As a film director there so much I learn in my sleep about just getting to the heart of a story with no preamble. In an amazing dream last night I found myself mid-inaugural address as the new president of the United States!
Relax, I have no intention of running for president. This was a healing dream. My soul looked past today’s anger-fest president in a totally dismissive fashion. It was fantastic to see the excitement and hope on the faces of the crowd as I spoke,
My fellow Americans, I have some big shoes to fill as your new leader. Those big shoes belong to none other of President Barrack Obama.
The job of rebuilding our relationships with fellow democracies and allies starts now. Today, as my first act as President, all tariffs are lifted.
At this very moment my transition team is preparing new legislation to convert all coal burning power to solar and to transition the auto industry fully to electric cars production by 2030.
The dream was so exciting it woke me. But as lucid dreamer I closed my eyes and reentered the dream and used it to set intentions in the conscious field to reunify Americans divided by rampant racism, a sea of lies and to make reparations to the Native Americans.
Analyzing this dream I see it’s the work of my spirit guide Abraham Lincoln, not to lose faith in my values so badly under attack by Trump. Nice work, Abe.
May this powerful dream of renewed hope and change aid the healing of America. Aho!
I did not expect a planetary healing from such a violent film as SICARIO. Spoiler alert. I can’t explain the impact of the film on me without giving away the best secrets of the story. Then again, my fans know the films I review are a springboard for me to talk planetary change.
Emily Blunt is the innocent Phoenix police officer dragged into a CIA scheme to assassinate a cartel leader. A part she plays to confused brilliance that makes her one of the most believable cops characters, male or female, in film history. The CIA needs a domestic officer to expand jurisdiction into Mexico and Emily is it.
The broken town of Juarez is where action centers. Josh Brolin is the CIA’s master disruptive player. All law has broken down in Juarez as the cartels battle. It’s a chilling look at how thin the line between anarchy and civilization truly is.
Blunt’s character is watched over by Benicio Del Toro’s dark angel. He’s a free agent, a Columbian lawyer turned assassin, out to kill the cartel leader who beheaded his wife and killed his teen daughter, boiling her alive in acid. Nothing will stop this Sicario, which means “hit man” in English, not even his affection for Blunt, who reminds him of his daughter.
The first 10 minutes of this film are very hard to get through as Blunt uncovers 20 mutilated corpses in a Phoenix bust. I’ll admit I closed my eyes to get past it.
The amazing ending, which I will not spoil for you, is just as hard to endure. Violence here is not gratuitous. It’s a documentary to the real zombie apocalypse we face. SICARIO offers a deep look into our sick society, decaying from the inside, fueled by the greed of men that seek to send humanity into a hellish dark ages.
As the credits rolled I stood to go home after my matinée break. Then a soulful Mexican guitar solo in the credit score broke the 2 hour tension. I retook my seat and soon my ET guide Ohom asked me to meditate on making sure the world does not go the violent way of Jaurez. The meditation enemy once again, addiction.
I closed my eyes and the sweet guitar sounds swept me away. Ohom asked me to go beyond addiction to seek in my mind’s eye the root cause. I saw many of my neural pathways were badly ruptured from the nightmare of the first 20 years of my life in family as a helpless kid ruled over by a drunken father. They neurons were the red exploded remnants. How could I still be so PST damaged on the inside after decades of many kinds of therapies I wondered?
Ohom showed me the neuron reroutes I had created to function as normally as possible. Then he and his team began helping me heal my damaged neurons and neural pathways at super speed. In less than 2 minutes 2 decades of mental and physical abuse I’d suffered as child survivor of frequent bloody fatherly beatings were healed, along with my broken my heart from when my mother did not rescue me from hell but abandoned ship. A pain far worse than the broken arm my drunken father would give me.
Again I may never know if this amazing ET shit’s real, it just works for me as gateway to higher energies and I do feel more whole. I’d not expected this kind of breakthrough this warm fall Sedona afternoon, and accepted this ET healing with tears of joy in the dark movie house.
I see now clearly the root cause of addiction is seeking to numb our pain via self-medicating with drugs, both illegal and prescription, booze and loveless sex. My addiction of choice has been my work. Getting older and not being able to work at my crazy pace, still far more than men half my age, is buying me time to smell the roses and moments like this.
As always the personal healing begets a planetary healing and I sent out the bliss of my healing across the world.
