like an Indian chief.
Yep, I feel many times I was picked for this work because it’s some kind of cosmic reality show. I must be a hoot in the Orion’s belt system.
Next morning, Valentine’s Day, Sarah asked me how I’d slept. “Not much.” I said, adding like this was all her fault somehow, ” I was a receiver of a back up copy of all the love of the earth all night. Today sometime I’ve been told broadcast this love into the back up copy of the Parthenon in downtown Nashville.”
Sarah Larsen simply smiled and said, “Cool. I’m going to call Greg and wish him a Happy Valentine’s Day.” And with an attitude like this sort of thing happens every day Sarah headed off to another room to call Greg.
Later that amazing Valentine’s Day where I felt my head might explode it was so full of love, I in fact made the trip to the Parthenon on my own while Sarah went to an exhibit Greg’s art. Years earlier the two met and fell in love here in Nashville before marrying and moving to LA.
Rachel and Sarah dropped me off promising to pick me up at 5:30 PM as my cell phone was out of juice. I walked around the Parthenon, an exact copy of the original in Greece built in 1897, perfect for a back copy holder of earth’s love, walked about it three times I was told by the angels, I felt like some kind of lonely odd ball. But I did my planetary meditation job and the couples perched on the steps kissed as the red lights of Valentine’s Day came up.
This made me all the more lonely. I’ve not been in a conventional relationship in years. Why pick a brokenhearted divorced man as the holder of earth’s love I wonder as I made the video you see below? I suppose my empty heart left more space for the angels to make me a vessel of all earth’s love.
I asked as a reward for this crazy work — hey it never hurts to ask –as I circled the Parthenon, completing this ritual of love transmission to the statue of Athena within the structure, that one day through this work I can find a great mate who can put up with the paradox of my pessimistic yet optimistic nature.
So, dear reader, page mark this blog. And if the the North and South pole’s shift come 2012, as many so-called experts predict, and you wake up without a memory of who you love, get thee to Nashville and the Parthenon. The back-up memory of all you love awaits there in the heart of the statute of the goddess Athena.
What’s cool is the angels tell me they update the memories each night into Athena. Angels are so clever. The little stinkers.
PS. In typical light worker fashion Sarah was late picking me up. I was not dressed warm enough as the sun set over the Parthenon and I sat there shivering in the cold like some homeless nut case for over 20 minutes past the agreed to 5:30 pickup time. I found myself wishing to be back working with my old Chicago real estate buddies, by whom you could set your watch, while making millions as I had in the past when I built skyscrapers instead of this silly nonsense.
Don’t worry. I got over it when I saw Greg and the kids welcome Sarah home from Nashville at LAX with such love. Yep. I’m still on the job of a gentle 2012. Here’s Sarah daughter Jasmine “Jazzy” singing along with her dad at an Agape concert. Who wouldn’t be homesick in Nashville, on Valetine’s Day with love like this waiting for them back in LA?
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“Everyone is an abused child when you think about what governments do.” – Tim Roth
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Before I start, I want to warn those sensitive to family abuse stories that this is not a blog post for you. I share this true and very personal family story for only one reason, to encourage people who wish to be part of DreamShield’s mission to heal our planet to know that you might be healed personally as a reward as I have.
I share so that you might understand just how powerful the healing of this work is to take the darkest thing that ever happened in my dark childhood and to heal me when I was not even looking for that. These miracles of DreamShield have a life of their own.
l love my father who passed just 6 weeks ago. I love him for all the good he did despite a lot of the nasty stuff. Because no matter how many times he faltered I always knew he loved me. I am amazed to report to you that I speak with his spirit from the afterlife. In fact I’d go so far as to say Dad and I have talked a lot more in the 6 weeks since he died than any similar stretch of time when he was alive.
But I ask, dear reader, that you realize my father was a blue-collar man born of the early 20th century, a man without a father growing up to teach him any better, a man whose Irish temper got the better of him when it came to drink, and that you not please judge but learn from his mistakes. Mistakes for which he is telling me as write that he is deeply sorry to all in our family. I admire his wanting me to share this. Very like Dad, a Korean War vet, who never lacked courage.
