Meditations on Mortality & Inventor Patrick Flanagan’s Immortality Chamber

I’ll lead off this blog with a message from my ET spirit guide:

“Every living being in the universe experiences immortality in the 5D quantum field.” Love, Ohom

Ohom as a blue angel
My best rendering of Ohom in his human angelic form

Ohom’s coolest ever message came to me in the aftermath of a March 9, 2018 heart scare. Since I’ve been blessed by near perfect health my whole life this came totally out of left field.

But a prefect storm of stress, combined with a 60 day 25 pound weight gain, brought on by entertaining a food-loving future 23-year-old son-in-law for three months, had raised my blood pressure to twice normal levels.

Thanks to my awareness that something was very wrong, my love drove me to the ER where they took one look at me and rushed me to an ICU for treatment. It was a close call this heart failure did not escalate to a heart attack or stroke. I feel deeply blessed to still be here blogging to you.

BTW, I taught my 88 year-old mom what the word blog means the other day. “Blog? What a weird word!”she complained.

29136357_10155626788907029_3418241463023042560_oOn March 11th I told the hospital doctors, determined to scare me into better self-care, that they’d find my heart was in decent shape when they examined me. I knew this not just because am I blessed with being pretty psychic, but because I had just hiked the Grand Canyon 6 months earlier with zero heart trouble.

The angiogram, which I had to wait two and a half days to have done, determined my heart, as I predicted, was not permanently damaged by my freak spike in blood pressure. (BP health tip. Avoid using baking soda for heartburn. Too high in sodium!) As well, my arteries checked out unclogged and my heart valves were working great. That happy Monday after my angiogram I was the “good news patient” in the ICU. The outright joy of the nurses and doctors over my groovy angiogram still warms my healing heart.

But it was not all roses for my heart reports. An echogram revealed that the part of my heart that pumps the blood, called the ventricles, was enlarged and my normally dependable heart operating at only half normal pumping power. No wonder I had become weak as kitten, short of breath went into heart failure.

Nine weeks into my heart recovery program at this posting, I am on a lot of expensive meds to rebuild my heart. One prescription, Entresto, costs $2500 for 60 tablets. That’s $41.60 a freaking pill!  Thank god for my Medicare which just began last fall.

Good news, as I make this post, I have graduated from 6 weeks of cardio training, gone on a diet and joined a gym.  I’m well on way to fulfilling my heart doctor’s rare prediction of 100% recovery. Heck, I’m going for 200% recovery. No rules against that!

Indeed, the heart pros have called my recovery “remarkable”.  So far so good.  Echogram again in June and then I’ll confirm if my heart is back to full pumping power.  I feel it is a month ahead of schedule. Fingers crossed.

I have some theories on why my recovery has been so strong, besides the incredible outpouring of love, prayer and good intentions from family, friends and fans, that I want to share with you.

Ohom’s message on the nature of what immortality actually is all about, 5D -wise, came to me a little before my heart scare, but without my getting it at first. When I get massive visions like the one of ET healing the earth in 2010, which ended me up meditating to help heal humanity on 12.12.12 in Antarctica, it can take me years to figure epic visions out.

Ironically, it was the four days on my back in the Verde Valley Hospital that gave me the unexpected free time to understand an ET vision I’d had early this year.  And I am just now finding the time to blog about it!

Looking back on my own multi-dimensional ET self as I lay in the air-pressurized as hell ICU bed, hooked up to IVs and monitors, was that what I had seen a few months earlier in the ET vision Ohom sent me is reality is  in fact is a 5D Fibonacci sfield of trillions of universes. Think of sunflower face, but as sphere, where each seed is one of an infinite number of realities.

On this timeline, on which I am happily still writing to you, and on most other timelines, there exists an infinite range of my realities; from my being dead or good as a dead, as a stroked out man in a wheelchair, to my life as a space traveling ever-youthful immortal running marathons on other worlds that humanity is colonizing in other galaxies. And all these infinite realities are ruled by one master soul that we call God.

HOW MY HEART FAILURE HELPED ME UNDERSTAND DR. FLANAGAN’S IMMORTALITY CHAMBER

Looking deeper down the quantum rabbit hole of my heart scare, I see this 5D quantum immortality I have had its origins in a 2013 2D filming super scientist Patrick Flanagan, founder of PhiSciences.com.

One hot summer 2013 day, I was editing in the sweltering closet that was my makeshift edit suite off a humble attic room, tucked above a dusty little B&B we rented for my visit from LA to film super scientist Dr. Flanagan, when my cell rang.  It was Pat on the line.  Excited he said, “Hi, Ken. Want to be immortal?”

Without hesitation I shouted, “Of course!” As I raced my rental car to Pat’s Cornville estate, which doubled then as his home lab, I felt blessed to have to this amazing genius in my life.

A gentle desert breeze blew through the screen of open front door of the great inventor’s white adobe home, perched above the Verde River with a commanding view. Pat spotted me at the entrance and called me out onto the patio. I passed through the spacious living room filled with scared objects that he and his wife Stephanie have gathered from around the world, mixed with Pat’s half finished experiments that occupied every horizontal surface.

Arriving on the deck overlooking the Verde Valley and Mingus Mountains I gasped at the sight of the world renowned scientist’s prototype made of plywood and 2X4’s you see in this video. Seeing a new invention is this early stage of development is a rare treat I am honored to have filmed. Enjoy the video before reading on.

After I finished filming I got my turn to bathe in the energies of Pat’s immortality chamber prototype. When I came out Pat said with his famous mischievous smile, “Congratulation, Ken.  You’re immortal now. You will only die if someone chops your head off, like in THE HIGHLANDER.” We all had a good laugh at Pat’s joke.