The credits ended. As I stood to go a young theater attendant asked me, “How was SICARIO?”
“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.
Fred and I have a lot healing to do with each other from a childhood where both our parents often pitted us, brother against brother. Fred told me last night once how, when I was senior in high school and he was a freshman, that I passed him in the hallway without saying hi. That hurt him deeply. I don’t recall the instance fully. Most likely, I was just preoccupied. I have mild ADD and I do not do well spotting people in crowds. But Fred’s reaction tells me he is carrying guilt of some kind.
Before I can dig into what that guilt might be, my brother asks if he might visit me in Sedona for a week for my September birthday coming up soon. Well, it was more like Fred me told me at first. Fred can be forceful at times. But Fred saw he was for once and apologized for being pushy. I reassure Fred I am happy he is coming.
Next day, I make plans to house Fred at the resort in his own room. Love my bro, but a week in same room is not my idea of fun. I will be working in advance with angel channel Mica Monet, my beautiful Sedona spirit friend, on healing the complex relationship I have with my brother Fred.
My brother Fred tells me that he wants to come to Sedona because he is awakening to new realms and abilities that began to emerge 2 weeks ago. He asks guidance and support from me, his closest relative aside from his son Joey and our mother. Fred says he also hopes to have a chance to meet my friend and client inventor Patrick Flanagan. I warn Fred I can make no promises about Patrick’s busy schedule.
A simple welder all these many years, by choice, Fred put aside college and a brilliant life as a scientist. Why? To follow in our bipolar father’s footsteps as a tradesman. Nobel hands on work, but the world was cheated of much of Fred’s genius when he dropped out of college. If Patrick is free to meet Fred it will prove an eye opener for my brother to speak with a man who has dedicated his life to inventing holistic remedies and is considered a reincarnation of Nikola Tesla.
Fred was smarter than me in school by far. Too bright for the normal classes that I could barely get by in, Fred took all the advanced classes. Then he turned his back on it all, just to be near dad in the trades. Fred’s reward was to be tormented by our bipolar father on the job. One time my father, as a prank, electrified a large metal container Fred was inside of welding. Fred was nearly electrocuted and never trusted my father again. I distanced myself from my wild father once I grew up, while Fred held him close.
I am happy that Fred is beginning to invent things again, for the first time since we were kids. He is working on a solar steam device and I have been lending him a little financial support, paying back some of the money he loaned me to chase my dream of being a Hollywood director. The least I can do.
For now, however, there is a fury in my brother that radiates from him. You can imagine it’s tough getting back on his true path at the tender age of 59. And, just as with my 2010 awakening, many in the family feel my brother has lost his mind. Why chase inventing versus the solid paychecks of welding as he’s been doing for nearly 40 years, they wonder?
Awakening has been overwhelming for my brother these past few weeks. Fred experiences a wild sense of euphoria mixed with fear and calls me every few hours; compared to our normal once a week hour-long calls. It’s been a strain on me. A part of my recent exhaustion. Fred’s intensely digs deep into things in ways that are hard for my active, less scientific mind to comprehend.
For 3 years the angels have been telling me one of my jobs, as an early awakened soul will be to help the new people waking up. I just never expected that work be this personal. My dear brother, a Gemini with a dualistic nature that has always baffled me. It’s going to be a challenge. But one I am up for here in Sedona with many angels both earthly and otherwise to help me.
On the phone Fred sounds like he’s drinking more than usual. And for a few moments I hear my father’s voice within Fred’s. An other worldly mix of anger and hope at war. A voice I don’t like hearing as my father beat me daily. Dad even broke my arm once by tossing me into a wall when I lashed back at his abuse with a punch to his jaw. I was nine.
On my 12th birthday my father nearly killed me with a belt beating. The crime did not fit my father’s belt lashing. I had hit my baby brother for teasing me. I didn’t like the savings bond gift Dad had got me. I wanted a spaceship toy. For hitting my baby brother Bruce my father goes berserk. Fred tells me, he is 10 at the time, that he feels so helpless as my father lashes me. It is like witnessing firsthand the horrific scene from Gibson’s Christ in the Passion, blood flows from my back to stain my white T-shirt. It takes both my mother and grandmother diving on my crazed father’s back to save my life.
