When I finally finished the editing on THE COOLEST MEDITATION EVER: ANTARCTICA 12.12.12 in late 2016 I thought the movie, Running Time 64 minutes, was going to only look good on the internet.
That all changed for the coolest when we sold out the Sedona Film Festival’s Mary Fisher theater, with 20 people turned away at the door! And the FILM LOOKED AMAZING on the big screen and our audience loved doing a live planetary meditation after, well, I knew we were onto something bigger than Vimeo and Amazon, where the movie can be viewed or bought.
And so we had invented a new movie going experience we like to call a MOVIE AND A MEDITATION, with our Antarctica film being the first of many such nights you can expect from us. As you can see here when the lights came up, people were treated to a Q&A and shared consciousness to send healing love to my mermaid Elizabeth’s first love, the oceans.
From 2010 to 2012 I did many live events with crowds of 100 plus in Los Angeles. 12.12.16, exactly 4 years from my stepping foot on the giant continent of Antarctica, here I was doing a Movie and a Meditation in my new home Sedona with the love of my life and surrounded my some of Sedona’s and LA’s best healers. The applause was like water in the desert of our 6 years in total filmmaking journey.
Buoyed by the Sedona success, after a few months of getting happily sidetracked with work on an exciting new screenplay about the incredible life of scientist, author and inventor Patrick Flanagan, and following a detour to cover the Heyoka president we are all being entertained and stretched by for now, my partner in love and life, Elizabeth and I began touring the film through May to across the Southwest. Here’s some highlights!
BEFORE HITTING THE ROAD…
We landed a superb pet sitter for our 1 year-old rescue dog Lincoln. That done we set out in our Jeep, loaded with DVDs and cool perks which funded this entire trip and all our computer gear to be able to service our clients while on the move. First stop…
The Enchanted Forest Reiki Center in Las Vegas generated a small turnout, but the mini-crowd loved the film. Best of all the film’s humor brought a laugh to woman who was recovering from the recent loss of a dear husband. Quite the come down in scale from the sold-out Sedona film fest, but we’d learn on the road in Santa Fe that the amazing Amma’s first events were small as well.
Next it was onto the OC for a screening at The Temple of Light.
Unfortunately, I suffered food poisoning I picked up in Vegas taking my grieving 88-year-old mom to a fine Mexican restaurant. It was long drive to LA, sparing you the gory details. But I was too busy worrying for my mother, broken-hearted about her husband and great stepfather of 30 years and lost in coma after stroke, to feel sorry for myself. I was relieved to hear my baby brother was coming into Vegas to care for mom soon. I had spent 3 weeks caring for my it was his turn to be on watch. We’d been tag teaming since the early part of 2017.
Unfortunately, as a result of my being sick and checking on mom daily Elizabeth and I were unable to market much for the OC. We’d hope I LA fan base would make the 90 minute trek but not many did. Still, amazing people showed up like Bahkti star Larisa Stowe.
Donna who we toured Egypt with last year and Deanna Cook, who hosted us for a few days and we in turn hosted in Sedona. We looked on the intimate size as chance to keep perfecting our Movie and a Meditation format.
I discovered on the trip that I have developed terrible cat allergies because the people we were staying with had not one but two cats. Despite a sneezing attack mi screening, the event was magical. The Antarctica movie gets people relaxed and ready for the planetary meditation that follows.
Next up the EarthShift conference in Desert Hot Springs. The poster makers for the event could not fit the information about our event within the evnt, so we made our own poster.
At first I was taken aback seeing we’d be screening in the middle of a noisy vendor bazar that surround the theater seating area but the tech running the show did a great job of quieting the crowd.
Big applause from a gathering for our Saturday matinee. A great Q&A. We were honored to have the event creator himself Julian Forest accompany Elizabeth for the guided meditation.
After our matinee, Elizabeth found us a great spa that turned out to be a huge health boost for my ongoing battle with black mold poisoning I suffered in 2013/2014. And we stayed at the home of the amazing Joan of Angels, surrounded day and night by her prolific visionary ET inspired angel art.
