TEMPLE VISION

Music artist Paul Temple, a master of Tibetan bowls and chants, and his lovely wife Kerry just visited Sedona on their tour of the southwest. Many thanks to Lane Badger for helping make Paul’s visit a huge success. Elizabeth and I were honored to host them in our home.

Their first night here I filmed Paul at a beautiful private Sedona venue. Here’s his entire July 5th performance for your enlightenment and enjoyment. Skip in past the video intro a bit and listen to his Tibetan chants and bowls to gain a deeper experience in reading the story Paul’s magic.

We were honored to host Paul also in 2017, he visited Elizabeth and me only a few weeks after we got back from our LOVE TRUMPS HATE meditations in DC.

So this year Paul naturally asked me over breakfast how that tough Meditations on Trump work was going here in 2018. I rubbed my hands through what’s left of my hair and told Paul and his wife Kerry that Elizabeth I were, each in our own way, finding these times when the light seems to be losing require a lot more positive visualization to keep our vibe up, but that we were managing. I then told the beautiful power couple how important Paul’s work, along with Kerry’s as a yoga teacher, are in these Trumpy times to help light workers maintain a healthy frequency.

On the second night, July 6, 2018, Paul performed his Tibetan chants and bowls again. This time at Sedona’s Unity Church to a sold out crowd. I worked late the night before to get s clip from the above video posted to help Paul generate some sales. But tonight I was not busy filming again so I was free to drop into deep meditation. Despite the AC being way too chilly, I had a profound healing vision of dark energies, both personal and global, being defeated as Paul performed. Here’s just a part of the cosmic I witnessed.

TEMPLE VISION

Paul sits spotlit atop a vast canyon’s wall. Below him only the spires of dingy skyscrapers of a modern day city peek above a thick black clouds that shroud the canyon valley in despair. The residents of the dark city have adapted as best they to the constant gloom by lowering their frequencies. A clear sky is a forgotten memory.

As Paul chants in his superb deep Tibetan monk sounding voice, and plays his many harmonically arranged bowls high above the city, the dark cloud begins to compress. The inky foul blackness is surprisingly helpless against Paul’s sonic healing and starts to shrink rapidly.

Shopkeepers and their customers step from the stores and look in awe up as the dark clouds lift under Paul’s waves of healing light and sound. The condensing clouds rain sparkling diamonds on the overjoyed crowds. People dance in the glittery street beneath the stars they had long forgotten.

I realize, as I huddle up to my love Elizabeth to ward off the excessive AC of the Unity hall, that I am being blessed with a vision of what effect Paul’s work might have on our own somber post-truth world; lost in a dark cloud of today’s meanness, lies and greed.

Paul Temple wakes things up. He is a destroyer of darkness.

In the final part of my Temple vision I spot my sometimes loving and sometimes deeply abusive father Bill approaches. There’s menace in his black glassy eyes. Bill, dead 7 years now of bladder cancer, is pure blackness from head to toe, Vortices of black strings of dark energy swirl over Bills angry body. He clenches his fists, ready to strike.

But I am no child in fear anymore, I am a full grow servant of the light, and before Bill can a move to abuse me, I simply stand aside and let Paul’s toning pass me. My father instantly dissolves into a pile of black dust. I am stunned as I feel all that is left inside my heart are the loving moments of our past, his teaching me to draw, fishing, hunting, his wonderful laughter. Bill’s soul is freed of his human role as an unstable father.

Then my – sometimes times loving, sometimes abusive and most times self-abusive brother, Fred – appears as a figure of pure blackness to take Dad’s place. Ah ha. I see a sad truth here that makes me weep. Fred is far more akin to my father’s pure dark energy than my own which is more light than dark.

Fred challenges me with an angry pose straight out of a martial arts movie. BTW I’ve been the 1990’s KUNG FU on Amazon.  Feels so relevant because I also feel like David Cassidy’s Kane as a peace loving guy who only kicks-ass when he forced to.

Back to the Temple vision, again I simply sep aside let Paul’s Tibetan chanting and bowls do their work. After a few moments of strained resistance Fred’s darkness crumbles to dust beside my father’s vanishing dust pile. Once more, all that is left in my heart are the many loving moments of our lives past, xmas mornings, Fred’s comforting me after a bitter divorce, his loving man hugs, present. Fred is now too free of all negative karma between us and we can now be true brothers of the light.

CLAIR DE LUNE

The morning before Paul and Kerry take to the road for the rest of their Southwest tour, he plays Clair De Lune on our wonderful secondhand piano.  I am shocked because this the only piano song my father knew how to play; having learned the complex tune in the Korean War as a soldier. When I tell Paul he smiles wryly and plays on until he must resume packing.

All too soon it’s time for Paul and Kerry to continue on their tour. As we all hug goodbye I realize I smile at my Elizabeth over Paul’s shoulder, my smile seeming to say, “We are hugging our spirit brother and sister good-bye.” My love nods silently “Yes!” her smile beaming.

SHARING IS CARING

Please, after watching the important new Paul Temple video above share your story in the comments about what Paul’s work means to you. And please share this blog to help get the word out about Paul’s incredible planetary and personal healing work with Tibetan bowls and chant.

