Seven years ago the world lost one of it greatest actors and comedians of our time when Robin Williams chose to take his own life. The devastating news came without any sort of clear warning signals. A public outcry of grief and mourning erupted across the world that had not seen since the shocking death of Princess Diana.
Last week my wife and I had coffee with Robin, at least as my writer’s brain, happening for seven years now, likes to envision his brilliant light still shinning from the afterlife. Over java I asked Robin’s spirit what he thinks of our Covid crisis and here’s what I imagine he had to say on the matter.
Hey Groovy Gals and Guys,
Holy shit. This would all be funny if it were not so damn tragic, folks. People are literally dying because politicians, my brother and sisters in the media and regular people on social media are fabricating stories. All in a feeble effort to make them seem more important than they actually are with more clicks and eyes. In the end this toxic BS is simply to sell everything from donations to snake oil cure to tennis shoes to precious metals to crypt o-currencies.
Worst part is it done by appealing to the worst in human nature; a crusty old white man who lives in fear in our noggins. It’s gross gross negligence to plant fear in people’s hearts on a money-making scale never seen or felt before.
Now, I am sure many of you who were fans of my movies did not like every damn thing I acted in. You only watched the ones you liked, right? GOODWILL HUNTING over MAN OF THE YEAR (MOTY) let’s say. MOTY being one of my films that should have worked that didn’t. In fact, if you judged my career based on MOTY you mot not be here.
Treat all the Tuckers, Johnsons, Bezoses, Hannitys the same way. You are the master of your own story-verese. You pick and choose your reality. Take a pinch of reality from the blue and a spritz from the red. Stay balanced in a unbalanced AF world.
Time to stop listening the BS artists. Truth is love. Be smart. Get vaccinated.
King of the Star Fish Nation
Robin’s kidding about the king thing But I do still see my vision of Robin — likely just a part of my beautiful imagination as I can’t bare he left us so soon — is reincarnated as a starfish. The starfish nation is a a nueral network for the planet Robin has explained to me.
Shameless plug. Read my far out sci-fi comedy set in another universe, Trump’s Fever Dream, using the pull-down menu above to access all 12, and counting, chapters. If I lifted your spirits please make a donation to keep more Williams visitations, new TFD chapters and cool cold style radio show audio coming.
Happy 9.9.19, Surface Dwellers! After some coaxing, because it’s tricky to channel and write, Ken’s agreed to let me be your ghost writer today, literally.
My name when I walked the earth was Robin Williams. I was just a regular Joe from Chicago who, due to an intense funny bone, made a fortune and flew in the same private jet skies as the richest a-holes wrecking the planet.
POP QUIZ: What number am I thinking about between 121212 and 121214?
If you guessed 121213 you’re ready to learn lesson 3 of how to travel faster than the speed of light. On the other hand if you didn’t guess 121213 you suck at math like me. In any case, if you haven’t done so as yet, please read part one and two first if you know what’s good for you.
All aboard the Williams Express! Let’s begin.
I, the being FKA Robin Williams, am hovering in wispy spirit form over a beautiful coral reef off the big island of Hawaii. Now, if you traveled from the sun to this reef at the speed of light it would take you 8 minutes and 17 seconds to reach me. But in reading the proceeding sentence it took you only a few seconds to make the journey in your mind’s eye.
Thought is indeed faster than the speed of light. Ken’s taught you that nugget already. But as you see my spirit floating above the Pacific surf and… Tada!… you also see that thought is more potent than the speed of light for imagineering new realities.
After my brief but beautiful afterlives these past, weird and wonderful as it gets, five years, first as a blue whale, then as a blue dolphin and last as a killer whale, I’ve finally chosen my next reincarnation. Hint it’s a part I played in my life on earth. Don’t skip ahead. That’s cheating, naughty readers.
Very cool of Ken to let me hang out in his big heart for a few weeks while I make up my spirit mind. And now to be able hang out with all of you readers here on the DreamShield blog my coolest visitation ever. The internet is a truly amazing gift for forging new conscious connections. But it’s force that’s being abused by some greedy people. Yeah, I’m looking at you Zuckerberg.
To those in the house reading the first direct blog by your ghost host with most today and wondering how I can fit comfortably into Ken’s heart space, hear my voice in your mind’s ear, imitating Albert Einstein, as I did in the movie AI “In spirit form, you zee, vee humans don’t take up too much space. Zere’s a kingdom in each heart and a lot of space on zee quantum subatomic level.”
Now hear me slip in John Wayne’s voice, “So, ya see pard, there’s plenty of room in your hearts to have spirit folk share adventures if you want them. Ya ha.”
One day earlier this week, while Ken and Elizabeth hike to a swim in the creek at Red Rock state park, I invite some of my ocean friends to swim along in Ken’s auric field. All with his permission of course.
Some sea tourists come from my 2014-2017 blue whale pod. Some come from the krill we ate, “Urp!” Pardon me. Some come from my 2017-2018 blue dolphin pod and the wide variety of fish we ate, yum. Some come from the octopi clan. Last come my 2018-2019 pod of killer whales. All we killer whales were killed when global warming coaxed us into swimming too far north and the Arctic ice closed behind us. Whales don’t make good pancakes.
So there I am a couple of days ago hiking along with Ken in the red rocks of Sedona, suspended inside an aquatic menagerie that only Ken can see. Suspended in miniature in the fresh Sedona morning air, swimming about Ken’s auric field in a 9 foot spherical radius.
Always low key about his psychic gifts because of an Irish Grandmother who warned little Ken he’d end up in the looney bin if he shared his visions, Ken speaks to my aquatic band of sea tourist telepathically.
He relays our wonder at the wonders of the surface world in real time to his love Elizabeth. She has the jitters because she’s going to marry Ken on 9.19.19 and his amplified psychic powers since the Lion’s gate are a bit unnerving.
