During my stay at Malibu’s Great Spirits Ranch, hosting events and running social media for the bulk of 2012, I was blessed to meet many amazing stars of the LA spirit community. One of those LA stars is now my partner in love, biz and life, Elizabeth England. We’ve been living in bliss together now for three years, nestled in a lovely home in Sedona.
Annelise Balfour Couchman (Annalisa)
As we work round the clock to get the word out about an amazing line of EMF protection devices that literally save lives on our new CoolestTechEver.com e-commerce site, it can be easy to actually forget that magical time. A time when all of us in the yoga and meditation community across the planet were looking forward to the end of the Mayan calendar with hope for a new era in human awareness.
In that heady time, there was lovely woman named Annelise (Annalisa) Balfour who visited the Malibu ranch a few times for GSR events. Her mega-watt smile and contagious positive attitude made her a stand-out from the crowds who visited the 14 acres ranch, perched high above the city of Malibu in the Santa Monica mountains. Annelise was curious about my ET spirit guide Ohom and we had great conversation about the mission of the DreamShield to assist in gently elevating human consciousness through meditation.
Yesterday, amidst all the hype on FB surrounding the mid-term elections, which gratefully succeeded in the Dems taking the house to put some check on 45, I was shocked to learn that sweet Annelise had passed away from breast cancer. It instantly put all the nonsense surrounding Trump and our crazy-making politics into perspective.
Monday, at Ross Pittman’s of ConsciousLifeNews.com’s weekly power of eight meditation event, I asked the group to help Annelise on her journey. Everyone eagerly agreed. As soon as we all closed our eyes and dropped into our heart space I connected to my dear spirit guide Robin Williams; now enjoying an oceanic afterlife as a killer whale, after short reincarnations as a blue whale and a blue dolphin. Robin, who calls himself Nanu these days, volunteered to help in the group meditation.
Robin found Annelise’s spirit wandering the beach in Malibu. When she spotted Robin they connected telepathically and he playfully invited Annelise to swim out and climb aboard his back and hang onto his dorsal fin. Annelise happily accepted Robin’s invitation and soon they were off!
Annelise gleefully clung to Robin the killer whale like a mermaid born for this. Robin dove deep and soared up, flying from from wave to wave. Annelise laughed with carefree joy as the duo glided on the wind and waves.
Now Robin dove deep. Deeper and deeper, down to the bottom of the ocean he raced. At first Annelise worried about air but then chuckled she no longer had the need for mortal breathing. She gasped as up ahead a small portal of golden light opened, a glittering beacon on the dark ocean floor.
Robin told Annelise, “Sorry. Too small for me. This is as far as I can take you, babe. Enjoy your journey to the center for the earth!”
I watched the vision from the Sedona meditation circle with a giddy smile as Annelise’s spirit accepted Nanu’s whale of an invite and dove into the golden portal. Her spirit easily glided though the layers of the earth, gaining in power. Soon she arrived at the planetary core. But instead of hot magma she was amazed the earth’s core swirled in molten gold.
A large golden lever that stuck out from a golden column beckoned to Annelise. Free of mortal hesitation, she pulled the golden lever sharply down. To her joy a wave of golden energy sailed from the earth’s core rocketing out to the surface and kept right on going throughout the solar system and the whole universe.
The vision ended and I shared the story with our Sedona meditation group. Others shared visions too of her powerful presence. And I felt immense gratitude for the abundant health of my love Elizabeth and the mutual support we give each other as we continue to grow and develop as leaders of the conscious community.
Today, America awoke to a renewed Congress, blessed with 100 women of many races and creeds who, to record turnouts, were elected yesterday. Thanks for helping make that happen, Annelise and my coolest ever mediation Sedona pals! Safe journeys on whatever you are up to next on the other side, Annalisa. I have a feeling your part of your work will be helping heal the idiotic divides between the people.
Oh, and I’ll pass your thanks onto spirit guide and killer whale Nanu, AKA Robin Williams.
I had one of the coolest dreams of my life last night. A true mission from spirit from a happier post war America not to lose hope during these turbulent times.
It’s 1948 and I’m backstage at a New York theater. Stage hands and great actors of the past busily rush past me. I see, Bob Hope, Shirley Temple, James Cagney, Liz Taylor, Bogart and Frank Sinatra.
Frank smiles at me and says, “You’re on, Ken. Knock ’em dead.”
Enjoy some Sinatra on new tab to score this once in a lifetime inspirational dream that;s really meant for us all.
This all seems strange, in the way dreams always do while still perfectly natural at the same time. I adjust my suit, a weird combination of tux top and my old green flannel pajama bottoms. But I have a problem.
“Frank,” I ask nervously, “I gotta find the can. Mind going on for me? You know, hold ’em over while fund the john? Hate to pee myself onstage!”
“For you, kid? Anything!” Frank says with chuckle as he dives through through curtains to thunderous applause.
I timidly ask Bob Hope as he passes by, “Sorry, Bob. Where’s the can?
“Did a spotlight can fall on your head? Cross your damn legs on get onstage!” Bob says pushing me through the curtains.
The crowd gathered below the stage that’s a balcony on 30 Rock that overlooks Time Square (Hey, it’s a dream!), erupts in applause and laughter as I appear from the curtains in tumble that I raise to my feet. Frank, master of the mic, spins toward me and says with his million watt grin, “Better late than never, ladies and gents, I give Ken Sheetz!”
I do a funny curtsey bow the crowd appreciates and take the mic from Frank as he pats me on the back and says pointing at my hilarious getup, “Half dressed after just climbing out of bed, Kenny?’
I explain, “Like my outfit, Frank? The tux my love Elizabeth made for me is hand sewn. The green plaid pajama bottoms are from our Christmas film, where people give cash to the poor instead of junk we all don’t need!”
A standing ovation interrupts me from the good-looking happy crowd, dressed in classy winter garments, including an abundance of mink coats. I turn to Frank with shrug. “You’re slaying ’em. Go on, kid!”
“Apologies for being late. Had to grab a pee before coming out here to you good people!” The crowd goes wild with laughter. I find myself wondering out loud, “Why the heck do people always love a good pee joke?” When I spot Bob Hope in the wings, doing a face plant.
I point to Hope and joke, “Bob, I swear to God, if I pee myself in front of this fine crowd and 30 million people on TV it’s all your fault!” Putty in my comedic hands the crowd belly laughs uproariously.
Bob strides from the wings, Oscar in hand, comically looking jealous as he hands it to me, “The bridesmaid again! They Academy fails once again to give Best Actor to yours truly! But I gotta hand it to you, Sheetz. Great job!”
Franks’s trying to say something, but the laughter and applause of the crowd is so loud that I can’t hear him. So I step for him and lean the mic to hear Frank say in that amazing voice of his…
“Ken’s flick changed a commercially bastardized holiday back to something Jesus would love on his birthday. Kenny deserves way more than an Oscar, he deserves a freaking Nobel!”