BACK PAINS
I was home at last in LA, back from the Nashville’s planetary meditation at Lee McCormick’s amazing Spirit Recovery Ranch where we did a DreamShield to free the earth from addiction by 2012. I was beyond exhausted from dozens of DreamShield meditations, the travel and my father’s recent funeral back in my home state of Wisconsin. So I slept like a log that cold February night, cold that is by LA standards.
As the early morning sun tugged at the blinds I lay on my stomach in bed in a half-slumber. My face was buried in my pillow and I felt happy to be back in the city of angels, home base on this world for the work of a gentle 2012. Still tired even after a good night’s sleep, I started to wonder if I wanted to do another mediation again for a long time. Maybe never. My inner cynic rambled on in my head, “None of this vision stuff real. You can’t monetize this crazy stuff. What’s the point? Wake up and smell the coffee, dreamer.”
I was about to get out of bed and start my day with a “Quick Workout” that client, pal, roomie, radio talk show host and fitness guru Bradley Quick had personally designed for me, when I felt icy fingers on my back!
“Lay still.” The voice of my recently passed father groused, “Let me do this.”
In my mind’s eye I clearly saw a glowing blue gel spread into deep wide crevices that laced my back. Lash marks that shocked me they were so infected and wicked looking. But wherever Dad spread the magical blue gel the wounds closed up and healed perfectly, giving off a light puff of vapor.
How’d my back get like this?
September 21, 1966
It all started when my baby brother Bruce, mommy’s favorite who she called “Dolly”, teased me about getting a savings bond for my 13th birthday instead of a space station toy I wanted. I smacked Bruce, only 6 at the time, square in the jaw with a fist full of rage.
Dad, full of beer from the excuse to drink for my birthday dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant Di Marini’s, set to teach me a lesson in brotherly love with the back with his leather belt. “Tell Bruce you’re sorry you hit him!” he shouted, whipping me ever harder when I refused.
To my horror, my mother, holding Bruce sobbing in her arms from his cut bloody lip, cheered my father on. Snap, snap, snap, the thick brown leather belt cracked as it dug deep into my back and, worse, my soul. Bruce jeered dad on too, “Hit him, Daddy! Hit him!”
I turned from the beating and shot my mother and Bruce a look of pure hate that shut both of them up. My brother Fred, who most of the time got it worse from Dad watched from the sidelines in paralyzed terror, not knowing if it was safe to even cry.
Blood began to soak through my paisley 60s style dress shirt. Mom shoved Bruce out of the room and begged for Dad to stop. But Dad was no longer in control. He shoved her backward, knocking her onto the bed. “You want this belt?! You want it, bicth?”
“Fuck you!” I heard myself say. Dad spun from Mom. I’d drawn the demon back to me to save her. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! The belt came down on me releasing an explosion of pain that made me see stars.
Every demon in every bottle of booze Dad had ever drank took possession of this normally sweet man. “Say your sorry for hurting you brother, you little shit, and this will stop.”‘
“Fuck you!” I shouted into the rug. He tried to whip the belt at my face but I curled into a ball, face to the floor.
I refused to cry and he picked up the power and intensity of the beating. I began to lose consciousness.
If I died under the lash it would be fine with me. Anything to escape this crazy drunk who could beat me like this on my own birthday. This kind of rocket sled ride from happiness to hell on earth was nothing new on any birthday or holiday in my nutty childhood.
My Grandparents
Grandma gave up yelling at Dad to stop and dove on to my father’s back and pulled at his curly black hair. Dad shook the old woman off him like he was a wild bucking bronco and the poor thing fell onto footstool breaking it. It was Grandma’s sobbing in pain that snapped dad out of beating me. When he stooped to take care of her mom whisked me off to my room and closed me in.
My back was on fire. I could feel blood pouring all the way down the backs of my legs. Sometime during the night when I was asleep, or maybe I just blacked out, I was bandaged up. I don’t recall who did the job. All is a blur here in my sad story. To this day it’s hard for me to celebrate my birthday or any holiday. You can’t know how crazy these happy dates became in my life. It seemed at times like Dad was on a mission to rob my childhood of any joy.
Next morning, after what thankfully would be the last and worst beating of my life as I would soon grow tall and strong and not to ever be messed with, I was still in shock. I remember standing, head poking out between the opening of the two swinging garage doors to the alley, drooling like the village idiot to the shock of passing neighbors. Dad got a call from one of the worried families, the “normal” families, and he yanked me from the garage and tossed me in my bedroom. I must have I spent half my childhood locked in that bedroom. I started to like it after while and became a loner in the relative safety of my room, living in comic books and my drawings.
