Could the Neurophone Have Saved Robin Williams?

Sophia Sheetz

Aw.  Before we speak of Robin and an amazing techno-meditation device I’ve been blessed to discover that may have saved his life as it’s saved mine, meet the future.  My puppy Sophia, now 7 years-old, just turning 50 in human years, is living with an adorable LA family I found to adopt her.  She was hard to give up.  Don’t get me started on Obama’s failed jobless recovery.  But it did get me traveling.

Still, much as I love the traveling life.  I miss Sophia.  It makes me sad to think, Sophia who ages seven times the rate of a  human, will one day soon catch up to me in years, pass me by and pass on.  I plan to visit her again soon, before she’s too old to cuddle with me.

Sophia and I bonded instantly.  Love at first sight at a pet store in LA where I was filming a commercial in 2007.  Sophia became the star of my most popular short film starring Ed Asner, ZACK’S MACHINE.


In my 2012 interview of him, best seller author and consultant to film and TV, Dannion Brinkley asked me the question I ask you now:

What’s the one medical condition that leads to more deaths on this world than any other condition?  I guessed heart attacks when Dannion, who has been struck by lightning twice and been dead three times, asked me.

Post your guess below.  I will give prize of one free bottle of Dr. Flanagan’s famed Megahydrate, that hydrates you from the inside out.  Which one of you wins?  Simple, the one I like best. Post your answer now before continuing to read.

Back?  Ok.  The correct answer according to Dannion is birth. Yes, birth, the hillbilly swami, says is the leading cause of death.  Take a look in your mind’s eye: Everyone and everything on this world, this world itself in fact, is born to die.

Age. That’s my morning meditation today. Or more specifically time. Why do we choose atomic decay, or aging, as the universal constraint of our reality?

mother_earth_eyeWhy do we agree to live such short lives, less than the blink of an eye to the cosmos?  And why in so many different bodies and life forms?  Indeed, some forms of insect live an entire life in matter of hours.

Tell you a secret I only learned yesterday in my amazing meditation at the Stupa in Sedona, that I filmed for DreamShield, not all sentient life in the universe lives in linear time like we all do on earth.  Some worlds, like the moon of Nektar I can reach in meditation, live outside time and space.

Why do we earthlings, from puppies to princes, choose to in live linear time, to be young, to breed, to raise our young and then to die?  Pretty profound blog for something that started from a puppy picture, yes?

OK, Take four deep breaths and strap on your Neurophone with me as you read this post.  Let’s ponder the big question of aging, incarnation and time. Wait!  Don’t have a Neurophone? Don’t even know what the heck a Neurophone is?


First invented in 1958 by Patrick Flanagan, when he was only 13-years-old, the Neurophone, explained in detail at where a historic crowd funder launches on September 3, 2014, is a profound techno-meditation device.  It works by sending gentle ultrasonic waves through your brain through sci fi looking transducers you wear on your forehead.  This subtle ultrasonic effect increases blood flow by a whopping 300%, balances left and right brain functions while it activates your ancient ears.

But wait!  Long as I am sounding like an infomercial.  Wearing a Neurophone for just a few months for an hour a day might increase your meditation power to the level of a yogi in a cave, according to the inventor.  And, most amazingly, in most cases, says Dr. Flanagan, it will boost your boost IQ.  I confirm that.  I am smarter for using it for over a year now myself.  Typos still being my weak point that take me forever to weed out.  But the content is way, way up in depth of thought.  Someday the software will be there to correct my typing flaws.

Any who, before we go further, Patrick Flanagan, the brilliant inventor of the Neurophone, who Deepak Chopra calls a gift to humanity, is a client. The most amazing client I’ve ever had.  And considering Oprah is a client for whom I built Harpo Studios for, that’s no small statement on my part.  So keep in mind I am somewhat biased about the Neurophone.  A paycheck has a way of doing that.

But I have confession.  Something I’ve not yet told Patrick.  Here is it.  Without this amazing client in my life, without needing to try the Neurophone to promote it, I would never have tried techno-meditation.   You see, I felt, I should be enough.  I meditate on my own power!  In other words, ego held me back.

The doctor gifted me with an NF3 Neurophone on in March of 2013.  Confession details: I did not start wearing for half a year.  It would take a failed love affair with a selfish beauty that was depressing me to finally get me to use it in earnest almost a full year later.   Yeah, it was the blues that brought me to being a Neurophone fan.  You see, I’d heard it can help people who suffer from depression.

Depression kills.  It recently killed Robin Williams.  Many in my family have died of depression through self-medication, namely drinking and drugging.

The Neurophone has worked very well for my battle with depression I have fought all my life without drugs, mainly choosing work as my natural high that keeps me going. In fact I am sad right now over a losing housemate here in Sedona.  Living all alone here in a small town where the people all seem either ancient or too young and I work from home is tough.  Normally, after such as loss of an amazing housemate I’d be in bed, not able to face the day, but here I am, happy to be normal sad, not suicidal sad, at my computer, sharing my first techno-meditation with you, a term I dreamed up for describing Dr. Flanagan’s Neurophone.

Heaven Couldn't Wait Robin Triumphant VersionDon’t have a Neurophone yet?  Has the $800 price tag scared you away from investing in the marvelous modern marvel that got Dr. Falangan featured in LIFE magazine, this profound tool for improving your brain?

Good news!  Through a lot of determinate and hard work, as he wants more of the world to have one, all you need to do is until 9.3.14 and you can pre-order a 2015 Neurophone for only $399.  That’s fabulous 50% price and upgrades like a new rechargeable lithium battery and healing sound frequencies to boot.

Don’t be chicken like me and wait until the grim reaper of suicide is at your door.  I truly believe the Neurophone might saved Robin Williams, based on my success using one, and might be able be able to save you .

Everything Dr. Flanagan invents is gentle and good and meant to accelerate the gifts you already have and will soon only cost $399, less than a smart phone which makes you dumber.  Will the Neurophone’s gentle ultrasonic waves work for you like it’s worked for lifting my depression?  I hope so.  No guarantees.   Let me know if it did!

Back to our meditation. Keep breathing, oxygenate your brain, Neuophone or not.

Ah, yes, age. Why do we do we choose to age unlike other worlds that choose immortality? The answer: Boredom. To certain spirits, the ones who like to incarnate here, the world where we live one life, holding to one form of life is boring. Look at our entrainment, getting shorter all the time.  One minute movies are the norm on the we now.  BTW, the Neurophone, the inventor tells me, stimulates the brain, thus reducing boredom.

In any case, I am no scientist and the inventor of the Neurophone, the amazing Patrick Flanagan, makes it clear the Neurophone is not a medical device.  I only know on a very painful and personal level it helps beat the blues.

Are spirits who love to be born, to reboot to live life over and over again, to die, study what we learned in the spirit realm before reincarnating as what and who we chose, be it puppy or prince?  I’d like to think so, but fact is no on really knows.  Love the mystery!  Here’s how the Neurophone makes me feel as I express in this video.  About as far from depression as it gets!


Heaven Couldn't Wait Robin Triumphant VersionAs some of you may know I’ve been seeing and talking to the dead since I survived a NDE at age 4.  Since my visit to the other I gained an ability to see and speak to those on the dearly departed. This is a very special tribute, directed by Robin Williams’ spirit, or at least the very much alive spirit of Robin’s that lives in my heart.

Many times, throughout my whole life when a major figure dies, I get paid a visit.  It’s happened with Marilyn, Elvis, MJ and Abe Lincoln’s powerful spirits.  Abe’s becoming a 2009 hit web series on YouTube ABE LINCOLN IS BACK.  It’s only recently I’ve accepted all this as more than my vivid imagination.



By Ken Sheetz

In my morning meditation, which I do as Robin’s spirit has been sending me urgent SOS signals all night that he’s trapped in Area 51, I head in my trusty 2011 silver Jeep for the strange base when hail of machine gun fire erupts.  I spin the Jeep off the road and hide it safely in in a gully.  I love my little used Jeep, my first car in over 20 years since losing my shirt in the real estate crash of 1991.  I head back to Area 51 on foot, cloaked in invisibility.

Peter Pan and the battle of area 51

I’ve done complex meditations to evade psychic security screens before, particularly when I sought to warm the heart of icy banking giant Bank of America, but never have I experienced anything this intense before.  Trillions of trapped souls cried out to me from the beyond here at the dreaded Area 51, Robin’s voice being the loudest I followed his psychic trail.

The Orion Ohom informed along the way that Area 51 has trapped the souls of all the beings that have died on earth since 1957, both human and all the way down to bacteria.  To keep the souls from escaping Area 51 uses stolen Grey tech to create an alternate reality, a “Matrix” where no one or nothing knows they are dead.

I shift my molecules, a gift common to those abducted as kids by aliens like myself, and easily pass through the barbed wire fence.  I tiptoe past a sleeping guard.  I’m in.

I crest a rocky desert hill.  Faint light flashes beneath a guge spirit HARP camouflaged grid.  It is about a mile square and hums with a sick strange-colored alien energy.  Staying invisible, no guards challenge me as I prowl the perimeter, “Robin?”  I say.  “You in there, buddy?”

“Psst,  keep your voice down Sheetzy!” whispers Robin sticking his head out the barrier and then getting sucked back in.

I step across the rough desert terrain to the spot where Robin briefly poked out his head and turn on my red spirit armor.  This powerful armor was given to me by my dead father for my secret 2011 meditation to close down the Bermuda Triangle, blogged about here in great detail in earlier postings.  I’d give you a link but stick with me.  No distractions to this telling of Robin Williams and his work helping the planet and me heal from the afterlife.

As I step into the force field, I am instantly besieged.  Overwhelmed by deep sorrow.  Trillions of the dead life forms, collected here in Area 51 since 1957, all want to speak to me at once of their fears.  The insanity virus is visible in this buffer zone I see as a nasty flowing energy, the color of clotted blood.  I become confused.  Lost.  Every fear broadcast daily on FOX News and every other news outlet attacks me all once.

I will myself onward against a hurricane of terror about solar flares, radiation, fracking, Ebola virus and more and more.  My father’s red armor begins to spark and short out.  I trip and fall face first to the desert floor.  Epic fear rapidly eats away at my armor and my body becomes exposed to even more fear.  I lose hope as I soon lose consciousness.

I awake, my face cut and bruised to smiling face of Robin Williams, the age he was at death, looking down on me saying, “Sheetzy, Sheetzy?  You OK, bud?  Sorry.  Wow.  What a rotten way to start a Monday.”

I sit up on my elbows, winching at burnt skin on my face, tender to the touch.  This virtual world is a well organized paradise inside the spirit HARP.  Trillions of beings live in ignorant bliss in this spotless utopia.  No one is aware of the energy vampires running this place, it seems.  “God only knows the purpose behind all this damn perfection,” I groan.

“Yeah, let’s get the hell out of this Disneyland gone bad before we turn into Mickey and Donald, ” urges Robin, helping me to my feet.

Looking for some kind of exit, Robin and I enter a small neighborhood park with a lighted sidewalk.  The sunset is dazzling.  I whistle at the beauty all around us.

“Don’t be fooled by all the purdy flowers and birdies, pard.  The good folks running this place have about as much heart as a Hollywood lawyer,” says Robin dusting me off.

“Yeah, let’s keep moving.  Has to be some kind of power source running this joint,” I say as  small remnant of my father’s destroyed red armor clanks to the sidewalk.

“Sorry about you dad’s super suit.  Maybe get you a new one if you can get me out of here, Sheetzy, if you tell me your dad’s armor tailor,” says Robin sheepishly.

“Perhaps my old man’s ethereal armor fried because it’s time for me to learn to work without it,” I say kind of happy to be graduating for assistance from my erratic father.

“Cool,” says Robin petting a chihuahua looking for its master.

“Last time I saw you, Robin, you were in that maze world we built in deep space. Safe and sound in a new universe all your own made of the pure love of all who adore you.” I say, recalling yesterday’s epic vision blogged of here.

“Yeah, don’t really know how I got sucked into Area 51-ville.  Oh, wait…  Forgot to cut my earthly tether.  Yikes.  I am not good at this dead stuff yet.” says Robin apologetically.

“My fault.  Should have told you as your spirit consultant, Robin.” I say bear hugging Robin off the ground.  “Happy to see you again, man!  Watched you in HOOK with my last night.  Let’s get you flying again, Peter Pan.”