Learn more about Paul and his tour at https://www.facebook.com/RadianceMatrix/

Fourth of July Eve ET Download

Since 2011 I’ve been gifted with amazing ET code downloads every few months. Densely packed with trillions of bits of data, the code begins small and grows into an incredible display of alien symbols. I view it, not with my third eye, but an as fluidic overlay of thousands of shifting symbols and shapes seen my good old regular blue eyes. The code comes in as black characters on a white field, tinged with dashes of color.

Wild as it sounds, I’ve been told by my ET spirit guide Ohom that my openminded attitude to ET support for our precious world serves as a deep space inter-dimensional receiver of these alien codes, all benevolent, and I re-transmit them to our world in meditation into the collective consciousness.

At first these massive downloads were scary.  Now, I relish them as gifts of highly advanced wisdom from the stars, given to help humanity.

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Smack in the middle of breakfast this morning today with my love Elizabeth, on the day before celebrating our 1776 Declaration of Independence, a massive ET vision broke through to interrupt our sweet chat over cereal. Elizabeth is amazingly supportive of these galactic moments. So blessed to be with her as my soulmate.

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Loving our Sensor V medallions. Get you own at CoolestMeditaionEver.com on the cool tools page!

The ET code came in strong and clear today, mixed with images of historic American figures. Elizabeth asked me for their names and I told her I was seeing John Adams, Benjamin Franklin and John Henry.

Elizabeth then asked me what this new and very American download means. I read my gut said “We are being given new tools from the ETs in these codes to free us from our slavery of our old ways.”

Here are three videos I’ve used to confirm my gut reaction the common thread to all these famous US figures’ stories appearing interwoven with the code.

First video: John Adams, one of the founding fathers, pushed for our independence when many of the others patriots were faltering on the break from British rule.

He served as our first vice president and second president.

John was deeply in love with his incredible wife Abigail. This is my first spiritual contact with the real Adams family. In them both I see the power I derive from this video on John’s amazing life the importance of having a good partner like Elizabeth.

Seems obvious we need a good partner to succeed in life, but so many with healing skills are attracted to mates that have issues needing healing. Nothing wrong with that. But it lowers the number of people one can heal if preoccupied by a hurting and hurtful mate.

Second video: Inventor/politician and super-achiever Benjamin Franklin is one of my favorite spirit guides. Nearly 20 years before my awakening I’d unconsciously name my first skyscraper One North Franklin in Ben’s honor and use his photo from our $100 bill adorned my construction barricade.

Franklin invented many things, most famously the lightning rod. This invention freed the world of the terrors of one of nature’s most destructive forces years. Freedom. Later in life he’d help pen the greatest document for freedom the world had yet to know.

In his wife Deborah, Franklin was also blessed with a strong and loving mate.

Last: John Henry, whose potent energy I saw today in this vision, is a mythical character. A freed slave John Henry could drive a rail spike in with a single blow and he won a man versus machine race. John Henry represents earning of freedom with legendary hard work in today’s download vision.

THE COMMON THREAD

Looking at all three figures, the common thread is freedom. And so the myriad of ET symbols accompanying are all downloads are about freeing ourselves from the old through hard work and living in love with a strong mate or community of like minded souls. I send them out into the field of the collective consciousness as tools for accelerate the evolution of this reality.

Seeking further guidance about today’s political turmoil on this fourth of July eve and Benjamin Franklin, who I am blessed to able, channel, Ben offers:

“This July 4th 2018, let us remember we are all immigrants in America; even it’s first natives, living here on what they called turtle island. America is indeed a sacred land. One that almost magically allows any man or woman, who through good work attract to themselves good fortune, to raise themselves up.

While America’s current president is in great disharmony with America’s spirit of openness, it is important to realize he is primarily a mechanism the people have selected, however non-orthodox, to prune back our overextended branches of government.

As annoying as this man who would be America’s first king can be, much like fingernails on a chalkboard to many, America must reach past his boorish ways for the light. We do this by focusing on the fact that President #45 serves a higher cause, even if he’s quite humorously doing so unwittingly the vast majority of the time.

Once his work is done, this strangest of presidents’ popularity will wane and fade in time. He will then serve as a historic example that no amount of money can buy respect, loyalty or love.

Do not be swept up in ongoing efforts to impeach him. Leave that challenge to his peers and betters. Rather look for the silver lining in all he does inadvertently to affect change. Keep your vibration at its highest level for the maximum effect positive change in earth’s energy field.

When November at last comes, get out to vote the politicians you feel worthy of your support. Never give into fear and despair propagated by the 24/7 media, right or left.

And if all else fails and this version of the American dream no longer serves the land or its people, do what we forefathers did against Britain: reorganize, re-visualize and revolt!”

Enjoy this powerful ET download. Happy fourth of July from Ken, Elizabeth, Ohom and Ben!

Liberals For Trump!

Is Trump is an angel of destruction of the evil old ways or just a lying a jerk?