Frank kisses me on both cheeks as Hope chimes in, “Huh, kinda like a Noel Nobel, Frank?” Frank nods as he applauds me. The crowd joins in with yet another wild standing ovation just as the “time to get off the Oscar stage music” starts to play softly.
I realize I better get to the “thank yous” pronto, “I want thank all the new friends I made making this film a hit.” I oddly can’t seem to remember the title of the film I suddenly realize to my horror but press on, “I want thank my old friends director Frank Capra, my co-stars Danny Kaye and Jimmy Cagney who gave this film it’s heart and soul.” I gesture to the crowd to see Elizabeth my love blowing me kisses, “Where we would be in life without friends?”
So many loves of my life in the cool crowd I see are waving at me. I go teary eyed spotting relatives who have passed away. “Most of all I want to thank my buddy Frank Sinatra for believing in me and my work. Peace everyone. Merry Christmas and Happy ’49!”
The echo of the joyous crowd still in my ears, I awake in bed and say to Lincoln our rescue dog, tucked away in his bed in our closet, “Wow. What a great dream, little Lincoln!” Lincoln shoots me a puzzled look and goes back to sleep since it’s only sunrise.
I check my cell phone for one of early morning messages Elizabeth‘s been leaving me each day from the Bahama’s, where she’s about 1/3 through a 5 week kirtan/yoga intensive. But. alas, no message. It takes some of the joy out of the dream as she had a freak head injury just 5 days before she left that’s made the whole thing dicey. But I shake it off the nervousness, still feeling she’s well in the field.
Update, I was right. Elizabeth simply overslept and is off to yoga. Time for a cup of java and Saturday yoga myself with Sedona’s amazing Naomi C. Rose!
As someone who has been to Antarctica I can attest to the feeling you’ve reached the end of our reality at the bottom of the world. There’s nothing south of the south pole. Time feels suspended. It made this the ideal place to meditate in 2012 for desperately needed shifts in human consciousness for The Coolest Meditation Ever.
Enjoy this new video of Hawking describing what existed before the Big Bang and the role of the south in better understanding.
We’ll miss you Stephen. You’ve been an inspiration to us all on multidimensional levels.
Catain’s Blog Stardate June 7, 2021. I’ve added this prequel to the TRUMP’S FEVER DREAM to the menu as bonus readind. New Old School Audio to come.
One of the main things I love about Gene Roddenberry timeless Star Trek is its view of Utopian future where greed and racism no longer rule humanity. Trek and all it’s predecessors were not afraid to take on big social issues of their time.
It’s in that tradition I’ve written A STAR TREK PARODY – TRUMP MIND MELD.
Enjoy, share and “live long and prosper.” – Ken Sheetz
The USS Enterprise glides through the stars, passing a huge asteroid. We hear the familiar voice of Captain Kirk.
“Captain’s Log, stardate 2264.2. The Enterprise is accelerating to time travel warp speed on a journey to the eve of World War III. All in the hopes of altering the timeline and averting the loss of billions of human lives.”
We join Kirk in his cabin, feet propped up on his desk, dictating to the ship’s computer.
“What the outcome of such a drastic timeline shift will be for our own time, the 23rd Century, is anyone’s –”
A knock on the cabin door stops Kirk’s log dictation. Annoyed, he says, “Enter.”
A troubled Spock steps through the pneumatic doorway. A fidgety Dr. McCoy right behind him.
Before McCoy can speak Kirk cuts him off, “Save it, Bones. Spock and I are dead set on this mission to 21st century America and that’s all there is to it.”
“Damnit, Jim! As ship’s doctor I hereby file my formal complaint you’re ignoring grave dangers to Spock’s sanity when he melds with Trump the Mad Dictator.”
“Captain, I assure you I am quite ready for this mind meld,” Spock says.
“Spock, you’re a bigger idiot than Trump if you can’t see the man has to have a mind to perform a mind meld!”
“Gentlemen, must I call security to escort you back to your quarters?” says Kirk, hiding a smile.
“No need, Captain. The doctor is just being his normal illogical and most annoying self,” Spock says.
“Bones, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the… Trump?” say Kirk, making a lame joke no one laughs at.
McCoy throws up his hands in disgust.”Well, if you two ‘very stable geniuses’ want to roll the dice on Spock’s sanity and the very existence of Star Fleet, who I am to stop you?!”
Dr. McCoy spins on his heels and exits Kirk’s cabin in a huff.
MESSY MESS HALL
A short time later in the mess hall Kirk pulls a Mac Jr. and french fries from the food replicator and places them before Spock saying, “I present Trump’s favorite food: The Big Mac.”
“Incorrect, Captain. If I may, what you have placed before me is in fact a Mac Jr.”
Kirk arches an eyebrow and says, “A Mac what?”
“Junior. Indeed, Captain. This is a smaller version of Trump’s favorite choice of sustenance – the Grand Mac. It features a single 1/6 pound patty as opposed to the double 1/10 pound patties featured what you have mistaken as a Big Mac. The Grand Mac offers an astounding two 1/6 pound patties and was in fact believed to be Trump’s Mac of choice. ”
“Spare me the niceties of scale, Spock. Nutritional analysis.”
Spock passes his beeping his tricorder over the Mac Jr.,”Most peculiar, Captain.”
“Elaborate.”
“This Mac Jr. has nearly zero nutritional value, by 23rd century standards of course. Therefore, we can deduce this factor is a zero constant regardless of scale. Worst of all, the Mac is filled with enough grease molecular matter to clog the ship’s drainage system,” says Spock shoving the Mac Jr. away in disgust.
“Sorry. Eat it, Spock. If you’re going to mind meld with Trump you must eat as he does.”
“Captain, there must be some other way to alter my vibratory frequency than this, this poison! A person would have to be insane to…”
“Exactly. I swear to you, Spock. Our archeologists say this was Trump’s actual daily diet. Hey, it could be worse. Think what you’d be eating if I knew about the Grand Mac.”
Spock takes a nervous bite of the Mac Jr. and his eyes go wide in horror. “Is this real meat, Captain?”
“Sort of,” says Kirk as he sniffs the Big Mac.
“But I am vegetarian, sir, as all Starfleet is”
“Well…Try the French fries, Spock.”
Spock shudders, downing a fry whole without chewing. He coughs.
“You look greener than usual, Mr. Spock,” says Kirk, laughing at his own joke.
Spock cracks a rare smile and says, “Permission to vomit, sir.”
Spock projectile vomits all over Kirk.
“Permission granted?” says Kirk, his face dripping Big Mac and fries.
“Apologies, sir. This Mac Jr. of your past is most toxic.”
“Caught me off guard with your rare smile, Spock.”
