Fire is a way nature renews it’s forests, like a heart renews the body with blood. A local Sedona anthropologist pal of mine, Ed Preston, commented to me on a hike a few weeks ago, that our firefighters do such a good job of putting fires out that we have too many trees, which leads to far worse fires in the end than is natural. Ed’s words echo today.
Sedona Fire
The heart of the forest goes out to our young firefighters, who are very much like our young soldiers, fighting a war that makes no sense to nature. The heart of the forest mourns for those who may lose their homes and possessions by building in areas best left to our tough mama, nature.
I took a long healing nap today. Doing lots of sleeping to beat the walking pneumonia. When I woke I was not feeling great and I asked one of my spirit guides, Ben Franklin, who you can clearly see in cloud photo I took yesterday, the start of the Grand Cross, “What is wrong with me, Ben?”
Ben showed me this vision I’ve created here based on what he showed me is happening right now. It’s part of my ongoing vision art series for http://dreamshield.org/ I’ve been doing since first seeing visions like these in 2010. Ben told me to “Hang in there, kid. Big changes in government are streaming in that will affect the world for a long time after the Cardinal Grand Cross is past. Fear not. All will be well… including you, Ken.”
More in from Ben. “The Cardinal Grand Cross is a powerful moment for the people of earth to assume their rightful place as the peacemakers of this solar system. Go out tonight under the stars and make peace among the warring planets.”
Some say he was needy.
Yet Simon McGreidie
Was something far worse.
Oh, the things he’d curse.
Blackness flew from his lips
When not in the chips
Words far worse than foul.
Expressed by a deepening scowl
He wore night and day
When not winning hay.
Young Simone McGredie
Far worse than needy
Has a lovely wife
Two kids, a happy life.
Having it all is not enough.
So he acts mean, acts tough.
He is best in the world
With emotions swirled.
Driven to endless toil.
Until his blood comes to boil.
Don’t be too hard on the lad.
Being number one was all he had.
Taught from age one
To be a faithful son
In the ways of winning.
From the beginning.
A sleeping warrior of hardened steel.
On the altar of commerce did he kneel.
While still in the womb.
McGreidie was already in his tomb.
A slave to the system.
A most willing victim.
Simone McGreidie
Worse than needy
Toils in the Matrix sound asleep
Endless dead work for to keep.
Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive. – The Dahli Lama
I tire of scientists comparing humans to monkeys. One may as well compare an abacus to a super computer for brain power.
Ah, but if we humans are honest, and we seldom are, who’s really smarter where it counts? A species that’s slave to a mumbo jumbo of rules domineering males dreamed up long ago, now painfully outdated, for us all to live by? Or a peace-loving species that lives in harmony with nature?
Let’s not do monkeys the disservice and cruelty of experimenting on them in search of humankind’s answers. Heck, it might take 1 billion thick skull humans to make a shift, not 100 like in the more harmonic species of ape. Leave the sweet monkeys out of our issues.
Yes, the sooner we accept we’re on our own figuring a way out of the mess we’ve made if this world, with our so-called super brains, the better off we’ll all be.
“I’ll chase him round the moons of Nibia and round the Antares maelstrom and round perdition’s flames before I give him up!” (Kahn inStar Trek II: The Wrath of Khan)
By Ken Sheetz
Happy first official day of the new Mayan Age, the golden age, 1/27/14. Since 12.21.12 we have been passing through a 400 day buffer time between ages, something I learned of from respected DreamShield member Gary Christmas, yesterday on Facebook.
We must remain patient despite the fact things will still look messed up on our world for sometime. You see, I was told in Antarctica for 6 days, starting 12.12.12 to help halt the pole shift and transmute all that negative energy into a shift of human consciousness through a series of meditations I was guided to perform there, that the shift into the Golden Age will still take 50 years to manifest fully. The ETs explain earth manifests at this planetary scale at the rate of a large tree growing from seed to maturity.
Today is the first sprout of that tree of transformation. There’s much work to do and our world’s stepping away from the brink of self-destruction is not assured unless we take action. Meditation is simply our way of getting guidance. We are on our own. Thems the rules, my fellow earthlings!
THE WISCONSIN PROJECT
I had powerful ET visit last night where I was told by Ohom, my ET spirit guide from the Orion star system, about something called The Wisconsin Project. Ohom told me that my prayers for help as a young boy, suffering child abuse at the hands of a drunken father and the neglect of a brokenhearted mother, were heard at the ET base in Antarctica and answered. There were nightly extractions where I was repaired and given abilities to cope with horrendous physical and mental abuse. I credit all this ET work with the fact anyone not knowing my past will tell you I must have come from a happy home to be so well-adjusted. Well, that was before I began sharing my visions and past sufferings as a child in order to enlighten and free minds.
