“Unity to be real must stand the severest strain without breaking.” – Mahatma Gandhi
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Bob and Laura
I was back a week in Hollywood from Nashville, Wisconsin, Florida, Nassau and the Bermuda Triangle from 7 back to back planetary meditations from such amazing stuff as closing the damaged Merkabah in the Bermuda Triangle, reducing hurricanes, curing earth of addictions, making a backup copy for all the love of the earth and more.
Exciting and uplifting as it all was, promoting, filming, conductimng the meditations and distributing it all on the web in the various outlets I’d created for the work to achieve DreamShield’s heavenly task to help 1 billion people to meditate as one to shift us in to a new golden age, I was exhausted.
Despite my exhaustion I was getting “angel” messages that a 3.11.11 meditation was a critical mediation date and that we should dance.
Laura De Leon, who blessedly for me and the planet gives the DreamShield project so much of her great spiritual experience and talent, was busy helping her husband take her mother-in-law through hospice. So I was minus her usual contributions.
Bella
On top of that I was then busy helping Laura get back and forth to Bob at the nursing home and doing some simple chores at their lovely home near Universal Studios. So I was minus me. It was the first time in my life I’ve humbled myself to simply be of service to friends in need. I especially enjoyed caring for the Jenkis family’s little dog Bella. Laura had done so much helping me with the complex grief of losing my father it was the least I could do.
When I walked into the nursing home, dropping Laura off to Bob and his sweet mother, who was a little nearer to death each tender day, I passed old folks. I’m in my 50s but as the old eyes raised to look at me from their wheel chairs I felt like a kid. The angels had gifted me by taking away my old fear I had of dying in one of these places one day myself. You see, I’d been an orderly in a nursing home in college and feared the homes ever since.
But stiill all this helping of the Jenkis family and 25 back to back meditations since 10.10.10 was burning the candle on both ends and 12.12.12 was still a long way off.
After taking the wonderful light worker, holistic doctor and palmist Sarah Larsen away from her family for a week in Nashville at Lee McCormick’s Spirit Recovery Ranch and Mt. Shasta I did not feel I could ask her to step up. Mica Monet had also just hosted a Valentine’s mediation.
ONENESS CANNOT BE STOPPED
Kara Mooney and Ramon Govea
On 2.25.11 I was was still getting those pesky angel signals, just two weeks before 3.11.11, so I sent out a request for help to the amazing and growing DreamShield Facebook group, along with emails to a few key team members who I thought might be fresh.
Ramon Govea, a young multi-talented Hollywood friend who has been at my side since DreamShield began was in touch immediately and volunteered to host 3.11.11. His co-host would be Kara Mooney who I had recently learned was interested in DreamShield from on Facebook.
The angels had told me they wanted us to dance on 3.1.11. As usual they loved to surprise me and we only had a little over two weeks to pull major event together.
As 3.11.11 neared I felt I was working in my sleep. So imagine how pleased that Kalix Sky our DJ that Kara and Ramon had hired for the event was helping us draw a crowd. Kalix was just what we needed. Laura and Sarah each let me blast out invites to their facebook friends on their behalf and soon we had about 100 people coming.
Laura and Bob’s mom passed 3 days before the event. I’d prepared Ramon and Kara for the fact Laura might miss the event. But Laura cares so much for the work that she still performed that night and performed beautifully.
Ramon gave a great and personable presentation on 2012 along with Kara who in turn performed a lovely meditati0n on forgiveness.
Here’s how it all turned out. And as you see at the end of the video the angels did give me a vision, the stinkers. I stood upon the dance floor at 11:11 a recited what I was seeing to some awesome music Kalix had whipped up for us. I saw the angels fly from the dance hall, their feathers brushing the guest as they took off flying right through the skyscrapers of downtown LA. And I channeled a message from the archangel Michael who surprised me when he ended my vision with a personal message to the crowd:
“Dance your asses off!” – Archangel Michael
AFTER VISIONS WHILE DOG WALKING
Angelic DJ Kalix Sky
Next day as I walked Bella one last time an eyes open after vision began. I sometimes get my best visions when my mind is distracted by the mundane like shaving. Now dog walking can be added to the list of vision points. I stopped in my tracks in wonder, Bella tugging at the leash.
I was back on 3.11.11. I saw archangel Michael fly off from our our dance hall with impossible speed and grace that would make Superman envious. The angels followed Michael to various junction points on the crystaline grid, a grid for 2012’s work the ascended masters had built eons ago to assure our successful transition. Using the energy from our fantastic human dancers at the Oneness event Michael and his legion of angels strengthened the grid 11 times 11 over.
Next, flying in formation, Micheal led the angels to spin the energy bands that power the DreamShield, refreshing the shield and hopefully me and the rest of our global dream team of cutting edge light workers!
The work for a gentle 2012 was flying along and getting cooler and more fun all the time.
Dance with the angels of DreamShield!
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‘The most pitiful among men is he who turns his dreams into silver and gold.” – Kahlil Gibran
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Dr. Sarah Larsen in Nashville on Valentine's Day
The day before Valentine’s Day Dr. Sarah Larsen was homesick for her kids and husband back in LA. And who could blame her? Since her amazing 10.10.10 LA event she had been on the road for DreamShield almost more than she had been home.
The angels had demanded much of her and she’d gladly answered the call. Her love and wisdom have benefited this grouchy reluctant light worker greatly, and though her patience with me for all the times of wanted to quit had dimmed a bit, it still shone brightly in her imploring eyes.
So I checked with the airline to see if we could cut our trip a few days short and get Sarah home in time for Valentine’s Day. Alas for the homesick doctor, airfares were to costly to make the change. In better times I would have rewarded such a tireless worker with tickets but spirit work does not pay much in earthly terms and so the doctor would have to spend Valentine’s in Nashville. Sarah made the best of it getting in touch with old friends while I caught up on my blogging about the trip.
On the eve before Valentine’s Day as I lay down on Rachel and Robert’s day bed I thought about an article I’d read on the plane from LA about the pole shift in Mayan predictions about 2012. Some of these so-called experts on the human mind and 2012 speculate humanity will lose its entire memory due to this fact our thoughts are stored as electromagnetic energy.
I thought about Sarah losing memory of the love of her husband Greg and her kids Tye-Tye and Jamsine and of me and my family and friends in such a drastic pole shift. Yep. It was another one of those negative visualization fear things, the ungentle 2012 stuff we undo in DreamShield.
So despite my total exhaustion from the Medicine Wheel planetary addiction meditation that had brought us here, I asked the angels what we could do to protect the memory of everyone’s love for one another on our little blue world.
In a flash of divine inspiration I knew all the empty space left inside me that I was feeling from Lee McCormick’s Spirit Recovery ranch addiction meditation had made me a storage receiver, a vessel, to hold a back up copy all of earth’s love. “Me? Holder of earth’s love?” I grouched to myself or whatever angels might be listening.
I wrapped myself in blankets like a robe and sat myself up on the edge of the day bed. I looked up at the eye shaped transom over Robert and Rachel’s front door. The transom became a bright computer screen filled with data. A beam of data shot from the transom as the memories of love of all earth’s billions flooded into my mind. I’d had “downloads” – a light worker term that I think sounds too sc-fi –before, but nothing on this scale. This was the mother of all downloads.
Now the next wave of love data for all living creatures, big and small, flooded into me. I’d not expected to be this Noah’s Ark of love. But I accepted it’s beauty with an amazed smile. Next came the love of the trees for the sky. Last even our bacteria’s love flooded me. “Bacteria feel love? Come on.” I griped to the angels who simply giggled at the sight of this exhausted middle-aged businessman turned reluctant light worker wrapped in a blanket like an Indian chief.