So Ken keeps it cool reporting to Elizabeth on my turning him into a human Carnival Cruise while he happily swims in the cold fresh water creek. We sea tourist spin between the creek and the air in Ken’s energy field, telepathically shouting, “Wee!”
Most of my sea pals have never incarnated on the surface of Gaia. So their little flippers are all a flutter by of all things Sedona’s dry red dirt along the banks of the creek. Huh. I thought it would be trees my sea mates would be amazed by. But the minerals and dryness of the red dirt are like nothing their little sea eyes have ever beheld. The rich red soil sparkles in the sun like tiny diamonds and rubies. Land. Dry land.
Anyways, a funny thing happens to me in the sacred Oak Creek where the Hopi and other tribes once thrived. A nurse shark swim up to me in the next door water molecule . The dapper looking shark speaks in a thick Jersey accent, “Name’s Jerry. Nice of of you to take me and your sea clan to visit your old surface world, Robin.”
“My pleasure, Jerry. — Hey, man, sorry I ate you when I was a killer whale.” I add sheepishly.
“No sweat. Killer’s gotta kill. Hey, I should know! — Word from your arctic pod is you’re kinda stuck about what you next life should be?” says Jerry, flashing three rows of nurse shark teeth.
“Lemmie help. Tell me about your last three incarnations,” says Jerry the nurse shark earnestly.
“What are you a shark or a shrink, Jerry?”
“What’s a shrink?” asks the puzzled nurse shark.
“Long human story. Let’s just say I had a school of shrinks in my last life as Robin Fucking Williams.”
My pale reflection stares back at me on Jerry big eye. Huh. Between lives I look like I did at about age 27. Back when I played Mork on a thing called ABC. So my work as the joie de vivre energy of Robin Williams is not yet done I guess.
Either that or Ken, a gifted writer that came to the Hollywood game too late in life to strike it rich, lucky him, is simply imagining me the way his Grandma Agnes warned. What’s it really fucking matter if some of Ken’s, perhaps, fantasy of who I was in life makes you think and smile, dear reader?
Anyways, it’s super kind of Ken to put me up in his heart while I pick out my next life. I try to be as quiet a heart-guest as I can be. But, hey, I am freaking Robin Williams! Quiet was never my thing! “Nanu! Nanu!” I shout to the sea tourist guests. And they shout it back in unison, “Nanuuu!”
After some hemming and hawing I finally tell Jerry the nurse shark the harrowing and sometime hilarious adventures of my last three sea lives, which you can read for yourself here on The Robin Williams Visitations. He gives me a knowing shark eye wink and says, “Robby, never done it myself, but I hear life as a starfish is cool as it gets.”
“What’s so cool about being a starfish?” I ask casually, sounding a blue blood snob shopping for a condo in Hong Kong and and not my next incarnation.
Jerry takes me under a flipper and coaches me like the sea rookie I am, “Take it from a nurse shark brother, the starfish are a freaking yuge mass consciousness that travels the multi-universes. Starfish is a dream lifetime.”
“How’d you hear about the interstellar starfish good life?” I ask Jerry.
“Starfish are my favorite food. One starfish begged for his life told me all about it. That is it if I’d not eat him,” says Jerry punctuating his starfish story with a whip of his shark tail.
“A fair exchange then,” I say squirming out from under Jerry’s sandpaper-like flipper.
” Yeah. But hadda eat the starfish anyways. Sharks will be sharks!”
My ghostly face glows white. Jerry belly laughs at my shocked look (guess I’m still funny even as a ghost) and swims off into the sun above the dazzling Oak Creek that Ken and Elizabeth splash in with their adorable pooch Lincoln.
Cut to earlier tonight: Ken’s love Elizabeth asks him to Google how long a starfish live, But Ken forgot to check before I took over the blog for him. Wait a sec. — Cool. Just searched it and starfish live a lot longer than I thought. 35 years! See that? Both, you dear reader and I, learned something new tonight.
This morning as Ken crosses from the dream world, where he nightly works on reenforcing the protective DreamShield he helped build in 2010 in his Italy awakening to the OHOM (Open Heart Open Mind) consciousness, I say, “Bro, I’ve picked my next life.”
“What this time?” Ken says snuggling up the his babe-elicious bride to be.
“I’m gonna be a starfish!” I accidentally shout too loudly in Ken’s mind’s ears.
Ken takes my abundant energy in stride and says in his mind so as not to awaken his sleeping beauty, “Sorry see you go… again. But you’re always welcome back, Robin.”
I sense Ken’s afraid we might never hang again. I really don’t know myself. So I tell a white lie and reassure him,” Course you’ll be able to channel me in for a coffee anytime.”
“Course,” says Ken sensing my white lie. “But why a starfish? Do they even have a brain?”
“Never had a much of brain while I human. Sure. But not individually. It’s a collective brain thing,” I tell Ken realizing it for the first time myself. “Can’t pass up the chance to blanket the ocean floor in a sacred geometry mesh joined with every starfish on earth.”
I wave goodbye to Ken as I float from his auric field, where I’ve been camping out after an upgrade to Ken’s heart that left me no room. It got too cramped after Ken had a heart opening watching his beautiful Elizabeth, my Mamu blue whale momma on another plane of reality, sing this Ganesh chant.
As I float out the window and into the deep blue Sedona sky Ken does not see me wave bye or does not want to. I rocket off for the coral reef I’ve picked out, faster than the speed of light shouting “Nanu! Nanu!”
As my spirit dives into the Pacific I feel Ken’s sadness at the end of my long visit. The dude has abandonment issues he’s yet to resolve. He will overcome it one day. I see it so clearly, reborn as starfish here beneath a coral reef off the cost of the Big Island.