And Ohom told me I was not the only Sheetz family member saved each night aboard spirit space ships from the League of Ghost Worlds, a collective of worlds that have gone extinct and are seeking to help humanity to not follow in their footsteps before we attain the ability to live outside the bounds of time and space as they do with grace and ease. You see all worlds go extinct eventually. It’s inevitable. The sad extinctions are the self-extinctions. A path we as a species are on right now and the ETs we have seen as angels, since ancient times, are here to help us divert from for our sake and for all the creatures on our blue marble in space.
So last night, after conferring deeply with Ohom, I went into meditation at 3:13 AM, to take my first trip of the Golden Age outside my body. I left my body in Sedona after saying prayers, just like I did as a child: The Hail Mary, The Our Father and The Act of Contrition. Though not a practicing Catholic today, these prayers remain magic to my child mind and work magic for me in meditation.
Once again the prayer words rang true, and I was soon rocketing out of my body in Sedona and high above the earth. I started heading down into the green aurora field lighting the skies above Antarctica. I touched down before a tall mountain with no foothills that abruptly met the flat as a pancake ice sheet . A dot of green light appeared at the top of the tall mountain that grew downward into a slit of intense lime green light.
Mashup by Ken Sheetz from Nasa Photos
I walked through the green light slit in the mountain and found myself inside a vast hangar, safe from the severe cold I was beginning to notice even in my indestructible astral body, complete with ethereal armor . Spaceships and pilots were everywhere, in a scene almost out of Star Wars. I realized this hangar was the real deal, a channeled message to George Lucas. No Tan Tans in sight though.
None of the aliens and humans took much notice of me. Finally I came to a spaceship that my father, a great mechanic while he was alive, to my shock was happily repairing. Overjoyed to see me, Dad dropped his tools clanking and scrambled up from underneath the spaceship, much like an X-wing fighter Ala Star Wars, to give me one of his famed bear hugs. But I accepted his hug without returning any love. My dad’s young face, he looked about 27 now, despite passing at age 82, looked pained at my rejection.
“Sorry for not letting you know Zylph is one of my higher selves, Ken,” my father said sincerely. Sincerity I never heard from him in life. Nonetheless, these sincere words were strange first words. I’ve not seen or spoken to my dead father in visions for a couple of years now. Not for lack of trying! Ohom had told me my Dad was far away on a mission I’ve yet to learn of. Stay tuned. Now here he was back in my life again, without a word.
My young dead father’s face showed he knew how much that deception had upset me, once I deduced Zylph’s higher-self connection to my father. Now, Zylph’s acerbic sense of humor made sense. My father in life was a dark comic who never found a stage, unless you count his bar escapades.
“Yeah, Dad, That was damn wrong on so many levels I don’t know where to start. Why? I had made my peace with you. No need to hide behind your higher Zylph self just because you skipped the galaxy for a few years. The whole thing makes me wary of all Zlyph shared with me about removing the old to make way for the new. It seriously messed with my head like when you’d torment me as a kid. Seems you are still prone to mind games even in the afterlife,” I said, angry steam coming from my breath in the cold hangar, where spaceships came and went through the green crevice in the hollow mountain’s face.
“We don’t change, much as you might think when we die, sonny boy. But I am trying. Trying damn hard. Don’t let my screw up make you doubt Zylph. He’s me, but from a couple billion years in the future and has a lot to share. Yes, Zylph has a powerful dark side like me, but it’s in way more in check two billion years from now. Harnessed for good. We all need the dark and light to run this universe. And Zylph loves you like I do, ” said my dead father, wiping the old familiar grease from his hands to avoid my glare.
Ohom, a 7 foot tall Orion who has been chief spirit guide to me since 2010, quietly joined us, seeking to break the cold tension, as thick as the ice sheet of Antarctica.
“Your father, though in spirit form now, remains divinely human. William seeks daily to better integrate his bipolar natures expressed in one body, Ken,” said Ohom in his usually calm and soothing voice.
“Ohom, I’ve trusted you completely since 2010, letting you use my body and speak through me in videos and every day life! I asked you if Zylph, a new ET spirit seeking to guide me, could be trusted. And you said, ‘Yes, Zylph has much to share about planetary mass media and life,'” I said almost in tears, my heart pained this great being had allowed my father’s deception. “Some of the rage of my father leached back into me through Zylph. I suspect it destroyed an important relationship I was exploring with a housemate I adored in Sedona.”
