“The notion that science and spirituality are somehow mutually exclusive does a disservice to both.”– Carl Sagan
By Ken Sheetz
Once upon an alternate universe, a wizard named Zlyph did battle with an evil green dragon who had slain his king and queen while he was on a quest to a far away land.
The master-less wizard fought the green dragon with a magical ice sword to the highest minaret of the castle.
“Why do you persist, wizard? Your king and queen are ash. This castle is now my realm!” bellowed the dragon, blasting a gout of green flame.
“Guilt for being far away when you made your sneak attack compels me, foul one. Vengeance for King Ior and Queen Ilsa!” said the wizard Zylph. But he tripped over a fallen knight’s armor and was knocked out.
The green dragon cackled as he loomed over the unconscious wizard, “Too easy! Farewell, wizard.” The green dragon drew in a deep breath and prepared to incinerate Zylph.
But before the wicked dragon could strike a fairy queen made of ice leaped from the wizard’s sword.
“Dragon, you should be ashamed of yourself!” the ice fairy queen shouted.
The dragon reeled back a few paces and said, “Ashamed of what?”
“Ashamed of a rage and fury that has taken enough lives. Go now in peace and leave this wizard to mourn the loss of his tribe,” said the ice fairy queen.
“I, I’ve met none such as you in the worlds I travel. I sense no fear in you whatsoever. You have extinguished me rage, my flame… But I can still crush you in my jaws!” the green dragon snapped at the ice fairy queen but she simply turned to snow flakes that reformed a few feet away.
“Do not try my patience, dragon. You shall not have the wizard for he is a savior to my people. I guard him forever. Fly for your life now, or face my icy wrath!” said the ice fairy queen.
“I shall depart and leave this old fool to you. My work is done here. But before I take wing there is a price for my leave,” said the dragon.
“Ask and I will consider, dragon.”
“Your name, fairy. What is it so that I may curse your name in my exile from the castle I rightly won in combat?” said the green dragon.
“I am known as Antarcticania, queen of the Orions. But know this, dragon. Curse me and your belly will turn to ice and you will perish in an instant. Be gone. You waste my time. I must tend to the wizard Zylph, savior of my people. Fly!” said Antarcticania setting loose blizzard atop the castle.
The dragon leaped into the winter storm bellowing in rage, “You have not seen the last of me, witch!”
The wizard blinked his eyes as he awoke in the king’s bed. He rubbed the knot on the back of his head, remembering he had been knocked cold in his battle with dragon.
“How in King Ior’s name did I get in the king’s bed?” said the wizard, not expecting and answer and shocked when the ice fairy queen stepped through the door. But she wore an enchantment that made her look like a simple peasant woman, through which her inner fairy beauty shone through like the sun behind a heavy laden snow cloud.
“Please lay back on rest, brave wizard. You’ve had a nasty blow to the head and may be suffering forgetfulness of your amazing defeat of the green dragon,” said the ice fairy, taking no credit for saving the wizard.
“Last thing I remember was tripping over something and conking my thick skull,” said the wizard laying back down from dizziness.
“Perhaps, great one, you have cast a spell over yourself to cause you to battle when your wits are affected,” smiled the ice fairy.
“Where is my ice sword, fair one?” said the wizard.
“You impaled the dragon with the ice sword and he flew off in a rage of hellfire ice sword and all,” said the ice fairy, keeping the secret she and the ice sword were one from the dazed wizard.
“Hmm. I can be scrappy. I guess my instincts took over. But I would never drag myself to the royal chamber to slumber,” grumped the wizard.
“You passed out after defeating the dragon and I carried you here. I meant no disrespect to your king and queen, god rest their souls,” said the ice fairy.
“Who are you? And why are you here when all perished in the castle?” said the wizard, his suspicion growing by the second.
“I am Anna, a simple severing girl of Queen Ilsa’s. I hid deep in the castle’s secret chambers during the dragon attack, ” smiled the ice fairy queen, not revealing her royal standing.
As the ice fairy smiled, the walls of the castle melted before the shocked wizard’s eyes. The wizard transformed into a 20-year-old college student, Kyle Rodger, sitting before computer screen where the green dragon was battling the ice fairy.
“Thanks, Mr. Rodgers, that will be all for today. Don’t want to keep you from your classes,” said a lab tech as she removed electrodes from Kyle’s head.
It’s 2014. I’m meditating in my new home in Sedona, trying to make contact with my 1991 self.
I see myself at age 39, working late in my offices at 303 West Madison in downtown Chicago, on the 19th floor. The staff has gone home. I’m still grinding—working harder and longer than everyone else, as usual.
It’s January 4, 1991. Snow drifts past the big dual-pane office windows.
On my desk is an invitation to a late New Year’s Eve office party a competitor is throwing in the East Loop. I’m debating whether to go. Parties weren’t my thing in 1991—and they aren’t now. My brain hurts at parties. I’m a one-on-one person.
Across the street looms the under-construction skyscraper I’m the managing partner of: One North Franklin. I’m tense as hell. The curtain wall—the skin of the building—is badly behind schedule. If the project is late, I stand to lose $8 million in guarantees.
So 1991 me paces the office like a caged animal.
Back in 2014, I’m 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 can easily read my 1991 mind:
Dammit. Is the GC still working? Should I chew his ass out now for screwing up my building—or wait until Monday?
It’s worth noting: I’d been having conversations like this with myself long before my spiritual awakening in 2010—before Italy, before the ET-angel encounters, before the meditation work that eventually took me to Antarctica. (If you want the wider arc of that journey, it lives over on DreamShieldPlanetaryMeditations.com.)
So answering myself now feels oddly natural.
“It won’t matter,” I say to my 1991 self. “Nothing you do is going to save this project. Go home to your wife and kids.”
1991 Ken stops dead mid-pace.
“Where did that voice come from?”