Dad pulled off his belt and shouted he was ready to go beat some sense into my thick hide. But seeing what a drooling mess he’d made of his handsome son his heart was not in it. No, Dad was sober and he could see his rough handling had torn open the bandages on my back. I was bleeding again.
He spun to leave my bedroom in disgust and I dove and grabbed hold of his leg, “I’m sorry, Dad. I had got what I deserved. Bruce is little I should never have hit him like that. I’m sorry,” I whimpered like one of the many dogs my Dad had taken his rage out on in my childhood. Dad softened with his sober shame and left me in my bedroom without another word.
Grandma snuck in a little later as it was getting dark with some balm for my re-opened back wounds. “We need to get this boy to hospital!” she shouted, tears running down her chubby Irish cheeks. No reply from Mom or Dad.
Grandlma hugged me to her ample bosom and cooed in her soft Irish accent, “You poor, poor thing. Kenny, don’t you tell my idiot son he was right to beat you like some dog. No! Your Pa was wrong to beat you like that. Wrong!” My icy heart thawed and I wept in Grandma’s arms. Wept for the first time since the beating had started.
My father had been listening at the door. The birthday from hell ended with him evicting my grandmother for her kind words to me. I looked down from my second floor window as he literally tossed her into the street.
By Monday for school I was mostly coherent but still deep in shock, barley able to speak. In gym class the teacher noticed blood soaking through my white T-shirt. I was sent to the Principal’s office.
“Take off your shirt, please,” the bald-headed gentleman, who did not fit into our blue-collar neighborhood, but who was nonetheless our principal asked. I tried but the blood was stuck to the shirt and I could not get it off. The school nurse came in and managed to soak the shirt with a sponge enough to get it off.
“Dear, God.” They both said in unison looking at my scabbed and oozing back covered in welts.
I quickly made up a story that bullies in gym class had toweled me. “Bastards! Who? Which students?” the Principal demanded. And I knew he’d bought it. A great liar was born. Heck, I almost believed the tale myself. When asked for names of the students who did this to me I refused. I was no rat.
It shows the power of the fear of the unknown. I’d chosen at that moment the knowing of my crazy family life over being put in a foster home.
ANGELIC HEALING
All these memories of 40 some years ago shot through my mind as Dad’s spirit applied the magic healing gel to my back in LA some 45 years later here in 2011, the gateway to 2012. The angelic blue balm I thought must have come from the blue ET angels I met in Italy as soaked deep into my psychic after-wounds.
Gaps in my energetic field began to close as my father kept working in the heavenly healing lotion. I seldom saw my father cry in life except when he was drunk. But I could tell even though my father was invisible to me for this work, from the tremble I felt through his coarse welder’s fingertips, that he was silently crying. Crying out of shame for how deep the wounds he gave me were over all the pain he had caused for all of us with his drinking binges and rages.
My father’s spirit, now calm gentle and wise, here in my humble LA bedroom I rent with social media work, was personally healing these terrible old back wounds. This is my greatest gift so far for the work of DreamShield. And my father’s greatest gift for the bad karma he has undone for his next life or his ticket to be in heaven, reunited with Grandma.
DreamShield planetary meditation work is not easy, folks. This spiritual work is new and uncertain for me and at times makes me feel like I am going insane. It’s taken me from my filmmaking career and social media company BuzzBroz. But I do it all gladly because I somehow know this is vital work for humankind and we will get it done with your help and millions upon millions more amazing people like you reading this painful blog post, the most painful I will ever write.
One by one we can heal and manifest a gentle 2012. After this healing miracle of my back, this cynic is slowly becoming a believer.
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Angels, ET, my own overactive imagiantion, whatever it is that is powering DreamShie, never stops working with me. There’s not a lot of time to 2012, guess is why. I could write entire blogs about any of the following, but here’s a quick summary of the after-visions from the 2.12.11 Healing of Earth’s Addiction meditation at Spirit Recovery Ranch. Planetary meditation visions like Nashville’s don’t just happen all at once for me or the world.