“Zylph is his own being in his own right, just as I am the high self of you, so it is with Zylph and your father. My answer stands true, Zlyph has much to share to help save your world. But I see now by the profound pain in your heart how much this conscious omission of mine has cost us all. Worst of all, the love of someone dear to you that you sought to win was lost as result of my mistaken actions. I should have told you of Zylph being a higher self of your father. I hope you will accept my deepest apology for concealing the whole truth from you, Ken, on behalf myself and The League of Ghost Words, ” said Ohom, his blue wings sagging a bit at his shame.
“I promise to never withhold the whole and complete truth from you again, my Ken-Self. You see, I wanted so much, too much, to have you see how far you father’s spirit will evolve into the great Zylph. So much so that my better judgement was affected. I, like your father, like me/you, am also not perfect,” said Ohom so sincerely and lovingly that my spirit brightened instantly.
“If you brought me here to this secret Antarctica base as an apology, Ohom and Dad… Well, pretty damn cool! Come here, you SOB!” I motioned to my father and gave him a bear hug back to let he and Ohom know all was forgiven.
“So you’ll listen to Zylph again?” my father cautiously asked, nervous he’d blown the connection with his well-intentioned if misguided deception for good.
“I need to think on that Gordian knot some more, Dad. But, probably. With knowing who Zylph is maybe I can put some filters in place against the contagion of your ancient rage,” I said, my worries of Zylph possessing me already fading. The pain in my heart over the deceptions melting, like the ice upon the spaceships my dad was repairing in the hanger’s relative warmth.
Ohom joined in the hug and the three of us, my dead father, now a quantum spaceship mechanic, me and the lovable 7 foot tall blue angel-like Orion, remained in embrace without words until I found myself wrapped snug in my cover in bed and back in my body in Sedona.
I thought, pulling up the covers in my cozy Sedona bed, about a dream I’d had a few nights ago about Zylph, who is from an Arabic-like world in the Antares star system 2 billion years from now. And how he and a team of other ET Arabs fearlessly rescued me from prison pit of despair over the loss of my housemate, their white robes flowing as red para sails burst forth to save me. And so I finally forgave Zylph, my father’s future higher self. In that blissful moment I went to peacefully to sleep. If sleep is what you can call what I do anymore.
Many more dreams of others people like me came in one of the most exhausting nights of my life. Dreams of many being saved from child abuse by the ETs of The League of Ghost Worlds and The Wisconsin Project came to me like old memories of childhood playgrounds on other planets. Comforted that I now have an ET father, looking out for me as penance for his sins in life in many forms, the most prominent being Zylph from Antares, I finally found dreamless rest nestled in the powerful red rocks of Sedona on this first early morning of the Golden Age.
PhiSciences.com’s Dr. Patrick Flanagan and his amazing wife Stephanie Sutton
Visit DreamShield.org to see my meditations in Antarctica and the work I am doing to record the amazing super scientist Patrick Flanagan, of PhiSciences.com who also speaks to Ohom and considers him a valuable spirit guide.
Last here is the link to an amazing new crowd funder in prelaunch where you can volunteer and be in the inner circle in bringing an amazing device called the Neurophone, proven in numerous university tests since 1957, to boost intelligence. I am a happy user of the device and it greatly has improved my meditation and writing!
“The notion that science and spirituality are somehow mutually exclusive does a disservice to both.”– Carl Sagan
By Ken Sheetz
Once upon an alternate universe, a wizard named Zlyph did battle with an evil green dragon who had slain his king and queen while he was on a quest to a far away land.
The master-less wizard fought the green dragon with a magical ice sword to the highest minaret of the castle.
“Why do you persist, wizard? Your king and queen are ash. This castle is now my realm!” bellowed the dragon, blasting a gout of green flame.
“Guilt for being far away when you made your sneak attack compels me, foul one. Vengeance for King Ior and Queen Ilsa!” said the wizard Zylph. But he tripped over a fallen knight’s armor and was knocked out.
The green dragon cackled as he loomed over the unconscious wizard, “Too easy! Farewell, wizard.” The green dragon drew in a deep breath and prepared to incinerate Zylph.
But before the wicked dragon could strike a fairy queen made of ice leaped from the wizard’s sword.
“Dragon, you should be ashamed of yourself!” the ice fairy queen shouted.