He hurries to the door and peers into the empty hallway.
“I’m in your head,” I say.
“Gloria said I was working too hard and would go nuts.”
“Your wife is right about the working too hard part,” I reply. “But you’re not going nuts.”
A phone call from a client snaps the connection. An hour later, I’m back—this time riding along in his emerald-green Jaguar as he drives home to Lake Forest.
“I’m back,” I say—nearly causing him to swerve off the Kennedy Expressway.
“Who are you—and how are you inside my head?”
“Who do I sound like?”
“Dad?” he asks, uneasy.
“Way off. I’m you—Ken Sheetz, 23 years in the future.”
He laughs nervously. “Time-traveling from the future? Prove it. Tell me something no one else could possibly know.”
I don’t hesitate.
“You and Gloria had a terrible fight on your honeymoon night when she didn’t want sex.”
He goes quiet.
“Jesus. You are me. Or I’m losing my mind.”
“I can prove it another way. Tomorrow—January 5, 1991—the Redskins beat the Eagles 20–6. The final score comes from a third-quarter field goal. Randall Cunningham throws for exactly 205 yards.”
“What’s Google?” he asks.
“A company that will become the source of almost all human knowledge.”
He shakes his head. “If that game happens exactly like you say, I’ll believe you.”
“It’s as real as that Jaguar you won’t be driving much longer.”
“What—am I going to crash tonight?”
“Worse. You’re heading for a complete financial meltdown. In a year, you’ll be returning that Jaguar on foot.”
The unraveling comes fast. Commercial loan failures. Banks seizing properties. By 1994, nearly every Loop building goes back to lenders. One North Franklin becomes the poster child. Barclays Bank loses $80 million—and makes an example of you.
“You’ll survive,” I tell him. “But not as the man you are now.”
By 1992, I’m broke. By 1995, I’m making films. By 2002, I’m in Hollywood. The money sucks—but I’m happier than I’ve ever been. (That pivot—and everything after it—connects to the broader body of work at OveractiveImaginationPictures.com.)
Gloria leaves when the money disappears. The divorce is brutal. The kids are hurt badly. One nearly doesn’t survive their teenage years.
“This isn’t a warning,” I finally tell him. “It’s a gift.”
I urge therapy. Anger work. Gentleness. Putting family first. Leaving the skyscraper deal early. Taking cash—any cash. Starting a small corporate film company. Naming it BuzzBroz.
I tell him the truth I never wanted to face:
The wealth was a trap.
The rage was inherited.
The collapse was the opening.
He tries to fight it. Of course he does. 1991 Ken is ruthless—Chicago real estate tough. A man built out of pressure, swagger, fear, and a need to prove something to a drill-sergeant father who never offered the kind of love you can actually stand on.
And then 1991 Ken—my 1991 Ken—does something surprising: he gets creative.
“What if I change the past,” he says, “and a new future splits off? No paradox. You’re just one version of my 2014 possible selves.”
“That’s actually quite possible,” I say. “A 21st-century theory called multiverses.”
As he pulls into the driveway of my Lake Forest mansion, I push one last time—faster, like the signal is fading.
“Be kinder to Gloria. Get out of the deal before spring. Take whatever you can get. Cash in the bank is king. Don’t wait for pride to do your accounting.”
“And therapy,” I add. “I mean real therapy. I didn’t do it until after the divorce, when I almost killed myself from suicidal depression.”
“Christ,” he says. “This gets grim.”
“Yes,” I say. “But you’re made of indestructible stuff. The question is whether your wife and kids have to pay the price for your anger.”
There are entire libraries on what trauma does to families—and how anger gets handed down like a cursed heirloom. If you want a grounded, mainstream overview of how therapy helps people rewire emotional patterns, the American Psychological Association’s psychotherapy resources are a solid place to start.
He threatens to bet big on the Redskins. He threatens to invent time travel and beat my ass. We laugh—tearfully—because even at my most intense, the heart was still there.
Then he opens the front door.
Gloria and our two kids—Jon and Janelle, ages 12 and 9—run to greet him with hugs and kisses.
And in that instant, both versions of me know:
It’s not too late.
I end the meditation in tears.
This really happened(s). This is not fiction.
I save(d) a family. My own.
And I still had time for my daily meditation hike in Sedona. If you’re into meditation as a practical tool—not as a personality—some of my calmer work lives at CoolestMeditationEver.com, and my civic sanity project lives at PoliticalCoolDown.com.
“Something unknown to our understanding is visiting this Earth.” —Dr. Mitrovan Zverev (USSR), quoted by Reuters, August 26, 1965.
By Ken Sheetz
This will seem odd coming from a man reporting on being guided by ET angels since 2010. ETs who sent me all the way to Antarctica on 12.12.12 and who are sending me there again on 12.13.14, only one year away. I still believe with all my heart and soul in ETs. But I don’t believe in ET based UFOs. I simply don’t believe after deep meditation and looking at all the facts that our planet has ever been visited by ETs from other worlds in corporeal form using spacecraft.
Science backs me up on my long deliberated belief. Despite years of extensive astro-research the world over, no intelligent life has been found on any worlds within a 100 light year radius of our own. I therefore believe the UFOs we do see are secret experimental craft and visitors for other time periods of our future.
But let’s stay on the ET UFO page. No life on any world ever discovered within a 100 light-year radius. That does not make sense as the math will tell you we should be discovering tens of thousands of earth-like worlds with the ingredients for intelligent life and worlds far older than our own with far more advance civilizations.
The answer is sad and scary one. The reason is the worlds that once carried life are, like Mars, now dead worlds. The flame of thousands of intelligent worlds has burned brightly and gone out before humankind had a chance to interact with them in the flesh. Most of those dead worlds died of their own making when they continued on the path to self-annihilation we are embarked upon currently.