“Sorry, Captain. On Vulcan a smile often warns of eminent expulsion.”
“OK, this concludes our 21st century dietary experiment,” says Kirk as he wipes vomit from his eyes.
“It’s a wonder Trump survived the Mac assortment where he’s obsessively, ugh, consume all three plus fries and a shake. Shows me not to underestimate President Trump,” says Spock as he helps clean off Kirk.
TIMELINE CLUSTERFUCK
A short time later a cleaned up Kirk is perched in his captain’s chair. The viewing screen on the command deck beeps and boops as the ship buffets through layers of crystalline rainbows.
Kirk spins his command chair to Spock at the science station, “Glad to see you’re not smiling, Mr. Spock. Report.”
Spock, his eyes aglow from a personal view screen. says,”Undoubtedly a convergence point of timelines reaching epic proportions,”
“A clusterfuck of timelines,” says Kirk to Spock’s dazed look. “21st century slang, Mr. Spock.”
“Ah, yes, clusterfuck of timelines. Affirmative, Captain.”
Scotty bellows over the ship’s intercom, causing Kirk to almost spill his coffee, “Timeline turbulence! It be tearin’ our wee ship ta bits, Captain! I canna — ”
“Hold her together, Scotty. Blah, blah, blah,” says Kirk, bored with Scotty’s typical bellyaching.
“Meeting Trump the Mad Dictator already got you off your game, Jim?” teases Dr. McCoy.
At last the battered Enterprise exits a red-colored rip in space and glides into orbit over the USA.
“The Enterprise has successfully entered 21st century earth-space, Captain.”
“How can you be so sure, Spock?”
“Confirmation from the Twitter-verse. Trump’s virtual realm,” says Spock.
“Please be more precise, Spock.”
“Picking up news chatter on their primitive newscasts that — ”
“Correction ‘fake news’, Spock. Speak Trumpese.”
“Duly noted, Captain. The precise time is January 11th 2018 at 11:11 PM Eastern Clusterfuck time,” says Spock.
“Ah. Three months before Trump’s preemptive nuclear strike on North Korea. Excellent work, Spock,” says Kirk. “You get a raise.”
Spock reacts in puzzlement, “A raise? To where?”
“Um, when we reach Trump you best leave the talking to me,” says Kirk with proud smirk.
“With pleasure, sir.”
Chekov pipes in, “Captain Kirk, vith all due respect, sir. Vee Vould have much better chance of success approaching the Russian who runs Trump… Putin.”
“We’ve been over the timeline computations a thousand times, Mr. Chekov. Trump has a far more suggestive mind for melding than Putin’s.”
“On that we can agree,” says McCoy.
Sulu palms his forehead, “But, sirs. Historical records report Trump’s acting like a fool was just that, an act! Truth is Trump is a mental giant who will crush — Uh, sorry Mr. Spock. No offense intended.”
“Clusterfuck you, Mr. Sulu,” says Spock. Kirk rolls his eye in disgust.
“History shows Trump was, ‘like, wherry smart’,” adds Chekov in his thick Russian.
“‘A very stable genius!'”says Sulu, spinning from the navigation consel.
Bones goes refaced and says, “Keep your damn eyes on the screen, Sulu! You and Chekov have been hoodwinked by 200 years of propoganda and myth surrounding Trump the so-called Great. Ha. Great fat ass, is more like it!”
“Who can blame them, Doctor? History is always written by the clusterfucking victors,” offers Spock, proudly eying Kirk who looks down in to his coffee to avoid Spock’s eye contact.
“Bones’ son, a highly skilled timeline archeologist, has determined the so-called genius Trump the Great was in fact barley literate and a, um…” says Kirk trailing off.
“Moron?” says McCoy with grin as he catches up to Kirk and Spock heading for the ship’s turbolift.
“I was going to say “fucking moron’, like his Secretary of State Tillerson called him,” says Kirk.
“Do you not meaning clusterfucking moron, Captain.”
“You’re overdoing it with the cluster thing, Spock. Fucking is sufficient.”
“Sounds like you could give my son a run for the money on timeline trivia, Jim.” says McCoy as they reach the turbolift.
“Sorry, Bones. Need you to stay aboard in command in case anything happens to me and Spock,” says Kirk as he tugs his top off to prep for a quick costume change.
“Damnit, Jim. I’m a doctor. Not nursemaid to a presidential idiot. So I am sending Nurse Oberon in my place. She’s waiting for you in the transporter room. And, Jim, You and Trump are more alike than you know, keep it in your pants for a change,” says McCoy as the elevator door to the turbolift closes on Kirk’s annoyed face.
BEAM ME TO HELL, SCOTTY
Spock and Kirk enter the teleporter room. Scotty, so busy flirting with the gorgeous Nurse Oberon, a voluptuous green-skinned Orion, that he misses the entrance of the Captain; dressed as Men in Black FBI. Spock’s disguise is a 21st century Trump fan, hilariously complete down to his pot belly and red MAGA hat.
“Captain on deck!” says Spock, annoyed at Scotty.
Scotty and Nurse Oberon snap to attention. “Captain, Mr. Spock, may I present Nurse Oberon. She’s fluent in 21st century American.”
“And why is that, Nurse Oberon?’ says Kirk as he takes her slender green hand and shakes it a bit too long.
“I’m one quarter human. My grandmother was abducted from a Trump rally by the Orions for psychological study shortly after the completion of the wall,” says Nurse Oberon, her siren voice naturally heart-melting.
“Ah yes, the famed wall with Mexico. One of Trump’s few campaign promises he kept resulting in his reelection in 2020,” notes Spock, oblivious to Nurse Oberon’s charms.
“Not quite, Mr. Spock. It was Trump’s second wall project, the one with Canada in 2022 where my Grandmother was taken,” coos Nurse Oberbon, stunned she has no effect on the Vulcan.
“What precise phycological condition were the Orions seeking to understand in examining your grandmother?” says Spock dryly.
“Granny never wavered in her faith in Trump, despite his single handily triggering Word War III, the abolishment of the FBI, the end of a free press, the Great Depression of 2020, and over 100,000 fact checked lies he told while in office,” says Nurse Oberon.
“An impressive record of Trump’s laying waste to earth, but that still does not answer my question about why the Orions were interested in your grandmother,” says Spock challengeningly.
“You see, the Orions sought to understand Trump’s hold on my granny and thereby core Trump supporters who never wavered backing Trump even as all of America’s major cities were turned to cinders, ” coos Nurse Oberon reaching, takubg iand stroking Spock’s Vulcan ears, “Oh, I can already see have to be very sharp with you, Mr. Sexy Ears,”
“Save it, Nurse Oberon. Spock is immune to your considerable charms,” says Kirk.
“Captain, may I have a word with you in private?” says Spock.
“By all means,” says Kirk, amused Nurse Oberon has shaken up the Vulcan.