The dragon reeled back a few paces and said, “Ashamed of what?”
“Ashamed of a rage and fury that has taken enough lives. Go now in peace and leave this wizard to mourn the loss of his tribe,” said the ice fairy queen.
“I, I’ve met none such as you in the worlds I travel. I sense no fear in you whatsoever. You have extinguished me rage, my flame… But I can still crush you in my jaws!” the green dragon snapped at the ice fairy queen but she simply turned to snow flakes that reformed a few feet away.
“Do not try my patience, dragon. You shall not have the wizard for he is a savior to my people. I guard him forever. Fly for your life now, or face my icy wrath!” said the ice fairy queen.
“I shall depart and leave this old fool to you. My work is done here. But before I take wing there is a price for my leave,” said the dragon.
“Ask and I will consider, dragon.”
“Your name, fairy. What is it so that I may curse your name in my exile from the castle I rightly won in combat?” said the green dragon.
“I am known as Antarcticania, queen of the Orions. But know this, dragon. Curse me and your belly will turn to ice and you will perish in an instant. Be gone. You waste my time. I must tend to the wizard Zylph, savior of my people. Fly!” said Antarcticania setting loose blizzard atop the castle.
The dragon leaped into the winter storm bellowing in rage, “You have not seen the last of me, witch!”
The wizard blinked his eyes as he awoke in the king’s bed. He rubbed the knot on the back of his head, remembering he had been knocked cold in his battle with dragon.
“How in King Ior’s name did I get in the king’s bed?” said the wizard, not expecting and answer and shocked when the ice fairy queen stepped through the door. But she wore an enchantment that made her look like a simple peasant woman, through which her inner fairy beauty shone through like the sun behind a heavy laden snow cloud.
“Please lay back on rest, brave wizard. You’ve had a nasty blow to the head and may be suffering forgetfulness of your amazing defeat of the green dragon,” said the ice fairy, taking no credit for saving the wizard.
“Last thing I remember was tripping over something and conking my thick skull,” said the wizard laying back down from dizziness.
“Perhaps, great one, you have cast a spell over yourself to cause you to battle when your wits are affected,” smiled the ice fairy.
“Where is my ice sword, fair one?” said the wizard.
“You impaled the dragon with the ice sword and he flew off in a rage of hellfire ice sword and all,” said the ice fairy, keeping the secret she and the ice sword were one from the dazed wizard.
“Hmm. I can be scrappy. I guess my instincts took over. But I would never drag myself to the royal chamber to slumber,” grumped the wizard.
“You passed out after defeating the dragon and I carried you here. I meant no disrespect to your king and queen, god rest their souls,” said the ice fairy.
“Who are you? And why are you here when all perished in the castle?” said the wizard, his suspicion growing by the second.
“I am Anna, a simple severing girl of Queen Ilsa’s. I hid deep in the castle’s secret chambers during the dragon attack, ” smiled the ice fairy queen, not revealing her royal standing.
As the ice fairy smiled, the walls of the castle melted before the shocked wizard’s eyes. The wizard transformed into a 20-year-old college student, Kyle Rodger, sitting before computer screen where the green dragon was battling the ice fairy.
“Thanks, Mr. Rodgers, that will be all for today. Don’t want to keep you from your classes,” said a lab tech as she removed electrodes from Kyle’s head.
It’s 2014. I’m meditating in my new home in Sedona, trying to make contact with my 1991 self.
I see myself at age 39, working late in my offices at 303 West Madison in downtown Chicago, on the 19th floor. The staff has gone home. I’m still grinding—working harder and longer than everyone else, as usual.
It’s January 4, 1991. Snow drifts past the big dual-pane office windows.
On my desk is an invitation to a late New Year’s Eve office party a competitor is throwing in the East Loop. I’m debating whether to go. Parties weren’t my thing in 1991—and they aren’t now. My brain hurts at parties. I’m a one-on-one person.
Across the street looms the under-construction skyscraper I’m the managing partner of: One North Franklin. I’m tense as hell. The curtain wall—the skin of the building—is badly behind schedule. If the project is late, I stand to lose $8 million in guarantees.
So 1991 me paces the office like a caged animal.
Back in 2014, I’m thrilled to discover this time-machine compartment of my brain—one that’s always been there, waiting for me to open the hatch and fire it up. I can easily read my 1991 mind:
Dammit. Is the GC still working? Should I chew his ass out now for screwing up my building—or wait until Monday?