As Fred recounts my sad birthday story from his point of view, he confesses to me for the first time that dad never even spanked him his whole life. Whereas I was beaten badly so often I’ve lost count. I process that revelation for an entire day and next day tell Fred he can feel free of any guilt about his free pass with Dad. Fred took plenty of mental abuse like some sort of co-conspirator/informant. I forgive my brother and feel his relief over the phone. He chokes back with tears his thanks.
Despite all this, my dear brother Fred struggles now with the fact I carry no more anger about our bipolar dad, resulting from my healing work that has gone on for 20 years and concluded here in Sedona with the help of many. Our brotherly rage fest with our father was always something we shared in common. Fred feels alone with his rage now and my breaking of wicked conspiratorial bonds he had to my dad. Fred’s had a powerful psychic surgery from our talks. His healing will take time. And beautiful Sedona will help when he visits me for more pleasant birthday than my twelfth.
Fred tells me he is bringing an old family album with him on his visit to me in Sedona. He says there is a horrific picture where my father’s “demon” was caught on film. I tell Fred there is no such thing as demons. Only repressed anger. But what’s in a name? Anger is a powerful negative force, if left untreated, a devil that wrecks all around us. But I bravely tell Fred I will look at the album to help heal my brother carrying so much shame about not being beaten the way I was. I already know that I will have no anger and fear looking at the photo, even if dad has horns in the photos. Those days of fearing my dad and raging on him are past for me. Fred and I will find a new more positive common ground in our life.
Lost in these thoughts of my brother’s rapid and sudden healing, I drop the water wand as it is passes over Arizona. Rather than get mad at myself, as I might in the past, or even blame Fred for his painful distractions, I send the wand back to the Atlantic and start the meditation over.
At last the Atlantic waters of the wand finally reaches the fires of California raging outside San Fransisco. A team of electric dolphins leap from the Pacific, grateful for the Fukushima meditations, join the Atlantic waters and pull a wave of the water soaring into the wall of flame. Living redwoods join to battle the fire by diverting rivers. It’s more epic the LTOR. And the fire dies in a cloud of steam.
I know Patrick Flanagan, who is in California now visiting the Napa Valley, with his amazing wife Stephanie, are both somehow joining this planetary meditation. Ha. They thought they were taking a vacation to the wine country. Angels work in funny ways.
Friday my brother received a gift from me of Megahydrate, an amazing health supplement of Pat’s Phisciences.com. Fred, a heavy smoker, tells me gratefully he feels the hydration instantly in his eyes and dry mouth. Cancer thrives in dehydration, I see in this meditation. Patrick’s gift may then save my smoker brother’s life. No wonder he wants to meet him so badly he is traveling all the way from Wisconsin, our family home.
Patrick’s amazing products are a prime example of how these meditations manifest in ways that our world can facilitate. Earth is, in fact, a manifesting machine. Our thoughts are things and we have far more power to shape this reality than we know.
The fire meditation a success, I find myself in a dream of a rehearsal of a young black singer. He’s a homeless kid I discovered to carry on the work of Michael Jackson. He looks a lot like the young MJ. He sings a newly discovered Jackson song that Michael wrote before his death. It’s angelic. I am blessed to still hear it echo in my mind as a I write you, dear reader. I am in tears as the young man finishes the love song called “Marlene”. I take the homeless MJ kid into a hug. He smells bad and it’s a grimy hug. Waking, I realize it’s a metaphor for my healing brother Fred who will bring a new song to the world from old steam power.
As I write to you, dear reader, I am having an open eye vision that makes it hard to see what I type. It’s a double-exposure where I walk the moist charred fire baked floor of the California forest. Steam mist rises into the air. The fires are out. San Fransisco lies safe in the distance. I again find myself hoping, as I have for three years now, that one day my brother Fred will join me in these amazing, if exhausting, meditations.
And then the ET angel Ohom of the Orion star system asks me to get out of bed and walk to the window of my Sedona area room here in Cottonwood at a cozy B&B called the Desert Rose. It’s time for some confirmation my meditations are real Ohom kids me, knowing I still harbor some doubts. I throw open the little bedroom window. I laugh at what the water wand dropped here from the Atlantic. It is raining in the desert. The first morning rain in my six month stay. Rain soon to visit California.
Enjoy my meditation video about healing fire with the amazing singer/actor Lynda Valliche. It worked here in Arizona, it will work for California.