“Do I get any thanks at all?” says Robin to change the topic.

“For what?” I say

“For dragging your heavy butt out of the HARP barrier when you fainted, Sheetzorama” say Robin with that famed smirk of his.

“I did not faint.  Women faint.  I passed out, Robin, ” I say defensively as I eye a huge blue whale sailing in the early evening sky above us.

“Whoa.  Relax, man.  This roomie moving thing out has you as out of whack as President Obama’s lost  hope and change agenda.  We’re gonna have to straighten this child abandonment stuff of yours out once and for all so that you have enough juice to blast us out of this Walmart paradise.  Coffee sucks here, BTW.  Nothing but McDonald’s and they make you eat a double cheeseburger with every cup!  I’ve packed on ten spirit pounds already!” says Robin brightly.

pan_williamsAs I laugh, Robin transforms to his age and garb as Peter Pan in the film HOOK and says, “Ok, Sheetzy, it’s HOOK time.  Change to yourself age 8.  I want to do a Peter Pan healing of your inner child to pay you back for all the good work you’ve been doing meditating for me and my loved ones.”

“Uh, not really, uh, time.  Busting you out of here now before — “

“Go ahead.  Try, Ken.  Bust all 7 trillion of us life forms, including your own life force, outta here, Popeye.  Try, or better as Yoda says, DO!” said Robin with a comic bow.

I squeeze my eyes and try to use some of the new techniques I’d been gifted in the Mt. Shasta pyramid from spirit architect Metatron, all of which worked so flawlessly the night before helping Robin reunite with loved ones. A tiny ellipse of bright light forms between my hands and PUFF! goes out.

“Spiritual impotency alert!  AGH!  AGH!” laughs Williams as Pan.

“Point made,” I acknowledge to Robin as I begrudgingly transform to my frightened 8-year-old me.

“Come and sit on uncle Peter Pan’s lap, little Kenny,” says Robin taking a seat on an immaculate park bench.  “My lap is safer than Santa’s,  Come on.  Up!”

I happily climb up into his warm lap and Robin puts a big hairy arm around me.  With a reassuring smile Peter Pan Robin says, “Genevieve is someone new and wonderful in your adult life.  A spirit daughter is rare.  Appreciate her without smothering her.  Respect her when she says she’ll always be there for you, Ken, living under your roof or not.”

I nod quickly, wanting to believe Genevieve will not be leaving me forever, but little me is feeling very sick.  “My tummy hurts,” I say vomiting onto the perfect lawn.

“Thanks for not puking on me, little Kenny” says Robin, great with kids, Peter Pan or not.  He strokes my hair and offers. “Now listen carefully, little Ken.  Genevieve’s not your

“Hello, little Ken,” says Robin, shaking my hand and pumping my little arm up and down so hard that I giggle.

“Hello, Peter Pan!’ I giggle happily.

“Goodbye, little Ken,” says Robin patting my head.  Tears well in my big blue eight-year-old eyes.  My lush lower lip, beautiful I see now, but which my vile father called “Nigger lip”, sticks out, quivering.  Robin gives a frown and flies off into a perfect fake cotton candy cloud high above.

Little Ken whimpers to himself, “All alone!”  Strangers and animals pass, ignoring little me.  I feel so rejected, the orphan child and fall deeper into fear as suddenly the shadowy figure of my drunken father staggers up the pathway.

“Hello, little Ken!” says Robin zipping back into view.

“Hello, Peter Pan!” I say glad to no longer see my ominous father as Peter Pan blocks his view.

Goodbye, Little Ken!” says Robin.  He flies away so fast the suction messes the long mop of soft brown hair on my head into a swirl.  I spin around.  “Oh no…” I whisper.  My drunk as a angry skunk father is only 20 yards away.

“Hey, you little shit.  Get your skinny ass over here, ” says my father, slurring his words.  He guzzles down a beer and tosses the empty can onto the perfect trail. A park robot instantly cleans up after him.

I run and hide behind a ridiculously perfect set of bushes and there is Robin as Peter Pan.  “Hello, Little, Ken!” says Robin.  But this time before he can fly off I dive onto Robin’s leg and grab hold for life.

“Don’t leave me with my Daddy!  He will hurt me!  He’s mean!  Don’t leave me, Peter Pan, like my mommy, grandma and auntie did!” I beg shamelessly.

Robin sighs and takes me by the hand and firmly guides to where my father is waiting, leather belt in hand, itching to beat me.

“No!  Peter Pan please.  Fly me away to Neverland with you.  My papa is mean.  He’ll kill us both!” I beg.

“Time to face the real reason you get so sad when women leave you.  Your pops is an abusing jerk.  I’ll handle him like I’ve handled him like any other drunk hecklers in my standup work.  Relax, little Kenny.” says Robin tugging me along.

“NO!  NO!  My dad’s meaner than you can know!” I shout, but Peter Pan is too strong for me.  I can feel my angry father’s hot dragon breath as we get close.  I puke again on the manicured lawn.  The cleaning robot beeps in annoyance as he hoses down my vomit.

Robin as the Pan gets right up in my father’s face and shouts, “You!  You, sorry excuse for a human being, you should be ashamed of yourself for how you treat this beautiful boy of your.  You sir are a bad dad!”

“Oh yeah, faggot in green tights?  Whatcha gonna do about it?  Ken’s a rotten kid.  The little shit needs to learn respect for his father!” shouts my dear old dad, the veins on his muscular arms bugling as he put up his fists to fight.

“That’s right, violence solves everything, doesn’t it Captain Hook?”  As Robin says and at this my father’s clothes and hair transform into Captain Hook’s, hook hand and all.

My father pulls his sword in the blink of an eye and lunges it for Robin’s heart shouting, “Queer!”

But Peter Pan quickly pulls his sword and shouts in a fake gay voice to taunt my father, “The battle of Area 51 is on like Tinker Bell’s fairy dust, you brute!”

“No one tells me how to raise my God Damn kid, Fem!” shouts my father, striking Robin’s sword so hard sparks fly.  My father is a highly trailed US Army drill sergeant and his powers combined with Captain Hook’s are formidable.

“Of course I dare, you drunken fart in the wind!  Your old poodle Lacy would make a better dad than you, ” shouts Robin defiantly, his gay BIRD CAGE taunting tone gone.

“To the death, Pan!” says my enraged father, hooking Robin’s tunic and tossing him smashing through a billboard of a perfect shiny new Ford hybrid.

“Now there’s a product placement Spielberg would love,”  kids Robin, quickly dusting himself off as he parries swords with my crazed Captain Hook/father.

I bawl and hide my little eight-year-old self behind the cleaning robot, doing it’s best to keep this perfect fake world perfect.

hook-4My Captain Hook father does a spin and slashes open a deep gash across Peter Pan’s chest.  “Huh?  Dead and I can still bleed?” says Robin, stunned.  He looks at me as if wanting help. But I am a helpless child again.  Watching two people I love fight.  My father’s powerful sword blows make Robin weaker by the second.

“Oh, yes, Peter Pan Williams, you can bleed.  I am going to gut you like a fish!  I shall bleed all your life force into the HARP so that no one even remembers you.  Everything you ever created, every film you made, even your kids will vanish as if they never existed!”

“Hello, little Kenny?  A little help here, please?” shouts Robin as my father wails hook and sword blows down on him with the viciousness that almost killed me on my 12th birthday.

“Can’t.  Can’t help you, Peter Pan.  I’m too little, ” I say peering out from behind the cleaning robot.

“Hello, Little Kenny!  Then ain’t it time you grow up?  Dontcha kinda think, before your old man turns me into a fresh green salad?” says Robin as my father knocks him to the perfect lawn.

Bystanders cheer on my Hook father “Erase the suicide!  Williams shouldn’t be here.  Peter Pan should be in hell where all suicides belong!” shouts a burly man.  This deep dig greatly weakens poor Robin.

“I loved Robin’s movies.  He died of depression.  No different from someone dying of car crash.  This great artist deserves to be here just as much as you and me,” shouts a woman who looks like an amalgam of every woman I ever loved all rolled into one.

The burly man smacks the kind lady to the pavement, “Shut up and stay down, bitch!”

Seeing the violence perpetrated on this innocent woman, defending Robin in this nightmarish world of perfection causes something to erupt inside little me.  Little Ken wills down from the heavens the power of the DreamShield I saw the ET angels build in Italy in 2010. He wills up the the volcanic power of mother earth.  Instantly, I am my adult-sized again, only now I am young once more, about 27, and wear not my father’s red suit of failed ethereal armor, but the red, yellow and blue suit of Superman, my triumphant childhood hero.

I fly over to the fight at super speed to the fight scene, just as my father is about to make the death blow to Robin’s spirit, erasing him forever from human history.  I tap my Hook father on the shoulder and say hoarsely, “Stop Dad.”

My Hook father spins to me, screaming in my face like the madman he was in real life, when I’d shake but while I still faced him down, “You, worthless cur.  Every woman leaves you.  And who’s always the one to pick up the pieces?  Me!  Ha!  You stand up for a suicide after all I’ve done for you?  You make me sick, boy.”

“I am not your whipping boy anymore, Captain Hook.  Thanks for all you’ve done.  I’m grateful, Dad.  You were far from perfect and dangerous as truck full of nitro.  But I felt your love, your loyalty.  Now, seriously, leave Robin alone.”  I say with genuine love and compassion for my father, who though his sick mentally, was the only person I could ever depend on.

“Growed up?  Throwing away making millions in real estate to be an impoverished filmmaker at age 50?  That’s not grown-up, sonny boy, that’s bat-shit crazy.  You need to be locked up for your own good, ” says my Captain Hook father, motioning to some cops with a taser and straight jacket, hiding in the bushes.  They advance on me cautiously, afraid of my youthful Superman appearance.  Gone is the blubber of screenwriting in a chair for 11 years in Hollywood.

“I thank you for teaching me to fish, to hunt, to draw, to love.  I honor you, father.” I say bending to one knee before him.

“Ah, let me knight you then, boy!” says my Captain Hook father, bringing his sword down, hoping to cleave me in two.  But instead his sword shatters into a thousand shiny pieces without even cutting a hair on my super head.  I casually blow my super breath and “Matrix” cops sail off.

Robin flies into a joyous barrel roll above us, “Who hoo!  Sheetz is all grown up.  Heralds, play onto this fake world the Pandora channel of AWESOME!”

I stand and look lovingly into my dazed father’s eyes and take off his silly Hook wig.  Tears well in his grey blue eyes and Dad says, “Never could break you, Ken. Used to drive me nuts.  Today, I am proud.”

My father, as all who knew nothing of his epic dark side will tell you, gives the best bear hugs on earth.  And even in my super form I feel his power as he lifts me off my feet in a warm embrace.  For the first time in my life, I return his wild love in equal measure, bear hugging Dad right back.

Somehow Robin has impossibly wriggled himself between me and my father, whose dirty “before” t-shirt is now as clean and white as a Tide commercials “after” picture.  A Tide jingle plays in this fake world from a speaker on the cleaning robot.  I use my heat vision and melt the robot into a puddle silver.  Tinker Bell gazes at herself in the mirror puddle

“Sorry, no more product placements, Tide.  So big Ken and, Bill, isn’t your name?” offers Robin, all charm now.  My father nods “yes” respectfully.

Robin says, “Think you two, 20th century and 21st century marvels, can marvel all we trapped souls out of this corporate military industrial complex nightmare?”

“What do you say, Pops?  My light and your dark combined will crack Area 51 wide open,” I say hopefully.

bdblmp“I like it here, Son.  Fought in Korea to create all this perfection.  Welded the HARP mainframe myself, “says my dad sincerely, admiring his perfectly imperfect world.  A  blimp for Budweiser beer, with my jumbo screen of Aunt Katie swigging a beer sails over his head.

“This perfection killed your sis, Katie, Bill. It killed me.  I couldn’t hold to your insane standards of imperfect perfection anymore.  Lost myself in the booze and drugs.  I miss my wife and kids.  My fans.  Help your son.  It’s time we started over.   And this time the male and female must be honored equally,” offers Robin gently.