How cool to finally understand what this modern-day Tesla, Dr. Flanagan, meant. I am grateful for my heart troubles as it’s allowed me to see what Pat meant on 5D form here in 2018.  I also love Patrick’s brilliant and beautiful wife’s message in the video. BTW, she’s an absolute human angel who adores Donald Trump as president. Her high opinion of the Donald, despite my own grave reservations on Trump that often get the better on me, gives me hope there is a deeper value to his presidency than I’ve yet to see.

Stephanie’s line at the end of the Immortality Chamber video, “Isn’t it wild?” sums up a lot of the 5D fibonacci of the immortality vision for me to live with courage and to feel love for all realities. Good and bad are human labels.

Shameless and proud plug, visit the Coolest Meditation Ever (CME) page for Dr. Flanagan’s amazing Sensor v medallion. On the sales page you’ll hear the doctor explain it’s a portable pyramidal abundance field generator. I can tell you in the five years of abundance that I’ve had my Sensor V since he gifted me one is that it is the gift that keeps on giving. It’s flat out worked miracles in my life, including a return to abundant health.

I had to buy one for my love Elizabeth, pictured below. The Sensor V has worked just as great for her too. In fact she is away right now on abundant trip to the Bahamas for yoga intensive training!

18121530_10154606196817029_3408381758253955101_o

 

EPIC ET Angelic Light and Laughter Transmuting Epic Darkness Into the New!

Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.  – Helen Keller

Happy Sunday morning.  Enjoying my home like it’s a log cabin despite the defective HVAC duct I taped off.  Many of my friends are saying “lawyer up” and sue the negligent landlord, because dear readers, I almost passed this week.  A combination of my normally manageable sleep apnea combined with the fiberglass I breathed in, painful to expel from my body, to become a deadly mix that almost sent me to work on the other side.   I became almost impossible to live with as my fear rose, as a few of my dear friends can attest.

Fear for my own life is not what made me so hard to get along with this week.  I have lived a long amazing life at 61.  I don’t really fear death.  Fact is I practically welcome it as the dichotomy of tragedy like the Malaysian airline shot down this week with the positive changes happening in an awakening humanity are maddening.  Rather, I lost faith and feared not being able to do my 50 year mission that began in 2010.  What keeps me fixed to earth right now is my selection by ETs in 2010 as a connector to their wisdom and distinct instruction I must live until the year 2040 to help usher in an age of balance of the dark and light.

The air crash had me in tears this difficult week.  I posted this to Facebook a few days ago:

10552363_10152272410162029_2732960865424008810_nHow small this world is. One of my fellow SoulDrama trainees of client/friend Connie Miller‘s amazing global workshops, where DreamShield was born in a yoga hall in Italy, was traveling to Indonesia when her plane was shot down over the Ukraine and she perished with 295 others.

Hanny was an angel in training, awakening thousands of souls around the world to their full potential. RIP Hanny and all your fellow passengers. What the dark side cannot know is they have made you even more powerful angel in shifting this mixed up world into the light.

Though I never met you, my fellow Soul Dramatist, I will miss you, Hanny Huntjens.

Then this morning this came through loud and clear that all is not as it seems and I posted to Facebook.

I had a powerful vision of Hanny and all the passengers this morning. As the missile hit, and all was flame, I saw Hanny and each passenger transcend their human form. They became a fire of love and light, no fear as they rocketed for the soil of the war-torn Ukraine. As the passengers, crew and plane itself impacted the earth a shock wave of love and light raced outwards. A tidal wave of peaceful loving energy to heal a land taking this world to the brink of nuclear war. Satisfied their sacred mission was accomplished, all board willed the plane to reassemble into a jet of light and love and they, the new human angels of Malaysia flight MH17, lifted off to their home cities across the globe to comfort the hearts and souls of those they left behind.

About 20 minutes later, in that light sleep stage where the Orion ETs like to reach me before my busy day begins, I was shown the balancing act of my life mission in my existence in an amazingly fast life review.  Darkness, even something as dark as Hanny and her fellow passengers and the crew who died transcended the darkness with their light.  It’s all cosmic fuel for transforming the word, as was 9/11.

My outlook on all tragedy has changed so much.  I bless my bizarre experience with my negligent landlord for showing me it can all be used, like a rope of white light weaving with a roped dark as space.  Yes, we must honor our human feelings of outrage and grief that this energetic still needs to happen in this world.  But is getting easier for me to accept the pain for its higher end and move on.  Come the end of my lease on Halloween, how appropriate, assuming my health has returned that what I will do and bless my bad landlord for his lessons.  Perhaps a good PI attorney can transmute it in a financial blessing.  So even if I do “sue the bastard” as the saying goes, it will not be done from anger but love and laughter.

So there I am ready to start my day when I release the rage over a tough week and weave it, the rope of light and dark and I see the rope gather into ball of grey energy and from one end a shaft of bright light heads into space, and another dives for the new central core of the planet the ETs, teleported in this busy spirit week to help shift humanity faster, and I see the rope of darkness drop and anchor into the new core.  The rope of dark and shaft of light based in Sedona join the 24 twins we constructed in Antarctica.  Now I see all the Antarctica meditations are designed to shift humanity’s darkness to light.  Like “Greed to Sharing”, coolest ever meditation number 12.

That’s when the angels started laughing at and with me in my bed.  An ET angelic chorus of laughter that it took me 61 years to figure this out.  I was not embarrassed at my clueless self, as 61 years is the blink an eye to the universe.  Heck no! I laughed right along with the ET angels and began my Sunday feeling like a new man!

“Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.” – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

 

SIMON MCGREIDIE

By Ken Sheetz

Some say he was needy.
Yet Simon McGreidie
Was something far worse.
Oh, the things he’d curse.
Blackness flew from his lips
When not in the chips
Words far worse than foul.
Expressed by a deepening scowl
He wore night and day
When not winning hay.