Let’s test out my new starfish powers. Now,, if you are lucky enough to own a Patrick Flanagan Sensor V medallion, (Sorry we never escape product placement even in the afterlife) with it’s five side pyramids coated in gold, rub your fingers over the pointy fibonacci spiral and close your eyes. It’s cool if you don’t have a Sensor V, no worries, just concentrate on your left hand’s five fingers in your minds eye. See your left hand transform into a starfish as you place your right hand over your heart.
See bright beams of energy shoot out from the ends of your starfish hand. See the grid that joins billions of we starfish into a neural network that spans all the seven seas. Feel the wisdom of a consciousness far older than humanity’s by a power of 100. Feel our anguish over the pollution humanity is dumping to the oceans of Gaia. Oceans that are like blood for we sea creatures and you idiots human too.
Starfish are powerful enough to pull in a comet from space to wipe the surface world clean of humanity’s destruction of the mother earth. But that is forbidden under galactic law. We of the Ocean-Nation’s Starfish clan have watched over humanity since lung fish chose to leave the sea behind and crawl upon the land.
Tonight we invite you, the lucky person that finds this blog, to leave your physical body to travel with we starfish of the stars to any time, dimension, star system or planet you wish.
Have your destination in mind? Okie dokey. See your soul leave your body. Oh and make sure you’ve read part one and two on traveling faster than the speed of light. You need to have a strong tether to reel yourself back in after we journey at blog’s end. We gracefully pass through the clouds, clouds which hold the memories of all life on earth’s past and future lives, in the form of a highly advance bio code held by the water.
For porpoises of this blog I am asking Ken where he’d like to go. Please comment below where our journey took you, dear readers ready to starfish travel.
Ken says, “I dare to dream of a visit the earth 50 years from now and see if our meditations in Antarctica and subsequent meditations I have done with Elizabeth and will do have helped save the earth.”
“OK, Ken. Hang tight to your Sensor V. We are traveling to the year 2069. See the vortex up ahead,” I say as Ken and I fly into the eye of a hurricane.
“There are so many hurricane’s on the earth right now because of global warming, ” worries Ken.
“Yeah. But they are handy vortexes for starfish travel,” I add.
“See, Kenster? You and Elizabeth have been done with your DreamShield Coolest Meditation Ever work on planetary healing for 7 years now. Disease is thing of the past. Age is obsolete. Poverty a distant memory. Thought traveling ETs use the sleek new silver city of Sedona as a primary earth gateway. Scientists have broken the code to use the memory of all life stored in the clouds to restore all extinct species, including the dinosaurs, back to life.”
Ken says in wonder, “Wow, Robin. It all looked so hopeless in 2019. I’d nearly given up. But 50 years from now I can see all is cool!”
“Coolest ever. Hey, wanna to see the space port under construction in the San Fernando village where the Warner Bros. lot used to be, Ken?” I say.
Ken rubs his sleepy eyes and says, “Maybe another time. Good night, my brother Robin. I am so glad for your new life as a starfish and our ever stronger connection. I look forward to reporting more of your adventures.”
And night, dear reader. Robin Williams the Starfish signing off from the coral reef in Hawaii. Oh, that role I played in life thing I mentioned top of the blog? Yep, it’s nice to be star again.
Reel in your spirit tethers. Time to get back in your body! Hope you enjoyed my guest blog. Let me know in the comments and maybe Ken will let me blog directly to you again.
Today, 8/3/19, with some update from 8/6 tossed in, I am still vibrating with the incredible Lion’s Gate energy that came through me the last three nights through the OHOM (Open Heart Open Mind) collective channel while blogging YOUR INVITE TO BREAK THE SPEED OF LIGHT – PART 2. Three nights minus the goddess I love, Elizabeth England, who is visiting family. Miss you, baby.
Now, since 2010 I’ve been channeling a number of spirits and beings — earthly, heavenly and cosmically — after my awakening in yoga hall in Italy. On this blog I re-broadcast the best wisdom from these amazing ET encounters. By far my favorite earthly spirit to channel is Robin Williams. As I write this intro his incredible spirit is sitting here in my office, patiently waiting for his coffee, a wistful smile on his famous face.
Now, about my channeling, since I cannot prove scientifically, yet anyways, that my unexpected connection to spirit is really happening, I always retain a seed of healthy doubt and invite you to do so as well as you read. Real or not, the source is unimportant. It’s the wisdom the process of channeling provides that counts. It gets me out of my head and in touch with my heart.
But to get this channeling started I first need to make a coffee for Robin. The great comedic spirit cannot, of course, drink coffee it in spirit form. Robin just loves to wrap his ghostly hands around a hot mug of java. And I am not the only living person he visits. Here’s the link on a good piece in the Huff Post I found searching “Robin loves coffee”. For the Huffpost writer, Robin’s energy came through a computer. There are other examples out there too. For me I am blessed to hear and see his ghost in the 3D. Be right back after I make a coffee for Robin and I to share.
OK. I am back with a steaming java. Robin’s in a happy mood today. “How’s the coffee, Robin?”
“Yummy in the tummy, that is if I had one anymore,” kids Robin.
“Like the chocolate almond milk I added for a change?”
“Yep. Hardly miss the sugar. Nice energy. Look, normally I love kibitzing, Ken, but can we get to why I am visiting today? ” says Robin, seeming a bit on edge. “We’re not at Coffee Pot restaurant and so I only have your energy to power this visit. We cool?”
“Coolest ever. What’s up, Robin?”
“Let’s talk addiction and how it’s destroying the planet,” says Robin. He gathers his wits, sniffing the coffee on the desk beside me. He’s here in both his new killer whale form and human form for the first time. Usually it’s one or the other.
“Please go on. I’ll keep my yap shut unless something super important occurs to ask you, Robin.”