“In the Golden Age it is time embrace paradox!” – Stephanie Sutton, PhiSciences.com
By Ken Sheetz
Happy official first day of the Golden Age. A day I learned all about from Mayan calendar guru Stephanie Sutton, who I am filming with her husband Patrick Flanagan for THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS. It’s such an honor to film this power couple at work in the shift.
Stephanie, who is an enlightened psychologist, has been of great help on my personal work here in Sedona. An unexpected boon for this man healing from my recent narrow escape from the Matrix only 3 years ago after seeing ET angels build the DreamShield in a 2010 vision that awakened me.
I am blessed by this Sedona Golden Age power couple. So blessed. And so I try not to burden Patrick and Stephanie too much with my personal junk I am clearing away to make room for the new me. Yeah, it’s hard enough work making a 50 video web series without throwing my dark childhood wounds and the mess they made of my adult life into the mix.
So on Monday July the 29th 2013, of the Grand Trine long predicted by the Mayans, I book a sessions with my LA gal pal, and newly relocated Sedona intuitive healer Mica Monet. Mica’s one of the stars of this blog of late for the great work she is doing on healing me here when I am not making videos for THE FLANANGAN EXPERIMENTS.
The lovely healer selects a lovely small park for our work beside the Oak Creek. We set up camping chairs Mica likes to use for outdoor sessions on a small bluff overlooking the magical healing waters of the Oak Creek. Mica’s does not call herself and intuitive healer for nothing. She senses my uptight heart and asks me, “What’s wrong, Kenny B?”
“Damned if know, Mica. My messed up heart I guess.” I say plopping into my camping chair. Bugs immediately begin to bug me.
“Close your eyes, Ken, and let’s get started,” says Mica, who looks tired from the high demands of a rapidly growing healing practice here in the red rock country of Sedona.
“Sorry. I don’t want to close my eyes, Mica. I’d rather change-up the session and tell you a story about my heart. It’s related to the love thing,” I say feeling lost from the get go.
“Your call.” says Mica.
“OK. Let me tell you the tale of ‘Ken Sheetz and Global Love.’ On 2.13.11 ETs of the dream shield ask me on the spur of a moment to become a human back-up drive for about 12 hours for all love on planet earth. And I accept. That night before bed all earthly love from the tiniest microbe to the whales of the sea pours into me through my third eye, a fully conscious eyes wide open experience. I was not sleeping or dreaming. All love on earth flooded into me in a beam of data. I went to sleep after filled with a backup copy of all love on earth. What a night that was.”
“See, Ken? You can receive love in a big way after all!” offers Mica brightly.
“No. I was simply a vessel, a backup love-drive space. Nature abhors a vacuum and so I was a perfect subject. But, still, a little of the love from this entire world did leak to my heart. That’s how shut down my heart is, Mica, being a human backup drive to all love on earth is the closest I have come to receiving love.” I say sadly.
“Why do you think the ETs wanted you to do this in the first place? Why this back-up drive to planetary love?” says Mica, the human angel looking for an angle to help wedge open my closed heart.
“The ETs that built the DreamShield used me as human back-up drive in the highly likely event of a solar flare that will wipe all of our memories,” I say. For the first time telling this amazing story to a person and not just blogging about it.
Mica nods calmly for me to continue. Here in Sedona, I love how the unusual is taken as usual.
“On Valentine’s Day 2.14.11,” I further explain to Mica, “I transfer all love that was downloaded into me as a living backup drive from all earth life, big and small, into the Parthenon duplicate in Nashville. I was in Nashville in 2011 just after my father died, who was an alcoholic, doing a planetary meditation to end addiction for Lee McCormick’s Spirit Recovery, one of the largest recovery centers in the state of Tennessee.”
“Interesting how you father plays into all this.” says Mica, trying to take me to my father issues.
“Let’s keep my dad out of this today, OK? I need a break from his junk.”
“Sorry. Go ahead with the ETs and you as a human backup drive to love story.” says Mica.
“Love is all the ETs say we need save of our memories in the event of a solar flare. Rage, hate, fear, all negativity are superfluous. And now that I helped set up Nashville’s Parthenon as the back up drive, ET angels update our planet’s love there each night as we all dream.”
“Love backed up daily in our dream time. Makes sense,” says Mica.
“Thanks. I’ve been blogging about this since 2011, but no one takes what I went through seriously,” I say.
“Seems to me a lot of people believed in you enough to send you to Antarctica to help the ETs halt the pole shift at the end of 2012,” says Mica with a smile, proud she’s rained on my pity party.