ET GO HOME
The night after the big day of setting the intent to heal earth of addiction, Lee McCormick and I talked about going back to the medicine wheel to call in UFOs. This was to be done by famed ET expert Renatto Longatto, whose presentation had added so much to this event Lee had fashioned around our DreamShield meditation. But everyone, me included, was tired from the long day. So we decided the ETs could hover somewhere until we got back to them.
I chuckled as my head hit the pillow about how casual Lee was about seeing UFOs. Most of the people on this trip had seen them many times. No biggie for them. For me I was mildly disappointed as I have never seen a UFO, except maybe one from a great distance when I was a kid in Wisconsin. But I was too tired to care.
ADDICTION ROUND-UP
That night I dreamed of giant stone creatures guarding the land around Lee’s medicine wheel from hostile aliens that Renato had shared with us. Real alien tales that inspired the movie PREDATOR. The stone creatures were aided in my dream by none other than Jesse James, who looked just like Lee McCormick in the dream. Jesse actually had spent time on this ranch back in the day. In my vivid dream Jess fired his guns with superhuman speed. Native Americans working with the cowboys and my Angus spirit to rid earth of addiction. What a clean up crew from the 2.12.meditation! The hostile aliens had no chance. Zero.
ABE LINCOLN, MASTER PLANNER OF 2.12.11 Freedom from Addiction Meditation
Speaking of the 2.12.11 meditation, as I was putting this blog together and filling in my dream calendar DreamShield fan Margo gave me, I was shocked to discover February 12th is Lincoln’s birthday. Huh. So the freeing on earth from the slavery of addiction meditation was no accidental choice. A date Lee McCormick and I worked out last fall.
Abe, I am proud to say as producer of web series called Lincoln is Back, is my spirit guide. Sneaky, Abe, guided me to doing this DreamShield on his birth date without my even knowing it. Best Lincoln’s birthday ever. Couple this amazing fact with Lee’s medicine wheel that’s made of stones, I’d only learn after we were in Nashville, from a plantation where the owner used to buy slaves and set them free. Yep, you have more coincidences than even my cynical mind can ignore as proof that we are being aided by divine powers in this work to change the world come 2012.
DON’T SWEAT IT
I was too tired to care about ETs as I dreamed on because I was exhausted from the day long events and Lee’s sweat lodge session. I had a vision in the heat where I saw myself move through the wall of the sweat lodge that followed the medicine wheel as a Native American hunter. My Native American brother shushed me and tells me, “Be quiet my brother, you’ll scare off the deer.” I come back to myself and realize I’ve been blabbing to much in the sweat lodge.
My inner Larry David had rebelled. I couldn’t take Lee McCormick’s pouring on the heat anymore. Not to mention the cold mud under my freezing butt and feet caused by the melted snow and the tight quarters with a two guys flanking me weren’t for me either. So I crawled, not on a dream with the Indians, but for real out of the sweat lodge with Lee’s blessing. Lee’s a pro and never forces people to sweat anymore than they want.
I kept crawling from the sweat lodge, panting like a dog and dry heaved in the grass. Then I saw a gray Buddha statue. Alive beneath the moon. When Sarah Wellborne poured Mt. Shasta water over my head, Buddha vanished. Here’s a video of a very confused me at least searching for what might have been a pile of sticks I’d mistaken Buddha.
BETTER LATE THAN NEVER
That night I also dreamed of my father, whose drinking issues had made the Nashville DNA meditation so tough for me and who had only passed three weeks ago, came to me in a dream showing me the Packer watch I had bought for him one Christmas. Dad told me, pointing at the Packers watch, only mildly annoyed, “You were an hour late getting the medicine wheel. 2:12 you were supposed to he here.”
“Renato had gone long and the schedule got pushed back, ” I explained to my father in the dream.
“I kept the angels from leaving before you and Lee’s bunch for here, ” Dad proudly explained.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said tears welling. “I’m glad for your help. Woulda been nice if this had been something we could have done while you were alive.”
“I needed to be part of this. Always was somehow. But that’s no excuse for the mess I made of things when you guys were kids.”
“I forgive you, Dad.”
“I know, son.”
Dad then did something in the dream that he loved to do in real life and gave me a big bear hug. At his funeral my son 3 weeks earlier, my son Jonathan, now a man of 30, gave me the Sheetz family bear hug. Jonathan smiled sadly as he told me he had taken over the bear hug role from his grandfather. Late or not, Dad was proud of me for the work at Lee’s medicine I see by his shinning Irish smile.