It’s worth noting: I’d been having conversations like this with myself long before my spiritual awakening in 2010—before Italy, before the ET-angel encounters, before the meditation work that eventually took me to Antarctica. (If you want the wider arc of that journey, it lives over on DreamShieldPlanetaryMeditations.com.)
So answering myself now feels oddly natural.
“It won’t matter,” I say to my 1991 self. “Nothing you do is going to save this project. Go home to your wife and kids.”
1991 Ken stops dead mid-pace.
“Where did that voice come from?”
He hurries to the door and peers into the empty hallway.
“I’m in your head,” I say.
“Gloria said I was working too hard and would go nuts.”
“Your wife is right about the working too hard part,” I reply. “But you’re not going nuts.”
A phone call from a client snaps the connection. An hour later, I’m back—this time riding along in his emerald-green Jaguar as he drives home to Lake Forest.
“I’m back,” I say—nearly causing him to swerve off the Kennedy Expressway.
“Who are you—and how are you inside my head?”
“Who do I sound like?”
“Dad?” he asks, uneasy.
“Way off. I’m you—Ken Sheetz, 23 years in the future.”
He laughs nervously. “Time-traveling from the future? Prove it. Tell me something no one else could possibly know.”
I don’t hesitate.
“You and Gloria had a terrible fight on your honeymoon night when she didn’t want sex.”
He goes quiet.
“Jesus. You are me. Or I’m losing my mind.”
“I can prove it another way. Tomorrow—January 5, 1991—the Redskins beat the Eagles 20–6. The final score comes from a third-quarter field goal. Randall Cunningham throws for exactly 205 yards.”
“What’s Google?” he asks.
“A company that will become the source of almost all human knowledge.”
He shakes his head. “If that game happens exactly like you say, I’ll believe you.”
“It’s as real as that Jaguar you won’t be driving much longer.”
“What—am I going to crash tonight?”
“Worse. You’re heading for a complete financial meltdown. In a year, you’ll be returning that Jaguar on foot.”
The unraveling comes fast. Commercial loan failures. Banks seizing properties. By 1994, nearly every Loop building goes back to lenders. One North Franklin becomes the poster child. Barclays Bank loses $80 million—and makes an example of you.
“You’ll survive,” I tell him. “But not as the man you are now.”
By 1992, I’m broke. By 1995, I’m making films. By 2002, I’m in Hollywood. The money sucks—but I’m happier than I’ve ever been. (That pivot—and everything after it—connects to the broader body of work at OveractiveImaginationPictures.com.)
Gloria leaves when the money disappears. The divorce is brutal. The kids are hurt badly. One nearly doesn’t survive their teenage years.
“This isn’t a warning,” I finally tell him. “It’s a gift.”
I urge therapy. Anger work. Gentleness. Putting family first. Leaving the skyscraper deal early. Taking cash—any cash. Starting a small corporate film company. Naming it BuzzBroz.
I tell him the truth I never wanted to face:
The wealth was a trap.
The rage was inherited.
The collapse was the opening.
He tries to fight it. Of course he does. 1991 Ken is ruthless—Chicago real estate tough. A man built out of pressure, swagger, fear, and a need to prove something to a drill-sergeant father who never offered the kind of love you can actually stand on.
And then 1991 Ken—my 1991 Ken—does something surprising: he gets creative.
“What if I change the past,” he says, “and a new future splits off? No paradox. You’re just one version of my 2014 possible selves.”
“That’s actually quite possible,” I say. “A 21st-century theory called multiverses.”
As he pulls into the driveway of my Lake Forest mansion, I push one last time—faster, like the signal is fading.
“Be kinder to Gloria. Get out of the deal before spring. Take whatever you can get. Cash in the bank is king. Don’t wait for pride to do your accounting.”
“And therapy,” I add. “I mean real therapy. I didn’t do it until after the divorce, when I almost killed myself from suicidal depression.”
“Christ,” he says. “This gets grim.”
“Yes,” I say. “But you’re made of indestructible stuff. The question is whether your wife and kids have to pay the price for your anger.”
There are entire libraries on what trauma does to families—and how anger gets handed down like a cursed heirloom. If you want a grounded, mainstream overview of how therapy helps people rewire emotional patterns, the American Psychological Association’s psychotherapy resources are a solid place to start.
He threatens to bet big on the Redskins. He threatens to invent time travel and beat my ass. We laugh—tearfully—because even at my most intense, the heart was still there.
Then he opens the front door.