Next, it was back to base in Sedona. Our rescue dog Lincoln greeted us with such joy on our homecoming. The little fella had proved quite a handful for our talented and loving pet sitter. Lincoln had the best in care while we were on the tour, including two pet shrinks our sitter brought aboard in our absence. We saw great progress in his journey relaxing into his happy new life. But our little rescue dog was so sad our pet sitter told us while we were away that it was clear to us Lincoln would be happier coming with us on the next city, Santa Fe.
Since 2011 Elizabeth has spent her birthday at the amazing Amma’s event. So with Santa Fe the screening marketing work was integrated with attending the Amma event. We rented a beautiful casita new where the film was screening. Lincoln loved staying there and near us while we attended the Amma events in short bursts.
Sadly I learned, while we waited for our Amma hugs, on June 13th that my stepfather, great guy who took such sweet care of my mom for 30 years, had passed in Vegas. After nearly 3 months in a coma, the Navy vet had given up the battle. Fortunately, my brother was already in Vegas caring for our mom. The poor thing had exhausted herself and broken her hip while we were on the road. And for the few days while she was down, Nick got lost in our insane hospital system. I tracked him down by calling all the major hospitals.
My brother really came to the rescue while Elizabeth and I were stuck on the road. My mom has accepted my brother’s invite, over our invite to come to Sedona, preferring to return to her native home state of Wisconsin. She’s doing great and not following her husband as often happens. People in my family live to over 100 and I think she’s going to be another.
Grieving, caring for my own and family illness while promoting was not easy on me. Luckily Elizabeth was all over it. We were looking forward to filling the 150 seat theater we rented in Santa Fe for after the Amma event.
But we made a miscalculation in selecting the Screen. Santa Fe is small by LA standards, and to we former Los Angelinos driving ten minutes to the theater from the downtown seemed no biggie. We were wrong. Net result a small turnout again.
People spaced themselves out in the 150 seats and so the audience energy was dispersed with few laughs or giggles of delight we are used to getting them. Two people even walked out mid-film. Yikes. But the core audience who stayed after were amazing. The of them Sidhi yogas like Elizabeth.
On the plus side, and the theme of this trip, it became an intimate gathering where we could hug every movie attendee Amma style. Once again a quality not quantity crowd. Here’s a snap of the 40 foot screen the movie was shown on. Again blown away by how good the movie looks and sounds on the big screen.
The lesson in all this? We learned tours are hard work to manage and market if they are spaced to close together. Especially harder on the road with everything else that’s going on with our lives. So we’ll promote Boulder heavily for a month from our Sedona base where we and Lincoln have happily retuned,
Next up for the MOVIE AND A MEDIATION tour: Boulder Colorado August 1st. A 200 seat theater. Can we sell it out like Sedona? You bet! Our confidence is bolstered by the fact we have added two exciting guest co-hosts, famed sonic healing artists Jonathan Goldman and Andi Goldman.
Today my 86-year-old mother sets off on a road trip from her condo in Vegas to try to right the ship of my brother’s wrecked life in Florida. She’s passing through Sedona about noon today and we’ll have lunch unless my stepfather, also 86, gets on his epic only stopping for restroom breaks binge he falls prey to. I hope not. I’d love to hug mom as thanks for her courage in traveling the 6,000 mile round trip.
Followers of my blog and Facebook page know that my brother fell off a 27 year recovery wagon in his retirement journey to Florida. He wasted his 13 day forced recovery when he almost died last fall of bleeding ulcers and went through two near deaths experiences blogged of here.
Fred’s epic fall from sobriety is all too common these days. Sadly, even only 10% of AA members stay sober and clean. And that modest 10% makes them #1 on the planet as the best for a sustained recovery after detox. Without an AA support group the chance of a relapse is almost 100%. I had studied all this trying to get my brother into recovery when we almost lost him in the fall. His ego would not permit this help. Ego really is like an elephant that likes to sit on your house.
I believe, but have no proof, Fred quickly fell into the drug culture that plagues Florida. All of us in the family that have leaned on Fred as a rock during his 27 year sobriety were shocked how fast my brother fell from grace. Over only a 90 day period he went from the proud owner of a new home and puppy to be arrested 3 times, one of those times supposedly for animal abuse of his new puppy.