My dad scowls at his beautiful dead sister on the overhead blimp ad of her drinking a beer.  Without another word, he joins his hands to my forearms, as I learned to do getting off the boat in Antarctcia on 12.12.12, for the 24 meditations.  One for each time zone of the planet, now shifting the world with the help of millions of people like me.

“For my sisters Katie and Merytle,” says my father warmly.  He begins to darken as though covered with the grease from his life a welder and ace mechanic.

“For my birth daughter Janelle who has not spoken to me in 3 years, ” I add as I grow bright from my healing inner child within, no longer so afraid of his father.

“For both your grandpas Julius and Clarence!” says my father, growing as dark as the dark matter of space itself.

Robin, still in Peter Pan form, flies happy circles around us.  His back draft spins my father and me into a Ying and Yang of dark and light.  Robin adds to the growing Metatron energetic, which is permanent, and says, “For Zelda and Marhsa!  For Susan, Zak and Cody! For all my family, friends and fans!”

Outside the spirit HARP facility, a single guard on night duty looks up from his McDonald’s coffee as the HARP superstructure starts to shake and rumble like an earthquake is happening and says, “Oh shit…”

FirefoxScreenSnapz019“BANG-A-RANG!” shouts Robin William as he rockets in glowing green Peter Pan form, soaring from the crumbling spirit HARP.

Below, my father and I are a whirling dervish of silver grey energy.  We spin at a super sonic speed that sets off a silver tornado, tearing the spirit HARP to shreds of flying steel.  Air raid alarms blare and I know our demolition work is done. And so I say lovingly, “Good bye, Dad!”

“Good bye, Son!” my father says and as he kisses me on my cheek, bright as a super nova, his lips dark as a black hole and… BAM!

A mushroom cloud of released spirit energy sends out a shock wave of compressed air that flattens every structure on the Area 51 base.  My father gone, I watch as a Grey’s alien ship, from which all the tech had been stolen to steal souls, rises from the ashes of the spirit HARP.  The silvery ship tips its thanks to me and Robin and races off to the stars.

“Guess that’s a wrap, Robin.” I smile, backslapping Robin so hard I almost knock him out.  “Uh, sorry.  Forgot I’m still in Superman form.”

“Lucky for you I’m in still Peter Pan form.  Bet you never knew Pan is more powerful than Superman, did ya?” smiles Robin as the dust begins to clear and stars come out in earnest above the cleansed Area 51.

“What make you say that?  Supes has mighty strong Jumaji.” I laugh.

Heaven Couldn't Wait Robin Triumphant Version“Because Peter Pan, who always wanted to stay young, understands better than anyone the power of kids.  And more importantly, our inner kids.  That’s why, smart ass,” says Robin playfully.

“No arguments here, Robin.  Well, I guess this is goodbye.  Stay Peter Pan, cut your tether and fly off with Tinker Bell to that new universe we built yesterday,” I say without feeling sad about a goodbye to someone I love for the first time in my life.

“Agh!  Not yet.  I want the lesson of the Hellos and Goodbyes to really sink in for you, Sheetzy.  So helooo and bye to several trillion souls that you, your old man and I freed tonight.  We’ll start with the largest beings to smallest.” says Robin.

A line of blue whale spirits stretch out before us, hovering over desert floor.

“Hello, Ken, ” the first whale calls to me in whale tones I understand as words.

“Hello, Elizabeth,” I say amazed I know in my heart that the blue whale’s name.   Elizabeth the whale holds out a fin for a shake and I say with zero anxiety, “Goodbye, I hope you’ll finish your LA life and join me in Sedona some day. Don’t forget Ohom says you are my perfect mate.”  The giant blue whale vanishes.

Saying Goodbye without sadness or fear is super cool, Robin,” I say flashing the thumbs up to Peter Pan.  “I said bye knowing I’d faced all my father’s darkness with love and compassion.  I said it knowing my spirit daughter Elizabeth and I will meet again and share many adventures.”

“Might be hope for you yet, Super Sheetz,” says Robin.

I look at endless line of trillions of spirits freed of the Area 51 HARP and turn to Robin, my Super cape fluttering in the night air and say, “Robin, man, this is going to take forever. I really do get it.  Hello leads to goodbye and the goodbyes simply lead to back to hello.  I’m cool now.”

Robin floats off gracefully on his back, still in Peter Pan form, above the ruins of Area 51.  Tinker Bell infuses him with fresh fairy dust for the long journey to the labyrinth universe we’d made together yesterday, Robin says with the satisfied smile of a job well done on his lips, “That’s what eternity is for, Sheetzy.”

“But I have work to do today.  Tax reports need –“

“Time is not linear, Ken.  So that’s one Hello/Goodbye lesson down and six trillion, 999 billion, 999 million, 999 thousand and 999 souls to say Goodbye and Hello to to go,” grins Robin as he and Tinker Bell rocket off, leaving a trail of pixie dust across the Nevada night sky.

I happily return to my training from the patient spirits tapped here since 1957 by the spirit HARP and ready to be free after they share the Hello and Goodbye abandonment healing to go onto all their next lives and their own Neverlands.


AUGUST 15, 2014

I am at a local coffee shop called Bad Kitty in Sedona and the spirit of Robin Williams has dropped for an interview!

ROBIN: Hi world. It’s me, Robin. Or least Ken’s memory pattern of me. You decide!

KEN: Robin, great directing me in the spoof poster (left) yesterday. You’ve still got the magic touch.

ROBIN: Thanks, Sheetzy! Nice colab. I promise to keep haunting your ass!

KEN: Some people are saying you’re in hell. Was the poster a message you’re really in heaven?

ROBIN:  Hell no! There is no heaven or hell. I was in heaven. That’s what earth is. Tell you a secret, Sheetzo…

KEN: What, Robin?

ROBIN: I collabed with you on the poster as an FU to that slob Limbaugh! What a waste of radio waves that fat jerk is!

KEN: I love the poster even more then, Robin.

The chair at Bad Kitty Coffee in Sedona where I interviewed the spirit of Robin Williams.

ROBIN: Enough about super-losers like, Rush. I want to say something to my wife; Oh, Suzie Q, I am so damn sorry, baby. We’ve been on so many great trips but this was one I had to go solo on, darlin’. I want you to know I am always with you, honey lamb.

KEN: Aw, Robin, hard for me to type through the tears.

ROBIN: Buck up, Sheetz! I need to say something to my kids.

KEN: Of course. Go ahead, Robin.

ROBIN: Zelda, Zak, Cody, oh, how I miss you all. If it helps, my leaving has ended my pain. It’s kind of like WHAT DREAMS MAY COME over here only no hell. You can eat almost anything. Feels very light headed over here. No judging jerks. I’m viewed no different for dying of depression that someone dying of cancer. Ain’t that cheery?! Ha! — So no rushing in to save me because there’s nothing to save me from. I live on in your hearts. You know that and it makes me glad. Makes me so proud of you, my ZZCs. Please tell your poor mom I am more than sorry it never worked out of us. But we made you and that’s always going to be our best thing we both ever did in life. M put up with my high highs and low low lows for a long time. She deserves a freaking super hero medal!

Robin sits quietly across from me drinking in the sweet Sedona energy and nods to add…

ROBIN: To my fans, I miss being alive! To live, ah the good times we had. I felt your love for so long. Feel it still here where I am munching on a hedge. I know some part of me lives, the silliest and best part of me, on and on your hearts too. Maybe too much. Take it easy. I was just a comedian, a trickster, for Christ’s sake. Please, don’t follow my lead. Get help when you get too blue. Hey that’s a poem. Ok, Ken, thanks for this, fantasy or reality, who gives a nano of a nanoo!

KEN: My honor and pleasure. Where you off to, Robin?

ROBIN: Got an appointment with a flock pigeons.

KEN: Pigeons?

ROBIN: Yep. Guiding the flock to poo all over Rush Limbaugh’s freshly washed car! Ciao, all! Muaah! Muaah! Muaah!

Robin vanishes from the chair. The sound of a flock of pigeons fluttering off with Robin as I finish my coffee with a chuckle. Well, friends, you deicide if my encounters with the spirit of Robin Williams are real or not. You see, I’m not really sure myself. Typical me if you follow my work. I’ll never be 100% sure of my gifts I see. But I now see that not-sureness is a gift that keeps me humble and grounded in the real world. My unsureness is a tether to keep me on this side. Yes, I’m just happy to be half way sure these days after a lifetime of suppressing my psychic gifts.

AUGUST 16, 2014

I work early this Saturday morning and rolled over in my bed to see what the day was going to be like. There, on the pillow beside me, was the spirit of Robin Williams starring me in face with big grin.

Robin said, “Gotta do something about your snoring of, Sheetzo, or you’ll never get laid again!”

I laughed, overjoyed to see Robin was looking young and spry like his “Mork and Mindy” days.

“Let’s do a meditation. The guys on this side say you rock the cosmos for a human,” said Robin sounding a bit anxious I might decline.

“Absolutely! Close your eyes, Robin,” I said.

“Do I still have eyes to close?” said Robin slapping his cheeks. “Okay, felt that. Here goes.” and Robin and I closed our eyes in unison.

“Hang on. We need to leave the planet for this one. I need lots of space,” I said confidently. Robin groped the bed sheets for my hand. “Watch it, Robin. That’s not my hand!”

“Don’t blame me, Sheetz-a-rama. You said to close my eyes before we got all touchy feely!” said Robin with a chuckle.

Finally Robin and I managed to clasp hands. They were hairy hands. Strong. “Ease up on the grip, Robin. You won’t fall.”

As I said this we rocketed through the roof of the troublesome but beautiful place I rent in Sedona. Robin screamed in that hilarious way he has in so many movies in genuine shock, no acting here.

Soon we was broke free of earth’s atmosphere. I gazed at the sun and flew for at five times the speed of light. “You’re heading for the sun! We’ll be burnt alive. Oh wait. I’m dead… Proceed, Sheetzy!”

A black square opened in the face of the sun. “Potal. Hang on, Robin!”

Robin screamed like a banshee as we rocketed one million times the speed of light down a worm hole. I’ve done this before over countless lives I could now recall and simply yawned.

We shot from the worm hole and were surrounded by total blackness. Robin kept screaming while I patiently waited for him to chill like me.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Total nothingness! Where the heck are we, Mr. Sheetz!” shouted Robin.

“Right where we need to be, outside our universe. I said we needed space. Didn’t I?” I said calmly to Robin,

“You didn’t say EMPTY space!” said Robin, so freaked out he’d forgotten he was dead as I scanned his mind with mine. Which was a good thing. I wanted that for him.

“Okay, are we done freaking out now, Robin? Let’s do some magic. Look closer at the darkness. See? It’s filled with energy,” I said as now bright splotches of every color of the rainbow, densely dotted the infinity around us.

Robin calmed and whistled in excitement.

“Now, concentrate. Let’s pulls all this light and energy to us.” I said holding forth my hands. Robin copied my hand gestures. Colors, of a spectrum far greater than the human eye can see, stretched for us and began filling Robin and I with light and energy.

Soon a ball of light was all about Robin and me and he said, “Wow. What the heck are we doing, Ken?”

“Watch.” I said a bit amazed I knew exactly what I was doing as effortlessly as making a morning coffee.

The ball of light became a world. Not your typical world but a world filled with a huge green hedge of mazes that circled the globe. I willed a large plaza to form on the surface.

Stellar gasses ignited and the maze world saw its first sunrise. Robin’s mouth hung open in childlike wonder. And before he could ask another question I willed us into the plaza. Birds sang in the dawn light.

Robin opened his mouth to speak. I held a finger to my lips for him to be silent. A young woman with daisies in her hair exited a section of the vibrant lush maze hedge.

Tears poured from Robin’s cheeks as he dashed across the carpet of flowers and grass for the young woman shouting, “Zelda! Oh Zelda!”

Robin and his daughter met in loving embrace in the middle of the plaza. Now Robin’s sons Zak and Cody, his wife Susan and ex-wife Marsha ran from various maze points and joined the joyous reunion. More family and friends, some very famous, joined the growing throng of love.

No one remembered Robin was dead, not even Robin. All that existed was love outside the boundaries of time and space and deep sense of reunion. This was our gift to Robin, me and Ohom my higher ET self. Ohom let me do all this. The very first solo use of manifesting powers at this level to create this planetary maze for an amazing world of peace and love. A fresh new world for Robin and all who love him.