“Liberals For Trump!” Sounds as unlikely as “Jews for Jesus!” But I’ve learned the hard way, through the painful loss of many friends over my Meditations on Trump, that Liberals For Trump believers really do exist. And in higher numbers than I bet the polls can measure.

Reading between the lines after a wonderful friend tearfully lectured me that I should not be lowering my vibration to talk politics, I see Trump shame is particularly keen in the consciousness community where love for the environment, vegetarianism, kindness, and many other ideals clash deeply with Trump’s bull in a yoga store way of operating.

The first time I realized more than a few of my spirit friends are Liberals For Trump — and there is another smaller branch of Conservative Spirit Peeps for Trump I’ve stumbled across — was after the night Bernie Sanders was robbed of the Democratic nomination by Hilary. For the weeks following that fateful summer of 2016 night, Facebook and Twitter were aflame with Bernie lament.

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Now, although Trump and Sanders have very different takes on politics, one for more government and one for less, they both nonetheless represent a bitter rejection of the status quo that many liberals adore as much as their conservative brethren. Without Bernie to pick from, my Bernie buddies went into the booth to vote for Trump and, presto, exited as Liberals For Trump.

I’ve been hoping my pals, from ET fans to angel workers, who profess love for Trump for his demolition of America’s wicked old ways, would come back to center after the months of chaos under Trump.

Ah. But think about it; an affair with Stormy didn’t sway them, over a dozen women accusing Trump of sexual harassment didn’t sway them, a live mic with Trump’s grab ’em by the pussy wisecrack didn’t sway them, Mueller’s getting 5 of 20 people he’s indicted to plead guilty for conspiring with the Russians to influence our elections didn’t sway them, Michael Cohen funneling millions from corporations for Trump access did not sway them, North American and European allies getting slammed with tariffs while Trump rains favors on Commie dictators have not swayed them, and the beat goes horrifically on.

At one point during the campaign Trump claimed he could shoot a man in the middle of 5th Avenue and still win the Republican nomination. He appears to have been right as the Russian collusion evidence mounts and he grows in popularity.  You get the idea, nothing sways people who like Trump’s schtick. If anything, his fanatic fans run deeper into supporting him amid liberal news media and comedic backlash that only serves to bolster his persecution complex.

Still, these past few weeks I hoped that Trump’s hard core policy on separating immigrant babies from their mothers might pry some of friends free of backing Trump so vehemently. If not in private, at least on Facebook. But this week, amidst an avalanche of horrors in the media about illegal immigrant children crying for their lost loved ones hit its pain soaked peak, one real-life and FB friend, actually posted this photo to their page.

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Holy shit. I’ll always remember this as the day then I realized how deep down the rabbit hole a Trump fan’s rejection of the status quo goes. Out of love and respect I resisted the urge to joke post back, ” Wha? I have enough trouble seeing Trump as human let alone as the archangel Michael!”

I’ve learned the hard way you really can’t reach Liberals For Trump, anymore than you can reach Conservatives for Trump, lost in their Fox News, or reach Libertarian’s trapped in their web of endless conspiracy theories who still think the CIA killed Kennedy 55 years ago.  Face it.  We the cyber word has us all pigeonholed into neat little bubbles, even though FB got caught redhanded selling our data to Cambridge Analytica.

So why make enemies when the Hillarys Trumps and Obamas of the world are not really running the show, but the 13 families that own the big show? For my dear FB friend, out of her Trump loving mind with her post last week, and others like her, Trump is perhaps an angel for his destruction of the status quo and the immigrant kids getting ripped from their families at the border are painful collateral damage? Frankly, I am afraid to ask.

Or perhaps my Liberal For Trump friends are blinded by Trump’s 1984-ish Big Brother mind games? I read somewhere, cannot find the link right now, that despite the side by side 2009 and 2017 inaugural photos, 61% of conservatives believe Trump’s “My Inauguration crowd was bigger than Obama’s!” lie. That’s powerful mass hypnosis on human scale we’ve never seen here is America.

Weird how my having  a father who lied constantly to the family made me into a human lie detector. As an adult that makes me wretch whenever Trump lies. Never thought I’d be thanking Dad for his lies about that trip to Dinseyland that never happened and the countless other lies he seemed to dream up like Trump, even when lying was not needed.

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Much as I try to keep an emotional lid with my spirit friends notion of Trump as a cosmic DJ Demolition Man, it gets deeply depressing when he continues to dominate our 24/7 news cycle. Many in the self-serving-fear-mongering press, profess there’s a grave danger hidden within Not-Sees support of Trump. The panicked liberal press believe that because Liberals for Trump, and conservative alike, are not blinking at the border #wallofsorrow it must mean America is one step away from Nazi death camps for minorities before they cut to anti-depressant commercials.

However, never one to be a willing customer of media fear machine, I don’t see the Trump era, even if it extends to 2024 and beyond with his daughter taking office then jared, ever going the way of the Nazis. This is not 1936 Germany, despite Trump’s “good”Nazi kids waving Confederate flags.