Yep, I feel many times I was picked for this work because it’s some kind of cosmic reality show. I must be a hoot in the Orion’s belt system.
Next morning, Valentine’s Day, Sarah asked me how I’d slept. “Not much.” I said, adding like this was all her fault somehow, ” I was a receiver of a back up copy of all the love of the earth all night. Today sometime I’ve been told broadcast this love into the back up copy of the Parthenon in downtown Nashville.”
Sarah Larsen simply smiled and said, “Cool. I’m going to call Greg and wish him a Happy Valentine’s Day.” And with an attitude like this sort of thing happens every day Sarah headed off to another room to call Greg.
Later that amazing Valentine’s Day where I felt my head might explode it was so full of love, I in fact made the trip to the Parthenon on my own while Sarah went to an exhibit Greg’s art. Years earlier the two met and fell in love here in Nashville before marrying and moving to LA.
Rachel and Sarah dropped me off promising to pick me up at 5:30 PM as my cell phone was out of juice. I walked around the Parthenon, an exact copy of the original in Greece built in 1897, perfect for a back copy holder of earth’s love, walked about it three times I was told by the angels, I felt like some kind of lonely odd ball. But I did my planetary meditation job and the couples perched on the steps kissed as the red lights of Valentine’s Day came up.
This made me all the more lonely. I’ve not been in a conventional relationship in years. Why pick a brokenhearted divorced man as the holder of earth’s love I wonder as I made the video you see below? I suppose my empty heart left more space for the angels to make me a vessel of all earth’s love.
I asked as a reward for this crazy work — hey it never hurts to ask –as I circled the Parthenon, completing this ritual of love transmission to the statue of Athena within the structure, that one day through this work I can find a great mate who can put up with the paradox of my pessimistic yet optimistic nature.
So, dear reader, page mark this blog. And if the the North and South pole’s shift come 2012, as many so-called experts predict, and you wake up without a memory of who you love, get thee to Nashville and the Parthenon. The back-up memory of all you love awaits there in the heart of the statute of the goddess Athena.
What’s cool is the angels tell me they update the memories each night into Athena. Angels are so clever. The little stinkers.
PS. In typical light worker fashion Sarah was late picking me up. I was not dressed warm enough as the sun set over the Parthenon and I sat there shivering in the cold like some homeless nut case for over 20 minutes past the agreed to 5:30 pickup time. I found myself wishing to be back working with my old Chicago real estate buddies, by whom you could set your watch, while making millions as I had in the past when I built skyscrapers instead of this silly nonsense.
Don’t worry. I got over it when I saw Greg and the kids welcome Sarah home from Nashville at LAX with such love. Yep. I’m still on the job of a gentle 2012. Here’s Sarah daughter Jasmine “Jazzy” singing along with her dad at an Agape concert. Who wouldn’t be homesick in Nashville, on Valetine’s Day with love like this waiting for them back in LA?
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“Everyone is an abused child when you think about what governments do.” – Tim Roth
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Before I start, I want to warn those sensitive to family abuse stories that this is not a blog post for you. I share this true and very personal family story for only one reason, to encourage people who wish to be part of DreamShield’s mission to heal our planet to know that you might be healed personally as a reward as I have.
I share so that you might understand just how powerful the healing of this work is to take the darkest thing that ever happened in my dark childhood and to heal me when I was not even looking for that. These miracles of DreamShield have a life of their own.
l love my father who passed just 6 weeks ago. I love him for all the good he did despite a lot of the nasty stuff. Because no matter how many times he faltered I always knew he loved me. I am amazed to report to you that I speak with his spirit from the afterlife. In fact I’d go so far as to say Dad and I have talked a lot more in the 6 weeks since he died than any similar stretch of time when he was alive.
But I ask, dear reader, that you realize my father was a blue-collar man born of the early 20th century, a man without a father growing up to teach him any better, a man whose Irish temper got the better of him when it came to drink, and that you not please judge but learn from his mistakes. Mistakes for which he is telling me as write that he is deeply sorry to all in our family. I admire his wanting me to share this. Very like Dad, a Korean War vet, who never lacked courage.
BACK PAINS
I was home at last in LA, back from the Nashville’s planetary meditation at Lee McCormick’s amazing Spirit Recovery Ranch where we did a DreamShield to free the earth from addiction by 2012. I was beyond exhausted from dozens of DreamShield meditations, the travel and my father’s recent funeral back in my home state of Wisconsin. So I slept like a log that cold February night, cold that is by LA standards.
As the early morning sun tugged at the blinds I lay on my stomach in bed in a half-slumber. My face was buried in my pillow and I felt happy to be back in the city of angels, home base on this world for the work of a gentle 2012. Still tired even after a good night’s sleep, I started to wonder if I wanted to do another mediation again for a long time. Maybe never. My inner cynic rambled on in my head, “None of this vision stuff real. You can’t monetize this crazy stuff. What’s the point? Wake up and smell the coffee, dreamer.”
I was about to get out of bed and start my day with a “Quick Workout” that client, pal, roomie, radio talk show host and fitness guru Bradley Quick had personally designed for me, when I felt icy fingers on my back!
“Lay still.” The voice of my recently passed father groused, “Let me do this.”
In my mind’s eye I clearly saw a glowing blue gel spread into deep wide crevices that laced my back. Lash marks that shocked me they were so infected and wicked looking. But wherever Dad spread the magical blue gel the wounds closed up and healed perfectly, giving off a light puff of vapor.
How’d my back get like this?
September 21, 1966
It all started when my baby brother Bruce, mommy’s favorite who she called “Dolly”, teased me about getting a savings bond for my 13th birthday instead of a space station toy I wanted. I smacked Bruce, only 6 at the time, square in the jaw with a fist full of rage.
Dad, full of beer from the excuse to drink for my birthday dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant Di Marini’s, set to teach me a lesson in brotherly love with the back with his leather belt. “Tell Bruce you’re sorry you hit him!” he shouted, whipping me ever harder when I refused.
To my horror, my mother, holding Bruce sobbing in her arms from his cut bloody lip, cheered my father on. Snap, snap, snap, the thick brown leather belt cracked as it dug deep into my back and, worse, my soul. Bruce jeered dad on too, “Hit him, Daddy! Hit him!”
I turned from the beating and shot my mother and Bruce a look of pure hate that shut both of them up. My brother Fred, who most of the time got it worse from Dad watched from the sidelines in paralyzed terror, not knowing if it was safe to even cry.
Blood began to soak through my paisley 60s style dress shirt. Mom shoved Bruce out of the room and begged for Dad to stop. But Dad was no longer in control. He shoved her backward, knocking her onto the bed. “You want this belt?! You want it, bicth?”
“Fuck you!” I heard myself say. Dad spun from Mom. I’d drawn the demon back to me to save her. SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! The belt came down on me releasing an explosion of pain that made me see stars.
Every demon in every bottle of booze Dad had ever drank took possession of this normally sweet man. “Say your sorry for hurting you brother, you little shit, and this will stop.”‘
“Fuck you!” I shouted into the rug. He tried to whip the belt at my face but I curled into a ball, face to the floor.
I refused to cry and he picked up the power and intensity of the beating. I began to lose consciousness.
If I died under the lash it would be fine with me. Anything to escape this crazy drunk who could beat me like this on my own birthday. This kind of rocket sled ride from happiness to hell on earth was nothing new on any birthday or holiday in my nutty childhood.