Millions of fans of Robin were streaming from the maze exits and I willed the biggest stadium ever in existence into reality. A stage of paradox with millions of people who all had front row seats to watch Robin reunite with his current family, his long dead family and those yet to be born, into infinity.

The audience began to chant, “Robin, Robin, Robin!” Robin seated his family on the stage and took a microphone I gave him. More and more stars were appearing in the sky above us which had no atmosphere. We had no need for air here. Not while a new universe was being born.

A spotlight from the top of a maze hedge lit up Robin, sporting a rainbow-colored shirt and silver baggy pants.

In my home back in Sedona I was no longer me. I was gone. I was Robin and I chose to sit on the edge of the stage, which was also the edge of my bed. Everyone’s love for me was overwhelming. I, Robin Williams, the man who had a wisecrack for everything, was speechless.

My microphone began to glow with a golden white light. I pulled it to my lips, but no words came. So I said to myself, “Go with it! Mime time!”

I floated above the love gathering. So much love! I released a billion white butterflies of light, one for everyone here on planet maze. Laughter and applause echoed through the new universe. Robin beamed a bright smile and resisted words to the end, just soaking in all the love and light.

I opened my eyes in Sedona. Ken again. And proceed to the kitchen, light as feather, to make coffee and started my Saturday with my guest Genevieve and Hanny, who were here to take a visit to Angel Valley with me today to walk the labyrinth for a meditation. A meditation that turned out to be the conclusion to a planetary meditation I’d stated in 2011 in Nashville to end addiction on the earth. I felt Robin with me in the maze whenever I goofed around.

A fitting thing on a day when I hope I helped Robin’s spirit find peace and he helped me in ending addiction that’s torn apart of father and brother. Hoping it was enough to help him on his way and give peace to his loved ones. And hoping that Robin won’t be waking me up in my bed ever again!


There’s been a lot of judging by the religious of Robin’s needing to end his life.  On Friday I unfriended a religious person who reacted vehemently to my poster I did for and with Robin. The reason being they could not let go of judging Robin as unworthy of heaven. I let this pass for the first round of comments but then they returned with a snide inappropriate comment. I don’t mind some healthy debate in the proper forum, but I could see my modern paradoxical way of thinking was only agitating this good person so I ended the FB friendship.

That FB thread is not a place I choose to tolerate old belief system judgments or any kind of wisecracking that’s Rush Limbaugh-like in it’s level arrogance about matters none of us really know about. The religious are free to have their opinions on my pages as long as they acknowledge they don’t really have the answers and operate in mutual respect here. Probably it is unrealistic of me to expect that of the religious minded as they are locked into the old ways with years of mental conditioning. Still I send the person I unfriended here in the middle of the night love as send them on their way. Indeed, my modern beliefs more closely follow those of my friend Dannion Brinkley, who has survived many near deaths and seen the other side. Dannion told me in after a 2012 interview I did of him, wish I had that part on camera, that there is no shaming or special penalties for suicide victims in the afterlife.

However, suicide does, according to Dannion, and all we know is no one really knows, mean you must relive your life over again after a nice rest and repeat the lessons of your karma. That’s a lot of incentive not to take your own life. I sure wouldn’t want to repeat my past again. But Dannion says sometimes a soul like Robin’s simply becomes too overwhelmed with pain and they use their free right to end their own suffering. And of course the hardest part of it all is the pain suicide inflicts on those left behind. In Robin’s case he left children and a wonderful wife behind who are suffering terribly. His pain had to be enormous to take the exit door.

Robin’s depression was paralyzing for him to not to be able to avoid inflicting such pain on his loved ones. If there is a heaven – and, again, no one really knows in fact if there is or is not, despite what some religious people are preaching as they judge suicide Robin’s crime as punishable by an eternity of hell – in Dannion’s viewings of the after life he saw, no one takes the hardline and judges suicide as evil. Indeed, the suicidal depression that killed Robin is viewed in the afterlife Dannion saw as being no different, and with no less love and compassion, than is given for someone dying of plane crash.

I like that. It fits my intuitive belief of life a universe like the animal kingdom of non-judgement. We are the only shaming species.  In fact Dannion says there is no hell at all. What does happen is you have a past life review and must relive your life through the eyes of those you caused to suffer before you can go onto the next life to relive your karma. So if you murdered someone, for an awful example, you are going to suffer that murder yourself and feel what it was like to be killed by your old self. Robin’s case is special. Applying Dannion’s beliefs, Robin, so connected to so many who loved him will be reliving millions of lives of hurt fans he left behind in addition to his close friends and family’s lives. That’s going to be long and painful journey for Robin, if Dannion has it right. But Dannion explains that’s why time is eternal and non-linear.

Well, an amazing thing is happening with Robin’s passing. For the first time talk of suicide is in the open. In the end that’s healthy for us all. My wish for Robin is that he gets to live that next life without the manic depression illness that caused him so much pain it led to all his addictions and yet that he – or she as the case may be next go around – still be as brilliant an entertainer.

I’ll keep you posted about more encounters with ETs, the dead, Gods and Goddesses, right here.  Bottom line, there’s way more to the universe than what we can see and touch.


Here’s my video about how I got my gifts to see more than the average bear.

June 2014’s Nearly Lethal Mercury Retograde

Oh, Mercury retrograde. You are here, AGAIN. You have arrived on our collective doorsteps in all your messy glory. – Gala Darling

Communicating during Mercury retrograde is never a thing of beauty.  But this Merc turned ugly on June 5th, a day early of the calendar dates of some astrologers. And it took a long road to get to this almost deadly June retrograde that’s turned out to be life threatening. Yes, bad communications can be lethal.  We see in this sad fact in the news every day.  But this one hit home for me.  Literally home.


Back in October 2013 I rented a sweet little green concrete block house that had been built-in the 1950s to continue on extended assignment filming famed scientist Patrick Flanagan.  The house was built the same era I was born in and was totally renovated in 2012.  Same year I went to Antarctica to meditate on shifting the negativity of the Mayan calendar fears to making a change to human consciousness.

903085_10151414597127029_2081500677_oIndeed, it all seemed so perfect.  It was the first house in my rental hunt that I toured and I told the leasing agent I’d take it right on the spot.  Love at first sight for this sweet little place on a big 2 acres of land.  Looking for some company, having been used to sharing homes with roomies since 2009 when I was evicted in the depths of the Great Recession, I moved in with a beautiful Sedona psychic I’d met back in 2010 as my housemate.  She had a cute little dog.   I was in totally in love with the psychic, but she was clear had no such feelings for me.  Still I enjoyed her company, and the dog adored me like it was my own and so I was looking forward to a fun time-sharing a house with the beauty and pooch.

Ah, but it just did not work out.  For some reason the exquisitely sensitive soul, an extrovert to my introverted nature became very agitated hanging with me.  I learned an introverted type like me likes to socialize at home whereas an extrovert socialize in public and wants isolation at home.  So the psychic isolated herself in her part of the house, a later addition with its own HVAC and bath.  Lots of upsets, that seem like something out of rom-com in retrospect. led to us mutually parting ways after her sharing my Sedona paradise for only 10 weeks.  One day I came home from a long trip to help my brother find his new place in Florida and found I had the house to myself.


DSC00859I decided to make it a meditation on living in such a secluded area of Sedona, the smallest city I’ve ever lived in since I was a kid.  My rental house has no visible neighbors and sits near the base of Sedona’s famed Chimney Rock and Thunder Mountain.  The ET energy here is epic and the alone time is important my guides say.  So I accepted my fate loneliness.

Strangely, even when I asked friends over things would fall through and my isolation went on and on.  For months on end I went on not even seeing a soul for weeks and months on end.  No matter how hard I tried to break it this was an alone time.

Brokenhearted about losing my housemate that I had a hopeless one-way crush on, I was loving my fortress of solitude in the chill of winter, and somehow doing the best behind the scenes social media of my life for famed inventor Dr. Flanagan. Who became not only my greatest clients ever, surpassing even the amazing Oprah, but a dear pal, when suddenly I became deathly ill with walking pneumonia.

A lot of people in Sedona were getting sick with their immune systems compromised by Juniper tree allergies.   So that’s what I figured was happening to me.  Though sick as a dog, I was somehow managing to do my work for the NewNeurophone project and making awesome videos of its inventor Patrick Flanagan, but this lung sickness would just not let go.  Breathing became a nightmare.  My eyes were blood-red and looked like two blue marbles floating in a sea of tomato juice.  Sickness is so unlike me.   At 61 I’ve only been in hospital once in my life.  Nothing’s ever made me sick long.  I’ve not even had cold since 2008.

But the skies here in AZ are filled with more chemtrails from jets than I’ve experienced anywhere in the world.  I had many chemtrail flu symptoms.  I was taking lots of Patrick Flanagan’s Megahydrate which profoundly battles chemtrail flu and radiation poisoning as THE product for our times.  Despite that, and downing lots of antibiotics and cough medicine, still I was near death many times with epic coughing fits.  No matter how much gunk I coughed up, I was not getting well.


4th Poster GenevieveIt was looking like I’d have to take a break from the Flanagan account to co when I was blessed to have a new person come into my life as an assistant, Genevieve Munoz, a 27-year Cal Poly marketing grad.  Genevieve was able to pick up a significant part of my workload on the Neurophone project.  And so I was able to go on despite my sickness to giving Patrick the fine service he deserved.

As the weather warmed in March and the Juniper allergy season ended I started to get much better.   Still a lot of gunk remained in my lungs, breathing was still ragged.  I visited four different healers here in Sedona to knock this thing out to no avail.  I was stuck in sick land.

The weather warmed slowly.  It was a late spring for Sedona.  Finally as temps climbed into the 80s, I asked the landlord agent, who we’ll call Jerry, a sweet man in 70s with 40 years of managing rental homes for Sedona’s wealthy snow birds, how to turn on the rooftop based swamp cooler for the first time in my tenancy.  Swamp coolers Jerry would explain, work on evaporative cooling in the dry AZ climate and use a powerful fan to suck air through a wet filter.

After Jerry left, I followed his directions I sat down in my office to work.  No sooner did my butt hit the seat and I was attacked, no better word for it, by filth spewing from the powerful swamp cooler fan driven air vents.  My eyes, ears, throat and lungs all burned instantly.  I knew I was in for a total relapse into pneumonia if I did not get some antibiotics in me.

The Flanagan’s suggested a new doctor for me, a Dr. Haggard.  She’s the doctor of my dreams as she avoid pharmaceuticals when she can.  She gave me vitamins and the drugs I needed to heal faster, along with placing me on her nebulizer to open my air passages since I was wheezing like a 90 year-old emphysema victim.

I called Jerry the agent for the family trust and told him the filters on the HVAC obviously needed cleaning ASAP.  Jerry hesitated on the line and said timidly, “Well, I am going to have to get Bob from the family trust’s OK for that.”


Some background on the stubborn and cantankerous Bob, the landlord family trust member point person, and why Jerry was afraid to call him.   Bob’s a talented metal sculpture artist who is at war with his lawyer side.  Bob bullied Jerry for each and every repair that’s ever been done here, as the watchdog for the family trust owners.  I was Jerry’s first tenant he brought in for Bob.  And Jerry was losing spirit about the account with each harsh encounter with Bob.  Bob seemed a sweet man but there were buttons fixing the property that got pushed

“Sorry, Jerry, there’s no option here but for you to go to Bob for the OK.  My guess is this filter issue has been what’s been making me sick since I first started using the HVAC here in winter.”  I was greeted by Jerry’s silence and so I went on, ” I don’t get sick.  Please fix this, Jerry.  I think we’ve uncovered a serious health hazard.  Tell Bob the last thing he wants and I want is a lawsuit for negligence over my damaged health.”

A terse “OK” was Jerry response and he hung up.

As a few days passed, I could tune in on the grief Jerry was having heaped on him.  So I called him, “How’s it going, Jerry?  Talked to Bob?”

“Yeah, and got an earful.  He’s taking the matter to the trust,” said Jerry.

“Why must the trust vote on basic repairs?” I said, tension creeping into my voice.

“I agree it’s a pain in the ass.  But I’ll get ‘er done,” said Jerry trying to sound chipper.