Though she’s making mistakes enabling my brother, I’ve been amazed at the depth my mother’s love in trying to rescue my brother from himself. I’ve tried to tell her unless he gets into recovery he’ll end up right back in jail again. Mom does have a financial stake in my brother’s mess he’s made of his life as she co-signed on the mortgage that got him the house of his dreams. My brother has consented from jail to have the house sold. There are limits to what mom will do to help Fred. She’s refused to let him lein the house to bond his freedom. A wise thing as my brother was arrested fleeing a warrant for his arrest in his dark awakening you can read more about on the blog. I plan to record this whole chain of events as a cautionary tale to people drinking and drugging too much, and falling prey to today’s overzealous legal system. Sick people like Fred need treatment not prison.
Mom comes from a generation unfamiliar with the dangers of drugs like crystal meth and crack cocaine and how they can transform a person into a criminal, make them lie and cheat and steal for the drugs of choice. I’ve been doing my best to educate my mother and explaining why enabling can make things worse in the end for an addict. The mortgage she co-signed compels her to take action. Age 86 is not the time to lose your nest egg to a son who fell so low as to be negligent of his duties to care for a house Mom helped him get.
Before I broke off all conversation with my kid brother, he was relishing in a childhood memory of a nasty prank he pulled of disconnecting the transmission on mom’s car. It totaled her silver blue T-bird and could have killed her. I was furious that for all these years my brother had gotten away with pinning this evil prank on our drunken father. Fred got mad at me for placing the blame where it belonged.
I am blessed to have never drank and drugged, aside from some college experiments and the famed 3 martini lunches of the 80s business world. Addiction has never had a grip on me. Seeing what my mother must do makes me ever more grateful that I am an addiction fighter. See my blog about a meditation to end addiction in the world in Nashville in 2011 for more on this.
Someone asked me recently, “Aren’t you worried about sharing such personal stories about your brother’s problems?”
I answered, “Sadly he’s way out there in the public eye.” My brother has even made the local Florida TV news and is featured for his supposed puppy abuse on a national website. Fred’s gaunt face in mug shots looks drug induced to my sharp eye serving an addiction radio show as their media adviser. One day if he wants to be in my life again he is going to have to prove he’s not been on drugs or admit and ask forgiveness for putting the family through his hell.
A powerful Sedona psychic says if Fred gets into recovery his life ahead is especially positive. Recovery treatment, even if this all just alcohol related, is mandatory in Fred’s possible reentry to my life. After all I said he would be cut off from me to give him incentive to stay clean and sober not to truly give up on him.
My mother said, “Kenneth, aren’t you afraid of making Fred not sending him money in jail? What if he shows up at your place in Sedona? He knows where you live.”
“Mom, if I was not afraid of my abusive father why would I be afraid of a brother who has turned abusive.? If he shows up on my doorstep without recovery plan that’s been in effect a year he’s in for a visit to the Sedona police and the AZ police are even tougher than Florida cops,” I said with a calm that surprised me.
Fear fighting is one of the primary mission of DreamShield. I won’t live in fear of governments, corporations and certainly not messed up brothers. I told mom, “I could die crossing the street if it’s my time to go. If I die at the hands of drug addled brother I surrender to that. I do not live in fear of anyone or anything and I suggest mom you do the same.”
Addiction is at the heart of much of the world’s issues. And as a society we are addicted to war, oil, meat consumption and more. I am proud of Mom and send her a DreamShield ET escort to watch over her for a safe return to Las Vegas, a place she retired to for her love of Keno. Keno is her pet addiction. One that’s well under control. Mom plays with nickels. Now, she plays in the biggest gamble of her life, saving her son’s life savings and freeing herself from his mortgage.
Update: Yay! Happy to have connected to mom and wish her well on the journey. My stepfather Nick is like an open book. He’s not happy about the trip and all the driving ahead.
Mom held my hand as I walked her to the car after treating her and Nick to lunch and said, “I know we met up on this trip to Florida with you for reason, Kenneth.”