My Grandparents
Grandma gave up yelling at Dad to stop and dove on to my father’s back and pulled at his curly black hair. Dad shook the old woman off him like he was a wild bucking bronco and the poor thing fell onto footstool breaking it. It was Grandma’s sobbing in pain that snapped dad out of beating me. When he stooped to take care of her mom whisked me off to my room and closed me in.
My back was on fire. I could feel blood pouring all the way down the backs of my legs. Sometime during the night when I was asleep, or maybe I just blacked out, I was bandaged up. I don’t recall who did the job. All is a blur here in my sad story. To this day it’s hard for me to celebrate my birthday or any holiday. You can’t know how crazy these happy dates became in my life. It seemed at times like Dad was on a mission to rob my childhood of any joy.
Next morning, after what thankfully would be the last and worst beating of my life as I would soon grow tall and strong and not to ever be messed with, I was still in shock. I remember standing, head poking out between the opening of the two swinging garage doors to the alley, drooling like the village idiot to the shock of passing neighbors. Dad got a call from one of the worried families, the “normal” families, and he yanked me from the garage and tossed me in my bedroom. I must have I spent half my childhood locked in that bedroom. I started to like it after while and became a loner in the relative safety of my room, living in comic books and my drawings.
Dad pulled off his belt and shouted he was ready to go beat some sense into my thick hide. But seeing what a drooling mess he’d made of his handsome son his heart was not in it. No, Dad was sober and he could see his rough handling had torn open the bandages on my back. I was bleeding again.
He spun to leave my bedroom in disgust and I dove and grabbed hold of his leg, “I’m sorry, Dad. I had got what I deserved. Bruce is little I should never have hit him like that. I’m sorry,” I whimpered like one of the many dogs my Dad had taken his rage out on in my childhood. Dad softened with his sober shame and left me in my bedroom without another word.
Grandma snuck in a little later as it was getting dark with some balm for my re-opened back wounds. “We need to get this boy to hospital!” she shouted, tears running down her chubby Irish cheeks. No reply from Mom or Dad.
Grandlma hugged me to her ample bosom and cooed in her soft Irish accent, “You poor, poor thing. Kenny, don’t you tell my idiot son he was right to beat you like some dog. No! Your Pa was wrong to beat you like that. Wrong!” My icy heart thawed and I wept in Grandma’s arms. Wept for the first time since the beating had started.
My father had been listening at the door. The birthday from hell ended with him evicting my grandmother for her kind words to me. I looked down from my second floor window as he literally tossed her into the street.
By Monday for school I was mostly coherent but still deep in shock, barley able to speak. In gym class the teacher noticed blood soaking through my white T-shirt. I was sent to the Principal’s office.
“Take off your shirt, please,” the bald-headed gentleman, who did not fit into our blue-collar neighborhood, but who was nonetheless our principal asked. I tried but the blood was stuck to the shirt and I could not get it off. The school nurse came in and managed to soak the shirt with a sponge enough to get it off.
“Dear, God.” They both said in unison looking at my scabbed and oozing back covered in welts.
I quickly made up a story that bullies in gym class had toweled me. “Bastards! Who? Which students?” the Principal demanded. And I knew he’d bought it. A great liar was born. Heck, I almost believed the tale myself. When asked for names of the students who did this to me I refused. I was no rat.
It shows the power of the fear of the unknown. I’d chosen at that moment the knowing of my crazy family life over being put in a foster home.
ANGELIC HEALING
All these memories of 40 some years ago shot through my mind as Dad’s spirit applied the magic healing gel to my back in LA some 45 years later here in 2011, the gateway to 2012. The angelic blue balm I thought must have come from the blue ET angels I met in Italy as soaked deep into my psychic after-wounds.
Gaps in my energetic field began to close as my father kept working in the heavenly healing lotion. I seldom saw my father cry in life except when he was drunk. But I could tell even though my father was invisible to me for this work, from the tremble I felt through his coarse welder’s fingertips, that he was silently crying. Crying out of shame for how deep the wounds he gave me were over all the pain he had caused for all of us with his drinking binges and rages.
My father’s spirit, now calm gentle and wise, here in my humble LA bedroom I rent with social media work, was personally healing these terrible old back wounds. This is my greatest gift so far for the work of DreamShield. And my father’s greatest gift for the bad karma he has undone for his next life or his ticket to be in heaven, reunited with Grandma.
DreamShield planetary meditation work is not easy, folks. This spiritual work is new and uncertain for me and at times makes me feel like I am going insane. It’s taken me from my filmmaking career and social media company BuzzBroz. But I do it all gladly because I somehow know this is vital work for humankind and we will get it done with your help and millions upon millions more amazing people like you reading this painful blog post, the most painful I will ever write.
One by one we can heal and manifest a gentle 2012. After this healing miracle of my back, this cynic is slowly becoming a believer.
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It’s often just enough to be with someone. I don’t need to touch them. Not even talk. A feeling passes between you both. You’re not alone. -Marylin Monroe, on the topic of Enough
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Lee McCormick’s amazing 2000 acre Spirit Recovery ranch, site for the 2/12/11 DreamShield Planetary Addiction Meditation, had only one drawback for out of towners… lack of nearby restaurants.
Me and my fellow spoiled brats from LA for this trip, Bradley Quick and Dr. Sarah Larsen, were desperate for the health food choice we enjoy back home. The only restaurant options, still about a 15 minute ride from the ranch, are McDonald’s or an all you can eat buffet, where the choices are… fried this or fried that.
So when Renato Longato, world famous UFO expert, finished his presentation on ETs and their role in 2012 and Lee herded us back to the all fried food you can eat spot again, I let a groan slip out. But, even though the food was deadly, the company of large group who stuck us for the meditation made up for it with their lively passion and curiosity about DreamShield.
I griped to Lee that all this bad food was going to blur my visions at the wheel. Lee simply chuckled and went on eating his fried chicken. Lucky for me not much phases Lee. As a recovery guru and cattle rancher he’s seen it all. Lee was the perfect host for this spirit shindig to balance out all my nervousness and exhaustion over this very personal mediation. You see, I had just given the eulogy at my father’s funeral only 3 weeks prior to this event. A father whose drinking escapades were legend in my home town of Milwaukee. Drinking which had decimated my childhood and made me into the lovable neurotic who blogs this stuff as much for self-therapy as to report to you on the birth of the New Age.
Reports I make as objectively as I can, while being the dude having all these visions to help usher in a gentle 2012 and trying to film it all at the same time. How about a budget for an assistant and camera man, angels, ETs, whatever you are? Maybe even a private jet as they’ve told me I need to do DreamShield personally in all 24 times zones and activate a billion people by 2012. Guess they like to keep me humble with lack of funding. Makes this funnier and they do love to laugh at this cynic of a psychic. I swear this all is some kind of futuristic reality show at times where we are the cameras.
Heavy snows two days before had turned the field, where Lee 10 years earlier had built the medicine wheel, to mud. My inner Larry David of a perfectionist said about the mud and cold, “Couldn’t the angels have picked a pleasant day in May for all this?” But I stopped myself from griping out loud before I annoyed Lee again. “Enough with the whine festival, ” I told myself. “This mud is going to be perfect for grounding this great group of people to the earth. We are electrical energy after and and what better conductor than the mud the fates had provided?”
The medicine wheel was working already. I had officially stopped my negative self-talk that re-erupted in me after Dad’s funeral, like some dormant volcano of fear. I was feeling up to the task of this great day my higher self had brought about. Laura De Leon of MyMysticMuse‘s work finally kicked into gear. I was ready to do battle with addiction. Or least not go off and down a bottle of tequila out of fear of messing all this up for earth’s gentle 2012.