This revelation, recorded no where I can find on the web, was given to me by Ohom, who confirmed my suspicion that he is not alive in the classic sense. Ohom of the Orion star system is from a dead race of intelligent insect evolved life. And his world of Nectar is part of Galactic organization called The League of Ghost Worlds.
The League of Ghost Worlds is dedicated to reaching out to young living worlds, like ours, to save races like ours from early extinction. Ohom’s peaceful ice moon once orbited a gas giant 5 times the size of Jupiter. But Nectar perished when the gas giant imploded into a mini star.
Fortunately, and Ohom explains it’s difficult for we of a 3D mentality to understand, his people the Orions exist outside of time in spirit form. They also still exist in physical form on Nectar in its past. Time, Ohom explains, is an illusion and if a species survives long enough to evolve it can, as Ohom’s race has done, achieve immortality in both form and spirit.
Humanity stands at a fork in the road. To the right is the path to our immortality as an enlightened species. To the left is the path to our early extinction at our own hands.
Ohom and The League of Ghost World ETs are here to help humanity take that right path. They have no need of primitive space craft to travel the galaxy and beyond.
The real journey is within. No alien invasions will ever occur. All we have to worry about is ourselves. And we have amazing help from The League of Ghost Worlds against our most deadly enemy… us.
DreamShield‘s Ken Sheetz is in Sedona filming Dr. Patrick Flanagan, founder of PhiSciences, to whom this meditation is dedicated,for a new documentary after the success of the web series THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS, with over 25 million views on YouTube for BuzzBroz.
“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” – Buddha
By Ken Sheetz
You are more powerful than you know.
Saturday a post on Facebook by Sedona spirit worker Ed Preston alerted me about the California fires. San Fransisco was in danger of evacuation, the great redwoods in danger too. So I did planetary meditations I blogged about yesterday. I just checked the news. WOW. Containment has doubled in the past 24 hours and the news says it looks like the giant redwoods and city are going to be saved after all.
How confident were the ET angels that guide me in meditation today about SF and the redwoods? They had me back on Fukushima duty today. Progress in the Pacific is accelerating as I learn to use the unlimited power of the DreamShield.
It’s a force field we can all access to protect our world. All planets with sentient life have these shields. Gaia was born without one for some reason. But I am blessed to have been part of earth being gifted with a DreamShield by ETs from the Orion star system on May 5, 2010.
We are the stewards of this world. And the dream shield is a tool. It manifests at various speeds and with our real world actions. Meditation sets intent. Fire, floods, earthquakes, comets, pole shift, rogue worlds, all manner of dangers, both within and without are on the way to obsolete.
News report: “Firefighters were aided by movement of the blaze into less forested areas, higher humidity and cooler temperatures…” From Yahoo News.
“Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends”
― Wisdom of Gandalf from J.R.R. Tolkien’s, “The Two Towers”
By Ken Sheetz
I meditate this morning on putting out the raging California fires, some 56 of them. One of which has sent San Fransisco into a state of emergency. I use the giant 300 mile long version of a red magnetic magic wand from my childhood once again. It’s proven a faithful effective visualization tool in my planetary meditations for water healings I’ve been doing all week.
Since I am not done with meditations for cleaning Fukushima radiation in the Pacific yet, a series of 12 meditations the guides say are needed for that mess, I will the wand down from the dream shield, powered by the collective consciousness, which hovers at the edge of space. The dream shield is a tool of awesome positive power that I was blessed to work with ETs of the Orion star system to activate in 2010, precisely for urgent planetary emergencies like this one. The biosphere dream device can handle anything space tosses at us or we toss at ourselves.
I send the water wand plunging into the Atlantic. The wand turns from red to blue as it magnetically draws in seawater. The 300 miles long wand sucks in a great deal of water. Next, I levitate the water-soaked magnetic wand from the Atlantic ocean and begin to transport it to California. Not surprisingly, the wand is heavy and clumsy to levitate, holding many tons of water. With concentration the wand slowly makes its way over the US for the San Fransisco area, where millions are threatened. It is Sunday morning August 25th about 5 AM. A galactic portal day, many are saying on Facebook.
As I slowly carry the fire fighting energy of the Atlantic to California, I think back on my asking my brother Fred to help in this DreamShield powered meditation last night. Fred flatly turns me down, saying he is not ready to join me in planetary meditations, not now, perhaps never. That hurt, but I respect this work is not for everyone. Not even my brother.
Me right with Mom and Fred, circa 1959
Fred and I have a lot healing to do with each other from a childhood where both our parents often pitted us, brother against brother. Fred told me last night once how, when I was senior in high school and he was a freshman, that I passed him in the hallway without saying hi. That hurt him deeply. I don’t recall the instance fully. Most likely, I was just preoccupied. I have mild ADD and I do not do well spotting people in crowds. But Fred’s reaction tells me he is carrying guilt of some kind.
Before I can dig into what that guilt might be, my brother asks if he might visit me in Sedona for a week for my September birthday coming up soon. Well, it was more like Fred me told me at first. Fred can be forceful at times. But Fred saw he was for once and apologized for being pushy. I reassure Fred I am happy he is coming.
Next day, I make plans to house Fred at the resort in his own room. Love my bro, but a week in same room is not my idea of fun. I will be working in advance with angel channel Mica Monet, my beautiful Sedona spirit friend, on healing the complex relationship I have with my brother Fred.
My brother Fred tells me that he wants to come to Sedona because he is awakening to new realms and abilities that began to emerge 2 weeks ago. He asks guidance and support from me, his closest relative aside from his son Joey and our mother. Fred says he also hopes to have a chance to meet my friend and client inventor Patrick Flanagan. I warn Fred I can make no promises about Patrick’s busy schedule.