I smiled. Squeezed her hand and said, “Maybe it was for me to lend you my luck. Stay focused. Get yourself off Fred’s mortgage. Use the police if any of druggy friends show up to cause trouble. Fred’s the one in jail. Not you. The law is on your side and you have a right to clean up this mess.” And I then gave her a big kiss on the cheek for luck and I led them back to the freeway and off to Florida.
When I was almost 5-years-old my parents sent me off for a Labor Day weekend with my favorite aunt Katie, who was only twenty-two. A striking brunette full of mirth, Katie had been in her teens when she had kids. So, in many ways, Katie felt as much like a big sister as an aunt.
Katie had a new boyfriend with kids too and we all piled into an old Chevy station wagon and drove from St. Francis, a quaint blue-collar neighborhood in Milwaukee, for Devil’s Lake. The way Katie lovingly dealt with her boisterous kids in the crowded station wagon, rather than beatings or harsh words my dad used to create order, was as new and wonderful to me as the alien worlds I would one day as an adult visit on the astral plane in meditation.
Some in the family thought less of the child-mother Katie than me. Grandma Agnes, in her thick Irish brogue, would often criticize Aunt Katie,”You’re raising these kids like a damn bunch of wild Hooligans!”
Yeah, I was happy to be in this fearless new tribe from the car ride on. It was the first time I was away from home. Aunt Katie gave me more hugs and kisses on that 5 hour car ride as I’d had in my whole 5 year life, aside from Grandma’s. As the Wisconsin countryside flew by the station wagon windows I even daydreamed about Aunt Katie adopting me and freeing me from my abusive father and ice-cold depressed mother.
Labor Day was passing as fast as the pine trees out the car windows, like the whole weekend had been that had seemed to pass like a single day in my stressful home. I was doing my best to hide how deeply sad I was that this was my last day with Aunt Katie and the happy kids and cousins before returning to my raging father and the frightened mother who let my father hurt me each and every day lest she share my fate.
Every painful day for the 21 years of my home life, it seemed my father’s only joy was hurting me. Lots of therapy would be needed to overcome this tortured life my soul had chosen to strengthen me for the planetary healing work I would do 40 years later. Yes, I accept my father was doing what my soul had chosen him for. Even if he seemed to a bit too good at his job of trying to break me. Indeed, if you are ever in a jam at the end of the world, a zombie apocalypse, financial collapse, I am the calm cool character you want in your corner. I fear nothing as an adult. So as you read take heart for the brave little Ken’s suffering in this story, He’s far more than he appears. He’s an angel that lit up a dark family and no victim at all.
Sometimes, when Dad was away and I kept my mom company, her little accomplice in a conspiracy to hate my father without his catching on, Mom would see my hands trembling like a Parkinson’s victim and she then always say, “Why are your hands shaking, Kenneth? You look sick and pale.” I really did not know then. Now I know the crushing stress of a crazy father was getting expressed by my body, though my mind was in total denial, both consciously and subconsciously. To my parents, sibs, and friends, except for my tremors, I acted and appeared a happy kid.
It’s part of the reason I am a recovering hypochondriac as an adult. One who now errors on the other side, ignoring health issues until they become life-threatening. Right now I am undergoing a nebulizer Abuterol lung therapy for a HVAC poisoning I let get the better of my health. I got in this 2014 health pickle by ignoring symptoms too long, hating being that sickly young kid staring out the station wagon windows.
Snuggling up to the easy-going Aunt Katie, my hands were steady, my stomach not in a knot. It was bliss for the five-year-old me. Finally Katie’s boyfriend, Rusty for his red hair, pulled the station wagon the Devil’s Lake parking lot and the kids all piled out and ran for the water. But I clung to Katie and helped carry what little things I could. Finally, after this clinging went on for sometime, Katie said, “Kenny, go swim your cousins. Um, Rusty and I have some grown-up things to talk about.”
I didn’t want to leave Aunt Katie but something in Rusty’s eye told me to go. The cousins welcomed me into the lake with splashes and giggles. As I played in the shallow waters of Devil’s Lake, named for steaming springs at certain times of the year, with my now forgotten cousins, I stole some looks at Katie. She was laughing and drinking a Pabst beer on the beach with her boyfriend Rusty. A boyfriend who tried to be friends with me, but because of my dad’s abuse I feared adult males at that time and Rusty gave up on me eventually.