“A church without walls”, as one of ranch hands described Lee’s medicine wheel, is the perfect description. The energy of the growing crowd was palpable. Lee personally selected the stones of his medicine wheel from the old Pinewood estate after it had burned. The stones of that estate have great energy because Pinewood’s owner would buy slaves and then set them free on these lands! Lands where also a great Native American people had ruled in total freedom before the white man came along and poisoned the tribes with their fire water.
Yes, I sensed the Native American spirits wanted this addiction meditation to work. I sensed also the spirit of Kokopelli leading his people in this mighty task for earth many times on this trip. He was showing up in pranks. Kokopelli is part trickster spirit after all. I had almost named my film company for him eight years ago when I moved to Hollywood before chickening out. Maybe when I am done with all this 2012 stuff and can get back to making movies I will name a new film Kokopelli Films in his honor. Yeah.
Lee’s medicine wheel for this DreamShield meditation to free earth of addiction by 2012 was therefore a perfect choice. More perfect than I knew at the time of my vision, complete with diagrams of how to shape and work the group that came to me in dreams months ahead of time.
Lee McCormick walked the medicine wheel while Sarah Wellborn placed crystals from Mt. Shasta on the stones.
The group grew as trucks made their way through the muddy field loaded with cargoes of excited people. People who felt so empowered for the work by Lee’s great day of events leading to this that I could feel their passion for today’s work from a mile off. I mean that literally, a mile off. Putting my inner cynic aside, I can sense amazing stuff ever since Italy, where my DNA got activated and my life got turned upside down.
Here at Lee’s wheel, I realized the angels — or ETs who guide this strange and wonder filled work from a cloud or spaceship or my own overactive brain — had picked this sacred spot for this DreamShield meditation, as much for it’s location on the earth’s chakrah system for the amazing Tennessee folks who were now showing up in droves. Numbers of people I’d not expected in such a remote location 40 miles from Nashville in the middle of Lee’s cattle ranch that doubles as one of America’s leading recovery centers. Such is Lee’s respectability in the amazing Conscious Nashville group he has helped foster.
I made sure I had pals Sarah Larsen and Bradley Quick beside me as I was still feeling weak from the funeral and nearly 3 months of non-stop DreamSheild planetary meditations without any real budget. I was running a global project from modest social media fees via my BuzzBroz company. It had all seemed so simple after Italy. Have a 10.10.10 global celebration and then go back to my normal life. That was 26 planetary meditations ago…
So I was exhausted for the big one. The meditation that meant more to me personally than any other. I had not evolved much, I had simply become a spiritual-aholic instead of a work-aholic. Yeah, this meditation was needed for me personally. I’d missed most of my kids’ childhoods working to be Chicago’s number 1 commercial real estate broker. Nothing was ever enough.
VISIONS AT THE WHEEL
What energized me was Lee’s advice to me and the crowd, shouting over the stiff cold wind, “We gather today for a noble cause. Our reality is what we choose to make it in this world. And we choose to believe there can be an end to addiction on this world. It’s time. And the cool thing is we don’t have to believe in this work for it TO work. We just have to show up and express our intent. Feel it with our heart and soul. In our bones.”
With that Lee turned it over to me. “This is Ken Sheetz of DreamShield who will conduct this planetary meditation. He sees things.”
Smiling at Lee’s perfect intro, I went with the flow and got the crowd laughing saying, “Think of me Larry David of the spirit world. I don’t know how or why the angels chose me in Italy for this work… when I don’t believe in them half the time. But Lee is right. Somehow the job gets done anyways when I just show up where they tell me to go. I’m happy the angels let me see what they are doing, despite my lack of 100% faith in what they let me somehow see.” Excited relief spread through the gathering as I added, “And don’t feel bad if you don’t see what I see or see nothing at all in this meditation. You might even count yourself lucky you see nothing all this angels stuff has turned my life upside down.”
Later a meditation guest would thank me for “keeping it real.”
I passed the mediation ball to Dr. Sarah Larsen to open this meditation with her beautiful OMs. She picked 13 OMs as the number to get the group into an energized connected space. As Sarah OMed, the magic in my mind began to happen once again. I saw, eyes closed, hundreds if not thousands of earth angels watching us 60 souls gathered to form the intent to rid the world of addiction.
My voice cracked as I told the crowd what I was seeing. You see dear reader, I’d thought my visions were somehow at an end but here they were a host of angels ready to protect us and amplify our energy as we set the intention to end earth’s addiction at Lee’s medicine wheel!
This art piece by Gore Dustave is very close to what I saw. I opened my eyes and shared my relief and excitement with the group. “These are not like the angels I saw in Italy. The are human formed, earth angels.” I felt proud these were not the wonderful, if scary, ET angels from Italy working this meditation with us. These were are kindred earth angels curing the earth of addictions.
I closed my eyes again and for the first time with such a large group and shared vision as they came into my head. About my head for a bit. I feel it’s overly large and that I’d easily weigh in under 200 pounds with a more normal sized head. But I digress. Back to Lee’s medicine wheel…
I told the crowd, “I see a golden tumbler that holds the DNA code in this earth chakra beneath the medicine wheel. We are going to unlock this tumbler of gold. Gold that represents, according to some ET experts, humanity’s enslavement from the time we were genetically engineered from apes to mine this world of gold. And it’s this ET engineered drive to never have enough that lies at the heart of all our addiction here on earth. The time has time for us as a species to rise above our enslavement. Let the ancient aliens have their gold we want to be free!”
Note: All this is as close as I can recall my words or anyone’s at the wheel. I don’t have a camera crew at this stage of this underfunded and over ambitious gentle 2012 project. So I may have inadvertently made myself sound better than real life in this blog. Such is the benefit of not having a camera crew.
I then led the group in a meditation chant while we visualized a golden triangle forming within the black hole that lies within each of us as follows:
“Happy. Healthy. And whole!” Four times we repeated this simple triangular mantra together. Success. I saw another tumbler in the earth unlock like a telescope of gold that extended to the earth’s core. It fed us an enormous energy surge I could feel in the mud as I held out my hands.
An angel whispered to me at the wheel, “You will become a new species of homo sapiens. One that will care for each other and this world as equals in ways you cannot even imagine.”
My head was happily spinning in this deep waking dream of healing for earth in the mud at the wheel. This was going far better than I had possibly hoped. I introduced Sarah Wellborn of the west coast spiritual mecca Mt. Shasta. This other Sarah, many Sarah’s have appeared in this work as their name means “Light of God”, had earlier told me she had some very special songs she wanted to share at the wheel. I saw at this moment that her songs were sonic codes to unlock the golden DNA tumbler in the earth’s chakrah.
As a former builder, a man of schedules and budgets who built Oprah’s Harpo studios, I often wonder why the angels don’t give me more clear plans ahead of time. But I went with the divine guidance flow and turned things over to Sarah Wellborn.
The group and I chanted along with Sarah Wellborn’s very beautiful and other worldly sounding singing, singing that I hope to God Lee’s videographer captured for history and I was too busy running a mediation to film. Just as I was fussing about this to myself in my hyper mind I saw the Virgin Mary in glory, radiating healing energy down upon us from a cloud above. You heard me. The Virgin Mary.
UFO expert Renato had told us in his lecture before the DreamShield that ETs, looking not to shock us, would appear to one race as say Shiva, or Muhamed or as the Virgin Mary depending on your cultural heritage. I wonder now as I write if this was what was going on here at Lee’s amazing medicine wheel. You see I am not religious. So I’d be about the last guy you’d expect to see angels, let alone the mother of Christ.