“As there are no secrets in Hollywood, plus as I made rather light of being a junkie to the legal drug booze in my standup routines ad nauseum, I am famous, or shall I say infamous, for my drug and alcohol escapades during my salad days as a Hollywood superstar. One time I was so strung out on cocaine I did not sleep for 10 days. Never saw it coming that the fame I got conked on the head with in life by God would come back to bite me like a killer shark to a seal. Hmm. So hungry. Where a seal when you freakin’ want one? Anyhow, it was a curse when fame put drugs and booze under my big nose all too often for my feeble self-worth to resist.
Now, after a having had a LOTS, and I mean LOTS, of therapy to get and the to stay sober, way harder than getting sober, I see it all derived from my childhood trauma. Most of it centered around my dear old Pops who never loved me for who I am. Papa dearest meant well, but seemed afraid of the freakish power of my sense of humor. Always so strict you’d think he had 2X4 up his tukis. Yep, as a major corporate stiff Dad never got me or my jokes. It messed me up more than he, or I for that matter, ever knew.
Boo-hoo. Poor me. However, I am not recounting my lousy childhood that made me an adult addict for sympathy. That is not the point of our visitation today, Ken and company. — And thanks ,Kenny Bo Benny, for doing this banana bana bo bana channeling, despite your ever shrinking sense of doubt that I’m real. — No sire, killer shark. I am here to proclaim as a whale of an angel that the tragic way the refugee kids at the border are getting shit on stems directly from America’s deep seated addiction to the darkest high of all, the high of being a racist.
And all of America is racist. Don’t feel superior to the White Supremacist in El Paso that went Mexican hunting in the Wal-mart. Cue my Elmer Fudd imitation of Elmer as a White Supermicist as he breaks the 4th wall, “Hu hu hu, I’m hunting Mexcicans today. Hu hu hu.” Sorry, Elmer. Just clowning to make a point.
You know one of my biggest regrets here in the after life? Not doing enough GOOD MORNING VIETNAM kind of political films. I could have made such a difference. Sure, I’d have made less money. But maybe I would not be on killer whale detail in the Arctic if I’d used my gifts and power.
Sorry to be so f’ing serious here on the usually lighthearted DreamShield blog today. Actually I am not in a good mood, Ken. How could I be in a good mood when I see the frequencies we killer whales and the other races of whale family are broadcasting to help erase addiction on this planet are going unheard by humanity at the moment? I mean, what the fuck?”
Ken here. I am mostly here. Robin or star beings I channel are never allowed to push me aside. Good boundaries are essential. And even though I am tempted to interrupt Robin here with an apology for misreading his mood as good and asking him a clarifying question I keep my mouth shut. He’s more whale spirit than human these days and he wants to get back to the Arctic where his killer whale self has already returned.
But reading my mind anyways, Robin goes on, “I hear you, Ken. Dear people reading this cool blog, my whale self is up in the arctic swimming through open damned seas! I can see through his big eyes. Where’s the fucking ice? My entire killer whale pod is stunned at the totally open seas where they have never been here before. One young killer whale, who shall goes anonymous chimes in, ‘Good riddance to the ice. This is so great for hunting because the seals have no ice to hide in. Dinner is served!’
Pardon me a sec. I am telepathically telling my brother and sister killers whale not to eat every damn seal in sight. “If we killer whales kill all the seals in this open sea there will soon be no mama seals and no more seal pups. Overeat and we let the oil burning culture of humans who caused this open to sea to kill we the killer whale people win. A lose-lose for we the good guys of cosmic proportions. Mother earth wants the killer whales to outlive the humans, who if they do not wise the fuck up and become the stewards of the earth she evolved them to be, will go extinct by their own hoggish hands.
Ah, cool. My whale tribe is listening, eating only the smallest number of seals we need to survive. Natural greed is thankfully not an addiction we killer whales have to contend with like the human tribe I was once a conscious leader of without being conscious of it. kind like that story where a mackrel, a sea lion and dolphin go into sand bar. The sand bar tender says, ‘What’ll it be gents?’ And the sea lion suddenly eats the makrel and the dolphin and says, ‘Burp.”
So how do I get this concept of caring about this world and stopping global warming across to your dense as brick human audience? I know you love my jokes, eveyone, but this ain’t fucking funny. So pardon my text shouting but…
HELLO! THE FUCKING NORTH POLE IS MELTING.
Put that message on a red MAGA cap and suck on it.
All this global warming denial bullshit is due to human addiction to an ignorant 50s era glorified by an old orange mogul with whale-sized daddy issues. An era that never really existed. An era rife with white racism so thick you could cut it with a burning KKK lawn cross. A mind controlled era of fake good ness born of a long dead era of white conquest of the Native Americans. That’s the real cause behind Trump’s ignoring global warming. The cheeseburger loving lard ass knows global warming will kill more people of color than Nazi Germany killed Jews and Poles by a power of 100.
Accept your within you white entitlement, either overt or covert, either active or passive, lies deep sickness at the heart of every citizens’ racism. That addictive entitlement is at the root cause of all the intelligent ignorance behind the denial of global warming caused by human pollution. Stop denying and start doing something about the way you are fucking up the only planet you have. Screw Elon Musk and his mission to Mars. Gamble all your money on solving earth’s global warming.
Trump is dangerous, not because he’s the evil boogey man the liberal media makes him to be, mostly for their own ratings benefit. Witness the kiss ass NTY headline TRUMP URGES UNITY VS RACSIM. #CanceltheNYT. Rather see Trump as he really is. Not a monster. Just an old fart, a duffer who can only put in a few hours of work a day. A bad hair nightmare suffering brain farts due a traumatic childhood he never did the hard work of therapy to overcome. A messed up childhood that makes him long for a racist past where he still seeks daddy and mama resolution. This even though they’ve both been rotting in an over design grave for too long to be reached.