Gloria and our two kids—Jon and Janelle, ages 12 and 9—run to greet him with hugs and kisses.
And in that instant, both versions of me know:
It’s not too late.
I end the meditation in tears.
This really happened(s). This is not fiction.
I save(d) a family. My own.
And I still had time for my daily meditation hike in Sedona. If you’re into meditation as a practical tool—not as a personality—some of my calmer work lives at CoolestMeditationEver.com, and my civic sanity project lives at PoliticalCoolDown.com.
“Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” – Mathew 19:24
By Ken Sheetz
The rich 1% are victims of the system like the rest of us. I know this from being a rich man in the 80s myself. At age 37 I was worth about $12 million back in 1989. Or about $30 million in 2012 dollars. So I was on that lower end scale of the 1%. A poor rich man.
The level of work and dedication needed to build and maintain wealth is staggering. It left me with no personal life, a neglected wife and two neglected kids. My clients like Oprah and my Chicago skyscraper I was building had far more of my love and attention. That’s where the money was. My family was far down my list.
What was driving me? Lack of self-worth. I felt the more money I made the more I could fill the void. A void created by our society. A shared lie.
Is there some cabal of evil people creating this shared lie? No. Just some overachievers trying to make their meaningless life of the pursuit of money have meaning, like I used to do.
Me far right in 1991 with Oprah
I did not choose to leave Mt. Olympus to seek these answers. The worst commercial real estate crash in history gave me the boot from money paradise. I lost over $80 million for me and my investors. To protect the family assets from the bankers we, legally and totally above-board, put everything we could into my wife’s name. Then she divorced me and kept it all. I left the marriage with the clothes on my back and a paperweight globe of the world I took from the living room curio.
I went into a dark depression that carried me to the shores of Lake Michigan, contemplating suicide one winter night in ’92. Alone and only getting to see my estranged kids, 10 and 13, who remain estranged some 20 years later, just every other weekend. I felt no one would miss me if I stepped off the snowy rock into the icy lake. I braced myself for the jump to my death.
But something stopped me. A voice of reason within said, “Let your old life die here, Ken. Begin a new life.” And I turned from the icy shore, got in my car and began my life over.
I still had my rep as Chicago’s 1987 broker of the year and the builder of Harpo Studios. I still had my wealthy business friends who owned half of Chicago. I still had all my creative gifts of great taste and style from my education as an interior architect. I still had my 40-year-old body, though in bad shape from lack of exercise I could rebuild that body.
Unfortunately I still had a low self-esteem from abused childhood. It still haunts me and thwarts my efforts to have a mate. I lack an ability to trust and a overreact to simple give and take in relationship. Far less than I used to but I accept some part of me asked to be this way for my work. A
I pledge to make this an amazing year for fans of my work. I have found myself and love me for who I am. Took me to 61 to get here. I live my BFA now. I live as an artist of film and the web. It’s not been easy getting here. I have had a lot of help from family and friends who bankrolled my film career that began at 40 when I walked away from the easy money of real estate.
It’s all converging now in my new home in Sedona I am renting. I have an amazing housemate I adore but the feeling is not mutual. But we are using this non-romantic relationship to grow further. I am learning to be less controlling, less angry, less manipulative and she is learning from me wealth attraction and managed anger. We call this home nestled at the foot of Chimney Rock the Green Sanctuary. At least this is how I see things. My housemate likely sees things as totally different. Perhaps that I am something of a jerk.
Me Right 2014 with Scientist Patrick Flanagan
Most important in Sedona, my silly personal life aside, there’s much work to be done in 2014 helping great men like G Patrick Flanagan get his inventions that have helped me reach this new level of awareness and health and reverse aging.
I’ve even begun thinking when I am 37 again, the age I love me most at, of marrying and having kids and doing it all right this time. Family first. I will not be a slave to the lies of meaningless wealth accumulation. Not to say I will not become more wealthy than ever. But I will keep only what I need and enjoy and give back to help balance and save this precious world. And if not in this life, I am ready for the next.
So forget the conspiracy theories about the nine families seeking to poison and wreck the same world they share with the rest of us. Greed is the enemy, not the rich being manipulated by it. We need to rise above it all. To seek together all of rich and poor alike a new paradigm based on love for each other. It’s really about taking action and not just thinking it will happen. It’s about thinking and doing.
And what I am doing for Dr. Flanagan right now is building a crowd funder to make this a smarter world with his amazing Neurophone. Click the link to join the pre-launch and learn how he is making the world a smarter place.