Kirk and Spock step into the hallway as Nurse Oberon finishes applying flesh colored makeup to hide her green skin and pulls a frumpy dress over her Star Fleet uniform.
“Captain, I most uncomfortable about Nurse Oberon’s selection for this away team.”
“I see that, Spock,” jokes Kirk.
“Jim, please take me seriously. Given the nurse’s ancestry she is highly susceptible to the charms of Donald J. Trump,” says Spock.
“My gut tells me she’ll do just fine. Let’s go. Trump only sleeps 4 hours a night,” says Kirk, leading a reluctant Spock back into the teleporter room.
Spock steps onto the teleporter pad beside Nurse Oberon’s and the Captain’s pads.
Nurse Oberon complains, “Why must my silly old outfit be so dreadfully dull? Aren’t my assets an asset for handling Trump?”
“Aye. Blame me, lass. The mission is too important to allow distractions for the Captain,” jokes Scotty with a wink to the Captain.
The Vulcan examines his red Make America Great Again hat, “If we succeed, Captain. Perhaps America shall in fact be great again.”
“It’s all comes down to you, Spock. You must plant the fear within Trump’s warped mind that a war with North Korea ends in his impeachment for abuse of war powers.”
“Captain, I find it deeply disturbing that your ancestors saw fit to entrust your president, a single human, and in this case a highly unstable one, with the power to press a button and start a thermal nuclear war,” observes Spock.
Kirk shrugs flirtatiously to Nurse Oberon and says to Scotty, “Energize.”
Once the trio de-materealize Scotty pulls out a Grand Mac and takes a huge bite. He rolls his eyes in ecstasy.
“Damnit, Scotty. Those things can kill a horse,” says bones from the view screen.
“Aye, Doctor. But this horsey will die happy!”
TRUMP MIND MELD
Kirk, Spock and Nurse Oberon silently materialize in a dark corner of Trump’s bedroom.
Art from the “failing according to Trump” NY Times
The trios eyes go wide watching Trump stuff his face with a Grand Mac, all at once. Still, the president furiously tweets,“Wolff’s book is just more fake…..”
Kirk whispers, “Fire –“.
Nurse Oberon stuns Trump mid tweet and he slumps to the bed, doing a face plant.
“Why did you stun Trump, Nurse Oberon?”
“You did say ‘fire’, Jim,” says Spock.
“I was commenting that the book FIRE AND FURY that he’s so angry about.”
“Oopsie,” says Nurse Oberon.
“It seems we are most cluster-fucked, Captain,” groans Spock.
“Fucked is sufficient, Spock. Wish Trump had finished his tweet before Nurse Oberon stunned him.” says Kirk.
“Not to worry, Captain. Trump was known to tweet erratically, sometimes not continuing a tweet for up to several hours. And of course there was the famed Covfefe tweet.”
Nurse Oberon struggles to get the president onto his back and says, “The prez weighs a ton! He needs air! Help me turn him!”
“239 pounds my ass!” grunts Kirk helping turn Trump.
It takes all three of the away team to flip Trump onto his back. At which point he begins to choke on his Grand Mac.
“Help him, Spock!”
“Captain, if I may be so bold. Might not our mission be better completed if we do nothing?”
“No one would doubt death by Big Mac,” says Nurse Oberon.
“Correction, Nurse Oberon. Grand Mac. You McDonalds USA –”
“Spock. Knock off the tri-Mac story,” grunts Kirk.
“Are you two always like this on away missions?” giggles Nurse Oberon.
Trump gags, eyes rolling into his orange face.
“Nurse, you do realize you are addressing two senior officers?” says Spock testily.
“Wait! I get it!” giggles Nurse Oberon.
“The only get I want to hear is let’s get on with this mission,” grumps Kirk.
“Don’t you see it, Captain? Spock is Gay for you!” shouts Nurse Oberon before Spock muffles her wild laugh with his free hand.
“I warned you of this Captain. Nurse Oberon is already subconsciously working to, ahem, rescue Trump, says Spock. “I estimate if we let him go on choking Trump will expire in 60 seconds.”
“Too big a hole in the timeline to let Trump meet his maker with Mac attack,” says Kirk, watching Trump turning blue.
“Very well then, ” say Spock as he yanks Trump into the Heimlich maneuver. Trump coughs his Grand Mac into Kirk’s face and gasps for air.
“The Mac of any scale is indeed your nemesis, Captain.”
“Stop stalling. Mind meld time, Mr. Spock.”
The door handle jangles. Kirk points to Nurse Oberon, “You’re on!”
Nurse Oberon pulls off her dress and climbs naked atop Trump just as Don Jr. enters.
“Kinky, Pops! Love the green body paint, babe! I leave you two love birds it!” says Don Jr. making a quick exit.
“Now, Spock, before First Lady Melania shows up!” says Kirk.
“My computations show there is only a one in 10,056.75 percent chance of that happening, sir. The two divorced just a few –”
Nurse Oberon and Kirk groan in unison, “Spock.”
“Sorry. I shall begin then. Silence please. I wish to return from this meld with all my marbles I believe is the 21st century slang for –”
“SPOCK!” shout Kirk and Nurse Oberon in unison.
Spock places his fingers over Trump’s head. “Sir! It’s real!”
“I am sure, Spock. His mind must be a real sivv of larceny and deceit!”
“No, sir. I’ve not melded yet. His famed fake hair. It’s real!” says Spock roughing up Trump orange hair. “Granted the orange color is not –”
“Spock, are you sure you are up for this mission?” says Nurse Oberon sweetly as she puts her dress back on.
Spock adjust his fingers over Trump’s right temple,”My mind to your –” Spock winces in pain.
“What is it Spock?!” says Kirk.
“Trump… Much… difficulty…never encountered such… an unfocused… mind… Must go deeper…” say Trump and Spock in unison.
Nurse Oberon monitors the condition of both Trump and Spock. She reports to Kirk, “Pulse rate up by 50% already! Call off the meld or we lose them both.”
Spock and Trump speak as one,”Only focus seems to be… composing Tweets about Bannon the traitor… absolutely no thoughts on… matters of state.”
“Go deeper, Spock. There must be some way to reach Trump,” says Kirk.
“Pulse rate up 77%!” reports Nurse Oberon.
Tears pour from Trump and Spock as they speak as one,”Daddy… why don’t you love me?”
Inside the foggy mind of Trump, Spock watches as Fred Trump yanks young Donald’s nose to a stack of money. “You see this pile of cash?”
“Um , yeah,” says little Trump.
“Money is all that matters in life. Cash is king, you worthless brat!” shouts Fred Trump. Spock steps behind Fred Trump and does the Vulcan nerve pinch. Fred Trump falls to floor and little Trump screams.
“Alien! You killed my daddy!” says little Trump.