Gone just like I will be one day, Ken and fans. Life goes on even after life. One day maybe I’ll simply forget I was ever Robin Williams the human and maybe start eating too many seals for my new killer whale species’ own good.
Be on constant guard for mind control from the left or right. Stay centered and stay aware of race bating and politics of distraction. At the same time ignore the endless media coverage getting done on it, droning on and on and there-fucking-by encouraging new racists stars to cut loose for the short burst of fame.
Oh, or should I say OY VEY! Keep in mind that Mr. Butter Would Not Melt in His Mouth Obama was no better a president either. He drones people. Made our social media a spy tool. Dug up sacred lands for oil. All because he too was a damaged child himself. And he too was addicted to seek power for the love of the masses with the lip service of hope and change. That cool cat was was just more genteel about it than angry grandpa bumble fuck Trump.
People, you’ve got to stop playing “me versus them” politics and realize you are all in the same lifeboat with each other whilest rich assholes in the Titanic above you sipping on champagne take a whizzes on all your dumb as dirt heads!
Robin’s voice begins to fade and he shouts,”Shit. Outta spirit juice. Bye, Ken and his coolest ever readers. Thanks for the coffee. Whale kisses.”
Please support my new film called SOAP & TOOTHBRUSHES about the plight of the refugee kids. Only 2 weeks or so left on the campaign and we have a long ways to go. Or grab yourself some enlightened tech to raise your wellness for the challenging times ahead at CoolestTechEver.com. The money all ends up in the same place helping to enlighten and entertain a weary world though thought provoking content.
Remember always that racism is hate. And hate is ultimately self defeating. Good will always win over evil. Only through love for each other just as we were born of the many races, all of us sharing the same beautiful blue world, can we make it. Yes we can, can…
Sing it Pointer Sisters.
A sad PS. Today August 6th a tragedy struck Robin’s killer whale pod in the Arctic. Stay tuned to my next in the Robin Williams visitations to hear the sad but uplifting whale of a tale DEATH AT THE NORTH POLE BY HUMAN NARCISSISM.
Elizabeth and I had just gotten back from a successful screening of our new film THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS at the prestigious New Living Expo when I got the psychic hit from the spirit of Robin Williams, currently reincarnated as a killer whale, that he’d like to meet us for coffee at his favorite Sedona hangout the Coffee Pot Restaurant.
Read past Williams blog postst here to understand how the heck Robin ended up a killer of a killer whale, but why you might be asking yourself does Robin like Coffee Pot? The beloved star and comic tells me in his funny George Jessel voice, “Hmm. I guess because maybe it’s Sedona’s closest thing to the classic LA diner and that kinda coffee I was hooked on in life.” Hooked on? A whale hooked on coffee. Yep. Robin’s still funny in the afterlife.
Anyways, after being on the road for a week the last thing Elizabeth wants is to eat out, so she tells me to invite Robin to a home cooked breakfast. Now, Robin does dine in our home with us once and awhile, but this time he tells me to tell Elizabeth, “I get a better signal with the energy of the restaurant’s crowd. And, sorry hon, I like their java better than yours.” Elizabeth chuckles and starts to get dressed for Coffee Pot with Robin, even if it is GMO laden chow.
Coffee Pot does not allow pets. So we tell our little dog to watch the house and make the short 1.5 mile trek. Now, I was a bit a Coffee Pot regular before Elizabeth showed up in my life 3 years ago. It’s the cozy spot for locals and tourists alike where Robin first appeared to me a blue whale fetus in 2015. That was back when I began his segment of the blog THE ROBIN WILLIAMS VISITATIONS that cries out to be a book or screenplay if I can ever find the time. Sure enough, the Coffee Pot host recognizes me says, “You know the drill. Pick a seat,” and hands me a menu.
Elizabeth suggests one of the upper booths that gives us a view of busy place and room for a place at the table for Robin. Soon as the busboy pours the coffee we are joined by Robin in human form. Lately he’s taken to wearing a black tuxedo, white shirt with amazing pearl buttons and playful colored bow tie. Of course Robin can’t pick up the Kokopelli adorned coffee cup , but he gets dreamy look of satisfaction on his face as he wraps his hands around the mug and sniffs the aroma. Elizabeth knows just how Robin likes his coffee with cream and double sugar.
I adore Elizabeth for validating my channeling the great comedian right from the get go of our relationship, as she does with many of the being I channel. Folks, if you’ve had an awakening there’s nothing like being in love with someone else who also has had a wild awakening.
Elizabeth’s awakening story is cool one I will share here soon. While both of us are remarkably alike in how we interact with the cosmic forces, she’s more of channeler of yogic powers and I am more of a self-taught rebel that does not like to follow any single tradition. Maybe my rebellious comedic steak is why Robin has picked me to chronicle some of his sea life adventures.
Elizabeth’s cool question to Robin at Coffee Pot is: What parts of the earth correspond spiritually to the the human body? I realize I’d be writing a long time if I tried to encapsulate Robin’s answers, so I’ve made the video to express the beauty and wisdom of Robin the killer whale. BTW Robin’s told me he likes being called Robin Whaliams these reincarnated days. Enjoy!
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.
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’ve truly been blessed to have Robin Williams’ spirit in touch with me often since his death on August 11, 2014. But unlike many people with psychic visions, suspiciously sure of their gifts, I sometimes wonder if Robin’s ghost is really keeping in touch or if it’s all just my wild imagination.
Robin’s spirit finds my uncertainty about his visitations quite funny. Perhaps he keeps showing up, despite my misgivings as a reluctant medium, because I always take his funny visits as a serious message from the higher realms of consciousness. And today’s visit from Robin is super welcome in this post-truth era that’s wearing mighty thin for many of us.