Young Simone McGredie
Far worse than needy
Has a lovely wife
Two kids, a happy life.
Having it all is not enough.
So he acts mean, acts tough.
He is best in the world
With emotions swirled.
Driven to endless toil.
Until his blood comes to boil.

Don’t be too hard on the lad.
Being number one was all he had.
Taught from age one
To be a faithful son
In the ways of winning.
From the beginning.
A sleeping warrior of hardened steel.
On the altar of commerce did he kneel.

While still in the womb.
McGreidie was already in his tomb.
A slave to the system.
A most willing victim.

Simone McGreidie
Worse than needy
Toils in the Matrix sound asleep
Endless dead work for to keep.

My Next House

“Every great architect is – necessarily – a great poet. He must be a great original interpreter of his time, his day, his age.” – Frank Lloyd Wright

By Ken Sheetz

Snapz Pro XScreenSnapz008One day I’d like to take a very basic tract home in a humdrum suburb and transform it into a wild place where the laws of space and time vanish the moment you cross the front door’s threshold.

Perhaps the bedroom is in Japan, complete with a view of the Tokyo harbor, while the living room is nestled at the white-hot heart of a red dwarf star.

The garage is Africa, complete with a pride lions and a herd of performing circus elephants, who’ve been released into the wild, but they still like to put on a great show for we silly home owners.

The bath is the entire Pacific ocean, underwater, where a band of Lumarians perform nightly with mermaids to an audience of millions of dolphins who squeak their applause.

The kitchen is Teotihuacan of old when city was a living space port.  I’d give guided tours of the galaxy for only just a hug.

Green goats live in the “kids” room, where chanting Buddhist monks milk the goats as they chant, “Ommm-g this milk is very god.” No typo.

The attic is a bat cave where I hang with the dark knight as my Superman self. Each night Bat’s and I go on missions to kick evil’s ass in the humble suburban neighborhood, lost deep in the Matrix.

The flat screen TV is a portal for time and dimension traveling.

Namaste.
http://dreamshield.org

A Talk With 1991 Me

By Ken Sheetz

The bad news is time flies. The good news is you’re the pilot. ~Michael Althsuler

A talk with 1991 meIt’s 2014 as I meditate in my new Sedona home to be in contact with my 1991 self.  I see myself at age 39 working late in my 303 West Madison offices in downtown Chicago on the 19th floor.  All the staff has gone home.  I’m working harder and longer than everyone as usual.

It’s January 4, 1991.  Snow drfits past the big dual pane office windows.

I glance from the windows at an invite on my desk.  I’ve been invited to a late New Year’s Eve office party that a competitor property is throwing in the east Loop.  I’m debating on going.  Parties are not my thing in 1991 or today.  My brain hurts at parties.  I am a one on one person.

I can see 1991 me gazing nervously across the street at the under construction skyscraper I am the managing partner for, One North Franklin.  I am tense as hell because the curtain wall, the very skin of the building is badly behind schedule.  I am in danger of losing $ 8 million in guarantees if the building is late in delivery.  So 1991 me paces the office like a caged beast.

Back in 2014 I am thrilled to discover this time machine compartment of my brain.  One that’s always been there waiting for me to open the hatch and fire it up.  I easily read my 1991 mind:

“Damnit.  I wonder if the GC (general contractor) is still working?  Should I try to chew his ass out now for screwing up my building or wait to Monday?” says my angry 1991 self.

I’ve always had conversations in my mind with myself like this over important matters.  — Way before my spirit awakening in 2010 where I met ET spirits that looked like angels in Italy that put me on missions to help the planet through meditation, missions that have taken me as far as Antarctica. — So this seems like a perfect time to answer myself.  And the way this works, dear reader, is it’s done in real-time as I type, so pardon my typos.

“It won’t matter.  Nothing you do is going to save this project.  Go home to your wife and kids,” I say to my 1991 me.

1991 Ken stops cold in his pace of panic, “Where did that voice come from?”  1991 me hurries to door and looks up the empty hallway.

“I’m in your head,” I say to 1991 me.

“Gloria said I was working too hard and would go nuts.”

“Your wife is right about the working too hard part.  But you are not going nuts,” I say finishing a plate of hash.
A phone call from a client breaks my connection to 1991 Ken.  An hour later I find in his emerald-green Jaguar driving home to Lake Forest.

“I’m back.” I say in 1991 Ken’s mind almost making him swerve the car off the freeway.

“Who are you and how are you inside my head?” demands 1991 me.

“Who do I sound like?” I say.

“Dad?” 1991 me worries.

“Way off.  I’m you, Ken Sheetz 23 years in the future.” I offer gently trying not to sound like the father we both hate for playing mind games with us as a kid.

“You’re me, time traveling from the future like Dr. Who in my head?  Ha.  Prove you’re me.  Tell me something about me no one else could possibly know, ” says Ken of 1991 turning down the Jag’s radio playing the Rolling Stones.  ’91 Ken’s free to talk out loud in the privacy of his traveling the express lanes of the Kennedy.

I don’t need to think long and I offer sadly, “You and your wife had a terrible fight on your honeymoon night when she didn’t want sex.”

“Jesus, you are me.  Or maybe just me going nuts.  My own voiced aged up in my head,” says ’91 me.

“I can prove I’m real with telling you what will happen tomorrow.  Give me a sec to Google January 5, 1991 news.” I say.

“What’s Google?” says ’91 Ken.

“A company that will become to source of all factual knowledge on earth by 2014.   I am using it to research… ah, here’s something cool that’s going to happen tomorrow January 5, 1991 that you can use to tell yourself this is all very real, me contacting you telepathically from the future.  Redskins 20 – Eagles 6.  Redskins win’s final scoring drive is a field goal in the third quarter.  And in case you need more proof Randall Cunningham will pass for exactly 205 yards in the game.  Impossible to guess that stat.”