“Got me, as usual. You’re good, you. — There’s more to the ETs and me that may give answers about my heart that can only give love not accept it. The ETs showed me in a 2012 meditation in Malibu that I am not quite as human as I appear. Part of me is a sentient program sent from the future. My furthest future earth self is from 4.54 billions of years in the future the ETs who guide me say,” I explain to the patient listener Mica Monet, who nods for me to go on.
“I came here, to this era of the Shift, to be born in 1952. That’s the furthest back in time my DNA sentient program could be sent from 5 billion years out, using that times advanced via wave technology. WAVE is a sci-fi film I made in 2005 about what has turned out to be real. In studying this ET knowledge I have seen that ’52 is the year the cell phone got invented and the exact midpoint between earth’s birth 5 billion years ago and earth’s death 5 billion years from now.”
“Whoa. We’re smack in the middle of earth’s life span here in 2013. Go on, Kenny B, sorry to interrupt” says Mica.
“My future self, and sorry, I don’t have my future self’s name yet to share yet, is from a time when humans are immortal sentient organic machines. Technology and biology have merged.”
Mica listens patiently as the sun fills the little park beside the Oak Creek with golden shafts of light. I am relieved Mica is not looking at me like I am insane and so I press on, ” But in humankind’s evolution, something critical to humanity’s future has been lost.”
“Love?” says the intuitive healer.
“Yes. To be specific, humanity has lost the ability to receive love 5 billion years from now.”
“Hmm, just the way you are feeling, Kenny B.” say Mica.
“Yes. Now that my Antarctica mission is done, this search for the balance of love is the reason I was guided here to Sedona, during the birth of the Golden Age. Here with you and Patrick and Stephanie, and Ed And Kat Preston, and bunches of other people I’ve not met and may never meet.”
A little dog that looks like a miniature lion, a dog I have never met before, strains on its master’s leash line to reach me for a pat on then head. I am grateful for the love interruption to my long story of about being an organic cyborg program from a distant future.
“Dogs are love,” Mica says calmly. “You are being supported with doggie love in telling me all this. Go on, Ken.”
I swat at bugs pestering me, “If I am supported telling this global love tale, one I barely believe myself, why are all these bugs bothering me and not you?”
“You tell me,” says Mica, an expert in keeping you focused in her powerful sessions.
“Sorry to blab about what must sound like my next science fiction screenplay. But for some reason I know it’s important you get my full picture of not just my past, but humanity’s future.”
“Good. But my guides say your answers to solving your one-way love issues are in your past, not your super cool future. Please close your eyes and let me take you back.” Mica says. I sense her frustration at not spirit journeying with me today, like we usually do so gracefully.
A Ginger Rogers of a spirit dancer, Mica is a fantastic dancer and singer. I even have attended some of her Salsa classes. Helps me get out of my writing/editing chair I’ve been glued to for The Flanagan Experiments.
“Sorry. Not feeling up to spirit dancing with you today, Mica Pica. Odd I know. That’s what I thought we’d be doing. But these sessions never are what I expect.” I say softly, wishing I knew what the heck was going on. I love traveling through time and space with Mica. But my heart is as bankrupt as Detroit that filed this week.
“You’re so sad today, Ken. It’s not like you. I want to help,” says Mica kindly. She is one the kindest people I have ever worked in 20 years of therapy with.
“Mica, I have to confess I am literally falling apart on this one-way love DreamShield mission. How I am supposed to live on earth another 50 years, like I was told by the voice of God in 2010 in Italy?” I blubber on, stories still pouring out of me. “In the far future, when earth’s red sun grows to the point where it will soon swallow the earth whole, where my furthest future life is sent backwards in time to be with you here in this park today, love is just a highly sophisticated program that merely replicates love behaviors. Our race has lost its way on the road to progress when it comes to love 5 billion years from today, this lost day of the Grand Trine.”
“I don’t believe humanity’s future is that bleak. Sounds more like some wild expression of clever ego subterfuge,” says Mica.
“No this future is as real as you sitting in that chair, Mica. Only one possible Quantum future, I grant you. But it’s the future I come from. A future that has pluses. Humanity lives in peaceful co-existence with all of nature for example.” I offer.
“But, Ken, it matters not if there is no heart and soul in such harmony, only existence,” says Mica.