A simple welder all these many years, by choice, Fred put aside college and a brilliant life as a scientist. Why? To follow in our bipolar father’s footsteps as a tradesman. Nobel hands on work, but the world was cheated of much of Fred’s genius when he dropped out of college. If Patrick is free to meet Fred it will prove an eye opener for my brother to speak with a man who has dedicated his life to inventing holistic remedies and is considered a reincarnation of Nikola Tesla.
Fred was smarter than me in school by far. Too bright for the normal classes that I could barely get by in, Fred took all the advanced classes. Then he turned his back on it all, just to be near dad in the trades. Fred’s reward was to be tormented by our bipolar father on the job. One time my father, as a prank, electrified a large metal container Fred was inside of welding. Fred was nearly electrocuted and never trusted my father again. I distanced myself from my wild father once I grew up, while Fred held him close.
I am happy that Fred is beginning to invent things again, for the first time since we were kids. He is working on a solar steam device and I have been lending him a little financial support, paying back some of the money he loaned me to chase my dream of being a Hollywood director. The least I can do.
For now, however, there is a fury in my brother that radiates from him. You can imagine it’s tough getting back on his true path at the tender age of 59. And, just as with my 2010 awakening, many in the family feel my brother has lost his mind. Why chase inventing versus the solid paychecks of welding as he’s been doing for nearly 40 years, they wonder?
Awakening has been overwhelming for my brother these past few weeks. Fred experiences a wild sense of euphoria mixed with fear and calls me every few hours; compared to our normal once a week hour-long calls. It’s been a strain on me. A part of my recent exhaustion. Fred’s intensely digs deep into things in ways that are hard for my active, less scientific mind to comprehend.
For 3 years the angels have been telling me one of my jobs, as an early awakened soul will be to help the new people waking up. I just never expected that work be this personal. My dear brother, a Gemini with a dualistic nature that has always baffled me. It’s going to be a challenge. But one I am up for here in Sedona with many angels both earthly and otherwise to help me.
On the phone Fred sounds like he’s drinking more than usual. And for a few moments I hear my father’s voice within Fred’s. An other worldly mix of anger and hope at war. A voice I don’t like hearing as my father beat me daily. Dad even broke my arm once by tossing me into a wall when I lashed back at his abuse with a punch to his jaw. I was nine.
On my 12th birthday my father nearly killed me with a belt beating. The crime did not fit my father’s belt lashing. I had hit my baby brother for teasing me. I didn’t like the savings bond gift Dad had got me. I wanted a spaceship toy. For hitting my baby brother Bruce my father goes berserk. Fred tells me, he is 10 at the time, that he feels so helpless as my father lashes me. It is like witnessing firsthand the horrific scene from Gibson’s Christ in the Passion, blood flows from my back to stain my white T-shirt. It takes both my mother and grandmother diving on my crazed father’s back to save my life.
As Fred recounts my sad birthday story from his point of view, he confesses to me for the first time that dad never even spanked him his whole life. Whereas I was beaten badly so often I’ve lost count. I process that revelation for an entire day and next day tell Fred he can feel free of any guilt about his free pass with Dad. Fred took plenty of mental abuse like some sort of co-conspirator/informant. I forgive my brother and feel his relief over the phone. He chokes back with tears his thanks.
Despite all this, my dear brother Fred struggles now with the fact I carry no more anger about our bipolar dad, resulting from my healing work that has gone on for 20 years and concluded here in Sedona with the help of many. Our brotherly rage fest with our father was always something we shared in common. Fred feels alone with his rage now and my breaking of wicked conspiratorial bonds he had to my dad. Fred’s had a powerful psychic surgery from our talks. His healing will take time. And beautiful Sedona will help when he visits me for more pleasant birthday than my twelfth.
Fred tells me he is bringing an old family album with him on his visit to me in Sedona. He says there is a horrific picture where my father’s “demon” was caught on film. I tell Fred there is no such thing as demons. Only repressed anger. But what’s in a name? Anger is a powerful negative force, if left untreated, a devil that wrecks all around us. But I bravely tell Fred I will look at the album to help heal my brother carrying so much shame about not being beaten the way I was. I already know that I will have no anger and fear looking at the photo, even if dad has horns in the photos. Those days of fearing my dad and raging on him are past for me. Fred and I will find a new more positive common ground in our life.
Lost in these thoughts of my brother’s rapid and sudden healing, I drop the water wand as it is passes over Arizona. Rather than get mad at myself, as I might in the past, or even blame Fred for his painful distractions, I send the wand back to the Atlantic and start the meditation over.
“Dolphin Firefighters” by Ken Sheetz
At last the Atlantic waters of the wand finally reaches the fires of California raging outside San Fransisco. A team of electric dolphins leap from the Pacific, grateful for the Fukushima meditations, join the Atlantic waters and pull a wave of the water soaring into the wall of flame. Living redwoods join to battle the fire by diverting rivers. It’s more epic the LTOR. And the fire dies in a cloud of steam.
I know Patrick Flanagan, who is in California now visiting the Napa Valley, with his amazing wife Stephanie, are both somehow joining this planetary meditation. Ha. They thought they were taking a vacation to the wine country. Angels work in funny ways.
Friday my brother received a gift from me of Megahydrate, an amazing health supplement of Pat’s Phisciences.com. Fred, a heavy smoker, tells me gratefully he feels the hydration instantly in his eyes and dry mouth. Cancer thrives in dehydration, I see in this meditation. Patrick’s gift may then save my smoker brother’s life. No wonder he wants to meet him so badly he is traveling all the way from Wisconsin, our family home.
Patrick’s amazing products are a prime example of how these meditations manifest in ways that our world can facilitate. Earth is, in fact, a manifesting machine. Our thoughts are things and we have far more power to shape this reality than we know.