“Well, so a future stock on an oracle called Google and the score of a playoff game.  Hope this is real,” ’91 me says.

“It is real as that Jaguar you won’t be driving much longer, ” I say sadly.

“What?  Am I going to get into a car accident tonight?” shouts ’91 me, eyes darting at the busy Chicago traffic ahead.

“Worse.  You heading for the meltdown of your entire financial life.  You’ll be returning the Jaguar to the dealer on foot in a year,” says 2014 me sitting at my desk in Sedona feeling like shit and wondering what use it is warning my past self about all this.

“How does this all unravel so fast?”

“A wave of commercial loan failures has the banks taking properties back.  By 1994 almost every building in the Loop will have gone back to the lenders.  Your building, our building, One North Franklin, we be the pioneer, the poster child, in the banks seizing commercial properties and driving rents into sub 1970 levels.  No loan will be sustainable.  But since you are the first Barclays Bank is going to annihilate you for their losing $80 million on the project.  You’ll be hung out to dry as an example to…”  I am interrupted in 2014 by client Nick Edwards who loves calling me on weekends, holidays and evenings.  In other words on my time off.  Poor 1991 me has to wait 15 minutes for to get back to Ken ’91.

“Sorry, I have a job in social media here in the future.  My hours are nuts, ” I say.

“What the hell is social media?” 1991 me says.

“The future.  Starts after a dot-com bust of 2000.  Only invest in Amazon.com and get some Apple stock. ”

Me in 1991 has progressed to the Edens expressway on the commute home to my million dollar home in the affluent suburb of Lake Forest.   A home I will lose in the crash of ’91.

“Why am I’m not working in real estate anymore in 2014?” 1991 says, half glad I am back and half not.

“By 1992 you’re poor as a kid out of college, but brokerage keeps you afloat.  By 1995 you start becoming a filmmaker and leave for a life in Hollywood in 2002.  You never look back.  You’re happy being an artist even though the money sucks,” I say.

“Gloria would never let that happen, ” says Ken 1991.

“She dumps you in 1992 when you fall off the money wagon, with a lot of help from how depressed and angry you are about losing your ass from the skyscraper repo.  So you’re free to be the artist you went to college to be,”  I say trying to make it all sound wonderful.  But I can read the rising fear and panic in my 1991 self, a self that’s still riding high and worth about $12 million at the time.

“This is more than I can handle.  I hope it’s my overactive imagination and the Redskins lose tomorrow, ” 1991 me says sadly.

“Seriously, it’s all going to be for the best.  You are a great person.  You don’t need the Jaguar, the million dollar mansion, the skyscraper, it’s all a trap.  You are about to be set free, ” I say brightly in Ken 1991’s sad mind that seems to be filling with quicksand that’s making it hard for me to stay connected to him.

“Bullshit.  You’re not telling me all the truth, ” says 1991 me.  I forgot how tough and vicious I could be in 1991.  I was Chicago’s most ruthless real estate broker.  Number one according to the Chicago Sun Times in 1987 and soon to be 1991 developer of the year for building Oprah Winfrey’s Harpo studios while building One North Franklin.  No wonder I had no time for my wife and kids.  Yeah, I’ve forgotten how super tough I had to be to get to the top of Chicago’s real estate world.  And I was driven by showing my asshole of a drill sergeant father I was better than him.

“It won’t be easy for you.  Gloria has all the assets in her name to protect everything from the banksters, what we call the obviously fucked up hucksters of finance in 2014.  In 1992 Gloria preemptively files for divorce while you separate.  She hires the toughest divorce lawyer in Chicago.  A ruthless SOB who takes every last dime you have left after the skyscraper goes back to the lender.  Worst part of all this is that her preemptive move breaks your heart.  You’ve, um, we were sweethearts since college.  You don’t see the divorce coming even though you are a ego tripping dick and hard as hell to live with.  You end up broke as hell most of the rest of your life after the skyscraper fails, and the divorce hamstrings you, until 2009 when you start a company called BuzzBroz and get back on your feet,” I quickly tell my 1991 self.

“I won’t let any of this shit happen.” says 1991 me bitterly as he pounds the steering wheel.  He outweighs 2014 me by 20 pounds and he’s strong as a bull.  I’d forgotten how strong I was.  Once in a fit of rage I broken a wooden chair in toothpicks with my bare hands..

“You can’t change history,” I say grimly, the voice of my own doom.

“I’ve almost read every science fiction ever written.  Using what you’ve told me I simply need to take steps to do things different from you did and presto, new future, ” 91 me says.

“That would mean I wouldn’t do my film career.  Wouldn’t become spiritually in 2010 awake filming a SoulDrama workshop in Italy where I saw ET angels that gave me these powers and so I would never be able to telepathically connect to you to share what I just shared.  Paradox,” I say.

“So why tell me all this shit?” 91 me shouts.  I had a loud mouthed temper back then.  Some people think I still do.  But I am as gentle as a mouse in 2014 compared to 1991.  I am bully at home with my loud voice.  My kids trembled in fear of me though I never hit them.  My voice was force of nature. No wonder Gloria divorced 1991 me.

“What if when I change the past a new future splits off?  No paradox then.  You simply become one version of my 2014 possible selves in that scenario,” 1991 me says in excitement, voice tinged with the grace of genius.

“That’s actually quite possible!  It’s a 21st century quantum physics theory called multi-verses.   Maybe that’s why I called you.  To give one of my futures that chance to beat fate,” I say in wonder.