After another round brow beating by Bob, the trust finally allowed Jerry to replace all the filters with two contractors.  One for the swamp cooler fixing and one for the AC fixing.  Swamp coolers, as it turns out, do not work in the humid weather.   So AZ homes use the two different systems for cooling.  Cool thing is swamp coolers gives you humidity.  A huge plus in the 0% humidity dryness of AZ.

New filters in place I again I happily turned on the swamp cooler and settled down to work at my desk.  Victory!   Wrong.  Again I was bombarded my filthy stuff spewing from the HVAC vents.   When I complained to the filter cleaning company worker as he packed up his stuff he said, “Filters are all clean.  Might just be calcium from the cooler forming and flying at you from the swamp cooler.”

“Nonsense.  This stuff is black and brown flying out the ducts, not white like calcium,” I said.  A few minutes later I watched in disappointment as the contractor drove off down the rocky primitive road to the house with that sad look men have on their face when they fail at fixing something important.


Moment of love neurophone panelThe Flanagans were coming over for a filming session soon and the weather had cooled again so I put off dealing with the bad HVAC and bad service arrangement here that took a vote of the family trust  and overcoming the family watchdog Bob to get done.  It was early May now, and an unusually cool spring was working to my favor in punting on this HVAC thing.

After filming, Stephanie Sutton-Flanagan noticed the kitchen duct was very dirty as she got a glass of water and said, “Ken, you’ve been sick for so long.  I bet this filthy HVAC is what’s been hurting you.  Get your landlord to come in a clean the duct system before this kills you.”

“I’ve been trying, Steph, believe me.  For weeks.  The landlord here has an anger fit for any repairs he has to make,” I complained to Stephanie, happy to have fresh sympathetic ear.  “I once heard Bob screaming at Jerry over a measly $70 electrical outlet that needed repairing.”

Stephanie, as amazing as her husband Patrick Flanagan, scolded me in friendly fashion, “Then pay for the duct cleaning and get it fixed yourself.  This is your lungs.  You only get one pair!”


So I dove into solving the HVAC mystery again.  I called Jerry soon as Stephanie and the film crew left with her hubby Dr. Flanagan. “Jerry, sorry the HVAC here is still infecting me.  I respectfully request further repairs.”

Jerry groaned at the thought of another battle with Bob.  Who now in my mind’s eye wore a western black cowboy hat, and had a silver six-shooter he toyed with as Jerry trembled before him explaining why he failed his mission, fearing death any second.

To beat the growing heat as I waited for Jerry’s answer, I ran the swamp cooler wearing a breath mask.  I’d turn it on and then I sat on the patio outside working on Patrick’s media on my Ipad as the house cooled.  Then I’d put on my breath mask back on, go inside and turn off the HVAC.   My eyes still stung from whatever crap was coming out of the duct at high-speed.  Seems crazy in retrospect, but Bob was so insistent it was clean up in HVAC system I thought maybe I was having some sort of allergy reaction to chemtrails or pollen getting sucked into the house. Such was my faith in Bob, who though a cranky cuss seemed an honorable man who had even built me a beautiful mailbox when I came here.

Then one May day I found a huge piece of brown filth laying on my kitchen floor and more big hunks of filth in my kitchen fruit bowl!  I ran out to the patio and shouted,”BOB! YOU SUCK AS LANDLORD!”  As my words echoed into the red rocks of Sedona, I was amazed how little of the old rage that used to burn in my veins I felt despite this travesty.  Yes, I was happy to be properly angry.  Justified.  We need some anger to take care of ourselves.  It’s out-of-place old super anger of repressed childhood wrongs that vents out at stressed times that makes fools of us.  I thanked Bob for showing me this and went back inside to call Jerry.  No answer.


Busied by a crushing work schedule and severe family troubles from my brother who ended up in a Florida jail and who still sits in a cell there as I write, I let Jerry slide for two weeks in getting Bob’s ok to clean the ducts.  I finally called one hot day to see why these repairs were not happening.  Jerry said nervously, ” Bob stands by his opinion the ducts are clean.”

“Clean?!  With all the filthy flying?!  Opinion?!  There’s no opinion here, Jerry, except mine that you guys are not giving me a livable house.  One cannot live in AZ without AC.  Fix it,” I said calmly as I could about this self-serving “opinion” of Bob’s.

“I hear you, Ken.  I’ve never had as tough a client Bob.  But my hands are tied,” said Jerry sadly.

“Bob lives right next door, Jerry.  Why doesn’t he just walk over and see this hazardous HVAC for himself?” I groused, blood rushing to my face at this harmful denial of reality.  “Does he think I am imagining these chunks of brown filth?”

“Uh, um.  Sorry, Ken, you know how Bob is. Ha.  Lawyers,” Jerry lamely offered.

“Heck with this BS.  What were the estimates to clean the ducts you got for Bob to OK, Jerry?”

“Anywhere from $300 to $350, ” said Jerry.

“$350 max.  That’s all and Bob and his trust freaking refuses?” I asked, amazed at Bob’s stupidity given the legal exposure to my health he was racking up, giving me an open and shut case for litigation.

“Yep, ” said Jerry.

To back up, I admit I lost my temper a little with Jerry early in the lease.  I blew my top over a fire hazard that was not getting fixed in timely fashion.  I realized had sunk to Bob’s level of bullying the gentle Jerry to get things done.  A way I’d made millions doing in the 80s and 90s.

But I didn’t go there again today with Jerry, despite weeks of complaining and the family trust run around.  Though I am sure the deep indignation I was feeling about Bob’s total lack of disregard for my safety and health was apparent in my calm voice. That’s how I write good screen dialogue.  A character seldom directly expresses his thoughts.  Here I was a character in my own real-life horror story.  Instead of yelling at Jerry as Bob was doing I gently said, “Give me the OK, Jerry, and I’ll call the contractor and have the work done on my nickel.  But let Bob know if the contractor finds something up there that’s been making me sick I want an offset on my rent.”

Jerry happily agreed that was a fair thing, I assume given I was suffering so many health issues and this was a way out.


On Memorial Day weekend Bob’s son came by the house unexpectedly to fix the landscaping.   Heavy Sedona winds had almost toppled two large cypress trees.  I’d propped these beauties up with a pick axe and shovel.  Items I’d bought recently to help my lost mystic housemate bury her little Yorky that had died suddenly of a heart attack in her arms.  As we reconnected over the loss of her dog, I brought my former housemate up to date.  Something I was required to do as Bob had refused to let her off the lease.  This was after the fact overruling Jerry who said it was OK.  Yeah, this Bob guy was biting at my peace of mind constantly, like a snake in paradise.

Fromer Housemate and Poor Little Chloe

I told my former housemate how lucky she was to have been intuitive enough to lock herself off from the part of the house with a defective HVAC system and leave.  We wondered over lunch recently if her delicate Yorky was killed by some sort of black mold that might be up there.  A scary sad thought indeed as the pooch was only seven and so precious.

Bob’s son, I sensed, was afraid of talking to me for fear of backlash from his dad.  But I liked the young man.  He reminded me of my own son about his age: a big young man with a soft heart that’s estranged from me as I used to be temperamental like Bob.  Hey, I did only have a father who was a drill sergeant dad for fathering lessons.

Though I was never psychically abusive to my boy like my alcoholic father who was the bane of my childhood, almost killing me several times with severe beatings, I was far too tough on my boy and his little sis verbally.  Indeed, I had no idea words can hurt as much as the belt I was beat with as a kid of the 50s and 60s all too often.   I saw this fear of a verbally stern father like I had been in my 20s and 30s, so long ago, reflected anew in Bob’s son’s worried eyes.  I am pleased I treated Bob’s grown kid with extra kindness that I hope ripples back to my son in Chicago through earth’s energy field.

After Bob’s son finished with the landscape repair I offered him a bottle of some of Patrick  Flanagan’s Megahydrate for he and his cute female companion.  She had been coughing in the truck as she waited for Bob’s son to finish.   The Sedona Slide Fire had been raging and 20,000 acres were aflame only 4 miles away.   My lungs were really having a hard time with the smoke inhalation and chemtrails on top of the HVAC issues.  Seeing I was not irate, despite the neglect I was suffering with at his family trust’s house, Bob’s kid accepted when I asked him to take personal look at the HVAC problem and the hunks of filth the swamp cooler was dislodging.

Bob’s son took one shocked look at the filthy duct that his father had been denying was dirty and offered to come back in few weeks to clean out the dirty duct himself.  I appreciated young man’s offer but I could not wait that long.  I explained it was simply getting too hot for my patio/breath mask routine to work and live in the house without a quick fix.  Summer was making an end to my flexibility.

Deeply moved, almost to tears by Bob’s sons offer to clean out the duct, I waved bye from the drive as the big pickup truck left down the rocky road, feeling like this was my own son driving off with his wife and the twins born a few months ago I’ve not been invited to see.  Not even on a Father’s day trip I made without any promises of seeing my two kids who became estranged over the tipping point when I began connecting to ET from other galaxies and dimensions in meditation.


Seeking to purify myself to heal my sick body and atone for a brother who had been arrested on charges of animal cruelty for beating up his new Florida puppy, I gave up eating meat at this time.   A powerful message from the ET Ohom had come through directing me to do my best to become an enlightened eater and shun the meat of the cruel corporate farms.  A sad reality I’d learned about at the Illuminfate Film festival in a film called “Specism” showed me the deep suffering of our fellow creatures of this world.

4 years ago when first meeting Ohom, a 7 foot tall being, who looks like a blue angel might if evolved from an insect race, I would have poo pooed Ohom as a figment of my imagination.  But even though I hold the paradox belief that this all still might be part of my amazing imagination, I can’t deny the wisdom it contains.   And here I was suffering, like Gaia, at the hands of a landlord operating out of integrity.  It all fits.


10368973_10152184792677029_1896710833090010273_oA few days later, June 4, the HVAC contractor Jerry has okay-ed, one with the funny name of Gesundheit Duct Cleaning Services, that I had to hire myself to do the landlord’s job, arrived and went to work.  No sooner did the three duct cleaning workers get started, however, when the foreman came to me in my office, his tan face drooped in worry, and told me, “Sorry we have to quit.”

“Huh?” was all I could think to say.

He showed me why and my blood went cold as he said,” The photo is of the filth our duct cleaning machine pulled out in mere seconds.  Man. when we starting pulling out all this dark junk, could even have some black mold, we had to stop.  Sorry, Mr. Sheetz.  But I’m knocking $70 off the price for needing to halt the job before it’s clean up there.”

A $70 discount for a health hazard still left behind hardly seemed fair, but I was in shock and wrote a check for $230. Grateful at last this mystery was finally solved of what had been slowly killing me.

The contractor, who I could tell was a total pro, as I’ve built over a million of square feet of construction before becoming a filmmaker, then invited me to take a photo of the inside of the duct work.

“Yikes!” I shouted.  “Looks like something out of freaking Freddy Kruger movie up there!” Outraged about Bob telling me the ducts were clean and for my buying it.

To show Bob how wrong he was, I took this 10275581_10152184792672029_3794095424488509829_oother photo with my Iphone as the foreman explained.  “The duct runs on the roof outside of the house.  So the sun has burnt up the insulation.  It’s flaking and rotting to pieces and that’s what’s be flying around your home whenever you turn on the HVAC.  It just took the velocity of the swamp cooler to make it freaking obvious.  Good thing you kept bitching.  Landlord needs to fix this by AZ law or you can vamoose.”

“But I don’t want to vamoose,” I said sadly knowing I might be forced to as I put the foreman on the phone with Jerry.  The pro carefully explained to Jerry, as my heart sank, that the entire duct to the kitchen was contaminated.

I excused myself from the Gesundheit foreman to talk to Jerry.  “Jesus, this keep getting worse, Ken!  Bob assured me those ducts were cleaned just before you moved in.  This is all wrong.”

I could hear the fear and panic in Jerry’s voice and tried to calm him, “Jerry, you need to call Bob, stand up to his denial of reality and get him in touch personally with the contractor.  This is irrefutable evidence of why I’ve been getting sick.  I don’t want a lawsuit.  I want this fixed and hopefully I get well.  And tell Bob he will need to fix this for the next tenant if not for me.”