“Something unknown to our understanding is visiting this Earth.” —Dr. Mitrovan Zverev (USSR), quoted by Reuters, August 26, 1965.
By Ken Sheetz
This will seem odd coming from a man reporting on being guided by ET angels since 2010. ETs who sent me all the way to Antarctica on 12.12.12 and who are sending me there again on 12.13.14, only one year away. I still believe with all my heart and soul in ETs. But I don’t believe in ET based UFOs. I simply don’t believe after deep meditation and looking at all the facts that our planet has ever been visited by ETs from other worlds in corporeal form using spacecraft.
Science backs me up on my long deliberated belief. Despite years of extensive astro-research the world over, no intelligent life has been found on any worlds within a 100 light year radius of our own. I therefore believe the UFOs we do see are secret experimental craft and visitors for other time periods of our future.
But let’s stay on the ET UFO page. No life on any world ever discovered within a 100 light-year radius. That does not make sense as the math will tell you we should be discovering tens of thousands of earth-like worlds with the ingredients for intelligent life and worlds far older than our own with far more advance civilizations.
The answer is sad and scary one. The reason is the worlds that once carried life are, like Mars, now dead worlds. The flame of thousands of intelligent worlds has burned brightly and gone out before humankind had a chance to interact with them in the flesh. Most of those dead worlds died of their own making when they continued on the path to self-annihilation we are embarked upon currently.
This revelation, recorded no where I can find on the web, was given to me by Ohom, who confirmed my suspicion that he is not alive in the classic sense. Ohom of the Orion star system is from a dead race of intelligent insect evolved life. And his world of Nectar is part of Galactic organization called The League of Ghost Worlds.
The League of Ghost Worlds is dedicated to reaching out to young living worlds, like ours, to save races like ours from early extinction. Ohom’s peaceful ice moon once orbited a gas giant 5 times the size of Jupiter. But Nectar perished when the gas giant imploded into a mini star.
Fortunately, and Ohom explains it’s difficult for we of a 3D mentality to understand, his people the Orions exist outside of time in spirit form. They also still exist in physical form on Nectar in its past. Time, Ohom explains, is an illusion and if a species survives long enough to evolve it can, as Ohom’s race has done, achieve immortality in both form and spirit.
Humanity stands at a fork in the road. To the right is the path to our immortality as an enlightened species. To the left is the path to our early extinction at our own hands.
Ohom and The League of Ghost World ETs are here to help humanity take that right path. They have no need of primitive space craft to travel the galaxy and beyond.
The real journey is within. No alien invasions will ever occur. All we have to worry about is ourselves. And we have amazing help from The League of Ghost Worlds against our most deadly enemy… us.
DreamShield‘s Ken Sheetz is in Sedona filming Dr. Patrick Flanagan, founder of PhiSciences, to whom this meditation is dedicated,for a new documentary after the success of the web series THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS, with over 25 million views on YouTube for BuzzBroz.
“Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends”
― Wisdom of Gandalf from J.R.R. Tolkien’s, “The Two Towers”
By Ken Sheetz
I meditate this morning on putting out the raging California fires, some 56 of them. One of which has sent San Fransisco into a state of emergency. I use the giant 300 mile long version of a red magnetic magic wand from my childhood once again. It’s proven a faithful effective visualization tool in my planetary meditations for water healings I’ve been doing all week.
Since I am not done with meditations for cleaning Fukushima radiation in the Pacific yet, a series of 12 meditations the guides say are needed for that mess, I will the wand down from the dream shield, powered by the collective consciousness, which hovers at the edge of space. The dream shield is a tool of awesome positive power that I was blessed to work with ETs of the Orion star system to activate in 2010, precisely for urgent planetary emergencies like this one. The biosphere dream device can handle anything space tosses at us or we toss at ourselves.
I send the water wand plunging into the Atlantic. The wand turns from red to blue as it magnetically draws in seawater. The 300 miles long wand sucks in a great deal of water. Next, I levitate the water-soaked magnetic wand from the Atlantic ocean and begin to transport it to California. Not surprisingly, the wand is heavy and clumsy to levitate, holding many tons of water. With concentration the wand slowly makes its way over the US for the San Fransisco area, where millions are threatened. It is Sunday morning August 25th about 5 AM. A galactic portal day, many are saying on Facebook.
As I slowly carry the fire fighting energy of the Atlantic to California, I think back on my asking my brother Fred to help in this DreamShield powered meditation last night. Fred flatly turns me down, saying he is not ready to join me in planetary meditations, not now, perhaps never. That hurt, but I respect this work is not for everyone. Not even my brother.