As my savvy 1991 self pulls onto the snowy street of my Lake Forest mansion I quickly add, “Gloria’s a good woman who listens to her mother too much.  She’ll stand with you if you’re kinder and gentler with her.  No other person you ever date or love is going to click with you like Gloria does.  Get out of the skyscraper deal before the spring.  Take whatever you can get because or you end up with less than nothing.  Get a job in corporate films.  Filmmaking in Hollywood is a closed system.  You waste ten years of your life out there before waking up spiritually in Italy with the DreamShield and eventually living in Sedona.  Staying married might save the relationship with your/my kids, who become seriously fucked up by the divorce.  One almost kills themselves as a teen and both never speak to you in 2014,” I say as 1991 me pulls into the driveway.

1991 me is crying now and says, “For the kids sake most of all, thanks for all the info, future me.  It rings true.  So I’m putting big money on the Redskins to win 20-6 tomorrow.  You better be right or I swear I’ll hire a scientist to invent a time machine , find you in 2014 and beat your ass.”

We each have a tearful laugh.  My 1991 sense of humor shows the heart is still there and he adds, “With the Redskins winnings I’ll start a small corporate film biz, always wanted to make movies.  Our psychic mom always said advertising was what I should be doing.  I’ll dump my partnership in the skyscraper to Smeltzer (not real name the guy might sue 2014 me he’s such a dick) who’s always wanted to be top dog.”

“Whoa.  Be sure you get that deal in bank first.  Don’t give up control to Smeltzer until you do.  In my timeline Zeller cannot complete the deal to me for getting out as I started too late in the fall on 1991 but Smeltzer takes over anyways without giving me a penny.  Understandable.  Smeltzer’s clever.  So he won’t be hurt, except for his pride, when the market falls.  No bad karma in unloading to Smeltzer.  Smart, you 1991 Ken.  But don’t be greedy take whatever Smelter offers you.  But cash in that bank is king, Kenny boy.  Get it from the jerk, or someone else in the partnership, and good luck.  Speaking of good luck, call your corporate film biz BuzzBroz.  That’s what I call mine in 2009.”

BuzzBroz, I like this name. Of course I would.  I think of it!  Any more stock tips or football tips for me about the future?” laughs Ken, chomping at the bit at change the future.

“You already know enough to be a billionaire ten times over.  Enough fucking greed!” I say surprised at my anger with my 1991 self.  “Greed is killing this world in 2014.  Instead use the wealth of your knowledge of the future to help find ways to stop a thing called chemtrails from happening, work on a ending poverty.  Be your childhood super hero.  BE Superman! — And I do have some better tips for you than stocks.  Get some fucking therapy for all the shit we went through as kids with mom and dad.  Especially our drill Sargent dad.  I didn’t do therapy until after the divorce when I almost killed myself from a suicidal depression.”  I say.

“Christ, I hope I can save my family or this gets grim.” 1991 says.

“Yes. Grim than I will share today, but you get through it because you are made of indestructible stuff.  Your wife and kids may not be as lucky.  One of them almost killed themselves after you got ejected from Lake Forest.  So you need that therapy help to save the marriage, to save your/our family.  Your/our father really fucked us up BIG TIME.  No shame in that.  You can be fixed with therapy!  An anger guru named Mitch Messer can clear up your anger issues in less than a year.  Make you a master of you old childhood rage.  Love yourself enough to do that for you and failing loving yourself do it for Gloria and the kids.”

“Ok, Ok, I’ll do it.  Mitch Messer.  OK.  Anger management.  I’ll do it.  Sheesh.  Guess I’m a nag by 2014,” kids 1991 me.

“Fuck you, I mean fuck me.  — And change your priorities.  Put the kids numero uno.  They need you more than you can ever know.  You are worthy of their love and Gloria’s.  Stop thinking your wife and kids are stupid to love a jerk like you.  Family first, that includes our brothers and mom.  See less of your father looking for something that ain’t there.  He’s hopeless.  Never matures to the day he dies.  He was born for one thing.  To fuck us up. —  Learn to meditate.  Live from the heart and only take on clients with heart.  Our world is dying of a lot things in 2014.  Work supporting clients looking to support a better world.  Look up a scientist named Patrick Flanagan at a company called PhiSciences and tell him Ken Sheetz of 2014 sent you.  He will believe you.  He amazing and part of my being able to reach you is from a thing he invented called the Neurophone that boosts IQ.  Not a plug.  Get one.  It will make all this easier for you.”

1991 me pulls into the driveway of my heavenly million dollar home I/we designed personally.  Ken ’91 opens the door to the huge kitchen, wondering if it’s too late to save his family life.  Gloria and our two kids, Jon and Janelle, ages 12 and 9, run to the door to greet 1991 me with hugs and kisses.  And in that very instant Ken 1991 and Ken 2014 both know that it’s  not too late.

I am in tears as I close the blog.  This really happened(s).  This is not fiction.  I save(d) a family.  My own.

And I did in time to take my daily meditation hike in Sedona.  Peace!

TURKOS AND THE MERMAID’S QUEST – A True Past-Life Story

At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.  – Plato

By Ken Sheetz

The world ends at midnight today, July 25, 2013.  At least according the Mayans per expert Stephanie Sutton, wife of scientist Patrick Flanagan who I am filming here in Sedona for THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS.

This makes today a once in a many lifetimes day to wax nostalgic and share past lives this past 5,125 years. Which was your favorite past life?  Please post your favorite past life below!

Ah.  I am happy just thinking back over so many amazing past lives I connect to in meditation.

FirefoxScreenSnapz022One as Samuel Warner where I founded Warner Broz. (typo intentional) and saw the birth of Hollywood.  A life cut short when I died at 40 of a sinus infection.  I battle sinus infections in this life too, one almost took my life 5 years ago.  My bum nose is my kryptonite.

FirefoxScreenSnapz015I’ve had an incredible life as a Native America shaman named Laughing Skies. I lived here on the Sedona area in the 1800s .  My people were all slain by the white man as I did a vision quest gathering dreams on my dream shield.