Before I get to Robin’s important as it is funny June 2018 message to the world’s, as the iconic actor who played drama and beautifully as comedy describes today’s, “lazy bum comics” a little history. Robin first appeared to me shortly after his death to help me give comfort to many fans troubled by his suicide. Bummer, we lost two more celebs to suicide this week, designer Kate Spade and chef Anthony Bourdain. Fame and success are no protection against depression.
Not surprisingly, Robin’s spirit musings on his horrific suicide are heartbreakingly funny stuff. Read it on the blog in detail in a special section called THE ROBIN WILLIAMS VISITATIONS. Hmm. Feels like a book’s a brewin’.
After Robin’s first ghostly visit, which happened on one of the many hikes I take here in Sedona’s red rocks, he and I bonded quickly. I would say it’s because we are brother in arms who’ve overcome battles with life’s sadness using laughs. Happily, I instantly found I could channel his comedic stylings with good accuracy for this blog.
CLOSE ENCOUNTERS WITH A BLUE WHALE
One amazing day in the fall of 2014 Robin showed up with the spirits of MLK and Mother Teresa. They all wanted a tour of the Buddhist stupa. Which I gave them to my honor as though they were visiting family. I’ve still not found the time to blog about it. I promise to, Robin and readers. Stay tuned.
A few weeks after Robin’s incredible visitations began, I tuned over in bed and yelped as Robin was nose to nose with me under the covers. “Sorry, didn’t want to wake you, Sheetzy. Your snoring’s adorable, btw.”
“Thanks. I think. What brings you to my bed at the crack of dawn, Robin?”
“Sheetzo, I need you to hop on fishing boat off Laguna Beach, and channel me in.”
“Why?” I asked still half asleep, thinking back nostalgically on the days before my 2010 awakening when life was boringly normal. Robin is not the only spirt that visits me.
“Oh. Nothing special, Kenny boy. Just gonna impregnate a virgin whale to reincarnate myself as a blue whale.”
“Oh, is that all?” I said dryly as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. This got a laugh out of Robin. But his laughter quickly faded as I explained to the king of comedy, “Buddy, I am drowning in the workload of a client’s world changer crowd funder. Much as I’d love to travel to the Pacific to help bring you back as a blue whale, Robin, we mortals still have bills to pay.”
“Work from the road. That’s what God made WiFi for.”
“Sorry. I just can’t road trip this thing. Too big. We just launched this cool device that’s going to make it a smarter world. Boost IQ!”
“Fine, Einstein. I’ll do it myself like I have to do everything… when it comes to impregnating virgin whales!” Robin said, his disappointment in me showing on his fading ghostly face.
“Wait, Robin. If you could just wait 60 days or so I promise –”
Robin vanished before I could finish in a disappointed but determined huff. I got up and made some coffee and ruminated that Robin was still used to the star treatment even on the other side. So he’s not used to people saying no very often. I hoped he would not be so angry with me he’d never visit again. However, I made a note to request he not pop into my bed in future and nearly give me a heart attack.
Weeks passed swiftly. My client’s crowd funder became a hit, raising eventually $1.6 million for an update of a beloved scientist’s famed techno-meditation device. So I’d kind of forgotten about Robin’s whale gig when one day, while having a breakfast at my favorite local diner, The Coffee Pot, Robin appeared in the form of a talking blue whale embryo hovering over a portly man’s ham and eggs.
Williams shouted proudly, “I did it, Sheetzy!”
Nearly spit spraying my coffee, I looked slyly around the restaurant. As per usual, despite Sedona being an American mecca for psychics, I was, you guessed it, the only person having this outrageous aquatic visit. “Why the whole whale thing, Robin?” I asked in my mind, deciding I might get a ticket to the looney bin talking out loud to a floating blue whale fetus in a public restaurant.
“Call me, Nanu. That’s my new blue whale name!”
“OK, Nanu Nanu –”
“Just Nanu, Sheetzter. Copyright stuff.”
“Ok, NANU, why reincarnate as blue whale?”
Robin twirled over a blue haired old lady wolfing down her waffles and said proudly, “Because I’m gonna teach the blue whales a new frequency of joy and laughter to broadcast around this bluesy world!”
Robin looked amused by my freaked out face. But it made total sense Robin would not rest long in the afterworld and would seek a cool way to help humanity keep its sense of humor. As if reading my mind about how crazy yet sensible this all seemed to me, Robin added,”Still the doubting Sheetz? Just take a gander at your coffee cup. – Presto!”
Chills ran down my spine, here in the middle of the desert, a relief of dolphins swam on the coffee mug. Robin the blue whale fetus hovered over my head blowing happy air bubble rings as I called over the unsuspecting waitress. I asked her if she’d ever seen a dolphin mug at the restaurant before.
Even though the grizzled middle-aged vet waitress has seen it all in Sedona she gazed in amazement to see dolphins on my coffee mug. “Weird. All we usually got are cactuses and Kokppellis on our mugs.”
I bought the magical mug proof Robin offered at checkout. And if you’re ever a house guest I’ll happily serve you a java from the two more dolphin mugs I’ve since collected on future Williams visits to the Coffee Pot.
Note: Robin loves his coffee and often calls me over to the Coffee Pot, a favorite of visiting celebs, for his spirit visits. He met Elizabeth, my love there and told her, through my channeling, that she is Mamu his mama whale.
Wait a minute! I just joke back to the joker Robin as I write here in 2018, “Swell, so you’re telling me, Robin, that because you were pissed I wouldn’t go with you to the Pacific in 2014 you impregnated my love Elizabeth’s alternate reality whale self?”
“Bingo! Ha ha! Man, took you 4 years to get that joke. You’re dense as a neutron star, bro,” laughs Robin.