Katie made out with the breast-groping Rusty with a sexy abandon I never saw between my mom and dad, who always seemed more like enemies in a truce between battles rather than lovers. I was, I admit, more than a little jealous of her red-headed boyfriend Rusty, who sported a handlebar mustache.
Some of my cousins and the other kids who were old enough to swim wanted me to go out in the deeper water with them. I watched in amazement how they windmilled their arms and kicked the water and swam like fish.
DARK SWIM LESSONS
My only swimming lessons up to then had been from Dad in our little backyard pool. He’d dunk me underwater and the only way he’d let me up to breathe was a deadly game of breath holding; I had to then see how many fingers Daddy dearest was holding out beneath the water’s surface and stick my arm out of the pool, while my little head was held tight under by his massive welder’s hand that wrapped around my skull like an octopus. Then I’d anxiously wave my arm to Dad, showing how many fingers he was showing me underwater. Only then was I allowed up from the pool to gasp for breath. Then he’d jam me back under for more “swim lessons”.
Once my mom finally said tentatively, “Bill, you’re not teaching anything but to see underwater. What the hell good is this without teaching him to swim? All you are teaching Kenneth is to hate you.” That got mom a beating. She was less helpful after that in questioning my dad’s parenting skills.
To win Katie’s attention back, I imitated what her kids did to swim with the kicking and arm strokes and lo and behold I was swimming! Of course, with only my father’s mean swim lessons, the first wave took me under before Aunt Katie could see how cool I was. Swimming went from joy to terror. I’d only swam far enough to reach the deep water and I sank like a rock. However, my father’s dark swim lesson did allow me a great underwater view of the bottom of the lake I was sinking for. In some crazy way my father’s lessons on holding my breath were my only hope. I kept holding my breath on the bottom of the lake. I could see the splashing feet and arms of my cousins above, oblivious to my sinking disappearance. I tried an underwater shout and swallowed some water.
I felt a strange tingle in my fingers and toes. I knew from my water torture from dad that lying still meant being able to stay under longer and live. Soon, despite and my aqua-man tricks learned under great pain, my consciousness was fading. I pushed off the lake bottom, but it was a sandy muck and I sank again, more out of air. Fear started to leave me as I began to see amazing shapes and colors, like tiny angels and animals in rainbow hues dancing in the sunlight on the lake’s surface above me.
I was fully aware I was dying but no longer afraid. I even calmly thought, “Well, at least I won’t have to suffer Dad’s beatings anymore.”
I had already run away from home a few months earlier. Only a kindergartener, I made it just a few blocks away before Dad recaptured me along with my little bit of food wrapped in a handkerchief on a stick like I had seen done in a 50s TV show about hobos. Dad broke that hobo stick of mine over his knee, like he tried to break my spirit, like the South Koreans he trained for combat as a US Army drill sargeant. “You little fag gook!” he would call me when enraged, forgetting I was a white kid, his kid. Somehow, even his training by the US army could never break my spirit like his recruits. And it frustrated him to no end to his dying day of bladder cancer in 2011.
Death lost all it’s sting. Dad zero to my many victories. I was ready to die, happy in that knowledge that I’d won as life left me deep beneath Devil’s Lake .
The light of the watery world grew dimmer and dimmer when a beautiful woman appeared over me, lighting up the water. Her bronze hair shimmered with an inner golden glow as she floated majestically above me, smiling. As I smiled back she said telepathically, “Ken, do not give up. Help is coming. Hold on, young one.”
I was filled with more love than I can describe at this beautiful face smiling down on me. More love than I had for aunt Katie or Grandma,”Who are you,?” I said in my 5 year-old mind back to her, as though taking telepathically was a normal as Grandma’s amazing apple pies.
The beauty smiled. Her glowing gown of green seaweed swirled as a wave passed overhead. I felt cozy now on the sandy bottom of the lake as a shocked fish darted past. I peacefully began to close my eyes.