“He’s fine, young Donald, none of this is real. See I can make myself your age,” says Spock shrinking himself to little Trump’s size.
“Wait. I can read your mind! Cool! Your name is Spock?” says Young Trump.
“Correct. Our minds are as one, Donnie.” says Spock reassuringly.
“Spock. Huh. Crummy name. I’ll call you Spocko! My turn to play the daddy game!” says Trump growing to adult size while Spock shrinks to kid-size.
The surroundings morph into Spock’s childhood home on Vulcan. Sarek, Spock’s father passes young Spock who is weeps in a hallway, “Tears? You’re no Vulcan.”
“Hey, big shot. Stop being so mean to my pal Spocko!” says Trump and blows a hole through Sarek with a sizzling phaser beam. Sarek falls to the floor at young Spock’s feet, a steaming mess.
Young Spock gawks at Donald Trump the hole in his dead father’s chest. A begrudging smile steals of young Spock’s face.
Meanwhile, back in the real world of Trump’s presidential bedroom:
“Pulse rate 150%!” says Nurse Oberon to Kirk’s glare. “Well… it is.”
Kirk whispers in Trump’s ear, “President Trump, history has given you a great responsibility. Billions will die if you continue to escalate –”
Trump and Spock shout in unison at Kirk, “You think I give a flying fuck what happens to the world? I have my fallout shelter all set up with all the champagne and broads a man could ever want! It’s the greatest bomb shelter of all time. And anyone can join me down there for only $10 million a head.”
“What’s $10 million going to be worth when the world’s a nuclear wasteland, Trump?” says Kirk yanking Trump to his face by his silk pajamas.
“A lot! As the world population shrinks my market share gets even more biggly. I’m gonna live the lux life with the new Trump-acaplyse 24/7 reality show!” say Trump and Spock laughing madly in unison. “Bye bye Alec Baldwin, Stephen Colbert and all the other losers drafting off my fame! Nuked!”
“Bones was right.. His mammoth narcissistic ego makes doomed this mission from the get-go. Abort the mind mend, Spock!” shouts Kirk directly into Spock’s pointy ear.
No reaction from Trump and Spock, except a snide chuckle from the mind melded pair.
Spock breaks a sweat as he struggles to say, “Can’t fight him, Captain. Trump is accessing… my memory of Star Fleet history.”
Trump/Spock smirks at Kirk, “Cool, lotsa of inventions in this Vulcan skull I’ll take credit for!”
Kirk shakes Spock by the shoulders and shouts in his face,”Fight him, Spock!”
Without warning Spock backhands Kirk and sends him flying into a gold gilded wall.
“Like that for fighting? Haha! Sorry, Kirk, can’t give you your first officer back. Spocko’s Trump property now!” gloats Trump.
Kirk manages to stumble to his feet and says, “Nurse Oberon. Set Phaser to kill and execute Trump.”
Nurser Oberon obeys the captain and takes aim at Trump.
“Baby, shoot Kirk and you’re my new First Lady,” says Spock and Trump in mind meld unison.
“What can I say I love a good three way?” Nurse Oberon switches her aim to Captain Kirk.
Screaming through the pain Spock miraculously breaks the mind meld and Vulcan nerve pinches the green goddess to dream land.
“Spock, you saved the day!” grins Kirk.
Faster than one could ever imagine for such a fat bastard, Trump picks up the Nurse’s phaser and disintegrates Kirk.
“Jim!” weeps Spock.
“Fuck the smarmy asshole. With the 23rd century tech in your head we have a galaxy to conquer, Spocko!”
“Granny, I see what you saw!” shouts Nurse Oberon as she pulls Trump and Spock into bed.
“Hold on a sec you two, Gotta grab a Viagra!” Trump paddles off the the bathroom stepping through Kirk’s dust pile.
Unable to wait for Trump, Nurse Spock’s pants down and her eyes go wide. “Mister Spock! You are most certainly not Gay!”
Spock sweeps Nurse Oberon onto his hips and she moans in ecstasy.
Out of sight in the bathroom Trump bellows, tossing tolietries through the doorway in a panic, “Damn you, Melania for hiding my Viagra again! #COCK BLOCKER!”
Spock and Oberson laugh quietly as they make love like it’s the Pon Farr!
OUTTER RIM OF THE GALAXY
“Captain’s Log, stardate 2264.2. The Enterprise is accelerating to time travel speed on a journey to the eve of World War III. All in the hopes of altering the timeline and averting the loss of billions of human lives.”
We join Kirk in his cabin, feet propped up on his desk, dictating to the ship’s computer.
“What the outcome of such a drastic timeline shift for our own time, the 23rd Century, is anyone’s –”
A knock on the cabin door stops Kirk’s log dictation. Annoyed, he says, “Enter.”
A troubled Spock steps through the pneumatic doorway. A fidgety Dr. McCoy right behind him.
Before McCoy can speak Kirk cuts him off, “Save it, Bones. I’ve decided Spock mind meld should be with Kim Jung-Un instead of Trump,” says Kirk walking to his portal window.
“Well, hallelujah. What on earth made you come to your senses?” says McCoy with a
Kirk is as silent, gazing out the portal.
“Jim?” say Spock, forgetting rank in the confusion.
Kirk points at a massive asteroid with a laser inscription burned into it’s side. Spock and Bones gawk, reading the phaser carved asteroid’s mile high message:
WARNING! ABORT TRUMP MIND MELD! LOVE, SPOCK
End of This Clusterfuck Timeline
Update 3/6/18.: Could Kirk’ & Spock’s second mind meld mission be working?
I look back on the last clear mission before my ET Ohom spirit guide lost signal for months, to attend the Trump inauguration. The mission for my love Elizabeth and I was to simply hold a space of love in the crowd of his mostly white backers.
I still have no idea why the ET Ohom chose me for this work. You see, I’ve disliked Trump since the 80s for his cheater ways of getting ahead.
Any who, here’s my attempt to integrate a message Ohom gave me today, where my flu delirium helped me reach him across the stars. I share it to you as poem. Excuse me if its not my usual positive thing but it’s my way of taking Ohom’s advice to embrace the…
CHAOS
The first inauguration I ever attended
Was over for me before it ended.
Why my ET guide sent me and my love here
Angered me as it felt dangerous and queer.
The first thing that stuck me about the crowd
Kinda small and not that loud.
Was – How white we all look
For this election of a crook.
My love and I locked in the white crowd filled with hate
Watch helpless as white robs power from black this fateful date.
Two white people with a consciences we share a field of love
All the while looking for ships, seeking help from above.
The crowd goes insane with white pride.
And I go dark and angry inside.
My space of love implodes like a collapsing star
A black hole born within white crowd I see as though from afar.
I am a fellow white co-conspirators in the age of greed.
Ignoring the oceans and earth’s fellow creatures in need.