Dad, unable as usual not to have the last word and to joke said, “Try not to keep the angels waiting next planetary mediation, Kenny boy.”
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It’s often just enough to be with someone. I don’t need to touch them. Not even talk. A feeling passes between you both. You’re not alone. -Marylin Monroe, on the topic of Enough
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Lee McCormick’s amazing 2000 acre Spirit Recovery ranch, site for the 2/12/11 DreamShield Planetary Addiction Meditation, had only one drawback for out of towners… lack of nearby restaurants.
Me and my fellow spoiled brats from LA for this trip, Bradley Quick and Dr. Sarah Larsen, were desperate for the health food choice we enjoy back home. The only restaurant options, still about a 15 minute ride from the ranch, are McDonald’s or an all you can eat buffet, where the choices are… fried this or fried that.
So when Renato Longato, world famous UFO expert, finished his presentation on ETs and their role in 2012 and Lee herded us back to the all fried food you can eat spot again, I let a groan slip out. But, even though the food was deadly, the company of large group who stuck us for the meditation made up for it with their lively passion and curiosity about DreamShield.
I griped to Lee that all this bad food was going to blur my visions at the wheel. Lee simply chuckled and went on eating his fried chicken. Lucky for me not much phases Lee. As a recovery guru and cattle rancher he’s seen it all. Lee was the perfect host for this spirit shindig to balance out all my nervousness and exhaustion over this very personal mediation. You see, I had just given the eulogy at my father’s funeral only 3 weeks prior to this event. A father whose drinking escapades were legend in my home town of Milwaukee. Drinking which had decimated my childhood and made me into the lovable neurotic who blogs this stuff as much for self-therapy as to report to you on the birth of the New Age.
Reports I make as objectively as I can, while being the dude having all these visions to help usher in a gentle 2012 and trying to film it all at the same time. How about a budget for an assistant and camera man, angels, ETs, whatever you are? Maybe even a private jet as they’ve told me I need to do DreamShield personally in all 24 times zones and activate a billion people by 2012. Guess they like to keep me humble with lack of funding. Makes this funnier and they do love to laugh at this cynic of a psychic. I swear this all is some kind of futuristic reality show at times where we are the cameras.
Heavy snows two days before had turned the field, where Lee 10 years earlier had built the medicine wheel, to mud. My inner Larry David of a perfectionist said about the mud and cold, “Couldn’t the angels have picked a pleasant day in May for all this?” But I stopped myself from griping out loud before I annoyed Lee again. “Enough with the whine festival, ” I told myself. “This mud is going to be perfect for grounding this great group of people to the earth. We are electrical energy after and and what better conductor than the mud the fates had provided?”
The medicine wheel was working already. I had officially stopped my negative self-talk that re-erupted in me after Dad’s funeral, like some dormant volcano of fear. I was feeling up to the task of this great day my higher self had brought about. Laura De Leon of MyMysticMuse‘s work finally kicked into gear. I was ready to do battle with addiction. Or least not go off and down a bottle of tequila out of fear of messing all this up for earth’s gentle 2012.
“A church without walls”, as one of ranch hands described Lee’s medicine wheel, is the perfect description. The energy of the growing crowd was palpable. Lee personally selected the stones of his medicine wheel from the old Pinewood estate after it had burned. The stones of that estate have great energy because Pinewood’s owner would buy slaves and then set them free on these lands! Lands where also a great Native American people had ruled in total freedom before the white man came along and poisoned the tribes with their fire water.
Yes, I sensed the Native American spirits wanted this addiction meditation to work. I sensed also the spirit of Kokopelli leading his people in this mighty task for earth many times on this trip. He was showing up in pranks. Kokopelli is part trickster spirit after all. I had almost named my film company for him eight years ago when I moved to Hollywood before chickening out. Maybe when I am done with all this 2012 stuff and can get back to making movies I will name a new film Kokopelli Films in his honor. Yeah.
Lee’s medicine wheel for this DreamShield meditation to free earth of addiction by 2012 was therefore a perfect choice. More perfect than I knew at the time of my vision, complete with diagrams of how to shape and work the group that came to me in dreams months ahead of time.
Lee McCormick walked the medicine wheel while Sarah Wellborn placed crystals from Mt. Shasta on the stones.