The lady of the lake shouted in my mind, “Gaia! I am Gaia! And you must live, little one.”
“Gaia? That’s a pretty name, pretty lady. Thanks but my father is so mean I don’t mind dying.” I said in shame at betraying my father’s dark secret. He beat us all in the family, from mom to me. Beatings were the cost of living in his home where he controlled all through fear and abuse.
“Your poor sick father William knows no better. He truly does love you and the rest of the family,” Gaia said gently taking my little oxygen deprived blue hand and kissing it. Warmth spread from Gaia’s lips through my little water chilled body when a man’s hand reached right through Gaia and pulled me through her body. All went black…
Gaia became the earth. I saw her from space long before the astronauts. I saw galaxies and many of Gaia’s sister worlds. “Come home, little Kenny.” Gaia’s distant voice called to me.
I flew for Gaia’s sweet call back from the galaxies, down to earth and through the clouds. My spirit hovering above, in the dimming Labor Day sky, I saw my little 5-year-old body slung over a tan man’s shoulder. He ran like a Greek god for the shore through the shallow water. The young lifeguard tossed me on the sandy beach where my shocked aunt was yelling at my oldest cousin, “Kenny’s only five! You were supposed to watch over him in the water!”
The gathered crowd to watch, locked in fear of losing one so young as me. I was telepathic to all their sweet concern and it brought me further down from the sky. This was 1957 and they didn’t do mouth to mouth CPR back then. The lifeguard pushed down on my abdomen so hard I felt I would explode the way my father tortured me by sitting on my chest until I screamed and often passed out.
“No. I will not go back to that life!” I said and my spirit turned and flew for the sun.
Gaia appeared in a cloud, blocking my flight and said this time not telepathically but out loud, “Live, little one. Please, live.” Her words and voice were so sweet that I flew straight for the beach without a word and dove back into my body. Water gushed from my mouth and as I choked my first breath. I was back in my 5-year-old body.
I sat up on the beach and the gathering clapped and hugged each other. My cousins danced for joy. I was picked up in the loving embrace of my beautiful aunt Katie. Black haired and blue-eyed like my dad, Katie showered me with kisses instead of punches like her sick brother. “Oh my god you scared us, Ken!” Then Katie added in shame, “Please don’t tell you father and mother about this. They’ll have my hide for almost letting you drown.”
Not knowing what a “hide” meant, I nodded agreement just the same, happy not to arouse my father’s wrath at this kind woman I loved. This I see now was my first enabling of an addict’s negligence. Poor beautiful Aunt Katie would die just after her 40th birthday, her good looks robbed by alcohol and drug addiction. The fate of many in my family lineage. Katie’s loss so young, she should still be here, is one I’ve never fully recovered from. Fighting family addictions that kill people I love is why in 2011 I donated 150 videos, a $50,000 value, in barter for a $500 a month room for a small room in a grungy North Hollywood home, office to Bradley Quick’s beloved Cool Change Foundation. Bradley would be the gateway to my opening to my spirit gifts. It was the best barter I ever made despite the bad deal money-wise it was for me.
Katie was only a 20-something when I nearly drowned that fateful Labor Day and my first meeting with Gaia. Katie and Gaia seemed the same being as Katie wrapped me in beach towels and warmed me with the best hugs of my life. My relieved cousins went back to swim in Devil’s Lake as Katie warmed me fully back to life.
“Here, Kenny boy, get some food in you,” Aunt Katie offered me fresh peanut and jelly sandwich. I gladly took a bite. Food never tasted better before or since, despite a little bit of beach sand that had gotten into it in all the commotion.
“I saw angels,” I said innocently to Katie as I enjoyed the sandwich. The world was more alive than I’d ever tasted or saw before or since. I can still close my eyes and see the sparkle of the sun Devil’s Lake reflected in Katie’s wide blue eyes.
“Angels?” said Katie looking very frightened in a way that frightened me.
“Yeah, Aunt Katie. Little rainbow-colored ones and a big one named…. Uh, named, um I forget her name. But the lady in the lake was pretty like you, but with golden hair and a seaweed dress,” I said like this was a normal as the sandwich I was loving.