The next day, eve of the June Mercury Retrograde, Jerry dropped by and asked to see contaminated duct firsthand.  Jerry was determined to to the bottom of this mess.  I was excited.  My HVAC nightmare was perhaps at an end!!  Jerry carefully examined my filthy samples tucked in little clear sandwich bags from the duct, looked at the photos and went up on the roof,  When he was satisfied I had a legitimate gripe about this HVAC debacle, Jerry regretfully said, “Bob is still saying there’s no problem with the HVAC in your house rental.”

“What?” I said in a whisper of shock.

Jerry patted me on the shoulder, the way a friend would and said, “I’m sorry.  I’m resigning effectively today, Ken.  My reputation as a manager of 40 years is at stake.”

I wanted to say, “Hang in there and let’s get this fixed, Jerry.”  But I had heard Bob screaming at Jerry over the phone.  The amazing artist that Bob is lost out to the lawyer Bob is.  He was stonewalling me.  Forcing me to leave.  He was angry at my justified complaint and being vindictive.  Nothing else fit and so I said to Jerry, “I understand.  I have the health laws on my side he has to fix this.

Jerry last words as he gave me Bob’s email address was, “I wouldn’t be so sure, Ken.”  And then Jerry rode off up the rocky road that led to my rocky life in Sedona and I’ve not heard from him since.


I sent Sam a stern but professional and amicable email.  Then I waited to see if Jerry’s resignation over the bad decision to ignore this issue had convinced Bob he was wrong.  A few hot days passed.   No word at all.  The contractors had taped shut the duct to the kitchen.  I tried running the house swamp cooler, but it I could tell from how I was sneezing and getting itchy eyes that the air from the contaminated duct was mixing in the ducts, backing up and coming out the cleaner ducts.

My hands were tied.  I could not undertake such a major HVAC repair myself, even with the AZ laws allowing me to.  It was simply too major a thing since it impacted the roof, which has had leaks.  A year after departing I saw the difficult Bob might hold responsible for roof leaks and health issues of the next tenant if the job was not done right to fix the toxic HVAC system.  I pondered the mess and thought to myself.  This communication is a nightmare.  Are we in Mercury Retrograde?  Sure enough, I checked and yes we were.  Even communicating with the Flanagans was proving a challenge.  Nothing like Bob but not the smooth and easy relationship that the norm with Pat and Steph.

I meditated for hours on end about my fate coming to such a lovely city and renting my first house since 1991.  How had it all turned to filthy air?  What were the lessons my spirit guides were trying to teach me in this Mercury Retrograde that was literally killing me?



Ohom, the Orion ET who is my closest “imaginary friend” said to me one day as I was atop the summit, one which I have a clear view of from my house, as I panted for five minutes trying to catch my breath from the climb, “Ken, three of the meditations we gave you to do in Antarctica on 12.12.12 were about neglect.  Neglect is what’s killing your world.  The opposite of neglect is care.  Find a way to care for yourself and all this trouble will end happily.”

As I climbed back down the summit I could not find an answer to caring for myself without giving up this house and land I had come to love here in gorgeous Sedona.  The Hopi once used the lands of Sedona as a ceremonial sacred place.  Their wisdom mixes here with the profound Tibetan energy through the earth.  Need proof?  Many of their words for the sames things are identical even though the two races only met less than a hundred years ago .

I knew this home was only mine by rental.  But I’d done over a billion dollars in rentals for big corporations.  And done properly, with a good property manager in place, leases are estates in time.  One does not have equity of ownership but one has all the other benefits of ownership and none of the liabilities.  It’s why corporations prefer renting.  Therefore, what Bob was doing in seeming to force me to make my owner level repairs to the house was against the ethical code of renting I’d made millions back in the 80s and 90s.  It went totally against my grain despite Ohom’s advice.

Now that it was June it was getting to be very hot.  AZ temps from June through September can easily reach 100 plus daily.  Seeing no solution and hearing no answers from Bob , head of the family trust, a great vehicle BTW for Bob to hide behind for litigation, I felt helpless.  I could only send Bob a 5 day notice to repair and vacate.  I sent Bob a feeble email that I would soon be forced to send this notice and be forced to leave and pleaded for his intervention.   Icy silence from Bob filled my email box.


Seemed like one more hot day and it was all over for staying in my home.  One day, talking about this to my mom, said bitterly, “Funny thing.  Your brother’s almsost lost his home after going to jail after fleeing the police and now here you are losing you home too.”

“Yeah, mom.  Funny.  Very funny. I’m being driven out of my house by a landlord that’s being a dick and Fred lost his house for being a dick,” I said sarcastically.

Mom giggled in the maddening mean-spirited way she can at times when she hurts me.  All the pains of her turning her back when my father beat me as kid flared briefly to life.  All the times she left home herself, leaving us with an enraged father looking for a scapegoat to her leaving him.  Mom was bitter, I said to myself, that I have stepped away from helping my brother Fred in jail and it’s all fallen on her as she stupidly consigned on his mortgage.

“Mom’s anger is seeping its way out in her enabling of Fred,” I coached myself and I instantly healed and kept calm right in the middle of mom’s taunting on the phone.  What a meditation on overcoming parental neglect!  Still, it was an amazing parallels my psychic Mom so nastily pointed out.  So I added more spirit disengaging from Fred and his addiction issues and anti-social behavior to my meditations on neglect.


I began thinking of where I would move next?  I worried my large security deposit would be lost.  Then one day in the middle of a Pilates class the idea came to me: Install portable air conditioning and ride out my lease and burn off the security deposit!

So I went to the hardware store in Sedona and lo and behold a portable floor rolling swamp cooler was on sale for $500, strong enough to cool the whole house.  I bought it, loaded it in my jeep and went to work installing it.  Swamp coolers run on cold water from a hose and using my architect and carpentry experience, I set up the water to run through my guest room without making it look like a joke.

I’d learned about portable swamp coolers from filming in a hot warehouse at Patrick Flanagan’s Phi Sciences set and how we used one to cool the set to film Patrick for my hit 50 videos web series.  All the pieces were coming together in the middle of the haze of Mercury Retrograde when thinking is hard.

Ah!  How sweet the clean fresh cool air felt of my new FU portable swamp cooler.  I’d turned neglect into self-care as Ohom had guided me and was ready to stand  my ground against Bob’s landlord’s negligence.

Still no word back, I emailed Bob the news I was coping.  It was not pretty. The portable unit is big for the little house and noisy.  But I was functioning.   In the email to Bob I expressed my continued willingness to work this out but that rent would be withheld.  I also put all my cards on the table and said if my health damage was permanent I would be forced to seek damages.  Making clear my health was separate issue and water under the bridge at this late stage.


Two weeks passed.  Then one day I finally got an email from Bob explaining he’d not seen my emails all through June.  The email amounted to little more than ass covering on his part and still incredibly seeking to paint me as imagining this HVAC thing was such a big dea despite Jerry’s resignation, photos and contractors saying it was mandatory landlord fix the HVAC.  Funniest and saddest of all,  Bob now claimed he never had anything to do with any decisions concerning the property and that he was only relaying votes of the family trust as to maintenance.  He closed this bizarre email by directing me to contact the PO Box of a woman 2 hours away in Phoenix who was handling matters and to where I should send July rent.

Rent when I am running my life on temp HVAC?  Fat chance.  It took me days to research my rights without dragging lawyers into this epic Mercury Retrograde.  But finally I had my amazing assistant Genevieve, going though her own epic landlord retrograde issues here in Sedona that are a whole other blog, proof my 5 page letter.  A letter I say in all sincerity could be studied for how a tenant can survive a landlord neglect.  Then I sent it registered letter that past Friday to the family trust’s new PO box person.


I can only hope the newcomer to this HVAC debacle is more reasonable than Bob.  I went to great lengths in the email to point out property management is not for Bob if simple things make him angry.  Why?   I explained I simply want what I bought here.  A real house with real HVAC.  I am not very hopeful of not getting dragged into an eviction proceeding I will need to fight.  After all a PO Box is not how one gives good service to someone who has been a model tenant like me.

Still, Ohom and my friend and assistant Genevieve say to stay positive and so I am.  My lessons from all this are already great.  The antidote to other’s neglect is self-care.  And hold the light against the darkness.  I have faith that learning these lessons I will have a fast and full recovery whatever the landlord does in the end.


Lots of conflicting info about when this Mercury Retrograde ends. Some astrologers saying it ended June 30th, others saying July 2nd and others still saying July 6th. So how’s that for the bad communications Mercury Retrograde is famed for, not even the expert astrologers can agree when this mess will end?!

Ben Franklin and the Grand Cardinal Cross

1614270_10152099101687029_7588746844936355880_oI took a long healing nap today. Doing lots of sleeping to beat the walking pneumonia. When I woke I was not feeling great and I asked one of my spirit guides, Ben Franklin, who you can clearly see in cloud photo I took yesterday, the start of the Grand Cross, “What is wrong with me, Ben?”

Ben showed me this vision I’ve created here based on what he showed me is happening right now. It’s part of my ongoing vision art series for I’ve been doing since first seeing visions like these in 2010. Ben told me to “Hang in there, kid. Big changes in government are streaming in that will affect the world for a long time after the Cardinal Grand Cross is past. Fear not. All will be well… including you, Ken.”

Good info about the Grand Cross:

More in from Ben. “The Cardinal Grand Cross is a powerful moment for the people of earth to assume their rightful place as the peacemakers of this solar system. Go out tonight under the stars and make peace among the warring planets.”

Ben Vision GC composite


I’ll chase him round the moons of Nibia and round the Antares maelstrom and round perdition’s flames before I give him up!” (Kahn in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan)

By Ken Sheetz

Happy first official day of the new Mayan Age, the golden age, 1/27/14.  Since 12.21.12 we have been passing through a 400 day buffer time between ages, something I learned of from respected DreamShield member Gary Christmas, yesterday on Facebook.

Is the meditation done yetWe must remain patient despite the fact things will still look messed up on our world for sometime.  You see, I was told in Antarctica for 6 days, starting 12.12.12 to help halt the pole shift and transmute all that negative energy into a shift of human consciousness through a series of meditations I was guided to perform there, that the shift into the Golden Age will still take 50 years to manifest fully.  The ETs explain  earth manifests at this planetary scale at the rate of a large tree growing from seed to maturity.

Today is the first sprout of that tree of transformation.  There’s much work to do and our world’s stepping away from the brink of self-destruction is not assured unless we take action.  Meditation is simply our way of getting guidance.  We are on our own.  Thems the rules, my fellow earthlings!


I had powerful ET visit last night where I was told by Ohom, my ET spirit guide from the Orion star system, about something called The Wisconsin Project.  Ohom told me that my prayers for help as a young boy, suffering child abuse at the hands of a drunken father and the neglect of a brokenhearted mother, were heard at the ET base in Antarctica and answered.  There were nightly extractions where I was repaired and given abilities to cope with horrendous physical and mental abuse.  I credit all this ET work with the fact anyone not knowing my past will tell you I must have come from a happy home to be so well-adjusted.  Well, that was before I began sharing my visions and past sufferings as a child in order to enlighten and free minds.

And Ohom told me I was not the only Sheetz family member saved each night aboard spirit space ships from the League of Ghost Worlds, a collective of worlds that have gone extinct and are seeking to help humanity to not follow in their footsteps before we attain the ability to live outside the bounds of time and space as they do with grace and ease.  You see all worlds go extinct eventually.  It’s inevitable.  The sad extinctions are the self-extinctions.  A path we as a species are on right now and the ETs we have seen as angels, since ancient times, are here to help us divert from for our sake and for all the creatures on our blue marble in space.

So last night, after conferring deeply with Ohom, I went into meditation at 3:13 AM, to take my first trip of the Golden Age outside my body. I left my body in Sedona after saying prayers, just like I did as a child: The Hail Mary, The Our Father and The Act of Contrition.  Though not a practicing Catholic today, these prayers remain magic to my child mind and work magic for me in meditation.

Once again the prayer words rang true, and I was soon rocketing out of my body in Sedona and high above the earth.  I started heading down into the green aurora field lighting the skies above Antarctica.  I  touched down before a tall mountain with no foothills that abruptly met the flat as a pancake ice sheet .  A dot of green light appeared at the top of the tall mountain that grew downward into a slit of intense lime green light.