The fire meditation a success, I find myself in a dream of a rehearsal of a young black singer. He’s a homeless kid I discovered to carry on the work of Michael Jackson. He looks a lot like the young MJ. He sings a newly discovered Jackson song that Michael wrote before his death. It’s angelic. I am blessed to still hear it echo in my mind as a I write you, dear reader. I am in tears as the young man finishes the love song called “Marlene”. I take the homeless MJ kid into a hug. He smells bad and it’s a grimy hug. Waking, I realize it’s a metaphor for my healing brother Fred who will bring a new song to the world from old steam power.
As I write to you, dear reader, I am having an open eye vision that makes it hard to see what I type. It’s a double-exposure where I walk the moist charred fire baked floor of the California forest. Steam mist rises into the air. The fires are out. San Fransisco lies safe in the distance. I again find myself hoping, as I have for three years now, that one day my brother Fred will join me in these amazing, if exhausting, meditations.
And then the ET angel Ohom of the Orion star system asks me to get out of bed and walk to the window of my Sedona area room here in Cottonwood at a cozy B&B called the Desert Rose. It’s time for some confirmation my meditations are real Ohom kids me, knowing I still harbor some doubts. I throw open the little bedroom window. I laugh at what the water wand dropped here from the Atlantic. It is raining in the desert. The first morning rain in my six month stay. Rain soon to visit California.
Enjoy my meditation video about healing fire with the amazing singer/actor Lynda Valliche. It worked here in Arizona, it will work for California.
“A dream ain’t over ’til I say so.” – Ken Sheetz AKA Agent Smith
I dream this morning that I am in a training camp for psychic warriors of the Shift. I swim in the left lane bedside three other students in a roped off area of the Pacific Ocean near Hawaii. Logs block the path of our swim lanes. All four of we swimmers of spirit easily manage to turn the logs to open our lanes with our minds. We all keep swimming steadily forward through the intricate oceanic obstacle course. Dolphins cheer us on doing stunts and squeak calls.
See more of my vision art at DreamShield.org
A submarine surfaces, blocking my swim lane. “Part of the test?” I wonder to the other swimmers.
“I don’t think so.” says a young woman about my age. I’m seventeen in this dream. The age I train and become life guard in Milwaukee, where I save 17 kids in real life.
The sub turret guns spin for us. I realize the enemy is out to kill we young psychic warriors before we can complete our training. I hold forth a hand from the ocean and will the sub to lift from the sea. “It’s huge. Bigger than I can lift!” I shout to the other three students.
“You can do it, Ken! Raise it from the sea and crush it like a clam shell,” shouts the young beauty with hair as red as the rocks of Sedona.
I strain with all my might but I am only able to lift the bow of the sub from the sea. “Too big!” I shout, happy now at least the sub’s guns can’t target us. But I am not sure how long I can keep us safe from the malevolent nuclear sub.
SLEEPLESS IN SEDONA
I awake from the dream in Sedona in a light sweat. I realize it’s not a dream. It’s a repressed memory coming to the surface. I close my eyes and I see Morpheus smile at me. “Welcome back to Sedona, Agent Smith,” the gap toothed Morpheus congratulates me.
THE FALANAGAN EXPERIMENTS stars Stephanie Sutton and super scientist Patrick Flanagan
Morpheus is referring to a dinner I had yesterday in Sedona, after a lovely tour, where I was photographer for Patrick Flanagan and his wife Stephanie Sutton,of PhiSciences, whose newlywed niece was visiting with her Italian husband and best man from Italy. I explain over salad I used to be so deep in the Matrix before leaving Chicago real estate to be a Hollywood filmmaker, that the character I most related to from the film trilogy, THE MATRIX, was Agent Smith. Stephanie and Patrick are both shocked I was such a super asshole in my real estate mogul days in the 80s and 90s. We all get a big laugh of joy about my transformation to an enlightened filmmaker.
My escape from the Matrix accelerated to light speed after witnessing ET angelic like beings build the DreamShield for human ascension and protection in Italy in May of 2010. The Dreamshield is a profound instrument made of a combination of Gaia’s energies and our collective consciousness as her children, then ignited by ETs. This elevated earth from a slave planet to a protected world under Galactic Treaty commencing 1.1.11.
My adult kids are still freaked out by the amazing story of the DreamShield and have not spoken to me in over two years since I shared seeing 7 foot tall blue ET angels in Italy. Stephanie explains my wonderful son and daughter are deep in the Matrix and their reaction of brain shut-down is typical. Steph gives me hope that none of my kids’ distancing is really personal.
I am honored to be one of many custodians of the DreamShield, under its many names and guises. No ego. No high priests allowed. After the exhausting meditation event of 12.12.12. in Antarctica, still #1 on Google search for “coolest meditation ever”, 2013 has been a year of profound healing for me in Sedona with Patrick and Stephanie.
What more wonders await me and the DreamShield, which I recently learned is the same name Navajo shamans give to their shield on which the project their visions to share with the tribe. Sounds a lot like what I’ve done for the past 18 years; a Hollywood filmmaker sharing my visions on movie, TV and computer screens with my tribe, you.
Meeting my Inner Morpheus
WE NOW RETURN YOU TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED DREAM
My inner Morpheus is a very real, like all imaginary characters we come to love. He’s a paradoxical guide born of one of my favorite movies. “Use what you learned from the Shaman in LA, finish the dream of the sub,” Morpheus advises me.
I concentrate on returning to the dream, only now I am the master I am today at 60, not a 17-year-old in training. With ease and grace I levitate the sub from the ocean into the air. “Gotta save the crew before I wreck the sub,” I say to the young swimmer who is now a mature beauty.
“Nice,” she says as I life the sub over to the beach and twist it onto its side. “Everyone off the ship who wants to live.”
Sailors leap and fall into the sandy beach from the sub. I will the floating sub to shake a few times and the last sailors run off into the jungle realizing they are no match for these four masters.