No. What’s going right now is uniquely American, despite how nasty it all is. As a people as we near the 4th of July 2018 perhaps ugly stuff that Trump unwittingly serves spirit to bring to the surface? Is Trump unconsciously acting like a Lakota Heyoka clown? His backwards actions and policies create potent cognitive dissonance making us question the very nature of our reality?

Are my friends right? Does spirit in some mystical way, works through Trump’s darkness to bring the light? I have no answers.  Just a desire to look deeper for the meaning of all this. And I am grateful for that spark of hope that my Liberals For Trump spirit friends are seeing something good in Trump I do not.

What are you thoughts?

FATHER’S DAY AND THE WALL OF SORROW

This saddest Father’s Day ever, President Trump seeks to shift blame to Democrats for the horrific separation of Mexican children from their families even though his GOP controls both the House and Senate. I’ve channeled my outrage into this fictional short screenplay to help convey the pain of these poor innocents.

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Photo by John Moore

FATHER’S DAY AND THE WALL OF SORROW

By Ken Sheetz

INT. PANEL TRUCK (MOVING) – DAY

TINA MUNOZ, 4 years old, cries deeply into a tattered baby blanket. Her wailing is nearly drowned out by the dozen other MEXICAN CHILDREN.

BETTY, 30s, an overweight American social worker with a kind face, places her pudgy hands over her ears to try to block out the overwhelming grief that fills the panel truck’s interior. Curly Red hair matted to her head, Betty picks up her cell phone and shouts to be heard over the din of the agonized kids.

BETTY

Gods mercy! Still no AC back here! Isn’t it bad enough we ripped these babies from their family on Father’s day of all days?

Betty does her best to listen to the DRIVER, a middle aged Texan, on the phone.

DRIVER (VO/ Voice over)

Ma’am, I swear to God AGAIN there ain’t nothin’ we can do.

BETTY

Pull into a gas station and get this AC fixed!  It must be 120 degrees back here!

DRIVER (VO)

Sorry. I ain’t authorized to make no kinda stops.

BETTY:

Do you want dead children on you hands, Mister… what’s your name?

DRIVER (VO)

Mister none of your damn business! What’s broke is broke! Now, with all due respect, Betty, do your God damn job and I’ll do mine. Get them little brats shut up!

Driver hangs up on Betty. In despair, she looks around at the 13 wailing children and chooses one, Tina, to take into a consoling hug.

BETTY (In Spanish)

I’m so sorry, little one. Can you tell me your name?

Tina welcomes the embrace of Betty.

TINA (In English)

I am Tina. Tina Munoz. What’s your name, nice lady?

BETTY

Betty! You speak English so well little one!

TINA

Mama teached me ’cause we go to America; land of the free.

Betty’s sad expression shows Tina’s words have cracked in her professional demeanor. At a loss for words, Betty strokes Tina’s sweaty hair.

TINA

When do I see Mama and Papa again?

BETTY

I could lie, child, and tell you “soon”. But I want to prepare you for the sad fact I don’t —

A 5 year old boy with a bowl haircut, ROBERTO, faints to the panel truck’s floor. Tina dives to his side.

TINA

Roberto! He’s my brother!

Roberto’s eyes flutter back into his head as he goes into a racking seizure.

Betty’s fingers tremble as she dials the cell phone to reach the driver, who silently answers.

BETTY

(being as sweet as possible)

Driver? Hi.  I am so sorry if I sounded cross before. I don’t blame you for all this. But we’ve got a serious problem on our hands. A little boy, no more than four or five, is having heat stroke convulsions. If we don’t get him fresh air and hydration soon — Hello?

Betty curses under her breath as the driver cuts off the call.

As the panel truck pulls to a red light Betty eyes the side door latch.

BETTY

Fuck it.

Betty punches in her key code access and pulls open the panel truck’s side door. A heavenly breeze passes through the panel truck. Roberto gasps in fresh air, calming instantly.

An 11 year-old Mexican boy darts out the door and, quick as a deer, vanishes into the hedges.

Before anymore children can escape an angry Boarder Patrol AGENT, Mexican/American, 30s, appears at the door, brandishing a submachine gun, impending violence on his face.

AGENT (In Spanish)

All of you! Sit the fuck down!

Agent slams the panel truck door shut in Betty’s face before she can utter a word.

EXT. ARMY BASE GATES – DAY

Betty wipes tears mixed with sweat as the Mexican children, clothes soaked to their beautiful brown skin, hop from the panel truck.

Last off, Roberto leans on Tina. They slowly make their way from the panel truck, the little duo scurry to Betty and burry their faces in her soft but sweat soaked dress.

Agent spins angrily on Betty.

AGENT

I only count twelve!

BETTY (trying not to sound proud)

One got away.

AGENT

You shoulda told me, bitch!

BETTY

I tried to before you slammed the door in my face, you disgusting traitor to you own people!

Agent slightly hangs his head slightly, properly shame.

Driver appears and blows a hocker on the ground in disgust at Betty’s feet.

DRIVER

God damned liberals. You got no part in God’s work.

BETTY

I’ll have you know I am an ordained minister, you Trump loving boob!

Driver lunges for Betty. Tina and Roberto scream.

But Agent restrains Driver in the nick of time.