Note: This is not the the best photo of what I saw of the Virgin Mary, unlike the fairly accurate angels one depicted above in the blog. This Virgin Mary was more classic in my vision and radiant in all directions not just her hands. Without a CG artist I can’t describe the majesty of the parting clouds that Mary appeared to me from. Sigh. This is hard on me as filmmaker as I want to truly share all this amazing stuff with you fully. I guess in the hopes you might believe me more. That’s silly I know. The best books do not come with pictures.
It’s taken me days to get the nerve up to write of this because it all sounds so crazy. I keep thinking the men in white jackets are coming for me when, as Lee said, I “see things.” Well, at least I am getting faster at accepting these amazing visions. It took me three months to get up my nerve to report on the angels in Italy.
Yes, dear reader. This blog is the first I am sharing of the Virgin Mary vision. The goddess as the light workers see her, the divine feminine was with us.
I relaxed into Sarah’s beautiful song deeper. She invited us all to join her in our own tones. We sounded alien. A bit like the choir from 2001, only prettier. That damn song annoys me after a while. Sarah’s song was beautiful, but 2001-like-ape scene is how it felt. We were like the apes ready to evolved when we unlocked the golden DNA tumbler in the earth here 40 miles west of Nashville. Lee had explained to me our DreamShield team earlier that day that the earth on this part of the globe holds huge limestone deposits and is naturally one of the purest points on the planet for what we were doing.
I held forth my trembling hands and grabbed hold of the golden tumbler I could see in my mind’s eye. With each of Sarah’s new combination tunes and chants I turned the giant golden lock within the earth. Gone was the scared, little Ken, I was fully my higher self working with the spirits of angels, Indains, cowboys, the Virgin Mary, ETs an my new Nashville and old LA friends. I smiled at Sarah Larsen and Bradley Quick who had somehow moved, without my directing them, into the triangular pattern you see in this diagram that came to me in a dream last fall.
Diagram for Addiction Meditation that Came to Ken Sheetz in a Dream in 11.1.10
Suddenly I saw my father having a Guiness in bar in heaven. He downed half a glass and with a pleased look of satisfaction said, “Enough.”
Then Dad smiles at me as he pushed away from the heavenly bar. I shouted this vision to the group and asked if anyone else was seeing visions or feeling something. A young man shouted, “I see a new golden leaf!”
“Yes!” I shouted back like an excited kid. “New growth for the Golden Age that dawns here today! I see the DNA beginning to shift!”
Sarah Wellborn’s amazing song of alien sounding stopped. She paused and said, “This next one is very playful. It’s for the elementals.” Her song for the elementals that followed was so playful and joyous that it kept me from getting to serious over my Dad’s Guinness appearance at the wheel. Not at the wheel but in a dream the next morning I would see these brown muddy fields we stood filled with grass of a green spring and thousands of white elementals dancing about Lee’s medicine wheel. The playful white creatures looked a like the elementals in SPIRITED AWAY, only not so weird.
The shift was on, as singer Shawn Gallaway had sung the night before at the Lee’s Conscious Music before a packed crowd of 300.
Later I’d tell my middle brother only the part of my vision of Dad pushing away after half a Guinness, who before the trip to Nashville had expressed complete disbelief in this DreamShield meditation’s ability to heal earth’s addiction. My brother, who been an even bigger cynic than me about this addiction meditation, was touched and said, “Yeah, Pops never left a drink half-finished beer in his life.”
It’s my deepest wish and desire that we accomplished the mission of freedom for the earth from all addiction. But for me and my family the vision of Dad in heaven satisfied with his half Guiness means more to me than all my visions since May in 2010 put together. Sorry, Virgin Mary and host of angels. I’m just being honest here while thanking you for all your blessings and help.
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“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” – Eleanor Roosevelt
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Cheryl Brown, Bradley Quick and Dr. Sarah Larsen
For the first part of the day I acted in my dual capacity as a filmmaker and holding space for the energy of Dreamshield that Lee was generating with the enthused crowd of 60 people while Bradley Quick, my guest with Lee’s for the trip, who hosts a radio designed to to help people overcome addiction called The Quick Fix, and who had given a brilliant speech to Lee’s recovery client he night before, acted in the humble capacity as crowd control with Dr. Sarah Larsen.
When singer and one of Nashville’s spiritual leader Lee McCormick of Spirit Recovery agreed to host a DreamShield on 2/12/11, inspired by my vision of a cure for earth’s addictions by 2012, to be unlocked in our DNA through meditation at his medicine wheel, I had no idea what an amazing day he would dream up around the occasion.
If anyone, cynical as myself at times included, needs proof DreamShield is divinely guided just an amazing human being like Lee showing up for the work is proof enough.
Then we were treated to tales of amazing spiritual adventures by Sarah Wellborn of Mt. Shasta, a spiritual guide who we’d met in December and who led our planetary mediation to heal the ozone layer on 12/21/11.
Last before the meditation was world famous UFO expert Renato Longato sharing rare footage of UFO’s that not shown in America’s media. Here’s just a taste of his amazing lecture.
Unfortunately Renato’s awesome presentation was new and ran long, 3 hours, and we lost the chance for our other Sarah, Dr. Sarah Larsen to speak at the Spirit Lodge. This had also strangely happened to Sarah at her own magnificent 10/10/10 event when Dr. Robert Casar, our host and LA 10/10/10 sponsor, went long in his talks. But as on 10/10/10 Sarah took things in stride. For her this day was about being at the medicine wheel to activate the DNA to cure earth of addiction and it would be there she would shine I was sure.
At last it was onto the medicine wheel for DreamShield’s planetary meditation to set the intent to heal the world of addiction. All the events Lee had planned built the crowd of about 60 into a powerful energetic state. But I still worried — still mourning the loss of my father, just 3 weeks ago, whose addiction to drink had plagued my childhood and which was blocking my ability to communicate with the spirit world or wherever this stuff comes from in or outside me — if I’d be able to honor the greatness of the day Lee had created at the medicine wheel.
Here’s the video my social media company BuzzBroz.com, the venture that got me into all this spirit stuff, is promoting for Lee on YouTube and which after seeing inspired my vision that inspired Lee’s big day, an amazing doorway to a better tomorrow that we were only half way through.
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“Self-Sabotage is when we say we want something and then go about making sure it doesn’t happen.” – Alyce P. Cornyn-Selby
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Having conducted 26 official DreamShield planetary meditations and countless personal ones aimed at ushering in the gentle 2012, I thought this DreamShield about curing earth of addiction was going to be easy at Lee McCormick’s amazing Spirit Recovery Ranch.
After all we’d done meditations to shield earth from asteroids, holding the tectonic plates together, erased the dreaded BermudaTriangle and on glorious angel work on. What is addiction compared to all that? Answer: A LOT.
Addiction to oil is killing our world, creating wars. Addiction to media and the cyber world is robbing us of our human connection. Addiction money rips parents from their children. Addiction to substance as Lee McCormick put it is the least of our many addiction problems here on earth.
Angel Guided Diagram to Cure Earth of Addiction by Ken Sheetz
This all got started when I awoke one morning with a vision November of 2010 of a black hole at the heart of all humanity, complete with a diagram on how to cure this addiction flaw to our DNA. And I saw that Lee’s 2000 acre cattle ranch that doubles as one of America’s leading recovery centers with a staff of over 80 was perfect in every way. After just one phone conference Lee accepted the challenge of this enormous vision to cure earth of addiction by 2012 with gusto and coolness.