I toss the sub into the sky. I fly from the ocean after it. The sub’s hull burns red-hot from the air friction. Then, exiting earth’s atmosphere, the sub cools. I see a debris field being brought for earth by rogue aliens breaking the Galactic Treaty that made earth a protected world on December 31, 2010. These stubborn forces of the dark energy have not given up.
At dinner yesterday Stephanie Sutton spoke of a dark cloud of debris from that would create three days of darkness and death upon our world. I realize in this meditation my mission is to wipe out that illegal spaceship towing the debris for our world. The creepy ship’s sensor’s pick me and the sub up. They feel safe behind the debris field. A mistake.
I form a force field about the nuclear sub and hurl it like a missile through the debris field of tiny asteroids. I am too fast. The hostile alien ship explodes and its tractor beam with it. With a blast of super breath I send the debris sailing for the sun.
Mission accomplished I return to my body in Sedona and fall back to sleep.
LONG NIGHT’S WORK FOR AGENT SMITH
Agent Sheetz/Smith
I awake from the DreamShield meditation inside a dream. I sit up in bed surrounded by fellow prisoners. I am Agent Smith, but I retain all my memories of this life as Ken Sheetz. I calmly check myself over. I am in a black prison outfit and I know this is “The Matrix” prison for our minds.
The prison is vast and high-tech. Rather than bars, our cells are all clear plexiglass. I walk to the balcony and watch as guards herd the zombie like prisoners to breakfast.
I step off the 3 story high balcony and fall for the prison floor like a rock. I feel no fear. I know my power. I am here to free minds. Just before I reach the prison floor my momentum stops on a dime.
A shocked guard raises a weapon. “Agent Smith? Stand down!”
With a slight curl of my palm the guard’s Uzi flies from his grip to mine. Mercilessly, unlike the me in mediation that spared the sub crew, I toss his body like a toothpick across the vast hall. He falls screaming to his death.
Agent Smith has no mercy. Guard after guard meet their Matrix makers as I stride through the vast prison floor, a one man chaos field of death and destruction.
Mr. Sheetz I presume?
An advanced SWAT guard to my left gets a drop on me and fires. Too slow. I hold out a hand and his bullets turn to harmless gold water. I fire my Uzi and it sprays high-powered water that knock him out.
At last I reach the clear foot thick walls of the prison. An army of prisoners are behind me, anxious for freedom. I will the vast clear vault door to slide open when a Redline subway train chatters up to the prison platform, full of new prisoners for brainwashing.
Train guards spot the prison riot and take up firing positions. A guard yanks a female hostage from the train. I stop opening the prison door as he tosses the young woman into the prison through the small opening I have made. I see the young lady is my daughter.
“Janelle?” I say as she runs to my arms.
“Yes, Dad. You have to stop. You’re hurting a lot of people.”
As I hold my daughter she is shifting in age, a teen, 30, a baby.
“Sweetie, that’s the Matrix talking. I am freeing people not hurting.” I say feeling the wind going out of my psychic sails.
“Look at all the dead guards,” says my age shifting daughter, her forms of her whole life flashing in rapid succession.
I see mothers with young kids on picnic blankets who look at me like a killer. My daughter’s tears make me cry too.
THE DREAM AIN’T OVER UNTIL I SAY SO
I awake in deep frustration. The Matrix is a bitch to escape, even for Agent Smith. But I head for breakfast feeling hopeful I at least found my daughter.
I will continue this dream later as I was taught in 2011 by a powerful Hollywood shaman. It’s the best thing I’ve ever learned about managing bad dreams. Dreams ain’t over until we say. I will free my daughter and the world from the Matrix just the way I wiped out a hostile alien ship last night.
I love protecting my world and the fact few believe I do. Heck, I don’t need a secret identity to be a super hero! Genius these ETs who guide my missions. Please, enjoy this as simple fiction writing if you wish. It’s cool camouflage for me if you think that all this is. Pay no attention this “Agent Smith” gone good behind the curtain.
I have so many more cosmic adventures ahead! The ETs say I must live another 48 years guarding the earth for the Shift to take hold. Earth manifests new reality planet wide at the speed of the growing tree, about 50 years I was told in 2012. Today I just found the time to research what kind of trees mature at that rate. Answer according to Google, our modern oracle? Pine tress. I have adored pines all my life. I have even written a 2002 screenplay called THE LAST PINE about Xmas from the POV of pine trees. And the symbol for the pineal glade and sacred symbol is the pine tree. Confirmation!
I am being literally rebuilt in Sedona to last at least another 50 years by Patrick Flanagan’s life enhancing PhIScience‘s longevity products. None of this was planned by me or Patrick. It’s divine synchronicity at full power. And Patrick’s reward is that the ETs of DreamShield are downloading him nightly with new discoveries that I am told will lead to human immortality. How cool it that?
Maintaining the DreamShield is sacred. I am on the case like an Agent Smith of the light, keeping it cool to free your mind.
Note the golden medallion like shape of the wizard’s work spot?
A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others. – Wizard from “The Wizard Oz”
By Ken Sheetz
“The Wizard of Oz” is my all time favorite movie. Last night I had a dream/vision of getting caught like the Wizard behind the curtain. In the dream a vast green screen is a spread across a valley I stand above atop a vast mesa. I am the media Gandalf for an army light workers resting between battles.
A warrior princess I am serving spots the fact I use the illusion of the green screen and shouts,”Trickery?!”
“Yes, and no, fair warrior. The green screen is a portal for those on the web to travel and share in your battles for change.” I say handing her my camera with a graceful bow, “Please, if you’d be so kind as to snap a picture of me stepping from behind the curtain I would be deeply honored. It’s time for me to be seen.”