Mashup by Ken Sheetz from Nasa Photos
Mashup by Ken Sheetz from Nasa Photos

I walked through the green light slit in the mountain and found myself inside a vast hangar, safe from the severe cold I was beginning to notice even in my indestructible astral body, complete with ethereal armor .  Spaceships and pilots were everywhere, in a scene almost out of Star Wars.  I realized this hangar was the real deal, a channeled message to George Lucas.  No Tan Tans in sight though.

None of the aliens and humans took much notice of me. Finally I came to a spaceship that my father, a great mechanic while he was alive, to my shock was happily repairing.  Overjoyed to see me, Dad dropped his tools clanking and scrambled up from underneath the spaceship, much like an X-wing fighter Ala Star Wars, to give me one of his famed bear hugs.  But I accepted his hug without returning any love.  My dad’s young face, he looked about 27 now, despite passing at age 82, looked pained at my rejection.

“Sorry for not letting you know Zylph is one of my higher selves, Ken,” my father said sincerely.  Sincerity I never heard from him in life.  Nonetheless, these sincere words were strange first words.  I’ve not seen or spoken to my dead father in visions for a couple of years now.  Not for lack of trying!  Ohom had told me my Dad was far away on a mission I’ve yet to learn of.  Stay tuned.  Now here he was back in my life again, without a word.

My young dead father’s face showed he knew how much that deception had upset me, once I deduced Zylph’s higher-self connection to my father.  Now, Zylph’s acerbic sense of humor made sense.  My father in life was a dark comic who never found a stage, unless you count his bar escapades.

“Yeah, Dad,  That was damn wrong on so many levels I don’t know where to start.  Why?  I had made my peace with you.  No need to hide behind your higher Zylph self just because you skipped the galaxy for a few years.  The whole thing makes me wary of all Zlyph shared with me about removing the old to make way for the new.  It seriously messed with my head like when you’d torment me as a kid.  Seems you are still prone to mind games even in the afterlife,” I said, angry steam coming from my breath in the cold hangar, where spaceships came and went through the green crevice in the hollow mountain’s face.

“We don’t change, much as you might think when we die, sonny boy.  But I am trying.  Trying damn hard.  Don’t let my screw up make you doubt Zylph.  He’s me, but from a couple billion years in the future and has a lot to share.  Yes, Zylph has a powerful dark side like me, but it’s in way more in check two billion years from now.  Harnessed for good.  We all need the dark and light to run this universe.  And Zylph loves you like I do, ” said my dead father, wiping the old familiar grease from his hands to avoid my glare.

Ohom, a 7 foot tall Orion who has been chief spirit guide to me since 2010, quietly joined us, seeking to break the cold tension, as thick as the ice sheet of Antarctica.

“Your father, though in spirit form now, remains divinely human.  William seeks daily to better integrate his bipolar natures expressed in one body, Ken,” said Ohom in his usually calm and soothing voice.

“Ohom, I’ve trusted you completely since 2010, letting you use my body and speak through me in videos and every day life!  I asked you if Zylph, a new ET spirit seeking to guide me, could be trusted.  And you said, ‘Yes, Zylph has much to share about planetary mass media and life,'” I said almost in tears, my heart pained this great being had allowed my father’s deception. “Some of the rage of my father leached back into me through Zylph.  I suspect it destroyed an important relationship I was exploring with a housemate I adored in Sedona.”

“Zylph is his own being in his own right, just as I am the high self of you, so it is with Zylph and your father.  My answer stands true, Zlyph has much to share to help save your world.  But I see now by the profound pain in your heart how much this conscious omission of mine has cost us all.  Worst of all, the love of someone dear to you that you sought to win was lost as result of my mistaken actions.  I should have told you of Zylph being a higher self of your father.  I hope you will accept my deepest apology for concealing the whole truth from you, Ken, on behalf myself and The League of Ghost Words, ” said Ohom, his blue wings sagging a bit at his shame.

“I promise to never withhold the whole and complete truth from you again, my Ken-Self.  You see, I wanted so much, too much, to have you see how far you father’s spirit will evolve into the great Zylph.  So much so that my better judgement was affected.  I, like your father, like me/you, am also not perfect,” said Ohom so sincerely and lovingly that my spirit brightened instantly.

“If you brought me here to this secret Antarctica base as an apology, Ohom and Dad… Well, pretty damn cool!  Come here, you SOB!” I motioned to my father and gave him a bear hug back to let he and Ohom know all was forgiven.

“So you’ll listen to Zylph again?” my father cautiously asked, nervous he’d blown the connection with his well-intentioned if misguided deception for good.

“I need to think on that Gordian knot some more, Dad.  But, probably. With knowing who Zylph is maybe I can put some filters in place against the contagion of your ancient rage,” I said, my worries of Zylph possessing me already fading.  The pain in my heart over the deceptions melting, like the ice upon the spaceships my dad was repairing in the hanger’s relative warmth.

Ohom joined in the hug and the three of us, my dead father, now a quantum spaceship mechanic, me and the lovable 7 foot tall blue angel-like Orion, remained in embrace without words until I found myself wrapped snug in my cover in bed and back in my body in Sedona.

I thought, pulling up the covers in my cozy Sedona bed, about a dream I’d had a few nights ago about Zylph, who is from an Arabic-like world in the Antares  star system 2 billion years from now.  And how he and a team of other ET Arabs fearlessly rescued me from prison pit of despair over the loss of my housemate, their white robes flowing as red para sails burst forth to save me.  And so I finally forgave Zylph, my father’s future higher self.  In that blissful moment I went to peacefully to sleep.  If sleep is what you can call what I do anymore.

Many more dreams of others people like me came in one of the most exhausting nights of my life. Dreams of many being saved from child abuse by the ETs of The League of Ghost Worlds  and The Wisconsin Project came to me like old memories of childhood playgrounds on other planets.  Comforted that I now have an ET father, looking out for me as penance for his sins in life in many forms, the most prominent being Zylph from Antares, I finally found dreamless rest nestled in the powerful red rocks of Sedona on this first early morning of the Golden Age.

PhiSciences Dr. Patrick Flanagan and his amazing wife Stephanie Sutton’s Dr. Patrick Flanagan and his amazing wife Stephanie Sutton

Visit to see my meditations in Antarctica and the work I am doing to record the amazing super scientist Patrick Flanagan, of who also speaks to Ohom and considers him a valuable spirit guide.

Last here is the link to an amazing new crowd funder in prelaunch where you can volunteer and be in the inner circle in bringing an amazing device called the Neurophone, proven in numerous university tests since 1957, to boost intelligence.  I am a happy user of the device and it greatly has improved my meditation and writing!

The League of Ghost Worlds

“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.

Water Wand

“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 1950
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.

The Science of Hydration - FinalOn 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 fire fighters
“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  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.


“Nature uncovers the inner secrets of nature in two ways: one by the force of bodies operating outside it; the other by the very movements of its innards.”— Mikhail Lomonosov

By Ken Sheetz

MikhailHappy first Sunday morning of the new Golden Age long predicted by the Mayans. It is a time for rejoicing and for new world answers to old world problems.

Much is rapidly unfolding for me in Sedona where I am filming famed scientist Dr. G Patrick Flanagan.

A year ago the Damanhur of Italy gave me a clue about a past life they said as a prominent Russian physicist who led a team of scientist in the 19th century.

The lead for this past life comes the Damanhur a highly advanced eco-friendly, ET believing, esoteric physics world-famed self-sustaining community that studies past life and much more. I bless them for the clue. It’s been a busy year and only now using the power of meditation and Google have I found the life.

I am thrilled that my first Sunday mediation of the Golden Age has connected me to a past life in the 19th century as Russian physicist.

“Curiously unsung in the West, Mikhail Lomonosov broke ground in physics, chemistry, and astronomy; won acclaim as a poet and historian; and was a key figure of the Russian Enlightenment.”


Read my past life story here.

Today I ask the eagle to reconnect me. Eagles I have seen this morning fly to the heavens, to the morphic field, as Rupert Sheldrake has dubbed it, the shared field of our collective intelligence. There eagles, on behalf of all life, hunt for wisdom and bring it to earth.

I need that wisdom seek an answer to the biggest issue plaguing me and our world, love out of balance.

Wish me luck in my meditations.

Ken Sheetz

PS The eagle rock formation I took the photo for this DreamShield art is from my train meditation yesterday. It’s called Angel Rock by the tour. An angel of an eagle from my train car’s angle.

The 11.11.11 Visions – #2 – The 11th Vault and Its Uninvited Guardian

Most of the shadows or this life are caused by our standing in our own sunshine. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

By Ken Sheetz

11.11.11 was here at last.  The date that I’d been getting messages to hold a DreamShield event on since 5.5.10, when I saw the 7 foot tall blue angels build a force field around earth that was capable of harnessing the mass consciousness of humanity to protect this world and help manifest a gentle 2012.  Looking at the sentence I just wrote, I still have a hard time believing the 30 some events attended by so many now and recorded on YouTube in over 200 videos from around the world in just 18 months has really happened.

Really, I don’t proclaim to believe to know what’s behind any of my visions, could be anything from a tumor to the real thing, angels from outer space, and here was all this happening and much more to come.  And happening to a man not used to the public spotlight.  A filmmaker who prefers to stay behind the camera rather than in front.

11.11.11 - The Ascension Convention, LA

Unfortunately, come 11.11.11 I had been so busy helping put this event together, from securing our location event sponsor EARTH SHIFT PRODUCTS, also our 10.10.10 sponsor and to whom we are eternally grateful, to using my old architectural skills of making floor plans to marketing, via my social media company BuzzBroz, to arranging video production gear for the day, planning interviews with exhibitors and much more, that I’d not given much thought to my part in the ceremonies Laura De León had planned so impeccably for the day, but, out of love and respect, had left me the space to plan by myself.  And I’d planned nothing.

What the heck would I do on stage, in front of all these people who had paid to be here, if I saw no angels?  Sing karaoke?  Do a card trick?  I’d actually had one in my pocket I was not very good at.   It felt like one of those college exam dreams where you lost your speech and had to go on before the class, naked.

Nora Delgado's Workshop

Fortunately, Laura had plenty more wonders for the people to experience that day than me if I bombed.   As Laura’s day of amazing workshops on ascension minded topics drew to a close I took to the stage and looked at the enthused crowd.   A crowd that would have been larger but for the rains that were now starting to patter on the beautiful big tent that I thanked the angels was here for us.  I’d been angry with the angels all week during the lousy weather forecasts. It hardly ever rains in California.  Why rain and cool weather on this magical day of 11.11.11?

A voice kept assuring me, ” All is as it should be, Ken.  These fine group of people who braved the weather are just what this meditation to unlock the 11th vault needs.”

“Easy for the angels to say,” I raged inwardly at the voice within me.  “ETs and angels have no need for money.  This rain means I just worked 15 hour days for three months without a day off without a pay day.  Angels are lousy bosses.”

Laura De Leon introduces nervous me (Note the tongue.)

Very small of me, I know, chewing out angels.  They don’t call me the Larry David of the spirit world for nothing!  All my spiritual growth of the past 18 months was out the window.  So when Laura asked if I could speed things up on my meditation as the night was already behind schedule, well, this did not help my disposition.  Ironically, the theme of the night was Laura’s brilliant idea of humanity ascending from ego consciousness to living from the heart, and here I was having a ego trip about being rushed at my own event.

Yes, my angels love comedy.  It’s a galactic reality show I feel at times with all of us as human cameras, cameras that also have every human sense recorded for the galactic audience to relish in.  Kinda like THE MATRIX meets THE TRUMAN SHOW.  At times, frankly it pisses me off to be laughed at so much.  But ETs, as Jackie Salvitti of ETHEALING.COM, one of our night’s featured speakers, says, “ETs have a great sense of humor.”

It explains much.  How boring watching us would be if our weather were perfect.  Yeah, angels are stinkers that throw challenges at us that would make any reality show producer blush.  You heard it here first.

But all my doubts and ego subsided as I looked over the beautiful crowd of eager happy faces in the tent.  Honestly, Ive done a lot of public speaking in business and attended many events, but in all my 30 years of that corporate junk I’ve never seen a crowd as open as receptive and beautiful as the one gathered under the tent at Rancho De Las Palmas. The stinker angels were right.  This was the perfect crowd to meditate on opeing the hearts of banks.

Then suddenly, as the crowd’s passion picked me up off my grouchy butt, dozens blue angels materialized, filling every the empty white seat scattered in the crowd.  As I reported this news of ET angels joining the 11th Vault meditation, a thrill went through the gathering.