Unfortunately, as the big addiction meditation approached… my father died. I was thrown for a cosmic loop and lost touch with the angels in my cloud of gloom and pain. You see, my dad was loving family man when sober but when he drank he turned him into a human wrecking ball for me and all around him. In talks at Dad’s funeral with my second youngest brother, Dad’s favorite, who took more of the brunt as of dad’s black hole than me, my brother said, “Addiction can never be cured, Ken. What your doing is nuts.”
Doubts began to fill me. I shrunk backwards on my spiritual growth. By the time I returned to LA from my Dad’s funeral and the Bermuda triangle meditation I was a spiritual basket case.
One day when my client and roomie Bradley Quick, who I had invited on the trip to Nashville, made an innocent, if fat-headed, remark about making up time away from his social media work for dad’s funeral I lashed out with a promise to vacate our working arrangements. I went so far as to leave the call to Lee if he wanted Bradley to join us after all. Lucky for me Lee is a pro with all the issues of not just addicts but their family members like me and he got things straight between Bradley and me with grace and respect.
How cool is Lee McCormick? Here we are with Lee arriving at his Spirit Recovery Ranch on 2/11/11. You’ll get it.
Fortunately also, Laura De Leon of Mystic Muse worked with me like I was a prize fighter, getting me back into spiritual shape for the big fight in Nashville. And thanks to her work I eventually saw that I was projecting my own fears and doubts about this vital mediation onto Bradley. Who is also an addiction pro when it comes to the kids of addicts like me and took my emotional roller coaster ride with gentle calm.
What finally got me ready for 2/12/11 was giving up on being strong about all this. Surrendering, as they say in AA, to a higher power. I was humbled before this mighty task. After apologizing to the angels and Bradley, I told him Lee and Sarah and another Sarah joining our meditation team, Sarah Wellborn of Mt Shasta fame, that I needed all their love and support, as well as Laura’s and all our team around the world, to get through what was going to be my most difficult, and very personal, meditation for DreamShield.
The night before the event Bradley spoke to a group of recovery at Lee’s amazing Spirit Recovery Ranch. I marveled as he touched their hearts.
How good was Bradley’s speech? In the Q&A a client asked him what was his proof that God exists. Bradley did not even miss a beat as he told the client about his proof in God, or higher power is the perfectness of what is, which you can see in this video where Lee and Bradley interact.
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Exhaustion and sorrow overtook me upon my return to LA. My father’s funeral and the Bermuda Triangle mediation had taken a heavy toll. By the time I limped home to the room I rent by donating time to Bradley’s Quick’s Cool Change Foundation I was ready to throw in the towel and fell into my old patterns of self-sabotage.
Fortunately, Laura De León of MyMysticMuse took on the big job of getting me back into DreamShield shape in time for Nashville and the big 2/12 global addiction meditation at Lee McCormick’s Spirit Recovery Ranch, a DreamShield sponosr. An even bigger job because of my childhood issues you see expressed in this video I donated for Bradley’s charity.
Knowing that I have more support for this work than I’ve ever had for anything in my life, I went with the flow, not fighting my emotions to see what new world this worm hole would take me to in the pre-vision work with Laura.
During one key session, Laura enjoyed the persona of a fiery Scott, a comedic spiritual bad-ass named Angus McPherson, that I’ve dreamed up. Angus is an enforcer spirit for the Galactic Federation of Light and he’s been given unlimited powers to deal with hostile forces in violation of the Treaty of Pangea to leave earth.
In a solo DreamShield mediation held just after Christmas, Angus served the official notice for hostile alien forces to evacuate Earth by midnight 12/31/10. Angus, despite vast powers greater than the character Superman, is fair and kind and he cuts off-world beings a lot of slack. But if they take that for being a doormat they end up getting booted off this blue planet, door and all.
Laura helped me set my internal energy points using the Angus persona, so that I don’t play things too small or too big in the work of DreamShield. The other day I was feeling weak and small, overwhelmed by earthly money issues and my dad’s death, by simple concentration using Laura’s MyMysticMuse techniques I was in the right energy space again in no time.
I can’t say enough good things about Laura’s MyMysticMuse work for creatives like me. Here’s Laura on a talk show called Life Changes talking about her work.
God love him, Angus did not take kindly to my father’s death to cancer 3 weeks ago. He saw it as an attack on me and my loved ones for the work of DreamShield. Angus hunted down cancer causers beneath the streets of Paris with the help of a cool dragon he commands, his sword of power and his invincible strength. I would not be surprised to see a huge drop in cancer stats in this period. Internal work does have a real impact in the external world. Heal ourselves and we heal the world and vice versa.
I love the Scottish lad for his fierce work. The cancer meditation was the most powerful self-healing meditation I’ve ever done with more ass-kicking fun that any action movie I’ve ever watched! At the end of the session, Angus was then attacked with death rays by a fleet of hostile alien ships and he simply sighed as the beams bounced harmlessly off him, “Laddies, ya dinna want to go and get me mad. Have you no respect for the Galactic Council, ya nasty beasties”? Angus, with a wave his mighty arm, casually tossed the shocked alien armada light years into deep space.
Thanks to Laura’s work, Angus will be on the job in Nashville. He’s our official guardian among the many angels as we seek to unlock the DNA codes to cure humanity of addiction. An addiction many ET experts say traces back to gold-greed programming from our days as slave race evolved from apes to mine this world for a primitive alien master species.
In one fell swoop Nashville’s mediation can free the pain and anguish of addiction that plagues this planet. And you still have time to join us by signing up here. DREAMSHIELD NASHVILLE.
If you cannot be with us in person in Nashville please hold space with us that day and send us your love and energy to make this miracle of meditation a success!
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Dreams of war, dreams of liars, dreams of dragon’s fire and things that bite – From “Enter Sandman” by Metalica
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Bill Sheetz 1928-2011
Before we start, the Bermuda Triangle Meditations were done at a time of dark emotional grief over the loss of my father. I invite you to look upon my words as fictional therapy, fact on another plane of reality, or as both.
Night one of the meditations to heal the Bermuda Triangle got the ball rolling. But next morning I could not get out of bed until noon. Except for a 2 hour boat excursion to CoCoCay, a Disneylike version of a tropical island, I was knocked out cold. I lay in bed realizing this was not me, even if my father’s funeral had been the day before the cruise, this behavior was still not me, I was paralyzed by the enchantment of sleep.
After we set sail for Nassau I walked the deck beneath stormy skies. The Bermuda Triangle whispered sweet nothings in my ear about the comfort of oblivion on the waves. I saw myself sitting on the ship’s rail and sliding into the Atlantic. I shook off the dark fantasy, knowing I was in a life or death struggle and headed back to the safety of my windowless stateroom.
Tossing and turning back in bed again, I realized I’d slept 20 hours out of the the last 24. As midnight of day two approached my father’s spirit came to me.
I told him to go away and leave me in peace. But Dad was so eager to go to work it egged me on . Finally I began to will my sleep-caked eyes to open, calling on help from the angels, the ascended masters, Buddha, Jesus, my dream team of Laura, Sarah, Lee, Mee, Bradley, Mica, Ramon, Matt, Marta, my brother, to join my departed father in helping me get on my feet for round two. Time to do battle with a force that according to many ET experts was a failed ancient alien experiment gone wrong to create an artificial Merkabah meant to set earth apart from the universe and instead set us on a path of war and self-destruction.
At last I realized why I’d been unable to assemble a mediation team, normally a breeze: The Bermuda Triangle was a potentially lethal experience for someone without the ethereal armor my father had given me as he walked between life and death a few weeks ago before succumbing to cancer.
I struggled from my supernatural stupor to my feet and pulled on some clothes. The ship swayed and I bumped into the wall of the tiny stateroom. We were deep in heavy seas. It had been raining since 2PM. Another excuse that almost kept me in my windowless room. But I finished dressing and stumbled up the swaying hallway.