Jeez, I Googled that a teaspoon full of neutron star weighs a billion tons. He sure thinks I am dense stuff!
Speaking of how dense we all are in these Trumpy times, back to 2014, two full years before America lost it’s sense of humor with Trump’s hostile take over of not just the news world but the comedy world.
One time back in 2015, shortly after Robin’s successful rebirth as a blue whale, as Trump began his run for king of the world, Robin told me over coffee – BTW Robin just cups his hand around the mug for its cafine energy – “Trump gonna win and he’s gonna be HILAAARIOUS as the good old USA’s most un-presidential prez ever.”
Boy, was that whale baby right. Trump did beat the unfunny Hillary. And just look at all these comics covering Trump as regular as the weather here in depressing as hell 2018.
But, as master of comedy Robin Williams is now shouting at today’s living comics through my keyboard, putting on a Jewish accent, “Oy vey! Enough, funny people! You’re makingme mashugana! The Trump gags are stale as a two week old bagel! Stop beating a dead whale already! ”
That last message of Robin’s rings so true don’t it? Dozens of comedians riffing on Trump’s every stumble everyday for three friggin’ years stinks like a dead whale stranded on a beach for days. The seagulls picking the carcass apart.
And Robin sadly knows all about dead whales. You see, the busy shipping lanes killed his beloved whale mama in late 2017. Grieving her loss, Robin told me in a vision, on a hike to the Airport vortex, that Mamu’s whale body had washed up on the west coast of Mexico. A few months later, in April of this year, Robin came to me to say his whale life too ended the same way as his poor Mamu.
“Don’t be a bummer, Sheetzorini! Tell your readers not to be blue for the blue whale me!” Robin chirps as I type as fast as man untrained in such can, “The Blue Dolphin Clan gave me the body of one of their brain dead young.”
“How appropriate!” getting a zing in as payback for Robin’s neutron star dig.
Robin pretends not to hear my zinger and goes on, “And I’m ready start teaching the song of joy and laugher to the dolphins now. That is soon as I can figure out where my dolphin dick is. Oh wait. I’m a girl dolphin now. Holy mackerel!”
Pause for reader laughter Robin tells me.
“No problem, the name Robin works for either gender,” I communicate to his spirit, stalling for time to keep up on the keyboard with his rapid fire mind.
“Guess Nanu swings both ways too. Hey, know what we dolphins think of all the media’s fuss over Trump? Ever hear Flipper laugh in that old TV show?” says Robin doing a tail stand in my mind’s eye.
“You mean like this, Robin?” I say digging up a clip.
“Close enough! – Fun fact. Did you know we beautiful and brilliant dolphins were sentient thousands of eons before human’s discovered how to make fucking fire?”
“Gotta admit, like most humans I believe, we’ve always been the brightest species on the planet,” I type communucate.
“Right. Even though humans work themselves to death to get that newest model gas guzzler causing global warming?” Robin dolphin chuckles.
“Yup, Gottta admit I am looking at a new Jeep at the moment.”
“Think Prius, ya noob.”
“Need a Jeep for the 4-wheel drive for the red rocks, shark bait.”
” Touche. Well do some checks on electric that can off road. Pinkie swear? Not that I have one anymore.”
“Fin swear then. Will do, Robin.”
“Nanu, still Nanu please. Good because we dolphins warn…” says Robin/Nanu, trying to sound as ominous as young dolphin can,”..that your species needs to stop worrying about one certain old as fuck human being, no matter how fat, orange and nasty. HUGE waste of time. Time your species doesn’t have, BTW. ”
“Why?” I ask.
“Earth’s oceans are running out of fucking oxygen!”
In shock I do a search mid-blog based on Robin’s dire warning and found this video. If you have 55 minutes it will wise you up in a big way even if the production values are about zilch.
Vindicated about his warning on earth’s diminishing air supply, as well as making me realize how real his visits are, Robin/Nanu grimly continues, “Better you eco-morons focus on saving the oceans, where most of your oxygen is made, than ruminating on how many cheeseburgers Trump can ingest daily without having a coronary!”
Robin/Nanu bitingly goes on, “Be original, human comics. You’re all lazy as fuck. Hello! Comedy 101, you can’t make parodies about of a living one like Trump.”
Nanu Williams rants on, “Get the fuck over the pathetic Trump, funny bones, and get back to your damn job of making people laugh. Save getting political for the biggest joke on the planet… the fucking politicians! Get smart and get the word out earth is running out air instead of spreading hot air. Got it?”
“Got it! Will share, Nanu Williams the blue dolphin!”
“Cool, Kenster. Williams out!”
Well, the you have it, straight from Robin Williams the newly reincarnated blue dolphin Nanu: Trump is officially no longer hilarious.
Already the #1 best-seller on Amazon before its original January 9th 2018 release, FIRE AND FURY, by Michael Wolff, is perhaps destined to be a historic book marking the beginning of the end for the Trump presidency.
The book released January 5th, four days ahead of schedule after Trump sought to block its release yesterday. It sold out in less than 20 minutes after midnight at a DC bookstore where a line of eager politicos waited in the cold to be the first to own FIRE AND FURY.
Why am I so sure Trump is effectively finished as president? Two reasons.
One: Because Wolff had the full access of a Tom Yates level, an author character where art imitates life in HOUSE OF CARDS, to the reality show known as the Trump White House. What’s particularly damning is that the Trump administration players’ quotes that Wolff patiently gathered from Election Night through 2017, most notably profane gems from Steve Bannon, were captured on hundreds of hours of tape.
Two: I admit I am biased and I simply want this nightmare to be over. So I couldbe all wet on this. I was furious election day. I have disliked Trump dating back all the way to the 80s when I was something of a real estate mogul myself, building Oprah’s Harpo and a $162 million skyscraper.