The group grew as trucks made their way through the muddy field loaded with cargoes of excited people. People who felt so empowered for the work by Lee’s great day of events leading to this that I could feel their passion for today’s work from a mile off. I mean that literally, a mile off. Putting my inner cynic aside, I can sense amazing stuff ever since Italy, where my DNA got activated and my life got turned upside down.
Here at Lee’s wheel, I realized the angels — or ETs who guide this strange and wonder filled work from a cloud or spaceship or my own overactive brain — had picked this sacred spot for this DreamShield meditation, as much for it’s location on the earth’s chakrah system for the amazing Tennessee folks who were now showing up in droves. Numbers of people I’d not expected in such a remote location 40 miles from Nashville in the middle of Lee’s cattle ranch that doubles as one of America’s leading recovery centers. Such is Lee’s respectability in the amazing Conscious Nashville group he has helped foster.
I made sure I had pals Sarah Larsen and Bradley Quick beside me as I was still feeling weak from the funeral and nearly 3 months of non-stop DreamSheild planetary meditations without any real budget. I was running a global project from modest social media fees via my BuzzBroz company. It had all seemed so simple after Italy. Have a 10.10.10 global celebration and then go back to my normal life. That was 26 planetary meditations ago…
So I was exhausted for the big one. The meditation that meant more to me personally than any other. I had not evolved much, I had simply become a spiritual-aholic instead of a work-aholic. Yeah, this meditation was needed for me personally. I’d missed most of my kids’ childhoods working to be Chicago’s number 1 commercial real estate broker. Nothing was ever enough.
VISIONS AT THE WHEEL
What energized me was Lee’s advice to me and the crowd, shouting over the stiff cold wind, “We gather today for a noble cause. Our reality is what we choose to make it in this world. And we choose to believe there can be an end to addiction on this world. It’s time. And the cool thing is we don’t have to believe in this work for it TO work. We just have to show up and express our intent. Feel it with our heart and soul. In our bones.”
With that Lee turned it over to me. “This is Ken Sheetz of DreamShield who will conduct this planetary meditation. He sees things.”
Smiling at Lee’s perfect intro, I went with the flow and got the crowd laughing saying, “Think of me Larry David of the spirit world. I don’t know how or why the angels chose me in Italy for this work… when I don’t believe in them half the time. But Lee is right. Somehow the job gets done anyways when I just show up where they tell me to go. I’m happy the angels let me see what they are doing, despite my lack of 100% faith in what they let me somehow see.” Excited relief spread through the gathering as I added, “And don’t feel bad if you don’t see what I see or see nothing at all in this meditation. You might even count yourself lucky you see nothing all this angels stuff has turned my life upside down.”
Later a meditation guest would thank me for “keeping it real.”
I passed the mediation ball to Dr. Sarah Larsen to open this meditation with her beautiful OMs. She picked 13 OMs as the number to get the group into an energized connected space. As Sarah OMed, the magic in my mind began to happen once again. I saw, eyes closed, hundreds if not thousands of earth angels watching us 60 souls gathered to form the intent to rid the world of addiction.
My voice cracked as I told the crowd what I was seeing. You see dear reader, I’d thought my visions were somehow at an end but here they were a host of angels ready to protect us and amplify our energy as we set the intention to end earth’s addiction at Lee’s medicine wheel!
This art piece by Gore Dustave is very close to what I saw. I opened my eyes and shared my relief and excitement with the group. “These are not like the angels I saw in Italy. The are human formed, earth angels.” I felt proud these were not the wonderful, if scary, ET angels from Italy working this meditation with us. These were are kindred earth angels curing the earth of addictions.
I closed my eyes again and for the first time with such a large group and shared vision as they came into my head. About my head for a bit. I feel it’s overly large and that I’d easily weigh in under 200 pounds with a more normal sized head. But I digress. Back to Lee’s medicine wheel…
I told the crowd, “I see a golden tumbler that holds the DNA code in this earth chakra beneath the medicine wheel. We are going to unlock this tumbler of gold. Gold that represents, according to some ET experts, humanity’s enslavement from the time we were genetically engineered from apes to mine this world of gold. And it’s this ET engineered drive to never have enough that lies at the heart of all our addiction here on earth. The time has time for us as a species to rise above our enslavement. Let the ancient aliens have their gold we want to be free!”