As I headed up the elevator for deck 12 I looked at the strange eagle pattern that’s grown in my hair in the mirrors. A pattern I feel on good days is meant to remind me this is all not a fantasy, but on bad days like this one was makes me want to dye my hair and forget all this as silly nonsense.
Climbing the stairs to the aft meditation spot, loaded with alien looking radar and sonar gear, I saw the diabolical Bermuda Triangle from space. Negative energy drew lightning from the sea, shooting upwards into the sky, a vision DreamShield’s Laura De León saw of battles as she worked remotely with me from LA.
The decks were slick from the heavy rains that had finally abated as I slogged up the stairs. It was 11:30 AM 1.22.11, Saturday night, less than 48 hours from my father’s funeral. I felt my father’s soul was just up ahead on deck, coaxing me on.
I knew if I was not careful this 2nd meditation would end with me blown off deck, never to be heard from again.
My Irish temper to beat this beast of a triangle reared up. I grabbed the compass, touched my head to the glass. I envisioned a golden circle circle surrounding the Bermuda Triangle. Now, with the help of my father, the angels perched on deck chairs and feeding me energy, I willed the golden band to shrink.
No sooner had the OM left my lips than the angels did their magic. Whoosh! The mighty triangle of 1.5 million square miles compressed to a tiny pinpoint of light.
Night’s work complete, I staggered against the strong wind for the lower decks. Comically a ship’s attendant was trying to set up a table for a GIN party who was getting blown around like a puppet in the winds. I thought this about seeing if this party was actually going to come together but instead I went to bed. I fell back to sleep instantly and had a dream of Neptune battling a sea monster for his freedom.
LAST DAY IN THE TRIANGLE
I awoke, last morning of the trip, feeling much better. On deck I smiled, pleased the seas were calm. The sun worked its way through scattered clouds. We were docked in Nassau. I looked again for Nadia, but voicemail said she was already somewhere on the island by the time I was up and out. I’d been to Parsadise Island with a lover 11 years ago and had seen the Atlantis resort. So I instead walked the streets of the city.
A native on a beat up bike selling peanuts seemed to be always near, even when I dodged him in shops. Sensing he was up to no good, I headed back to the boat.
In the ship’s bar, the Packers were playing the Chicago Bears for the NFC title on TV. For my Wisconsin Dad’s sake I rooted for the Pack, even though I’m more of a Bears fan, having lived in Chicago for 25 years. I felt Dad’s joy once the Packers were on their way to the Superbowl.
This last night of the trip the stars were out and the winds were blissfully calm. I placed my hands on the compass and there again was the tiny point of light of what used to be the Bermuda Triangle. The deck was all mine again and I asked the angels.
“Do whatever you think is right to turn this negative energy off for all times and in all dimensions.”
A magnificent golden light explosion rippled across the planet and out into the universe.
“And so it is,” I said and closed the energies.
I had survived and thanks to the love of friends back home, the angels and my father’s spirit we’d beaten the dark energies of the Bermuda Triangle that have been plaguing humanity for eons. I headed for the stern of the ship and the moon glistened over the sea. I looked up and saw Orion’s belt, a star system I know I came from in a another life and smiled. I listened to Katy Perry’s ET song and all was right with Neptune and the earth.
My bubble burst after we docked, low on cash from 60 days in global meditation and the unexpected funeral, even my cell phone was turned off. Through sheer will and love I managed to make it back to LA with a short-term loan from a pal.
I was feeling blue to say the least, and not blue angel blue. But no sooner did I arrive back in the City of Angels than Egypt’s people rebelled against their corrupt leaders. Change so fast after the angels work! Was it possible? Where was it all this heading?
I close this blog my father’s motto for living an adventurous life that I read for his eulogy as it rings again in my head:
“Proceed without fear of peril!”
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“The Bermuda Triangle got tired of warm weather. It moved to Alaska. Now Santa Claus is missing.” – Actor Steven Wright 1955
DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz
Bill Sheetz 1928-2011
Before we start, the Bermuda Triangle Meditations were done at a time of dark emotional grief over the loss of my father. I invite you to look upon my words as fictional therapy, fact on another plane of reality, or as both.
On the many rescheduled plane rides to attend my father’s sudden funeral from LA to Milwaukee, and then Milwaukee to Miami I’d read a powerful book THE ANCIENT SECRET OF THE FLOWER OF LIFE by Drunvalo Melchizedek, loaned to me by Laura De Leon of MyMysticMuse.com.
The book states :”The Bermuda Triangle… ( a failed ancient alien experiment is) a primary cause of much distortion in the world – the distortion between humans of war, marital problems, emotional disturbances, etc…. What they did in Atlantis was against all Galactic law… it will be solved, but not until 2012.”
Nadia Arevalo, who had so kindly invited me on the Global Information Network (GIN) trip as her guest, hosted a lovely dinner the first night aboard the ship and everyone at our table was so kind about my Dad’s passing. Here were wonderful people who wanted to meditate with DreamShield. So easy.
So wrong. Later Nadia and her friends and I could never coordinate getting together the entire trip. Without cell phones, text and emails people have lost the ability to congregate. We’d use messages on the cabin phones but never saw each other for the next three days. And we weren’t the only friends aboard the gigantic ship, Majesty of the Seas, having this trouble.
So I ended up on my own for the Bermuda Triangle DreamShield, a daunting task. I kept faith in the power of the angels. both earthly and celestial who have worked on solo missions with me for DreamShield in the past, would get the job done. After all we had already had meditations to heal society from 9/11, oil addiction, earthquakes, asteroids, built a new universe,shifted the earth for solar flare protection and took back the city of angels from Hollywood and more. Surely a little old triangle was no match for the angels’ planetary healing powers. But the energy swirling in the sea felt like the cancer that had killed my father and this would turn out to be my most dangerous mediation so far.
I explored the 12 decks of the Royal Caribbean ship, Majesty of the Sea out of boredom and loneliness. I was broken up about losing Dad. I’d been brave for the family at the funeral that ended up coming just a day before this planned event and honored my father’s wishes for an Irish style of a party to celebrate his life. But now I was doing the hard work of grieving his loss in this world. I was glad to be alone with my sorrow now and thanked the angels for creating this privacy for me aboard the packed ship.
I kept traveling upwards through the giant vessel from deck 2, where I was bunked in a tiny internal cabin with no windows, as we steamed deeper and deeper into the triangle.
It was near midnight when I hit upper aft deck 12 and grinned at the site of all the cool and alien looking high tech communication gear. Yeah. As I approached the rail overlooking the Caribbean a man stood nearby, gazing peacefully at the moon reflecting off the waves that the mighty ship powered through.
“Beautiful night.” He shouted over to me over the noise of the sea and radar gear.
“Be more so if we had some beautiful women with us, ” I answered gaining a chuckle from the stranger. I walked over and offered my hand. “I’m Ken.”
“Bob,”he said shaking my hand. Bob had a dreamy look of contentment on his face. “Enjoying the cruise so far?” He asked.
“Yeah, had a great dinner with Nadia Arevalo, who invited me and her pals. Do you know her?”
“Don’t think so. What level in GIN are you?”
“Guest.. I came to check it out and for some R&R and do some work for a project called DreamShield.”
“What’s DreamShield?” he asked.
“We do planetary healing meditation to help bring about a gentle 2012.”
“So the word’s not ending in 2012 like the Mayans predict?”
“The Mayans never said that. Hollywood gave them a bum rap.”
“Figures,” Bob laughed.
“But there will be an end to the world as it exists today when the new Golden Age that we are entering fully takes hold.”