White privilege my lifelong invisible ally.
A white life blessed by abundance since birth.
Whites laugh as the black man hands over the power.
The sky opens in a light shower.
Tears from heaven dating back to slavery.
White power making all other races their knavery.
Atop the dais, black and white man shake hands
As the thrilled white crowd stands
With the white man who tormented the black eight years.
Along with his white peers
Without relent.
Fortunes spent.
To impede hope and change
As the black’s mission was too strange.
Obama greyed and bent
Weary of the fight as president
Takes his seat as Melania
Helps swear in her mania.
The white crowd cheers!
As their color takes center stage
Fists clenched in white rage
The black ordeal over at last
Free at last! Free at last!
America’ is a swamp the scoundrel says
As though swamps are not his gator ways
Already taking all the credit for the economy’s surge
He seeks black accomplishments to purge.
Destroying all Obama has done his only urge.
“And now it will be America first!”
As though it’s not already been so.
As if we whites didn’t already know.
Since the white man stole Turtle Island from its true peoples.
Sprinkling their land with our white church steeples.
Killing their buffalo of the prairies
Angering all of earth’s fairies.
I stand honest in cheering crowd and feel the blame.
I feel it now as write about my white shame
Feeling fully white little me raised by a family of bigots
Secretly rejoicing as Trump waves to we happy white idiots.
We white fools who have elected a man incapable of vision.
Who thrives on hate and racial derision.
Who prefers to eat Big Macs
Fearless of heart attacks.
Like the one that just killed my little brother
Who disrespects the mother.
Who treats women like dirt
While ingesting tic tacs to flirt.
A year has passed since his election sought to smother
The America Dream I always idolized.
The only hope I cling to now as I write persisted.
Coming up for air on Halloween, from a Monday business horror I gasped at the five voicemails missed from my baby brother in Wisconsin. Worried Bruce was going to tell me my 89 year-old mom had passed, my fingers moved too fast to register on the glass of my smartphone.
When I finally calmed down enough to return Bruce’s call, my sister-in-law Marianne somberly let me know my other brother Fred, recently turned 63, had died of a heat attack the day before. Weird thing I told my love Elizabeth I felt Fred was going to be passing soon because of his dangerous addiction game. So I foolishly thought I was prepared, but the news of losing my Irish twin Fred hit me like a mile long freight train full of lead doing 90.
Marianne handed the phone to Mom. Her voice choked with tears, Mom bitterly wondered, “Losing both my husband of 35 years and Fred within only 4 months of one another, what is that about, Ken? You’re the one who talks to angels.” Deep in grief and shock myself, I told her I’d need more time to wrestle with that and did my best to comfort my mother her second born son Fred’s pain was over.
Soon as I hung up my false bravado evaporated fast as a Sedona dusting of snow, my client troubles put into somber perspective.
Fred (left) with me and mom
The only time I’d spoken to Fred in the last four years of a tough love regimen came earlier this year when I was helping my mom cope with her husband’s stroke that put him in a coma from which he’d never awaken. Mom had asked me to screen her calls from the flock of salesman seeking to sell her everything from stairlifts to funeral services.
I picked up for her saying, “D’Acquisto residence.”
Fred croaked in the gravely voice he gets with abusing, “Hey, Ken. Strange times.”
I icily said, “Sure are,” and quickly handed the phone to mom.
TOUGH LOVE IS TOUGH
Doctors warned all of us in the family gathering bedside in 2013, as Fred lay in an induced coma, that he’d die if he ever drank again. Four years deep into the tough love thing had backfired and I never got to properly say good-bye to a brother who suffered a horrible childhood right beside me. I am having trouble coping with that. The guilt is enormous.
Me with Fred during his coma from an ulcer 2013 due to alcohol abuse.
Elizabeth, who blessedly came into my life in 2015, escaping LA to live with me here in Sedona, has comforted me as best she could after this final loss of my brother from his long drawn out death, which abuse made this a decades long process. I am not much fun to be around right now. Her patience has been epic and I swear I will not let Fred ruin this relationship from the grave.
Like my Sicilian stepfather Nick, I learned there was also to be no family funeral for Fred. No traditional Irish open casket ceremony. So I welcomed Elizabeth’s idea for us to co-create a private ceremony in Sedona to mourn Fred.
Sadly, and the pattern is all too painfully obvious, Elizabeth had lost a brother to addiction three years ago where there was no funeral. So I insisted we add William, along with my stepfather Nick to the our work of mourning their three tragic deaths.
Elizabeth has explained ritual is something of a lost art in our cold hearted modern life. She and I first created and altar for the three souls with a five day candle burning. We bought Celtic medallions for Fred and William, who had the curse of the Irish in not handling booze well and for Nick we chose an ancient piece of Hopi pottery to represent his place and an elder in the ritual.
Grieving Puja Elizabeth and I Created for William, Nick and Fred
A week into the grieving, guided by a book Elizabeth read to me each night at bed by Maldoma Some’, I dove through denial into deep anger fueled by client troubles. Troubles getting worse as I was not coping well and messing things up as my patience I normally have for my eccentric and wonderful client in abundance was crippled by my grief.
WHALE OF A FAIRY TALE
A bright spot in all this grief is I’ve been deeply touched by an amazing outpouring of love and comforting by Facebook friends that’s helped me through this. Never let anyone tell you Facebook friends are fake!
I’ve also been comforted by a certain blue whale I connect to in spirit named Robin Williams in a past life whose become a regular in my life and this blog in THE ROBIN WILLIAMS VISITATONS. Robin volunteered to help guide Fred to his resting place in the cosmos, all the while making wisecracks like, “I can help Fred as one junkie to another that fucked up his life.”
On Saturday I decided to take a badly needed break from client troubles and Fred’s mourning and went to a Bruce Lipton lecture. I was hosting the amazing Kathleen Gildred of Gorgeous Goddess Wear and she had offered me one her vendor passes at the Create Your Life Conference she was part selling her cool stuff at. How could I say no?
What a genius Lipton is! And so funny. I wondered — as Bruce made so much clear to us all of the science of love and it’s influence on good health — guiltily about how I knew in my heart Fred would be dying weeks before Mom was frantically trying to reach me while I was lost trying to save my biggest account. Knew it cold.
I regretted amid the conference that I didn’t break my tough love regimen and call Fred Lee Sheetz at least say good bye. It sucks to be psychic sometimes. I brought my overactive mind back to present, laughing at a slide Bruce showed that demonstrated why politicians have no brains.
Bruce Lipton at the Create Your Life Conference in Sedona
After Lipton’s pessimistic but paradoxically optimistic look at the extinction of all life on earth if we don’t get our asses in gear and shift our collective consciousness to love, I grabbed a Vegan lunch and mingled with Create Your Life event goers. Some of the guests said they were going on a fairy walk on the grounds of the state park behind Enchantment and invited me along.