AGENT

Cool your jets, amigo. She’ll get hers when they find out she let one of the illegals escape.

Driver spits at Betty again, this time in her face, and hops back in his panel truck.

DRIVER

Ha! Got me another load of wetback brats to pick up anyways!

BETTY

That’s right. Help Trump build his wall off sorrow!

Flummoxed beyond words, Driver races off the panel truck in a cloud of dust.

WOMAN WITH PURPLE PLASTIC GLOVES, Black, 20s, kindly gestures to Betty to allow her take Tina and Robert through the Army Base gates.

Betty ignores her and turns warily to Agent.

BETTY

Can I please come with them? Get them settled in?

Agent grimly shakes his head “no” and motions to the Woman With Purple Plastic Gloves to get to it.  She manages to send Betty a sympathetic look as she pries the weaker Roberto looses of Betty.

Tina gives Betty a last hug and dejectedly follows her big brother, the only family member she has left in the world, through the army base gates accompanied by the Woman With Purple Plastic Gloves and the Agent, doing his best not to show his self hatred.

Betty sobs into her pudgy hands as she watches the kids vanish into the Army camp.

Passing wall she spots a plaque on commemorating the internment of the Japanese in World War II, Betty falls to her knees, her sorrow watering the desert.

BETTY (sobbing at the plaque)

Happy Father’s day…

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THE END

What’s happening today, tearing children literally from the arms of parents illegally entering America, is worse than our cruelty to the Japanese Americans of WWII. Then, at least, Japanese families suffered together.

Please share our fictional account of the horrors being inflicted on these all to real innocent Mexican children, bound to be scarred for life. Only by touching people’s hearts can this American tragedy end.

And if you’d like to contribute a little something to producing this as short film please send your donation to PayPal.

Message to Earth’s Comics From Spirit of Robin Williams: Trump Jokes are Lazy Humor – The Robin Williams Visitations

I’ve truly been blessed to have Robin Williams’ spirit in touch with me often since his death on August 11, 2014. But unlike many people with psychic visions, suspiciously sure of their gifts, I sometimes wonder if Robin’s ghost is really keeping in touch or if it’s all just my wild imagination.

Robin’s spirit finds my uncertainty about his visitations quite funny. Perhaps he keeps showing up, despite my misgivings as a reluctant medium, because I always take his funny visits as a serious message from the higher realms of consciousness. And today’s visit from Robin is super welcome in this post-truth era that’s wearing mighty thin for many of us.

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Before I get to Robin’s important as it is funny June 2018 message to the world’s, as the iconic actor who played drama and beautifully as comedy describes today’s, “lazy bum comics” a little history. Robin first appeared to me shortly after his death to help me give comfort to many fans troubled by his suicide. Bummer, we lost two more celebs to suicide this week, designer Kate Spade and chef Anthony Bourdain. Fame and success are no protection against depression.

Not surprisingly, Robin’s spirit musings on his horrific suicide are heartbreakingly funny stuff. Read it on the blog in detail in a special section called THE ROBIN WILLIAMS VISITATIONSHmm. Feels like a book’s a brewin’.

After Robin’s first ghostly visit, which happened on one of the many hikes I take here in Sedona’s red rocks, he and I bonded quickly. I would say it’s because we are brother in arms who’ve overcome battles with life’s sadness using laughs. Happily, I instantly found I could channel his comedic stylings with good accuracy for this blog.

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS WITH A BLUE WHALE

One amazing day in the fall of 2014 Robin showed up with the spirits of MLK and Mother Teresa. They all wanted a tour of the Buddhist stupa. Which I gave them to my honor as though they were visiting family. I’ve still not found the time to blog about it. I promise to, Robin and readers. Stay tuned.

A few weeks after Robin’s incredible visitations began, I tuned over in bed and yelped as Robin was nose to nose with me under the covers. “Sorry, didn’t want to wake you, Sheetzy. Your snoring’s adorable, btw.”

“Thanks. I think. What brings you to my bed at the crack of dawn, Robin?”

“Sheetzo, I need you to hop on fishing boat off Laguna Beach, and channel me in.”

“Why?” I asked still half asleep, thinking back nostalgically on the days before my 2010 awakening when life was boringly normal. Robin is not the only spirt that visits me.

“Oh. Nothing special, Kenny boy.  Just gonna impregnate a virgin whale to reincarnate myself as a blue whale.”

“Oh, is that all?” I said dryly as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. This got a laugh out of Robin. But his laughter quickly faded as I explained to the king of comedy, “Buddy, I am drowning in the workload of a client’s world changer crowd funder. Much as I’d love to travel to the Pacific to help bring you back as a blue whale, Robin, we mortals still have bills to pay.”

“Work from the road. That’s what God made WiFi for.”

“Sorry.  I just can’t road trip this thing. Too big. We just launched this cool device that’s going to make it a smarter world. Boost IQ!”

“Fine, Einstein. I’ll do it myself like I have to do everything… when it comes to impregnating virgin whales!” Robin said, his disappointment in me showing on his fading ghostly face.