This made Katie look even more afraid. “All this stays our secret. You can never, ever talk to your mom or dad about angels or you’ll get aunt Katie get in big, big trouble. Your daddy might even hit me.”
“No…,” I whispered in terror. It was bad enough that I and my brother Fred, who got, I suspect, even worse than my beating by getting sexual abuse, at the greasy mechanics hands of my sick father, were being hurt along with Mom and Grandma. “Not Katie. I never wanted to bring daddy’s hitting Aunt Katie.” I thought. What I was too young to know was this fear was already too late. As my grandfather had died with my dad was only eleven, he had been the “man” of the family for a long time and was giving out beatings since long before I was born to Katie. God knows what else.
“So cross you heart and hope to die the angels and the lady in the lake is our secret, Kenneth?” said Katie, tears of shame in her eyes.
I knew when she said Kenneth, something Katie never called me like my mother did when she was mad, this was serious and so I said, “Promise, aunt Katie, a secret, I promise.”
PROMISE TOO BIG TO KEEP
Sadly, this was a promise I was not able to keep. Not because I was broke my word and told. The near death experience had changed me. I was seeing spirits of dead people and pets and the rainbow of angels everywhere now and talking to them all the time. My parents knew something was very wrong ever since Katie had brought me home. I was a very different kid now.
Eventually Katie confessed her neglect herself to the family in our little living room in our modest St. Francis home. Tears still burn in my heart recalling my father towering over Katie, “You drunken, bitch! You almost killed my boy with your boozing! Now, he’s seeing freaking angels and ghosts? Ken’s a retard now! ” My father slapped Katie so hard across the cheek her head spun.
“Stop, Daddy! It was all my fault! I seen my cousins swim and thought I could too. I, and I promise to get better. Not to see stuff.” I said getting myself between Katie and my dad.
Mom spoke up, something she seldom did when my father was hurling me around like a broken toy. Dad would break my arm a few years later tossing me across my bedroom into bed as punishment.” Leave Katie alone, Bill. She’s sorry.”
My father’s rage swung like a spotlight of evil doom upon my mother now. He raised a hand to strike her for speaking up against him. These family dramas went off like a spark in to firecracker warehouse and went to places no one dreamed. My father’s rage burned in his eyes, a forest fire ready to kill us all, himself included.
A Korean War drill Sargent my father was far stronger than he knew. My worst memory is him kicking my mother in the stomach while my mother was pregnant with my brother Fred. Fred was age two now. Fred cried loudly as my father kicked over a heavy coffee table like a toothpick hat was separating him from my mother.
“Please, Daddy! I promise never to talk to the angels again!” I shouted and jumped in between Dad to shield Mom from his menacing fists.
“Protecting the ladies, huh?” said my father as he backhanded me so hard I saw angels again dancing before my eyes. Blood from my cut lip mingled with the heavy carved maroon carpet up against my nose.
“Bill!” shouted my wise Irish grandma Agnes as she nervously puffed on a cigarette. “Enough is enough, son. I swear to make sure and teach Ken all I learned about the evils of the fairy folk. This sometimes happens when a soul crosses over. But Kenny is back with us now. He’s not retarded, Bill. Your son just needs a wee bit of time and my help to forget the fairies and pixies he’s met.”
Somehow, at Grandma’s profound pledge to break me of seeing visions my father’s rage cooled like an active volcano between eruptions. The women calmed and even my kid brother Fred stopped bawling.
And due to family repression worked upon me of an epic nature, all done from Grandma Agnes’ misguided love, so I have no regrets as it allowed me to enjoy an amazing normy life before my awakening, it would take until this very day, a vision on 6.12.14, eve of a full moon in June of 2014 to remember it was Gaia under Devil’s Lake I fell in love with at first sight deep beneath Devil’s Lake. I keep seeing more and more of mama Gaia since Antarctica 12.12.12 where I share now for the first time she knighted me. I dedicated my life to helping her save the human species, her proudest creation, that day on the stoney shores of Antarctica.
When he’s not meditating and doing planetary healing work Ken is a Hollywood filmmaker with PBS credits on IMDB and the owner of a socially conscious social media company.