The deepest Bannon barb from the book describes the Trump Tower dumb as dirt meeting between the president’s less than brilliant son Don Jr. and a group of Russians during the 2016 election campaign as “treasonous” and “unpatriotic.” Trump’s reaction to Bannon’s quotes in the book might have looked like this art.
My opinion as a filmmaker that’s covered politics on film for over 20 years is that this tell-all of all tell-all books — compounded with the ever-widening Mueller Russia investigation — makes Trump a dead-as-a-cheeseburger-walking-president.
The history making book also recounts how Ivanka and Jared got drawn into all this by their aspiration for her to be America’s first woman president one day. She’s even quoted making fun of her father’s disaster-waiting-to-happen comb over.
I do want add to my post here after finishing the book that it ends rather weakly. It’s almost two books and the ending reveals Wolff had more access to the toady Bannon than Trump. So what we have is dynamite first half a book, when Bannon was riding high, and Wolff had more access, followed by weaker second half where we see no deeper into Trump than a day looking at the news could give you.
LOOKING DEEPER THAN THE BOOK
“So what does all the Trump insanity and decadence mean on a spirit plane?” I ask my ET spirit guide Ohom. But it’s earthly spirit guide Robin Williams I first tune in on from the Pacific where he is a reincarnated female blue whale, “Told you Trump’s presidency would be hilarious, Kenster!”
Ohom sighs deeply, answering my call for clarity, “Robin is right. Keep a sense of humor about it all, Ken. Trump is symptom of deeper problems in your culture as a whole that his leaving office will not solve.”
I telepathically answer Ohom, “Hard to swallow that when Trump is trying to provoke a war with North Korea to distract the people.”
“Trump has fulfilled his purpose to expose the dumbing down of your country, rampant racism, sexism, a corrupt congress, corporatocracy and more. His work is done even if he still uses your insane legal system to tie up his dismissal until the end of 2020. Meanwhile, fulfill your mission. Keep sending him and he supporters love as you did at his inauguration,” says Ohom, echoing in my mind with that cool reverb effect his inter-dimensional communication creates.
“I’ve been wondering why you sent us to Trump’s swearing in, Ohom, ” I say over the web here and in my mind with no small amount of annoyance, realizing this has been blocking my connection to Ohom of late.
“Same as I always tell you, Ken. When you ask me over and over again. Hold a space of unconditional love in the midst of the field hate and rage. That’s mastery,” says Ohom sounding a bit more testy than I’ve ever heard him.
“Wait. Hate and rage equals ‘Fire and Fury.'” It’s all starting to fit. Sorry to be so dense. Ok, Ohom my new old/friend. I’ll promise to keep holding a space of love that will help bring a peaceful end to Trump’s hopefully short presidency. Um, even though that’s hard as hell at times.”
My past life Hopi self, Laughing Skies, adds with a chuckle, “Hard? Why hard, Ken? Trump is simply a symbol of the dying energy of the old ways that destroyed my people,” sounding quite amused at my difficulty mastering the chaos of the Trump shift.
“You won’t be laughing if a desperate Trump starts a war with Kim Jung Un,” I grump inwardly.
“Ha! Trump and Un are already as dead and one corpse cannot kill another,” says the Hopi shaman I once was.
I decide I am not going to win this debate over Trump and all he represents, so I fully my consciousness return to this sunny January 4th 2018 at my trusty Mac.
Well, dear reader, I don’t take comfort that Zombie stories did not exist in Laughing Skies’ time 1000 years ago here in Sedona where many, besides me, thankfully meditate for peace in these troubled times. But here’s to hoping my guides, cosmic and earthly, are right.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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:
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.
2a: possession or display of great skill or technique : skill or knowledge that makes one master of a subject : command
It’s impossible to imagine our species as a global consciousness could ask for any greater challenge than shifting the angst that Trump is dredging up in our hearts and souls, be we conservative or liberal, to love.
Yes, make no mistake, even the most devoted Trump fan harbors fear ranging from mild angst he will not live up to his promises to crippling fear their vote may destroy the earth for their children.
Speaking of mastery, just this week Trump broke a taboo by giving a political speech to the Boy Scouts. Now, as a former Boy Scout myself, one too rebellious to ever make Eagle, I was outraged. Funny, I did not think Trump could still trigger me so deeply.
Honestly, looking deep into my heart, I see I am on a spirit journey of mastering fear. Fear Trump seeks to spawn over a youth movement, like Hitler did, turning child against parent! Yeah, I know, over the top. Perhaps in reality Trump simply spoke as an old man too inflexible to rewrite his typical rally speech to properly suit his kid audience.
BLUE WHALE POV
Whereas my female blue whale friend a reincarnated-Robin Willians-spirit-guide, says Trump’s presidency will truly be a hilarious release from fear.
Stephen Colbert has risen to dizzying heights fueled by the firey fears many of us have over our unintentionally hilarious president.
My thoughts today is Trump’s role in a universe, inflating like his ego, is cosmic.
Definition of cosmic
1a: of or relating to the cosmos, the extraterrestrial vastness, or the universe in contrast to the earth alone cosmic radiationb: of, relating to, or concerned with abstract spiritual or metaphysical (see metaphysical 2) ideas cosmic wisdom
2: characterized by greatness especially in extent, intensity, or comprehensiveness acosmic thinkera book of cosmic significance.
I’ve traveled around the sun 64 times in this human form. And I’ve never seen a bigger cosmic storm for transformation brewing than Trump represents. He drives me to hilarious cosmic mastery daily as a challenge beyond measure to stay solidly in a place of love over fear.
Bonus: Here’s a great video called WHY TRUMP? Already one of my working titles if I can ever master my fears of Trump and make feature doc about all the love transformation that’s coming on like a mega-tsunami!.