“Wait, Robin.  If you could just wait 60 days or so I promise –”

Robin vanished before I could finish in a disappointed but determined huff.  I got up and made some coffee and ruminated that Robin was still used to the star treatment even on the other side. So he’s not used to people saying no very often. I hoped he would not be so angry with me he’d never visit again. However, I made a note to request he not pop into my bed in future and nearly give me a heart attack.

Weeks passed swiftly. My client’s crowd funder became a hit, raising eventually $1.6 million for an update of a beloved scientist’s famed techno-meditation device. So I’d kind of forgotten about Robin’s whale gig when one day, while having a breakfast at my favorite local diner, The Coffee Pot, Robin appeared in the form of a talking blue whale embryo hovering over a portly man’s ham and eggs.

Williams shouted proudly, “I did it, Sheetzy!”

Nearly spit spraying my coffee, I looked slyly around the restaurant. As per usual, despite Sedona being an American mecca for psychics, I was, you guessed it, the only person having this outrageous aquatic visit. “Why the whole whale thing, Robin?” I asked in my mind, deciding I might get a ticket to the looney bin talking out loud to a floating blue whale fetus in a public restaurant.

“Call me, Nanu. That’s my new blue whale name!”

“OK, Nanu Nanu –”

“Just Nanu, Sheetzter.  Copyright stuff.”

“Ok, NANU, why reincarnate as blue whale?”

Robin twirled over a blue haired old lady wolfing down her waffles and said proudly, “Because I’m gonna teach the blue whales a new frequency of joy and laughter to broadcast around this bluesy world!”

Robin looked amused by my freaked out face. But it made total sense Robin would not rest long in the afterworld and would seek a cool way to help humanity keep its sense of humor. As if reading my mind about how crazy yet sensible this all seemed to me, Robin added,”Still the doubting Sheetz? Just take a gander at your coffee cup. – Presto!”

DSC04666Chills ran down my spine, here in the middle of the desert, a relief of dolphins swam on the coffee mug. Robin the blue whale fetus hovered over my head blowing happy air bubble rings as I called over the unsuspecting waitress. I asked her if she’d ever seen a dolphin mug at the restaurant before.

Even though the grizzled middle-aged vet waitress has seen it all in Sedona she gazed in amazement to see dolphins on my coffee mug. “Weird. All we usually got are cactuses and Kokppellis on our mugs.”

I bought the magical mug proof Robin offered at checkout. And if you’re ever a house guest I’ll happily serve you a java from the two more dolphin mugs I’ve since collected on future Williams visits to the Coffee Pot.

Note: Robin loves his coffee and often calls me over to the Coffee Pot, a favorite of visiting celebs, for his spirit visits. He met Elizabeth, my love there and told her, through my channeling, that she is Mamu his mama whale.

Wait a minute! I just joke back to the joker Robin as I write here in 2018, “Swell, so you’re telling me, Robin, that because you were pissed I wouldn’t go with you to the Pacific in 2014 you impregnated my love Elizabeth’s alternate reality whale self?”

“Bingo!  Ha ha! Man, took you 4 years to get that joke. You’re dense as a neutron star, bro,” laughs Robin.

Jeez, I Googled that a teaspoon full of neutron star weighs a billion tons. He sure thinks I am dense stuff!

Speaking of how dense we all are in these Trumpy times, back to 2014, two full years before America lost it’s sense of humor with Trump’s hostile take over of not just the news world but the comedy world.

One time back in 2015, shortly after Robin’s successful rebirth as a blue whale, as Trump began his run for king of the world, Robin told me over coffee – BTW Robin just cups his hand around the mug for its cafine energy – “Trump gonna win and he’s gonna be HILAAARIOUS as the good old USA’s most un-presidential prez ever.”

Boy, was that whale baby right. Trump did beat the unfunny Hillary. And just look at all these comics covering Trump as regular as the weather here in depressing as hell 2018.

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But, as master of comedy Robin Williams is now shouting at today’s living comics through my keyboard, putting on a Jewish accent, “Oy vey! Enough, funny people! You’re makingme mashugana! The Trump gags are stale as a two week old bagel! Stop beating a dead whale already!  ”

That last message of Robin’s rings so true don’t it? Dozens of comedians riffing on Trump’s every stumble everyday for three friggin’ years stinks like a dead whale stranded on a beach for days. The seagulls picking the carcass apart.

And Robin sadly knows all about dead whales. You see, the busy shipping lanes killed his beloved whale mama in late 2017. Grieving her loss, Robin told me in a vision, on a hike to the Airport vortex, that Mamu’s whale body had washed up on the west coast of Mexico. A few months later, in April of this year, Robin came to me to say his whale life too ended the same way as his poor Mamu.

“Don’t be a bummer, Sheetzorini! Tell your readers not to be blue for the blue whale me!” Robin chirps as I type as fast as man untrained in such can, “The Blue Dolphin Clan gave me the body of one of their brain dead young.”

“How appropriate!” getting a zing in as payback for Robin’s neutron star dig.

Robin pretends not to hear my zinger and goes on, “And I’m ready start teaching the song of joy and laugher to the dolphins now. That is soon as I can figure out where my dolphin dick is. Oh wait.  I’m a girl dolphin now. Holy mackerel!”