“I like that,” Bob smiled.
A dark cloud covered the moon. Looking up I remarked still surprised by signs this mission gets,”Cool, that cloud is shaped just like an angel.”
“Perfect. Just like the angel that was on my Christmas tree I just took down.”
“This sort of this is my cue to do some work. Care to join me in a meditation?”
Bob smiled and started to leave, “Enjoy yourself. I am going to my cabin to pray. Good luck.”
We shook hands and Bob was gone. I was alone again, the entire deck to myself. Little did I know it would be the last decent conversation I would have aboard this ship. I felt embarrassed that Bob, who seemed so open, did not want to work with me.
I’d read that there are three ruined artificial Merkabahs that are a failed Atlantis experiment that caused humanity’s fall from Galactic civilization. I picked a spot by the deck’s compass. The compass face looked the diameter to the ancient flower of life pattern on the book covered the Laura had loaned me, the building block of all matter in this universe. I placed Laura’s book upon the compass. Sure enough the circle of life was a perfect fit.
Something instantly shifted. I could sense the wild energy of the Bermuda Triangle rise up against me. It was like a hum that rippled through my being, despite my father’s invisible ethereal armor.
The moon vanished behind dark rain clouds. No sign of stars. Just lonely blackness as a wind began to whip up. I called in the angels for the work. The deck was full of chairs and I sensed an angel occupying each one feeding their me blue light power through out stretched hands. One of those angels was may father.
“Thanks for this cool armor you gave me, Dad.” I shouted to him. I felt my new armor glow red as it fully powered up.
“You’re gonna need it, son. This is some nasty shit.”
Using blue light power fed to me through the celestials, I willed the main front satellite ball, about 10 feet in diameter, rocketing of to the north-most point of the triangle where a Merkabah 1 (a 3 D tetrahedrom like the one picture here) was spinning out of control in Bermuda. This I knew from the angels was worst of the three artificial alien Merkabahs. The one that had sunk Atlantis. We used this sophisticated piece of the satellite gear, placed here by the angels for this work when this ship was built years ago, and sent it into Merkabah 1 to draw off it’s wild energy.
The angels, dad and me sent two other hunk of ship’s gear rocketing back to the western tip of the triangle in Miami and ahead to Costa Rico in the east. These were smaller, less unstable so the smaller ship’s radar gear did nice work.
I realized that this work was so intense it it could not all be done in one night. Deck 12, the angels told me, is where I’d be doing meditations each of the three nights. Grateful that my father’s gift of ethereal armor had protected me for this meditation, I went straight to bed.
“Proceed without fear of peril!” – A motto my father William Kenneth Sheetz lived by
DreamBlogger – Kenneth William Sheetz
After some tough work of rearranging my travel plans to attend my father’s the funeral in Wisconsin, I found myself walking the gangplank to go on a cruise in the Bahamas. A cruise I could have canceled as a death in the family would have easily let me out of the penalty for cancellation. So why was I here?
Let’s back-up to last week while my father walked in the twilight between life and death and paid me a visit. Dad was a steel worker most of his working life and he made me an amazing suit of armor. “DreamShield is about a gentle 2012, but gentle don’t mean weak, ” Dad instructed me. “Put this armor on. You need it for the work of 2012 and beyond.”
This was no ordinary suit of armor my father fashioned for me. It’s silver and shines a powerful red energy from within . As Dad put the armor on me it bonded like a second skin. The helmet adjusted to cover the bridge of my nose. “Wow, thanks, Dad!” I said, sounding like my kid-self on Christmas. Dad smiled proudly and was gone.
When I arrived at Milwaukee’s Mitchell Field Airport at Midnight, two days before the funeral, my brother picked me up. It was an icy 8 degrees and I was frozen, having adapted to LA’s warm winters.
After sleeping in late the next day, my brother drove me up to Dad’s amazing place he rebuilt from scratch in his 70s, where I was to help my stepmother prepare for the funeral.
On the way, my brother and I got some lunch (I wish I’d listened and had the burgers). We talked about Dad who was bear one minute and a lamb the next. But we got through all that because we knew Dad loved us. Lunch done, my brother and me bought flowers for Dad’s funeral from he and me and our baby brother Bruce. We covered our baby brother’s share because he’s Jehovah Witness and funerals are not in the playbook.
Arriving at the Sheetz home in Jefferson, Jackie, my lovely stepmother, 15 year dad’s junior, was very happy to see us. My brother and Jackie had become a lot closer since my father’s losing battle with cancer but he excused himself quickly to pick up suit for the funeral, which he was buying the moment my father died. Psychic runs in the family.
I walked about the house. unpacking my things for the funeral visit, and Jackie called to me, wondering if I’d like some coffee. We got separated in the circular traffic pattern and she laughed, “This silly layout. Your father and I did this all the time, losing each other in this big home” Tears welled in Jackie’s eyes. She fell into my arms and wept, “I never thought your father would die. I don’t know how I’ll go on without him.”
I took Jackie’s tear streaked face in my hands and looked her deep in the eyes and said, “You don’t need to go on without him, Jackie. Dad not dead. He’s just on another plane of reality. Would you like to do a mediation with me and visit him?”
“Right now? We can do that?!”
I nodded and gently took her to the kitchen where we sat down by the picture windows. We held hands while the lovely birds pecked seeds from the feeders. I explained the power of the OM for dimensional travel. After three OMs Jackie and I were in Ireland, the magical land of my father’s family roots. There sat Dad perched on a boulder overlooking the emerald countryside, not so emerald this time of year but still gorgeous. Dad pointed to a flock of sheep and shushed us to speak softly.
“Well, I finally made it here. Had to die to do it.” I spoke to Jackie on my dad’s behalf.
“Oh that’s him!” Said Jackie. “Always the kidder.”
“Jackie, I want you to do whatever you want with the property. 40 acres is a lot for one woman to care for. Hard for me to help you from this side. And one more thing.”
“Yes, Bill?” asked Jackie softly.
“Give Kenny a kick in the pants for me.”
Jackie and I had a great laugh as we ended the meditation. We opened our eyes and I could see Jackie was feeling much better.
The next day the funeral was lovely Irish celebration of my father’s life, just as he wanted it to be. Over 100 people came to pay respects from all across Wisconsin and America.
Wiliam Kenneth Sheetz 1928-2011
Shortly before the funeral I hesitated about going on the cruise, but Dad visited me and we went on our first DreamShield mission together to raise a star ship hidden beneath the great pyramid at Giza in Egypt. Dad has been blessed with upgrades to all his skills as welder and mechanic and he fixed that star ship for the work of DreamShield in no time flat.
“This flying saucer’s gonna come in mighty handy.” Dad proudly told me as we flew the ship to a new secret base for the work of a gentle 2012. “Go to the Bermuda Triangle on this cruise, son. We got work to do.”
Funny, I’d not even know the cruise would take me in deep into the Bermuda Triangle — a failed ancient astronaut experiment according to experts that is responsible for wars and great strife upon our world — but Dad knew. I was off to do a planetary healing that with my “Da” and I’d soon learn why he’d given me armor as protection against a storm of dark energy we’d battle together as father and son in the Bahamas.
And I know Dad will be with me as I journey to Nashville 2/12/11 for a critical DreamShield mission to cure the earth’s people of addiction. Simply sign up at this link on Facebook and be part of the dawn of the Golden Age of humanity. And it’s going to be fun! Lee McCormick is a great host and we have one of the top ET experts, Dr. Sarah Larsen and addiction guru Bradley Quick as speakers. I’m going to try my first sweat lodge. No photos, I promise.
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