Me right with Mom and Fred, circa 1959
Fred and I have a lot healing to do with each other from a childhood where both our parents often pitted us, brother against brother. Fred told me last night once how, when I was senior in high school and he was a freshman, that I passed him in the hallway without saying hi. That hurt him deeply. I don’t recall the instance fully. Most likely, I was just preoccupied. I have mild ADD and I do not do well spotting people in crowds. But Fred’s reaction tells me he is carrying guilt of some kind.
Before I can dig into what that guilt might be, my brother asks if he might visit me in Sedona for a week for my September birthday coming up soon. Well, it was more like Fred me told me at first. Fred can be forceful at times. But Fred saw he was for once and apologized for being pushy. I reassure Fred I am happy he is coming.
Next day, I make plans to house Fred at the resort in his own room. Love my bro, but a week in same room is not my idea of fun. I will be working in advance with angel channel Mica Monet, my beautiful Sedona spirit friend, on healing the complex relationship I have with my brother Fred.
My brother Fred tells me that he wants to come to Sedona because he is awakening to new realms and abilities that began to emerge 2 weeks ago. He asks guidance and support from me, his closest relative aside from his son Joey and our mother. Fred says he also hopes to have a chance to meet my friend and client inventor Patrick Flanagan. I warn Fred I can make no promises about Patrick’s busy schedule.
A simple welder all these many years, by choice, Fred put aside college and a brilliant life as a scientist. Why? To follow in our bipolar father’s footsteps as a tradesman. Nobel hands on work, but the world was cheated of much of Fred’s genius when he dropped out of college. If Patrick is free to meet Fred it will prove an eye opener for my brother to speak with a man who has dedicated his life to inventing holistic remedies and is considered a reincarnation of Nikola Tesla.
Fred was smarter than me in school by far. Too bright for the normal classes that I could barely get by in, Fred took all the advanced classes. Then he turned his back on it all, just to be near dad in the trades. Fred’s reward was to be tormented by our bipolar father on the job. One time my father, as a prank, electrified a large metal container Fred was inside of welding. Fred was nearly electrocuted and never trusted my father again. I distanced myself from my wild father once I grew up, while Fred held him close.
I am happy that Fred is beginning to invent things again, for the first time since we were kids. He is working on a solar steam device and I have been lending him a little financial support, paying back some of the money he loaned me to chase my dream of being a Hollywood director. The least I can do.
For now, however, there is a fury in my brother that radiates from him. You can imagine it’s tough getting back on his true path at the tender age of 59. And, just as with my 2010 awakening, many in the family feel my brother has lost his mind. Why chase inventing versus the solid paychecks of welding as he’s been doing for nearly 40 years, they wonder?
Awakening has been overwhelming for my brother these past few weeks. Fred experiences a wild sense of euphoria mixed with fear and calls me every few hours; compared to our normal once a week hour-long calls. It’s been a strain on me. A part of my recent exhaustion. Fred’s intensely digs deep into things in ways that are hard for my active, less scientific mind to comprehend.
For 3 years the angels have been telling me one of my jobs, as an early awakened soul will be to help the new people waking up. I just never expected that work be this personal. My dear brother, a Gemini with a dualistic nature that has always baffled me. It’s going to be a challenge. But one I am up for here in Sedona with many angels both earthly and otherwise to help me.
On the phone Fred sounds like he’s drinking more than usual. And for a few moments I hear my father’s voice within Fred’s. An other worldly mix of anger and hope at war. A voice I don’t like hearing as my father beat me daily. Dad even broke my arm once by tossing me into a wall when I lashed back at his abuse with a punch to his jaw. I was nine.
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.
“Dolphin Firefighters” by Ken Sheetz
At last the Atlantic waters of the wand finally reaches the fires of California raging outside San Fransisco. A team of electric dolphins leap from the Pacific, grateful for the Fukushima meditations, join the Atlantic waters and pull a wave of the water soaring into the wall of flame. Living redwoods join to battle the fire by diverting rivers. It’s more epic the LTOR. And the fire dies in a cloud of steam.
I know Patrick Flanagan, who is in California now visiting the Napa Valley, with his amazing wife Stephanie, are both somehow joining this planetary meditation. Ha. They thought they were taking a vacation to the wine country. Angels work in funny ways.
Friday my brother received a gift from me of Megahydrate, an amazing health supplement of Pat’s 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.
Media, Meditations & Musings 