The warrior princess takes my camera with a wry smiles and says, “I would be honored to capture your magic behind my magic, Wizard.”
“Don’t be alarmed. Flying is quite easy for me.” I say as I step into thin air and float gracefully downward into the valley to a spot to have my photo taken by the warrior princess.
But as I drift to the green screen I find myself teleported aboard a train in the Wild West of the 1800s. I sit down with a grizzled sheriff as the Sedona rocks speed by out the train window.
Real-life Wizard Patrick Flanagan
“Welcome aboard, Wizard. How come you can time travel and levitate, and I can’t do squat except shoot people?” the sheriff says, spitting into a spittoon.
“Make no comparisons, sir. You are right where you need to be. You have greater powers than you know. We are all connected, sheriff.”
SEDONA HEALING KEEPS GETTING BETTER
I awake feeling better than I have in weeks. I’ve been getting out from behind my desk and out of my head. DreamShield’s mission has become less in spirit and more in connection to those around us.
Feeling guided to be stronger in form, I’ve joined a health club and bought a pass for hiking the canyons as the weather here in Sedona cools.
Patrick Flanagan has been advising me on lowering my blood pressure by releasing anger with my father. He’s enjoying the blog about my progress. Over lunch the other day I tell him, “Yeah, my issue is not giving love but letting people love me.”
“No. You don’t do love well either giving or receiving, Ken. Until you release your anger with your father no love will flow.” the scientist says sipping his iced coffee in the 111 degree heat of August in Arizona.
That stings. I feel like I have been giving great love with the videos I make for Patrick. But when I look at it hard, that’s just excellent performance on my part. I do love the genius. But the videos are mostly me performing with the little love I can squeeze out of my closed heart.
FINALLY FORGIVING MY BIPOLAR PAPA
My father 6 months before his passing. He loved the story of the DreamShield I told him in 2010. My kids are another story. They were shocked I saw 7 foot tall blue angels in Italy.
So this past weekend I finally did let of my anger with my father in a personal DreamShield meditation in Phoenix at the dazzling Botanical gardens. It was interesting how sad I was about the idea of releasing that father anger. A sure sign I was truly letting go. After I finished the short ceremony among the cactus in bloom I see how clearly I was holding my father, who passed in 2011, to this world. I freed a soul 30 months in limbo and myself in Phoenix where the new me begins to rise. I ask my father as I finish releasing us both of old rage, “Any last words, Dad? Before you leave?”
The answer is simple and heartfelt in my father’s voice, “I am sorry.” My tears dry fast in the 112 August Phoenix heat and Dad is gone.
The next day I feel lighter in the private dance lessons I am taking from Mica Monet, a healer here in Sedona. She’s a great teacher for this Wizard too often stuck behind a computer and in his head. She also is the first client friend to turn the camera on me like the warrior princess in the dream, though there was no physical resemblance. Her photo of me has become the banner art for my social media company BuzzBroz.com.
The other night after salsa class we had dinner at Enchanted Village, it’s set deep in the rocks of Sedona. I shared that Patrick had out me over the top on her father forgiveness advice. Then I listened to Mica, when I could stop myself from interrupting, an issue I am working on, as the angelic one shared her plans for more dance classes, art, fashion and more. This confirmed my feeling we all need to be doing more in form. The mental part of the shift is passed. It’s time to get real.
ENCHANTED LOVE MEDITATION
After a sumptuous meal, Mica and I do a two person Dreamshield mediation about accepting love personally under the stars and the rocks of the Enchanted Village. I’m happy to have her expertise on the emotion of love with me as I place my hand to the wet lawn of the freshly watered crochet field. Mica has had a rough childhood, like most light workers who choose this in our life contract to make us spirit warriors and wizards. And so she shares the same issues in feminine form as I do.
“Let the love of Gaia flow into you through the earth, Ken.” she says sweetly. “Trust.”
“I’m trying… but my love is still all going outward to Gaia. I can’t feel her love,” I say sadly.
“You are a man. That’s giving energy. Accepting love is harder for males. Don’t lose hope,” Mica says.
Desperate to accept Mother Earth’s love I get down on my hands and knees and bow my forehead to touch the wet lawn. “I only feel a trickle from the flood of love Gaia is sending me.”
“Good start,” says Mica.
“Shit I forgot your leftovers!” I say and run back to the restaurant. Funny way to end a mediation, we both laugh as I run off.
“Meet you back at the car,” Mica shouts after, alone beneath the stars with Gaia. Maybe Gaia wanted some one on one time with Ms. Monet.
GRATEFUL TO ALL MY SEDONA WIZARDS
It’s such fun hanging with such great wizards in Sedona. Even Connie Miller, who been working on helping me forgive me father since 2010 when I first saw angels in Italy, miraculously showed up here for a weeklong SoulDrama workshop in May. Accident? Nah. That’s the magic of the DreamShield I am honored to be custodian to! I am sure she’ll be happy to hear I finally managed the job and took her insights onto my new quantum physics theory of bipolar disorder that just might earn me a Nobel prize one day.
No easy task, as my father made childhood a living hell for me. A sentence of 18 years of daily insanity. I can’t express my gratitude to her, Patrick, his wife Stephanie Sutton, who worked on getting me focused on why I chose such a bipolar father before birth and sweet Mica, all three for helping me heal the biggest wound of my life. It’s been that hard for me. A team of three people working on me daily for six months.
Patrick Flanagan’s 14K Gold Platted Sensor V Medallion
Most of the 44 completed videos for THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS have been filmed on green screen. But like the dream I have stepped from behind the green curtain for this stellar video about Patrick Flanagan’s portable portal, as I fondly call his Sensor V medallion.
Since I began wearing the doctor’s medallion the flow of wealth and abundance has increased. This allows me to do work on my teeth and eyes that need some repair from a 2008 recession that’s never really ended. Man does not live by meditation alone.