Note: All this is as close as I can recall my words or anyone’s at the wheel. I don’t have a camera crew at this stage of this underfunded and over ambitious gentle 2012 project. So I may have inadvertently made myself sound better than real life in this blog. Such is the benefit of not having a camera crew.
I then led the group in a meditation chant while we visualized a golden triangle forming within the black hole that lies within each of us as follows:
“Happy. Healthy. And whole!” Four times we repeated this simple triangular mantra together. Success. I saw another tumbler in the earth unlock like a telescope of gold that extended to the earth’s core. It fed us an enormous energy surge I could feel in the mud as I held out my hands.
An angel whispered to me at the wheel, “You will become a new species of homo sapiens. One that will care for each other and this world as equals in ways you cannot even imagine.”
My head was happily spinning in this deep waking dream of healing for earth in the mud at the wheel. This was going far better than I had possibly hoped. I introduced Sarah Wellborn of the west coast spiritual mecca Mt. Shasta. This other Sarah, many Sarah’s have appeared in this work as their name means “Light of God”, had earlier told me she had some very special songs she wanted to share at the wheel. I saw at this moment that her songs were sonic codes to unlock the golden DNA tumbler in the earth’s chakrah.
As a former builder, a man of schedules and budgets who built Oprah’s Harpo studios, I often wonder why the angels don’t give me more clear plans ahead of time. But I went with the divine guidance flow and turned things over to Sarah Wellborn.
The group and I chanted along with Sarah Wellborn’s very beautiful and other worldly sounding singing, singing that I hope to God Lee’s videographer captured for history and I was too busy running a mediation to film. Just as I was fussing about this to myself in my hyper mind I saw the Virgin Mary in glory, radiating healing energy down upon us from a cloud above. You heard me. The Virgin Mary.
UFO expert Renato had told us in his lecture before the DreamShield that ETs, looking not to shock us, would appear to one race as say Shiva, or Muhamed or as the Virgin Mary depending on your cultural heritage. I wonder now as I write if this was what was going on here at Lee’s amazing medicine wheel. You see I am not religious. So I’d be about the last guy you’d expect to see angels, let alone the mother of Christ.
Note: This is not the the best photo of what I saw of the Virgin Mary, unlike the fairly accurate angels one depicted above in the blog. This Virgin Mary was more classic in my vision and radiant in all directions not just her hands. Without a CG artist I can’t describe the majesty of the parting clouds that Mary appeared to me from. Sigh. This is hard on me as filmmaker as I want to truly share all this amazing stuff with you fully. I guess in the hopes you might believe me more. That’s silly I know. The best books do not come with pictures.
It’s taken me days to get the nerve up to write of this because it all sounds so crazy. I keep thinking the men in white jackets are coming for me when, as Lee said, I “see things.” Well, at least I am getting faster at accepting these amazing visions. It took me three months to get up my nerve to report on the angels in Italy.
Yes, dear reader. This blog is the first I am sharing of the Virgin Mary vision. The goddess as the light workers see her, the divine feminine was with us.
I relaxed into Sarah’s beautiful song deeper. She invited us all to join her in our own tones. We sounded alien. A bit like the choir from 2001, only prettier. That damn song annoys me after a while. Sarah’s song was beautiful, but 2001-like-ape scene is how it felt. We were like the apes ready to evolved when we unlocked the golden DNA tumbler in the earth here 40 miles west of Nashville. Lee had explained to me our DreamShield team earlier that day that the earth on this part of the globe holds huge limestone deposits and is naturally one of the purest points on the planet for what we were doing.
I held forth my trembling hands and grabbed hold of the golden tumbler I could see in my mind’s eye. With each of Sarah’s new combination tunes and chants I turned the giant golden lock within the earth. Gone was the scared, little Ken, I was fully my higher self working with the spirits of angels, Indains, cowboys, the Virgin Mary, ETs an my new Nashville and old LA friends. I smiled at Sarah Larsen and Bradley Quick who had somehow moved, without my directing them, into the triangular pattern you see in this diagram that came to me in a dream last fall.
Diagram for Addiction Meditation that Came to Ken Sheetz in a Dream in 11.1.10
Suddenly I saw my father having a Guiness in bar in heaven. He downed half a glass and with a pleased look of satisfaction said, “Enough.”