Pause for reader laughter Robin tells me.

“No problem, the name Robin works for either gender,” I communicate to his spirit, stalling for time to keep up on the keyboard with his rapid fire mind.

“Guess Nanu swings both ways too. Hey, know what we dolphins think of all the media’s fuss over Trump? Ever hear Flipper laugh in that old TV show?” says Robin doing a tail stand in my mind’s eye.

“You mean like this, Robin?” I say digging up a clip.

“Close enough! – Fun fact. Did you know we beautiful and brilliant dolphins were sentient thousands of eons before human’s discovered how to make fucking fire?”

“Gotta admit, like most humans I believe, we’ve always been the brightest species on the planet,” I type communucate.

“Right. Even though humans work themselves to death to get that newest model gas guzzler causing global warming?” Robin dolphin chuckles.

“Yup, Gottta admit I am looking at a new Jeep at the moment.”

“Think Prius, ya noob.”

“Need a Jeep for the 4-wheel drive for the red rocks, shark bait.”

” Touche. Well do some checks on electric that can off road. Pinkie swear? Not that I have one anymore.”

“Fin swear then. Will do, Robin.”

“Nanu, still Nanu please.  Good because we dolphins warn…” says Robin/Nanu, trying to sound as ominous as young dolphin can,”..that your species needs to stop worrying about one certain old as fuck human being, no matter how fat, orange and nasty. HUGE waste of time. Time your species doesn’t have, BTW. ”

“Why?” I ask.

“Earth’s oceans are running out of fucking oxygen!”

In shock I do a search mid-blog based on Robin’s dire warning and found this video.  If you have 55 minutes it will wise you up in a big way even if the production values are about zilch.

Vindicated about his warning on earth’s diminishing air supply, as well as making me realize how real his visits are, Robin/Nanu grimly continues, “Better you eco-morons focus on saving the oceans, where most of your oxygen is made, than ruminating on how many cheeseburgers Trump can ingest daily without having a coronary!”

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Robin/Nanu bitingly goes on, “Be original, human comics. You’re all lazy as fuck.  Hello!  Comedy 101, you can’t make parodies about of a living one like Trump.”

“Amen, Nanu!”

Nanu Williams rants on, “Get the fuck over the pathetic Trump, funny bones, and get back to your damn job of making people laugh. Save getting political for the biggest joke on the planet… the fucking politicians! Get smart and get the word out earth is running out air instead of spreading hot air. Got it?”

“Got it! Will share, Nanu Williams the blue dolphin!”

“Cool, Kenster.  Williams out!”

Well, the you have it, straight from Robin Williams the newly reincarnated blue dolphin Nanu: Trump is officially no longer hilarious.

Let’s Not Make America 1984 Again

Like many of we independent voters seeking to straddle both sides of the political fence to promote unity and harmony during a dangerous point in history, where the Doomsday Clock has seldom been closer to midnight, I have worries when it comes to President Trump. And the biggest worry I have, with the favorite son of Brooklyn, is his disrespect for the fabric of reality. Namely, the truth.

The events of the past week of the 24/7 Rudy/Trump truth tap dance unreality show helped me see clearly that truth has become public enemy #1 for the Trump team.

Now, we all know politicians in general have a low regard for telling it like it is. But Donald Trump, from day one with his yuge “largest inauguration crowd in history” lie, is breaking all records for lying; telling a whopping 2,140 fact-checked lies in his first year in office according to the Washington Post.

Now, Trump will happily tell you from the rose garden, or via 4 AM tweets, that the Post is lying about Trump’s lying. #WITCHHUNT! He bemoans to his followers it’s is all a #SAD DARK STATE plot by Jeff Bezous, the founder of Amazon, who recently bought the paper that broke Watergate, and seeks to now break Trumpgate.

The term for all is nonsense is “gas lighting”, defined as making someone think they are crazy for not believing your lies, like in this classic gas lighting scene starring Joey Bishop.

Seem familiar when you look at Trump’s enablers Kelly Ann Conway, Rudy Giuliani and Sarah Huckabee with their daily Silly Putty manipulation of reality?

Most politicians lie when there’s some measure of credibility that gives them a chance to get away with it. Trump is different. He lies right to your face, behaving like the king of what is in fact reality. Heaven forbid anyone disagrees with Trump’s lies or he’ll seek to humiliate you on Twitter even if you’re a war hero or Parkland survivor.

Trump is not your typical political liar.  He’s a man in a comb over as fake as he is on a power trip akin to what author George Orwell foresaw in his novel “1984”, written way back in 1949.

I could go on about “1984” parallels in Trump gas lit reality. However, in researching my own meditations on Trump I found this cool article written two days ago by the BBC, one of the go-to media sources in to escape our polarized American media.

Thank you BBC for saving me the brain damage. You see, I am battling an addiction to Trump news. One brought on by 24/7 seesaw game Trump uses to make the media his pawn and gas lighting the hell out of us.

Great Vox video here about which ends with Trump gas lighting a reporter.