I’ve learned just this week, as the old world winds down, that dream shields unlike dream catchers were not used to block dreams but used by shamans, like I was, as projection screens to share visions with the tribe.

I truly had no idea how aptly I named the Big Bang of my visions in Italy of ET building a dream shield about the earth for our aid in evolution.  And so I could not resist Facebooking my producer friend Barnet Bain, who made the amazing WHAT DREAMS MAY COME, starring Robin Williams.

You see, when I first began DreamShield in 2010, I talked to Barnet about it as I thought I might be losing my marbles.  Barnet encouraged me to share my visions, but he passed on getting aboard with DreamShield.org as he did not like the name.  Barnet said DreamShield seemed fearful, this warding off of dreams.  As good pals in film, he on the silver screen with epic films and me modestly on PBS and YouTube with much smaller budgets, we both get a chuckle that a dream shield is actually for sharing dreams in groups and a precursor to our modern-day dream shield of sharing dreams with crowds on the movie screens of all shapes and sizes from the movie theaters to cell phones.  All of them dream shield’s of we modern-day film shamans.

Laughing Skies spirit visits me often as a guide to me in this life on how to heal the white man to be more like the Native Americans, more at one with the mother earth and father sky.  A shocking fact considering the white man killed all his people and family.  I vividly remember when I was Laughing Skies tossing all my dead tribe, wife, son, daughter and mother, on a funeral pyre and then diving into the flames to join them.

But of all the past lives I have so far gotten in touch with, my favorite is when I was the warrior-mayor of ancient Athens.  Time travel with me to ancient Greece when Athens flourished as the flower of mankind.

TURKOS AND THE MERMAID’S QUEST – A True Past-Life Story

FirefoxScreenSnapz020One, cool for August, summer day I ride from Athens for the beach atop my horse Pegasus, named for the steed of Greek legend.  My real-life Pegasus, white also but without wings, and I have won many battles together.  We ride as warrior brothers.

I tether Pegasus to a cypress tree and make my way down to the port of Piraeus to inspect new fortifications.

Afterwards I stroll the white beach, loyal Pegasus, following behind at a respectful distance as I ponder matters of state.  Rain threatens.  The sea air is fresh.  A seagull cries out overhead and I say to Pegasus, whose ears perk with understanding, “I thank Zeus for all this beauty!  We are blessed, Pegasus!”

As the youngest general ever of Greece, who saved the city of Athens from raiders, my skills with sword and shied are second to none.  I am named warrior-mayor before the age of thirty.  I am a fierce berserk er style warrior, who will never taste defeat in combat or contest.

I love the beach to keep my fighting skills sharp and go through sword lunges that have ended the lives of many an enemy of Athens.

FirefoxScreenSnapz021A dazzling Oriental mermaid leaps from the sea and perches herself on an outcropping of rocks.  Pegasus rears and whinnies in terror.  I laugh grabbing his reins, “Ha!  Brave Pegasus who has ridden into Hades with me, you fear mermaids!”

The mermaid laughs as I finally calm Pegasus, “Hail, great warrior-mayor Turkos!  I Hato, Mermaid Queen of the East, swam far to seek you out.”

I bow and say, “And for what purpose do you seek of me, fair Mermaid Queen of the East?

“You are called by the god Poseidon to a quest, great Turkos.”

“A quest.  What does the mighty Poseidon ask of me?” I say.

“Your excellence with sword and shield.  Great Poseidon asks you slay an evil dragon plaguing the coastal cities of the Orient!”

My answer comes swift and sure. “I am honored by Poseidon’s request to aid you in your hour of need, beautiful mermaid queen,” I say offering a sword salute from my to my heart to Hato’s and add, “However, my wife Penelope, my three young children and Athens would be left defenseless against the dragons of the north.  So I must refuse.

“You dare decline Poseidon, a wrathful god?” says Hato in shock, her tail flapping nervously on the rocks.

“Yes, Mermaid Queen.  I respectfully decline and ask Poseidon seek another to slay the evil dragon attacking the Orient.  My quest is here in Athens, protecting those I love.”

Hato ponders for a long time, shocked at my refusal to come to her aid.  Obviously, this is the first time anyone has ever said no to the gorgeous siren.

Whinnies from Pegasus break the hypnosis of the waves and Hato says, “I offer you my protection against Poseidon’s wrath.  For he is sure to be sorely vexed with you.”

I am touched Hato is more worried for me than disappointed at my decline to the quest.  I bow to her and say, “Thank you, Hato, queen of the mermaids.  I am sure your beauty will protect us all in Athens from Poseidon’s rage at my selfishness.”

‘”Selfishness?  No, fair warrior!  Sweet Athens and your family are blessed by your love and talents.  I honor your decision made from a pure heart of love,” says Hato.  She bows graciously with a loving smile that pierces my soul.  Hato dives back into the azure Mediterranean waters.

I live out my long life as Turkos the warrior-mayor of Athens with honor and love.  I never regret declining Hato the merimaid queen’s call to action as I will save many citizens and loved ones before hanging up my sword and shield. But I always felt bad I could not be in two places at once and help Hato the mermaid queen.

One day, as a very old man in his 80s, my battles far behind me, most of my family gone of old age, I sit in mediation on the beach. Hato leaps from the sea onto the very same rock some 50 years earlier.  Though I am old and gray, Hato is as young and dazzling as ever.

“Hato! Thank you for all your protection from Poseidan’s wrath all these years!”

“Hail, Turkos.  Your life has been long and honorable,” says Hato.

“What brings you back to my shores?  My Pegasus is gone and I am old, certainly not another quest?” I exclaim.

“You are passing to the next world soon, great Turkos.  I want to free you of doubt in your choice as a young man.” says Hato as she transforms her fins into legs and walks to me and sits down at my side in the white sand.