BTW, Patrick is also a huge Oz fan. He’s brought the Emerald City to life at Burning Man. No accidents in all this work. I am honored to be the media wizard bringing you his real life wizardry via my magical green screen.
Enjoy this teaser video about the amazing Sensor V medallion. Martian inspired jewelry that’s out of this world.
Special thanks to Somas for inspiring me to get a new lens to capture the wizardry of Patrick’s medallion.
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.
One 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.
I’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
One, 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.
A 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
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.
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!
“Suppose, then, that all men were sick or deranged, save one or two of them who were healthy and of right mind. It would then be the latter two who would be thought to be sick and deranged and the former not!” (Aristotle, Metaphysics 340BC)
By Ken Sheetz
Back in early July, I channeled my ET higher self Ohom to invite him to my UFO Skywatch on July 14th. But as you see in this video Ohom declined the invite because humanity has a virus, an insanity virus to be precise.
So when the spaceships did not come when July 14th arrived I was sad but not surprised. Humans as a species are terrifying to the ETs who see us as a greedy beings wrecking its own world, murdering each other and all life on this planet. Witness last month’s Batman killings for sheer madness with no point but violence itself, or as recent as today’s massacre at a Sihk temple in my home state of Wisconsin.
Over the past seven months, based at Great Spirits Ranch, both on and off the ranch, I’ve witnessed insanity and drug abuse in the liberal left Light Worker community, and to the far right, equally bizarre behavior. In myself I’ve battled jealousy, ego and depression. In other words as ranch owner Deb Malmazada is famed for saying, “We are all f’ked up in (human) form.”
I was losing hope entirely for a gentle shift of 2012 when one morning a 4AM the soft echoing voice of Ohom, my higher ET self and guide, woke me from a deep slumber. “Ken, we want to test a cure for the human insanity virus on you. Go to your faucet with your DreamShield coffee mug and get some fresh water.”
I’ve learned it’s far easier to comply with these odd requests, did as I was asked, and drank. The 11.11.11 DreamShield mug glowed faintly in the darkness of the early morning as I placed the mug back on the RVs little night stand shelf and went instantly back to sleep.
I soon found myself in dream. I was running through a strange yet familiar structure, running from a demon. The demon, I somehow realized for the first time in a lifetime filled with these sorts of nightmares, was my own negative energy. So I stopped in archway and turned to face my dark side. The demon overtook me and my face twisted into monstrous forms. I panicked as leathery skin spread across my body. Bat like wings erupted from my back and razor claws burst painfully from my finger tips.
Despite my terror, I willed myself to stay in the dream. Pressure drummed in my ears until I thought my head would explode. But in time, I have no idea how long this inner battle went on, I was able to integrate all the dark energy. The horrific images of demonic transformation faded. I looked at myself in a mirror in the dream, myself once more, only stronger. A new twinkle in my eyes.
A voice called me to wakefulness with a mild Russian accent, “How is it you are feeling, Ken?”
“Like a Mac truck ran me over. Thanks. Is this my Russian physicist self from the 19th century the Damanhur have told me about?” I asked the voice.
“Da. I am interested in how your ego has been affected by the waters,” the voice replied in good humor.
Confused on how I could be in the present and past at the same time I surrendered to the moment and simply answered, “I’ll get back to you, comrade.”
“Take heart, Dreamer. The negativity visiting upon you, it is absorbed into the crystal caverns and waters below Great Spirits Ranch. There, I and the team of ET scientists work day and night for the cure to the human insanity virus.
The virus, it is a mutation of the ancient Black Plague. It is sneaky and hides in the folds of the human brain. Look for yourself, Ken!” the voice echoed in my head .
I went into meditation and watched the dark recesses of my brain folds begin to light up with blue white light. The cure was changing me. But would it work?
When that long night’s labors ended, seems I work 24 hours some days, it was about 7:30 am. I did my morning rituals as the birds sang, cleaned up after breakfast and commuted the 100 yards from the RV to my amazing office here at the ranch atop Malibu.
How, I wondered as I walked past the flowers and trees that adorn my commute, could people make themselves, human f’cked up in form me included, make life, even here in a Malibu paradise, so miserable? No wonder in the Bible stories God finally kicks out Adam and Eve out of Eden! We are a contentious cantankerous lot.
After completing my agreed to 4 hours per day of social media, that pays my room and board at the ranch, and at various other places I’ve been blessed to visit these past two years since seeing my first visions in Italy, I decided I needed a break from the electronic world.
So I volunteered to help Deb, and new ranch hand Jason, with some manual labor. We cleared brush from one of the patio areas where a new TV show’s cast and crew would be dinning over the weekend. A short while into the work, Deb turned to me and said in her harsh yet straight forward style she is famed for, in her Maryland east coast accent she has never lost despite coming to LA as a kid, “I gotta end the board part of our bargain. You’ll have to buy your own groceries from now on. And I we need to rework our whole bargain soon. I just don’t see the value of social media for my ranch.”
I could tell Deb was expecting a big scene from me, something she relishes in her cathartic way she provokes people’s issues to the surface. But much as it stung what Deb was saying, I simply shrugged while gathering leaves and said, “OK. Let’s figure something else out, Deb. All I know is I want to stay on the ranch a while longer.”
My simple peaceful reaction to Deb’s words, without debate, was exciting progress for Mr. Debate here. We both felt a thrill in my change of style and happily finished our gardening together. Deb made fabulous sandwiches for lunch to celebrate my victory over anger and ego.
I continue seeing things occurring on the ranch, the world and myself that show me the cure is far from perfected, but I am hopeful that one morning I’ll be awoken again by Ohom’s voice to drink the waters of the ranch and the cure to the human insanity virus, devouring our world from the inside out, will at last be at hand.
Media, Meditations & Musings 