1984 is not the kind of book that has a happy ending. It ends with an interrogation where the hero, after torture, is told to see 5 fingers when only 4 are help up.

My fellow Americans, right and left, wake up. Trump is no bumbling liar as the liberal comedians and reporters portray him or a man fighting the deep state as the conservative media portrays him to be, lulling you into a sense of false superiority and security.

In closing, I won’t leave you in fear. That’s the media’s job, right or left. Rather I leave you with the assurance that despite how bad things look right now, the truth is a real thing. And truth always wins out in the end. I’d just like to wake few people up to reduce the pain of having to live through making America 1984 again.

Don’t be a truth ostrich, liberal or conservative, and stick your head in the sand. Don’t be like a lover who wants a cheating mate to tell them sweet little lies like the Fleetwood Mac masterpiece.

Even though the great Fleetwood Mac singer Stevie Nicks wants sweet little lies, the paradox is they how sick she knows it all is in the amazing lyrics.

LITTLE LIES
Tell me lies
Tell me sweet little lies
(Tell me lies, tell me, tell me lies)
Oh, no, no you can’t disguise
(You can’t disguise, no you can’t disguise)
Tell me lies
Tell me sweet little lies

{​Bridge}​

[Verse 3: Christine McVie]
If I could turn the page
In time then I’d rearrange
Just a day or two
(Close my, close my, close my eyes)
But I couldn’t find a way
So I’ll settle for one day
To believe in you
(Tell me, tell me, tell me lies)

[Chorus: Christine McVie]
Tell me lies
Tell me sweet little lies

(Tell me lies, tell me, tell me lies)
Oh, no, no you can’t disguise
(You can’t disguise, no you can’t disguise)
Tell me lies
Tell me sweet little lies
(Tell me lies, tell me, tell me lies)
Oh, no, no you can’t disguise
(You can’t disguise, no you can’t disguise)

Tell me lies
Tell me sweet little lies
(Tell me, tell me lies)

Many Americans, Evangelicals in particular, are in this gas lit trap of sweet little lies, hoping their deal with the Trumpster will get them what they want. And to some degree they are… for now. Trump has been fastidious in seeking to keep all his campaign promises. But his masterful magic is those promises of a ideas being good for us were lies to begin with. Yikes.

Watch the truth about Trump, but don’t overdose on the news, right or left. News shows might be out to depress you for the sake of pharmaceutical sponsors out to sell antidepressants. Don’t let Trump news absorb you, as it did for me for so long, and is still doing to some degree as I fight to free my consciousness before your very eyes.

Truth is. we’ve seen enough of Trump’s ways to be wise without further infecting our minds and souls to make our judgement to reject him as worthy leader. Save the anger for the voting booth.  Avoid the trolls. Avoid over posting hate for Trump on your pages. Have faith and support the people fighting for the truth and be patient.

Bide your moment, and when it comes time to vote, vote the truth back into the oval office, Congress, the Senate and local offices. I say local because make no mistake about it, the Koch brothers and others, right and left alike, are working their agenda all the way down to your local dog keeper’s level.

Truth is the oxygen of freedom.

 

The NC-17 President

I just read Michael Wolff’s FIRE AND FURY tell-all. I give it 4 stars. For me, the biggest moral shocker is Wolff’s claim the president of our country takes pride in seducing other men’s wives.

But just I was finishing the book along came the Stormy Daniels scandal!

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Something of a personal and professional confession, I met Stormy Daniels myself in 2006, four years before my 2010 awakening. After three years in Hollywood and not yet producing a hit for my investors, I was desperate to win the good graces of my Chicago backers when along came a top ten ranked line-producer in Hollywood. He had the unlikely idea of making a PG-rated reality show for a mainstream TV audience about the behind the scenes world of Wicked Pictures featuring Stormy’s efforts to become a legit director and invited me to be his producer partner. The chance to work with one of Hollywood’s top producers, a recognized genius, was too tempting so I got on board as a producer and began talks with Wicked Pictures.

Weeks later, I reported to my executive producer that it was clear from my preliminary talks with Stormy and the CEO of Wicked Pictures that these renegade porn pros would never accept the waivers and censoring required to make a clean show out of a dirty business. And, well, I was more than relieved when my report nipped the show I felt dubious about in the bud.

So it felt mighty strange for me to have Stormy be my sixth degree of separation connection to Trump. When I interviewed Stormy in 2006, a strong, sexy and charismatic business woman, I was thankful for the angels watching over me that kept the nature of my connection professional. Whereas, Trump supposedly had sexual relations with Stormy that she described in salacious detail in an IN TOUCH article, effectively making the Trump presidency NC-17 rated.

A fitting end to a tumultuous year one for a man in far over his head morally and intellectually as our shameless president. One has to wonder: How far can the Christian right bend before breaking away from Trump or breaking itself?

To think only one year ago I was in DC with my love and partner Elizabeth England for the inauguration, fearing the worst but hoping for the best for Trump’s presidency. Unfortunately, the worst has happened. Now we set the intention in our meditations for all the darkness coming forth to be converted to light to usher in a golden era of ethics and good conscience in American politics. And the sooner the better.