“Ah, yes.  Seldom has a day passed with my wondering if you found a replacement to slay the dragon.”

Hato places her hand on my forehead.  Her touch is as cool as the sea. “You made the right decision.  I found another warrior to slay the dragon plaguing my seas. The world is filled with warriors.”

“I am so glad you and your people were saved, Hato,” I say, tears of gratitude welling.

“Be at peace, Tukos, and listen.  For though I found a warrior to take your place with sword and shield, I’ve never found a man who loved his own kind so deeply as to risk the wrath of a god.”

My eyes close and I pass happily into death to the gentle sound of the ocean waves and the cool feel of Hato the mermaid queen’s hand on my fevered brow.

TEACHER’S PET OF THE DAMANHUR 

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Shama Viola of Damanhur Italy with our past life clay work. That’s me as Maya in the foreground

When I share some of this story with the amazing Shama Viola, much of it has come to me more fully in meditations over the past year, the light worker from Damanhur of Italy smiles at first.

I am with a group of seven other students, in Shama’s past life workshop.  We are in a teepee at Great Spirits ranch in Malibu.  It’s summer 2012 and the fan is not keeping the teepee cool.  I am covered in a sheen of sweat when my turn comes to tell the class the past life of Turkos.

I am always teacher’s pet as a bright, if rambunctious student, and I await Shama’s praise of me as the ace past life traveler right out of the box.

Shama instead scolds me,”No, Ken! No!  Turkos is a wonderful past life, Ken, but not the past life our Damanhur oracles in our underground temples have chosen for you to study today!”

“But it’s a great life.  I was so happy!” I say in shock at Shama’s scolding.

“Look deeper. You have led thousands of lives. Tune to the life we have chosen for you to study,” says Shama.

Shama moves onto all the other students and I am the only one who has not tuned into the right past life!

Besides feeling like class dunce instead of my usual ace role, I am frustrated beyond measure and think, ” I want to know more of Turkos and his amazing life.  Now I have to find another life?  Why?  Turkos is the first past life I ever know about.  Ha! And Shama is displeased as though I can just can dial-up another past live like an Iphone?  The nerve of these Damanhurs! ”

My ego is deeply inflamed and I remain stuck on the Turkos life the entire first day of the Damanhur workshop.  I fall behind all the other students, some of whom have come from as far away as the east coast.  Finally, on day two, breaking a sweat in meditation I find the past life Shama wants me to study.

I am shocked I was a woman.  My name was Maya, a powerful female shaman who lived in the rain forests of Brazil on the banks of a great river.  After a lifetime of healing thousands, Maya transforms into an eagle feather as she passes from this world.  Now Shama is happy and I quickly catch up to the other students as Maya’s life pours into me.

It’s a profound experience I highly recommend.  Shama’s Damanhur Past life workshop travels about the world and is not to be missed.

But I still shudder thinking of the dress Shama made me wear in role-playing as Maya!  220 pound me, 6′ tall me and a 6’4″ tall buddy named Marvin, whose past life was a slave girl from Egypt.  Not a pretty sight we two men in drag on a spirit dude ranch in Malibu.

Wonderful as Shama and the Damanhur are in getting me in touch with Maya and the healing powers Maya passed onto me for ongoing work dor freeing people from the Matrix via my social mind over media work at BuzzBroz.com, I still wish we had been able to also work on my life as the mayor of Greece.  A man who knew how to love so well.  A skill I struggle with in this life, as I am great at giving love, but feeble at receiving love.

Stay tuned to the blog as I travel in the fall the Italy and visit the eco-city of Damanhur itself in search of the answers.  My next life the Damanhur want me to study is that of a 19th century Russian physicist.  Fortunately, you get clues of who you were after your first class.  So Turkos I know is not my next life.  My five most important past lives to this one have all been determined.  I hope one of them is the brave lover Turkos.

THE NEW GOLDEN AGE DAWN JULY 26th 2013.  TOMORROW!

It’s also my hope and dream that tomorrow, the first official day of new Golden Age, that I, and the many like me who cannot accept love easily, will be able to fully open our hearts like Turkos.  I am filled with excitement and hope here in the red rocks of Sedona toiling with Patrick Flanagan of PhiSciences, a master of past life study, to bring you videos that will change the world.

Enjoy this video I made of Patrick sharing his life as Nikola Tesla.  This remarkable story that will be the opening of the movie I am writing about Patrick’s amazing life.

How 12.12.12 Almost Did Not Happen – Part One

no fear no doubts

If you want to conquer fear, do not sit home and think about it. Go out and get busy.Dale Carnegie

By Ken Sheetz

There were at least 10 times on this trip when I thought I was stuck on the road to Antarctica.  The ego is a scared little bunny.  It shouted in my head, “You fool.  Depending on crowd funding for such and expensive trip!  You are going to die a homeless man in a foreign country!”

I didn’t get mad at my ego — egos being no more than organic device to keep us safe and alive when it comes down to it — but it got very noisy in Buenos Aires when I barely had taxi money after an unexpected $160 travel visa.  Again ego became deafening with fear soaked worry in another tight spot where I made the best of it working all night on the web in an Argentina pizza parlor not able to afford a hotel.

The trip was so tight I was constantly meditating to overcome ego fears #1, “You’re going to humiliated calling family for help.  You’ll  never live down not reaching Antarctica by 12.12.12 in the LA and Sedona spirit communities.”

But each time my ego mechanisms flared into protective action it was meditation that put me back in touch with my ET angel guides would calmly reassure me, “When the opposing energies, putting up huge psychic resistance to the change 12.12.12 will help bring about, think you beaten… you will triumph.”