Now, I began to see earth from space and the golden vault door that was hiding the heart of earth’s banks.  This earth-size safe cracking was a mammoth job I told the meditating crowd.  Honestly, folks.  Whatever it is we are we are far more powerful than we know.  I could feel the energy of the crowd willing the vault to open.   The crowd’s energy filled my exhausted body with vitality and I knew in that moment what has kept old performers like the Stones young and alive.

Next, I saw millions of angels pulling at the golden door.  I shouted joyously the meditating crowd, “Imagine if we can open the vault and warm the heart of the banks! Banks with a heart would no longer fund wars, fund polluters! Banks with a heart would no longer steal peoples homes, impoverish us and would instead of enrich us.  At 11:11 PM let’s open the vault!”  I left the stage to applause, drained of my last reserves but feeling the energy of the crowd and angels building.

Laura turned to me as I took my seat and said, “Wow.”  Which made me feel a whole lot better.  I was almost myself again.

Laura De Leon blows the spiritual roof off the tent with Philippo Franchini

As the amazing night continued, the vision built.  At Aros’ dolphin mediation I caught a glimpse of lasers cutting the vault. At Jackie Salvitti’s amazing ET healing I saw my higher angel self with a stethoscope trying to break the combo. At Renato Longato’s amazing speech about ETs and their role in 2012 I saw the circular pavilion, where the exhibitors worked flawlessly during the day, become a giant spaceship pumping energy to the DreamShield, where the White Tree of 10.10.10 still stood.

And rather than seeing something, during Laura’s amazing singing with Philippo Francnhini, I felt a spark of something new ignite in my heart.  A spark that is still growing.

Finally, as Laura conducted the 11:11 PM mediation I closed my eyes and instantly saw the angels work reach its climax: The vault turned red-hot and simply vaporized in a shimmering wave.  Laura handed me the mic and asked me to report what I saw to the crowd.

I felt like the stoic Bruce Willis character in THE FIFTH ELEMENT when all I said was…

“The angels melted the vault.”

6 moths of meditations on opening the vault to hearts of Earth’s banks,  some very painful and poignant, but for the final vault this was all there was to it?  I was hoping to see more!

But the crowd cheered and danced for joy in the puddles that seeped under the beautiful tent.  I took a seat, too tired to enjoy the fun and wondering where was the heart of the banks?  I expected the banks to have a heart, my theory, as explained in the video above, that since the corporations have fought to recognized as living beings that this would mean they have a heart was kaput.  And I’ve seen the hearts of Apple and Disney and warmed them in past meditations with angels.  Now here, blessedly, there was only Gia, Mother Earth, free of the banks that had been sucking off her like a vampire.  But no bank heart to be found!

I can only conclude one of two things from the no heart scenario.  One, the heart is hidden somewhere on this world or, two, and very chilling, that banks are truly as heartless as they seem.  I prefer to think the heart of banks are hidden and that my higher self with the aid of the angels will find that heart and warm it.  Ever since 11.11.11 I have been doing just that in meditations.  Still not even a clue.  God knows we need to find that heart!

Back to the 11.11.11 fun and a moment that stunned me.  A couple that were in human form, but of other worldly height and perfection of form came up to me and congratulated me on the meditation with warm hugs.  The male must have been 7 feet tall and the woman a good 6 foot plus.  I asked if I could take a picture, thinking they were ETs, and they said yes.  I turned to get my camera out of my pocket but when I looked up they were gone.

After working until 2 AM to pack up the event and collapsing into bed at the hotel in that exhausted state where visions come easily, I saw to my shock that a beast had been in our midst as the crowd danced!  Our uninvited hairy guest was big and ugly, with the head of a black bull!  I’ve been told by my spirit guides that this Minotaur was an angry Wall Street spirit guarding the 11th vault.  Defeated, it was lost and out of job.

My spirit guide Angus assured my fearful mind that the confused beast was quickly tossed out of the tent by his Galactic enforcer clan, a vision to itself.  I’d not seen any of this in real time as I was too tired.

Was I imagining this beast?  Well, a few days later Laura would email me, without having heard my after vision story of the uninvited guest, that she had clearly heard a beast-like grunt come from near me.

And this after-vision of the Wall Street Minotaur would be just the start.  There was much more to the visions of 11.11.11 to come in the following days and weeks.


12.12.12 is the last primary date the voice in Italy has told me must be honored to power the DreamShield for the completion of this gentle 2012 mission on 12.21.12.  This will be a 10 day long symposium where all we have learned from 10.10.10 and 11.11.11 and other of the smaller events will be put to work.  We’re going to have this one somewhere warm and dry tropical, Hawaii.  Ha!  Try to make Hawaii’s weather funny, angels!  Oh, wait, volcanoes.  Never tempt angels.  Sorry, guys.

Too early for advanced 12.12.12 tickets, but stay tuned as I work on venue and sponsors, this time giving myself a full year to get this stuff done so I can enjoy myself at my own event!  Meanwhile, however, your love donations at at the PayPal link on the page help me report work on the angel visions which, hopefully with your help, I will one day gather into a book.

And stay tuned as well for a February the rescheduling of Renato’s DreamShield UFO Sky Watch which was rained out on 11.11.11!

Ascension Symptoms

“The Shift is not for sissies.” – Laura De Leon

DreamBlogger – Ken Sheetz

Painting by Vincent Van Gough

When a friend of mine became totally lost and confused today — reacting angrily, almost like a dementia victim — I realized today after much meditation that there’s a reason I am going through the Shift in a more gentle way. Namely, the angels tell me it’s going to be my job to be a guide for those lost in the Shift.

In the past 3D way of doing things I would likely be angry myself at the terrible things this person is saying and how they are behaving towards me. But I have only compassion, yes after some human annoyance, for their dazed behavior.

Back in 2010 in spiritual workshops called SoulDrama that took place in Italy and New Jersey I was gifted with the spirits of clarity and compassion. No accident I now realize.

Here is important piece from a year ago. The eagle is my totem animal etched in my hair pattern.  Back then found the article as farfetched as the eagle appearing in my hair pattern. But after seeing so many people going though these very symptoms, most of which I too have in milder form I can cope with, I know the ascension symptoms are all too real.

Ascension Symptoms (Sickness)

1. Feeling as though you are in a pressure cooker or in intense energy; feeling stress.
Remember, you are adjusting to a higher vibration and you will eventually adjust. Old patterns, behaviours and beliefs are also being pushed to the surface. There is a lot going on inside of you.

2. A feeling of disorientation; not knowing where you are; a loss of a sense of place.
You are not in 3D anymore, as you have moved or in the process of moving into the higher realms.

3. Unusual aches and pains throughout different parts of your body.
You are purifying and releasing blocked energy vibrating at 3D, while you are vibrating in a higher dimension.

4. Waking at night between 2 and 4 a.m.
Much is going on in your dream state. You can’t be there for long lengths of time and need a break. This is also the ‘cleansing and releasing’ hour.

5. Memory loss.
A great abundance of short term memory loss and only vague remembrances of your past. You are in more than one dimension at a time, and going back and forth as part of the transition, you are experiencing a ‘disconnect’. Also, your past is part of the Old, and the Old is forever gone. Being in the Now is the way of the New World.

6. ‘Seeing’ and ‘hearing’ things.
You are experiencing different dimensions as you transition, all according to how sensitive you are and how you are wired.

7. Loss of identity.
You try to access the Old you, but it is no longer there. You may not know who you are looking at in the mirror. You have cleared much of your old patterns and are now embodying much more light and a simpler, more purified divine you. All is in order, You are okay.

8. Feeling ‘out of body’.
You may feel as though someone is talking, but it is not you. This is our natural defence mechanism of survival when we are under acute stress or feeling traumatized or out of control. Your body is going through a lot and you may not want to be in it. My ascension guide told me that this was a way of easing the transition process, and that I did not need to experience what my body was going through. This only lasted a short time. It passes.

9. Periods of deep sleeping.
You are resting from all the acclimating and are integrating, as well as building up for the next phase.

10. Heightened sensitivities to your surroundings.
Crowds, noise, foods, TV, other human voices and various other stimulations are barely tolerable. You also overwhelm very easily and become easily overstimulated. You are tuning up. Know that this will eventually pass.

11. You don’t feel like doing anything.
You are in a rest period, ‘rebooting’. Your body knows what it needs. In addition, when you begin reaching the higher realms, ‘doing’ and ‘making things happen’ becomes obsolete as the New energies support the feminine of basking, receiving, creating, self-care and nurturing. Ask the Universe to ‘bring’ you what you want while you are enjoying yourself and having fun.

12. An intolerance for lower vibrational things of the 3D, reflected in conversations, attitudes, societal structures, healing modalities, etc.
They literally make you feel ‘sick’ inside. You are in a higher vibration and your energies are no longer in alignment. You are being ‘pushed, to move forward; to ‘be’ and create the New.

13. A loss of desire for food. Your body is adjusting to a new, higher state of being. Also, part of you does not want to be here anymore in the Old.

14. A sudden disappearance of friends, activities, habits, jobs and residences.
You are evolving beyond what you used to be, and these people and surroundings no longer match your vibration. The New will soon arrive and feel so-o-o-o much better.

15. You absolutely cannot do certain things anymore.
When you try to do your usual routine and activities, it feels downright awful. You are evolving beyond what you used to be, and these people and surroundings no longer match your vibration. The New will soon arrive and feel so-o-o-o much better.

16. Days of extreme fatigue.
Your body is losing density and going through intense restructuring.

17. A need to eat often along with what feels like attacks of low blood sugar.
Weight gain, especially in the abdominal area. A craving for protein. You are requiring an enormous amount of fuel for this ascension process. Weight gain with an inability to loose it no matter what you do is one of the most typical experiences. Trust that your body knows what it is doing.

18. Experiencing emotional ups and downs; weeping.
Our emotions are our outlet for release, and we are releasing a lot.

19. A wanting to go Home, as if everything is over and you don’t belong here anymore.
We are returning to Source. Everything is over, but many of us are staying to experience and create the New World. Also, our old plans for coming have been completed.

20. Feeling you are going insane, or must be developing a mental illness of some sort.
You are rapidly experiencing several dimensions and greatly opening. Much is available to you now. You are just not used to it. Your awareness has been heightened and your barriers are gone. This will pass and you will eventually feel very at Home like you have never felt before, as Home is now here.

21. Anxiety and panic.
Your ego is losing much of itself and is afraid. Your system is also on overload. Things are happening to you that you may not understand. You are also losing behaviour patterns of a lower vibration that you developed for survival in 3D. This may make you feel vulnerable and powerless. These patterns and behaviours you are losing are not needed in the higher realms. This will pass and you will eventually feel so much love, safety and unity. Just wait.

22. Depression.
The outer world may not be in alignment with the New, higher vibrational you. It doesn’t feel so good out there. You are also releasing lower, darker energies and you are ‘seeing’ through them. Hang in there.

23. Vivid, wild and sometimes violent dreams.
You are releasing many, many lifetimes of lower vibrational energy. Many are now reporting that they are experiencing beautiful dreams. Your dream state will eventually improve and you will enjoy it again. Some experience this releasing while awake. My mother commented one day that she believed I was having nightmares in the daytime.

24. Night sweats and hot flashes.
Your body is ‘heating’ up as it burns off residue.

25. Your plans suddenly change in mid-stream and go in a completely different direction.
Your soul is balancing out your energy. It usually feels great in this new direction, as your soul knows more than you do. It is breaking your ‘rut’ choices and vibration.

26. You have created a situation that seems like your worst nightmare, with many ‘worst nightmare’ aspects to it.
Your soul is guiding you into ‘stretching’ into aspects of yourself where you were lacking, or into ‘toning down’ aspects where you had an overabundance. Your energy is just balancing itself. Finding your way to peace through this situation is the test you have set up for yourself. This is your journey, and your soul would not have set it up if you weren’t ready. You are the one who finds your way out and you will. Looking back, you will have gratitude for the experience and be a different person.

OK, great stuff. I need only add my guides are telling me to assure you all will be well. The Shift is going be awesome for us all.

Listen to Ken speak about his experiences with angels and more at 11.11.11 The Ascension Convention in LA. 

Click here for early bird tickets on sale now!