As the golf cart arrived I was happy to see in the crowd I was not the only guy for once on one of these spiritual close encounters.
Now, ever since 2010 in Mt. Shasta over an argument over spaghetti dinner with a human/fairy – Yes, they exist! – I’ve had many failed encounters with fairy folk. So I was hoping the walk might change my fairy luck. My Irish grandmother believed in fairies and leprechauns and so I knew the fairy folk might be able to help Fred find peace.
Unlike angels, fairies have egos and can be mischievous. Which is where I fall down on the fairy connection. But our sweet guide Courtney Long, a human fairy herself, was superb at explaining that fairies like people who recycle and seek the lowest footprint on the planet. Things I’ve become far better at since 2010. So I relaxed and began to connect to the faries in the beauty of the Boyton Canyon.
Human Fairy and Angel Fairy Expert Courtney Long
Wow! I saw thousands of fairies giggling in the trees lift off in the Sedona sky to meet our group of about 100. All fairy believers.
The beach-like red sand trail I slowly tread along with our enchanted group hunting faries was dappled in sunlight. A gentle breeze in the pines and cedars sparkled fairy dust everywhere. I relaxed free of client troubles and Fred’s loss when my fairy hunting eye caught sight of a pod in a cluster in bush.
Looking with my third eye, wide open with Courtney’s expert guidance, I saw in that pod a tiny fairy where I saw a newborn fairy. Instantly knew Fred had been born as a teensy girl fairy named. He told me telepathically his new name is Fredwenna.
Robin Williams, a giant blue whale soaring in the sky above the treetops above me, kidded baby Fred doing his funniest NYC accent, “Ladies and gents, I present that most adorable hot dog ever, The Fred Weena!” A few people on the tour wondered what I was laughing at.
My sorrow exploded into joy. Fairies sang a chorus of bliss. Fred was back!
After I got home and reunited with Elizabeth with a tender hug and saw that my amazing client, who has been ill so I had asked the fairies to do a healing on, had called me when I was deep in the fairy land, witnessing the rebirth of my beloved brother Fred.
When I returned the super client’s call we were in tears on both sides that we had been so harsh with each other. We’ve still not worked it out, as it’s royal mess I can’t get into here, of course. But the fairies, in whose care my lost kid brother Fred’s soul rests, tell me it’s all going to work out and not to be too anxious or sad.
Fredweena is happy in the Boyton Canyon fairy world and I am Fairy Grateful.
My next blog will be about how I repaid Robin Williams’ blue whale spirit self for helping my lost brother find the fairy lands in my next coolest ever blog post titled:
“The Ocean is Getting Lonely – The Robin Williams Visitations”
Look for it soon as writing is my therapy.
Learn more about events where we can meet plus grab some cool loot from the amazing spirit scientists supporting our planetary healing at CoolestMeditationEver.com
FYI if you are looking for good customer service avoid Bluehost. The hosting service did not start out that way when someone near and dear to me, my partner in BuzzBroz.com our social media biz, started using them 10 years ago. But that’s another story today.
About 6 weeks ago Bluehost suggested Elizabeth upgrade her service with them, for a higher fee of course. She had already prepaid for a 5-year plan. And oh how the sales person at Bluehost promised it would improve her service. WRONG! Ever since the “upgrade” it’s been one problem after another, starting with all of her sites being black screen for two weeks after the ‘Upgrade.’
Now for another 2 weeks, the site for one of her lines of business, thank goodness not a client site, is forwarding to another website, rendering her income producing page useless and her customers scratching their heads. And no one at Bluehost can figure out why or how to fix it. She can’t even restore with a back up because her Bluehost dashboard is broken, too. Total fail of service and support.
Despite service that’s been so bad from Bluehost that it eventually brought Elizabeth, a tough vet with 17 years as master sergeant, to tears after 6 weeks of tech after tech fails that went in total circles after two hour calls that have now added up to a dozen hours of wasted time.
Clearly in this world of robo-service from the likes of Bluehost, Google, YouTube, Facebook and more, service is a forgotten word. No one in management has stepped up to help and now when she calls she is told that it’s being handled by a senior tech adviser but the “senior tech advisers don’t take calls.” Take heart, there are a few bright spots for good service on the web. GoDaddy and Vimeo are two.
How long until these good guys devolve into the bad service joke that is Bluehost’s circular “we cannot help you” brand service who can say? But long as they keep up good service, Godaddy and Vimeo will benefit from the vacuum left by the Bluehost bad service losers of the web.
Update, after a flurry of attempts and many more hours of Elizabeth’s time at service the pages remain a mess.
Scratching your head on why Trump is still going strong as he is? Blame our mass media for being not so much as fake as seriously failing to present both sides. If you watch only mainstream media and comedy you really know very little of what he’s doing.
Not all Trump believers are racist idiots. I know this firsthand through my amazing Trump fan friends. Take some comfort Trump was elected to do a job of disrupting the status quo by his loyal fans, many of whom are your family and friends. They have not suddenly grown tails and horns. Don’t let yourself be polarized.
Many of his brighter backers are overlooking Trump’s obvious tendencies to racism and misogamy for a higher purpose of a badly needed reboot and freeing us from the deep state. Yeah, and it’s not a pretty sight how he’s going about it. He swims in uncharted waters.
Have some faith this is all going to work out without letting all this hoo ha that about selling soap rob your soul peace.
Extremism left or right is not healthy. Seek balance in all things.
As for me? Well, I’ve disliked Trump since the 1980s for his massive ego. That won’t change for me. But that does not mean I still can’t send intentions in the cosmic field he’ll wake up or love my friends who still back him.
During the turbulent Nixon era we really only had one comedian giving us political humor; Johnny Carson. Johnny was the pioneer in this art of taking the days headlines and mining them for laughs.
Leno followed in Johnny’s political humor footsteps along with Letterman. But political comedy would come to full bloom under the great Jon Stewart.
My spirit guide Robin Williams told me during the elections that a Trump presidency would be “hilarious.” Indeed, the epic comic turned blue whale in his next life as I have channeled, was right. Under Trump the political humor has been hilarious from Steven Colbert, Seth Meyers, Jimmy Kimmel, Bill Maher, Samantha Bee, Trevor Noah, John Oliver, Conan O’Brien, Alec Baldwin, Jimmy Fallon, James Corden and more up and comers. But the joke of Trump is getting very old very fast. Overexposure is a law of reality.
Looking deeper to my Trump rubber necking, add the 24/7 news channels, like FOX, CNN and MSNBC that did not exists in Nixon times, the talk shows like the View. Next add that media is now within my pockets via my cell phone 24/7.
Last, add in social media feeding on itself with Tweets and retweets, FB posts, YouTube pundits right and left where I have my day job for BuzzBroz.com, my social media company and I see it:
MEDIA ECLIPSE!