After one meditation when I was stressing over a $2,000 hotel bill for two weeks in Buenos Aires when I was expending more than I was taking in.  This time I was given a spirit guide named Hans.  Hans, a Nazi who in life had fled to Argentina after being part of a failed plot to assassinate Hitler, told me to hold my head high and be positive in the face of fear.

You can hear me channel Hans in this video.  This is one of the first times I have shared channeling of a ghost.

After 2 months on the road filled with 15 hour days of crowd funding,I had finally reached the southern most city in the world, Ushuaia Argentina… on a one-way ticket.  I had beaten all the ego fears and raised $5,000, and a little more in value in barter, totaling $12,000 on the very first crowd funding for a meditation.

A meditation scheme that had angered some for it’s bold intent to shift the negative energy of the long predicted Mayan pole shift of to instead foster a cool change in human consciousness.  One irrational guy on FB accused me of trying to start a cult centered around myself.  I laughed it off: “A cult of one?”  This was a solo meditation after all!

For months I had ignored the call and hung out on the cool Malibu ranch I was doing social media for all through 2012.  The distance, the cold, the cost seemed impossible so I kept trying to do the polar meditation work remotely.  But the guides would tell me repeatedly I must physically be near the energy field on 12.12.12 of the South Pole in Antarctica.  Somehow, also the crowd voting with their contributions was part of the energetic and I was not allowed to just call on some of my wealthy pals to fund this trip.

I remained resistant to spirit running my life.  Stubborn to have my ego in control on my life.  Finally, to get me heading south for Antarctica my guides literally pushed me from a comfy lux assignment in Malibu at Great Spirits Ranch with everything from sinus infections, where I literally became allergic to the ranch, to being punched in the face and threatened with guns by a film shoot visiting the ranch.

So I began the research for travel to Antarctica.  To my shock I found nearly 40,000 tourists visit Antarctica each of our winters, which is their summer, December 21st to March 21st, on expedition cruises.  Pricing was a small fortune, about $11,000 a person on average.  So adding air cost and hotels I was looking at a $20,000 needed!  My total savings in September when the call from the spirit guides became deafening was a negative $350 in my over-drafted checking account.

Ignoring the spirits telling me crowd funding was a key factor in this mission I started calling my film backers from Chicago, but I could not get any interest despite having made now three excellent docs.  Why?  Because despite how cool they are they have not even broken even on cost.  A wildly successful of a real estate broker and builder in Chicago, I have been a creative success but not seen any big money success in film.  So investors never materialized.  I could have saved myself pain and trouble listening to spirit.

Finally, I surrendered and followed my guides advice and built the IndieGoGo and listened to spirit that I needed some final lessons and attunement in Sedona.  Within 5 minutes I had a 3 weeks barter of videos for room lined up with SpiritQuest in Sedona, the number one private retreat company in spirit mecca Sedona.  However, SpiritQuest turned out to be so fascinating to film and another project behind on editing left me little time to do Antarctica crowd funding.  And it showed.  We had raised on $250 in two weeks for Antarctica 12.12.12.

One November day Nick Edwards of Power of Pyramids called and asked if I would be wiling to film in Chichen Itza anywhere from 12.21 to 12.24.  Nick asked me to put aside 12.12.12 Antarctica to be sure to make the filming in Mexico but I flatly refused not wanting more sinus and gun trouble from my guides, who obviously do not kid around in keeping me on track.

Now I had enough to buy a one-way ticket from Sedona to Rio but I hesitated.  I’ve never traveled to South America.  Would I need shots?  Visas?  Crazy to travel without money for the hotels and not to all the way to the port of Ushuaia or to have a boat tickets.  My ego told me this was nuts, “You’ll be left stranded in South America and die of a tropical disease!”  Ego is such a pussy it’s funny.  Then a guide, female voice whispered, literally whispered in my ear as I was having breakfast and dilly dallying in Sedona, “Tarry not on the road to Antarctica.”

After weeks of Sedona tune up and healing from the daily cynicism of my Malibu client and a bad experience with former spirit partner who was only interested in free social media, I was ready to listen to my guides (who are even now telling me to keep sharing the mission  though I am back in LA on fumes).  I was ready to listen to spirit not ego.  So I hopped on the internet instantly and bought the one-way tickets to Rio.  I left Sedona with a lovely send off party by angel channel Terra Senorra.

I stopped though Vegas to fly to Rio, taking a Greyhound bus to my mother’s retirement condo a few days before Thanksgiving.  As I was showing mom the video about the trip to Antarctica my second-hand Apple MacBook pro computer went dead.  I checked the plug and it was shoot.  I did not have the $80 for a new one and Mom lent me the cash.  I tried to decline saying I’d have crowd money by the time I reached Rio but Mom insisted.  Mom is psychic and so I listened and my got the new cord with the help of my cantankerous stepfather.

Later, my grumpy stepfather freaked out driving me to the International airport, ready to drop me in the middle of nowhere.  But I calmly guided him to the departure gate as my mother shot him looks of disgust.  I kept waiting for my brother Fred, a steady supporter of my work, to make a little donation for the road but oddly he was not forthcoming.  Geminis!

And so with $40 in my wallet that my mother had smuggled me, I was off to Rio on a one-way ticket with no money yet for the boat ticket to Antarctica.

But I would not end up in Rio.  The angels had other plans for me.  I did not have a visa for Brazil which you need in advance from an embassy as it turns out.  And Copa Airlines was kind enough after hearing my objective was Antarctica to skip me ahead to Buenos Aires where you still need a visa but can buy it at the airport.  That all seemed wonderful.  I’d just go on the wifi at the airport and raised a little crowd money to pay the visa.  But when I got to the airport in Buenos Aires I was stuck in customs where there is no wifi and given only 3 hours to pay the fee or be deported back to LA!

T0 be continued on How 12.12.12. Almost Did Not Happen Part 2!