Then Dad smiles at me as he pushed away from the heavenly bar. I shouted this vision to the group and asked if anyone else was seeing visions or feeling something. A young man shouted, “I see a new golden leaf!”
“Yes!” I shouted back like an excited kid. “New growth for the Golden Age that dawns here today! I see the DNA beginning to shift!”
Sarah Wellborn’s amazing song of alien sounding stopped. She paused and said, “This next one is very playful. It’s for the elementals.” Her song for the elementals that followed was so playful and joyous that it kept me from getting to serious over my Dad’s Guinness appearance at the wheel. Not at the wheel but in a dream the next morning I would see these brown muddy fields we stood filled with grass of a green spring and thousands of white elementals dancing about Lee’s medicine wheel. The playful white creatures looked a like the elementals in SPIRITED AWAY, only not so weird.
The shift was on, as singer Shawn Gallaway had sung the night before at the Lee’s Conscious Music before a packed crowd of 300.
Later I’d tell my middle brother only the part of my vision of Dad pushing away after half a Guinness, who before the trip to Nashville had expressed complete disbelief in this DreamShield meditation’s ability to heal earth’s addiction. My brother, who been an even bigger cynic than me about this addiction meditation, was touched and said, “Yeah, Pops never left a drink half-finished beer in his life.”
It’s my deepest wish and desire that we accomplished the mission of freedom for the earth from all addiction. But for me and my family the vision of Dad in heaven satisfied with his half Guiness means more to me than all my visions since May in 2010 put together. Sorry, Virgin Mary and host of angels. I’m just being honest here while thanking you for all your blessings and help.
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“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” – Eleanor Roosevelt
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Cheryl Brown, Bradley Quick and Dr. Sarah Larsen
For the first part of the day I acted in my dual capacity as a filmmaker and holding space for the energy of Dreamshield that Lee was generating with the enthused crowd of 60 people while Bradley Quick, my guest with Lee’s for the trip, who hosts a radio designed to to help people overcome addiction called The Quick Fix, and who had given a brilliant speech to Lee’s recovery client he night before, acted in the humble capacity as crowd control with Dr. Sarah Larsen.
When singer and one of Nashville’s spiritual leader Lee McCormick of Spirit Recovery agreed to host a DreamShield on 2/12/11, inspired by my vision of a cure for earth’s addictions by 2012, to be unlocked in our DNA through meditation at his medicine wheel, I had no idea what an amazing day he would dream up around the occasion.
If anyone, cynical as myself at times included, needs proof DreamShield is divinely guided just an amazing human being like Lee showing up for the work is proof enough.
Then we were treated to tales of amazing spiritual adventures by Sarah Wellborn of Mt. Shasta, a spiritual guide who we’d met in December and who led our planetary mediation to heal the ozone layer on 12/21/11.
Last before the meditation was world famous UFO expert Renato Longato sharing rare footage of UFO’s that not shown in America’s media. Here’s just a taste of his amazing lecture.
Unfortunately Renato’s awesome presentation was new and ran long, 3 hours, and we lost the chance for our other Sarah, Dr. Sarah Larsen to speak at the Spirit Lodge. This had also strangely happened to Sarah at her own magnificent 10/10/10 event when Dr. Robert Casar, our host and LA 10/10/10 sponsor, went long in his talks. But as on 10/10/10 Sarah took things in stride. For her this day was about being at the medicine wheel to activate the DNA to cure earth of addiction and it would be there she would shine I was sure.
At last it was onto the medicine wheel for DreamShield’s planetary meditation to set the intent to heal the world of addiction. All the events Lee had planned built the crowd of about 60 into a powerful energetic state. But I still worried — still mourning the loss of my father, just 3 weeks ago, whose addiction to drink had plagued my childhood and which was blocking my ability to communicate with the spirit world or wherever this stuff comes from in or outside me — if I’d be able to honor the greatness of the day Lee had created at the medicine wheel.
Here’s the video my social media company BuzzBroz.com, the venture that got me into all this spirit stuff, is promoting for Lee on YouTube and which after seeing inspired my vision that inspired Lee’s big day, an amazing doorway to a better tomorrow that we were only half way through.
Enjoying these amazing spiritual adventures? Make a PayPal donation today at DreamShield.org.
Media, Meditations & Musings 