What’s amazing, love him or hate him, is Trump’s uncanny ability to eclipse so much of the 24/7 coverage in this ever expanding media world. Now, I don’t know about you, but I sure need a break. I am trying to screen and limit Trump overexposure consciously to 30 minutes per day. That’s still an incredible amount of my day but I was losing hours of work time in the Trump field.
For me my big tension release has been meditation. Back at the start of 2017 my spirit guide Ohom, an ET thought traveler from Nektar, asked me to go the inauguration with my partner Elizabeth transmute fear to love we did it. But since that difficult meditation mission I have to admit I’ve lost my inner place in the Trump fog.
It’s not Ohom’s fault, certainly also not Elizabeth’s, I’ve been sucked into the Trump vortex. The blue Orion never asked me to do more than the spirit work of that one day as regards to one Donald J Trump, which Elizabeth and I did gratefully and with great success. You can see for yourself on our playlist.
No, it’s been my own dislike of Trump dating back to our being peers of a kind in commercial real estate that’s really sucked me in combined with the hypnotic pull seeing the latest stunt he’s pulled thrown in my face 24/7.
Time for me to step away from Trump’s train presidency that polarizing our country. The worldwide media machine profiting off Trump at the expense of real news has the mogul abundantly covered. I step back now to assess if I want to go further with a feature documentary on our LOVE TRUMPS HATE theme we devised for the inauguration. But I will no longer use that film project as excuse for Trump binge watching.
Now that I’ve properly analyzed why I’ve gotten so caught up on all things Trump, a potent combination of my past history of dislike of Trump dating to the 80s, hyperactive media and a hyperbolic president, I am looking forward to returning to my regularly planetary meditations. I seek to do more earthly healing and regain my inner peace.
LOW VIBE TRUMP
Relax, Trump, a master troll, is really not as big as deal as he’d like us think. He, like Obama and Bush, are beholden to the deep state for his marching orders. Witness Trump’s recent flip flop on Afghanistan for recent proof. In reality Trump’s simply the #distractorinchief, keeping us away from paying attention to local news and events while the bad guys rake in the chips.
I will continue to keep a bit of an eye on Donald’s presence in our field. How can’t I with the coverage he gets. But I will do so without sampling the ever expanding variety comedy and news takes on his work.
I hope my meditations on this Trump obsession helps you break free of the Trump vortex too. Keep meditating with us at CoolestMeditationEver.com.
Johnny, I miss you and those sweet simpler times of my youth.
One of our meditation tools for transmuting fear to love during the volatile the Trump presidency, along for the ride at Monument Valley.
My partner in love and life Elizabeth England and I have been on the road the majority of our lives since May. We’re touring our film THE COOLEST MEDITATION EVER: ANTARCTICA 12.12.12 (CME), already online at DoPenguinsMeditate.com and available as a DVD on Amazon.
We call the tour ‘Movie and a Meditation.’ We are the first filmmakers, as far as we know, to combine a movie with a live guided meditation. We must be doing something right because I am pleased to see we already have some copy cats starting to do it also. Movies have always been a meditation for me–a place where I can let go of current reality and imagine being the hero of a film. So cool to be the hero of this film and share how Antarctica brought my love Elizabeth into my life.
After a very typical Q&A about this very untypical film (about meditations guided by highly evolved thought-traveling ET energies who sent me to Antarctica in 2012 amidst the hype of the end of the Mayan calendar), Elizabeth, a talented Kirtan performer, yogini and meditation expert in her own right, leads a live planetary healing meditation.
So far we’ve brought our ‘Movie and a Meditation’ events to:
Sedona, AZ
Las Vegas, NV
The OC, CA
Desert Hot Springs, CA
Santa Fe, NM
Boulder, CO
We met amazing people on the journey like famed sonic healers and authors Jonathan and Andi Goldman, who co-hosted our Boulder Colorado premier on August 1st. We were blessed to have the Et toning team of Anara Whitebear and Chris Katsaropoulos, our Durango pals, on board to open the energies of the night.
The hit Boulder premiere was held at the prestigious Etown theater. We opened with a Kombucha and cheese reception that Elizabeth, who worked for Martha Stuart for 3 years, pulled off to perfection.
Left to right Jonathan Goldman, Andi Goldman, Ken Sheetz, Elizabeth England, Anra Whitebear, Chris Katsaropoulos
On the road same time as our sweet little movie and meditation event, strangely running for a 2020 reelection none of us want to think about yet, was Donald John Trump. To stay in the media spotlight his ego demands, Trump is going further and further into using fear and anger. And so we found ourselves doing meditations to counter fears of nuclear war with North Korea Trump fomented on Twitter and the hate he rankled into the consciousness with his “many sides” stance on Charlottesville.
Unlike Trump, we don’t have a private jet or a vast PR machine to blast ourselves into the mass consciousness. We use our meditations and little events to reach the masses. A slower and gentler process, it’s nonetheless powerful.
Elizabeth and I, now plus our nervous rescue dog Lincoln, who does not tolerate pet sitters well, traveled along with us in our 2011 Jeep Wrangler. We just cracked 108,000 miles on the odometer thanks to the 10,000 miles we’ve put on the dependable Jeep since May showing our film.
Our crowds, compared to Trump’s, are tiny, maxing out at 100+ . Raising consciousness in this time of dumbing down is not easy. It’s always better to light a candle than curse the darkness.
Speaking of darkness, at the ill-advised Phoenix rally last night, day one post-eclipse and drawing big crowds from the right and left, Trump was consumed by defending his racist rollercoaster ride of reactions to the Charlottesville tragedy. The enemy in all this? Not the Nazis, the press, according to Trump. Well, as a man I voted for, Ronald Reagan once said in debate, “There he goes again.” And there I went again with 24 hours of meditations to set intention for the Phoenix event to pass without the loss of another life.
And it happened. Some skirmishes but no deaths in the face of president ignoring the wishes of mayor concerned for his city with a 40% Hispanic population. I am proud to say I feel we helped. Meditation has been proven scientifically to reduce crime and violence in major studies.
Our movie and meditation and web work, we are proud to say, is all about love and the belief that all of us make a difference in the field of consciousness. How ironic that a film about the possibility, however ‘far out’ as we acknowledge in the film, of an ET-thought-traveler who is helped humanity by guiding our meditations in Antarctica and beyond, is more real and sincere than our current president’s script.
FYI if you are looking for good customer service avoid Bluehost. The hosting service did not start out that way when someone near and dear to me, my partner in BuzzBroz.com our social media biz, started using them 10 years ago. But that’s another story today.
Unlike Trump, we don’t have a private jet or a vast PR machine to blast ourselves into the mass consciousness. We use our meditations and little events to reach the masses. A slower and gentler process, it’s nonetheless powerful.
Media, Meditations & Musings 