“Ah, what’s the use? I accept I am like the character Tin Man in THE WIZARD OF OZ, wanting to find a heart… but never really getting one from the con man wizard.” I grouch.
“Ken, you are a human in this life. One with a big heart. Have faith the answers will come. Today is just not the day, perhaps. Let’s go on with the session. We may still get there on this Grand Trine.” says Mica, still hoping for a miracle breakthough.
“Screw the Grand Trine, there’ill be another one some other life. Let’s call it. Nothing more to say as ‘the love explorer from the future’. Love? Ha! Me? I know zippo of real love. Every love I’ve had has been nothing more than parallel play style love, never true love. As you painfully know, I am silly Pepe Le Pew in relationship. All chase and when I do catch a woman and she loves me, “warts and all” as my Canadian fiancée once lovingly told me. Well, what do I do? Run! Leaving a wake of broken hearts in my path of destruction. I am sick of my life-like nothingness,” I say sounding gloomier by the second.
“Didn’t I do a good job of seeing how you’d dump me if you caught me, Pepe Le Sheetz?” Mica teases me to cheer me up, referring to the title of a blog I wrote about my humorous love chase of her she rightly shut down and which has led to this entire discovery. But now one that’s led to this very serious moment where all seems hopeless. Thoughts of an early death seem pleasant compared to the loveless torture of my life, but I keep those thoughts to myself as the session is over and I don’t want to keep Mica.
Instead I say to Mica, “I need to stop looking for that magic woman, like you, who can break open the safe of my heart. She doesn’t exist. I am alone, like ‘Solitary Man’ the old Neil Diamond song.”
“At what age did the shutting down of your ability to receive love start, Ken?”
“The easy answer is the abuse I started suffered from my “bipolar” dad as a toddler or even in the womb when he’s . But I’ve worked through all my dad junk.” I say, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
“You’ve not really forgiven him have you?”
“Forget about it, Mica. I will never forgive my father for the abuse. It’s never really going to happen. Yeah, I’ve pretended to forgive my dad. But he was a fucking nut job and deserves no forgiveness from me. He needed to seek medical help with his aliment he brutally inflicted on me, me and the whole family, by minute by excruciating minute!” I say packing up my folding chair.
“You don’t have to say what you father did to abuse you was right to forgive him,” offers Mica as she packs up her folding chair too, accepting the session if toast.
As we head for the parking lot I say, “I am so done with Wild Bill, as my little brother Fred and I named him long before there the movie “Silence of the Lambs.” Done with his ruining my life. I’ve forgiven my father all I can. I can never completely forgive him. Never.”
“How are you feeling saying that, Ken?” says Mica still trying to heal me into forgiving my fucked up father as we head for the parking lot. This woman never quits.
“I feel nothing. I am in full android mode. Far from what I expected on my session to find answers to love on this not-so-Grand-Trine.” I kid as I tuck the folding chairs into the back of Mica’s love bug VW.
Mica smiles, sad for me, and says hoping into her love bug VW Beetle, “Don’t give up, Kenny B. Never let your vision of one possible future, from the infinite futures out there, hold you back from being able to love fully. The future is not set. Look to the past which is set for answers.”
“Thanks, Mica Pica from Cosat Rica. But I think I’ve reached the end of my rope trying to figure my love mess out.” I say grimly as though reading my own death sentence.
“Are you OK?” Mica says starting her car. “We can grab dinner together if you want to talk more. You did cancel your Salsa lessons with me for after.”
“Yeah, remind me to never combine therapy and dance lessons again,” I say managing a sad chuckle. “I’ll be fine. Take care, Mica,” I lie as I walk quickly to my car and drive off into the Sedona sunset.
Mica’s session may seem like it was a failure on the surface, but after my mood lifted over expecting too much on Stephanie Sutton’s Grand Trine. Yes, telling my cyber-self story of love and the human backup drive 2011 epic vision was deeply healing somehow. A few days later meditating about Mica’s advice to forgive me dad in whatever way without accepting the abuse he dumped on me, it hits me:
My dad was a bipolar inner twin! One from a good universe and one from a negative one. I can forgive the good twin within my father without forgiving his dark twin. The caption on the photo of my dad on this blog is my forgiveness letter to him. I wrote after the meditation. Still a lot of bitterness leaks from it. But it’s a start to putting my father’s abuse truly behind me. I have hope.